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baekuras · 1 year

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Have stopped my binge of The Walking Dead (during season 9 just like last time I dropped it 😭 I am trying but also...tired so breaktime from that) to actually go watch Fear (the walking dead also bc duh) because I started it when it began but then took a break when it was on break till the new season and just never came back to it Anyhow I do also quite enjoy it (altho rip to I think season 4 which made me irate for many reasons at the beginning but then calmed down some so I am back to enjoying things) and the characters etc but I also am definitely going in it looking for comedy Didn’t do that for the main show as much because that was a rewatch But by now any media I consume I WILL make fun of (lovingly) or try to imagine funny scenes because...duh

i actually wanted to put all my other ramblings in the tags but there is was too much coming to mind with every word i write even though my memory can be shit so...readmore it is Watched till season 6 episode 5 so basically spoilers up to that

anyhow rip nick your chaos will be missed

i do also think the moment i rly decided to go make fun of everything lovingly(I need you to understand I genuinely mean that because I also did cry a lot during appropriate moments) was when nick & troy had their joyride through the horde at the ranch like yep everyone is stuck in the pantry slowly dying and also how the FUCK did we get here but also fuck it I’m in WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO CARCRASH

also fuck troy for being high on the “actual assholes i enjoy watching list” because while everyone of those got murder there why did he have to just casually sprinkle in some soft racism? or casual racism? i was about to say “not shoot on sight-racism” because rhe does do that...or I believe he would but that’s more a “humans are alive” thing than a “oh god is that a native american human ALIVE” thing....that’s his dad-may he rest in fucking hell forever dear GOD did his kids deserve better than his shitty ass making problems present past and future FUCK THAT man he is NOT on my “assholes who i actually like on screen” list

like my mood basically went from “urgh oh god fuck he’s a racist shithole.” to “oh FUCK he’s a child abuser racist shithole WHY DON’T YOU KEEP ADDING ON LET’S GET A FLAMETHROWER A GUN ISN’T ENOUGH HERE” (i think that’s basically about where i’ll end my opinions on the whole ranch shebang because any details may be missed by yours truly not being american so i am not going to know most details on treatment of native americans in the current age or age when this was filmed beyond the “oh yeah it’s shit” bits although I will mention that Taqa’s whole “he stole my ancestors land” at the beginning bothered me until it was revealed that “oh this dickbag actually shot his family like in the current time not 500years ago okay yeah no go off baby have fun”....and also that i only now learned his name was spelled w/ a q dear god everyones accent had me confused on his name for the longest time and his last name is ACTUALLY Walker why does it have to sound so same i am so bad with names aaaaaaah qwq anyhow rip him i was confused until now if his name was Walker(actual last nime), Tucker(which does not fit), Taka(also doesnt fit because it seemed more japanese to me but between the 3 options my brain presented was the most fitting so.....but noppe....a fucking q....just right there.....I’ll take the L and also where the fuck did this man even fuck off to)

speaking of fucking off: Rip to Nick, you blew up a damn only to die w/out any further character development afterwards 2 episodes later and then just got to hang out in the background in the past parts of future episodes

WHICH BY THE WAY IRRITATED ME SO MUCH not the Nick died thing but yes just from a “we are starting a new storyline for this-oops he dead :D” point yes it’s urgh But the flip-flopping from Past to present to past no present pastpresentpastofpewwgvszujsiop aneurysm of storytelling Like Okay So we start with new characters i have yet to give a shit about (and morgan who i have yet to give a shit about...again) to then go back to our oldies and THEN they fight and it’s a mess but now they’re friends somewhere between the past being shown and everyone fighting and manipulating and Al filming Nick’s dead body and me yet having to give a shit about anyone except for John because he seemed sweet and that’s about it what the actual fuck so yeah i skipped most of that until it calmed the fuck down but by then I was mostly annoyed by Al(i like her now but at the beginning i was mostly like “yeah yeah you got a big fuck you truck and like being an asshole to people and just bother and annoy them for a video-did great on youtube huh didn’t you now how about you actually do something helpful and get your ass out WITHOUT being a dickhead?” kinda deal....we got so far in terms of me actually giving a shit about her lol)

speaking of new character or oldes ones returning, Dwight! my boy! continuing being shot in various limbs to then stumble around (how is that a trend i notice) also rip his hairline because I am pretty sure between the main show and fear the makeup artists added more scarring to that scar-which i dont mind but is also kinda funny to imagine (like sir negan didnt burn you THAT much where did you find the rest or is it just the way you part your hair?) regarding hair post haircut&shave&further haircut later: who is this man and what have you done with the burned rat from before? anyhow i still like him and i kiiiiinda wish Morgan was a character who would have been more involved about the past simply because I’d have liked to see them chat about it-not even anything heavy but just about what happened, how everyone was doing after Dwight went away because Morgan was still there for a bit at least, or idk just a bit more remembrances of where they came from sprinkled in there

I mean we do have Morgan and his staff stuff still which I do actually enjoy, and ofc lately Dwight showing off his fancy torture skills ala....music like the good old saviour days but i want more xp

which goes back to another moment i had to chuckle at in my head even if it wasnt funny because Sherry basically went “We will hunt Virigina down and kill her and end all of this” to which Dwight basically went “okay i got my torture gear ready, got a plan and am ready to do some murder lets go” //insert Sherry shocked pikachu face-meme here I keep forgetting she left before shit got really real and heavy but like....yeah honey here is your husband back he comes with some extra baggage but also....you were there when he was part of fucking Daryl up what are you surprised by? That he’d literally kill for you and abandon what he built with the others if need be? bitch he followed you across the country for god knows how long-it’s Dwight! of course he would sweety please although i would like him to just tear some ass because there were many a moment where i though it justified but yes yes we go keep being peaceful now-and that’s good! mostly because the main cast we actually like and care about isn’t dropping like flies but i did also have fun w/ the whole war between the saviour and everyone else soooooooo....yeah chaos reigns

also shoutout randomly to the not-yet-radioactive kids+others who just disappeared from the story long enough to make me wonder if the writers forgot about them and then they appeared in the next episode lol

also random shoutout to john&june because they are adorable and cool and work well together as a team and couple i really like them

backpaddling to earlier again because rip alicia because if we timeline was in order it wouldnt have gone down in that order but just watching it she went from losing her brother to her mother dipping out shortly after her favourite child died like “woops sorry but i’ll go sacrifice myself now go take care of yourself now w/out your family like before” although last time someone started a fire and was dead they didn’t stay that way so...eh who knows let Madison return and fuck more shit and people up in her desperate attempt to keep her family alive(oops) and make things better but also kill anyone if she has to but at least she has nightmares about it <3

did I already mention I also had to laugh at Chris AND Travis’ deaths? not because they died because yeah sad i guess but A I didn’t like Chris at all so I was happy and B dear god this teen really went with some dumb ragtag dudebros who just shot their friend to death for a hurt leg (what is he? a horse? grow up) and then wanted o be hip and cool driving their car and crashed it and THEN got shot for the same thing you FUCKING IDIOT I am very much on the side of “let the kids go out and do stuff they can survive and aren’t 12″ but also chris my guy are you perhaps stupid or an idiot? prime teenage behaviour 10/10 made me hate him not for anything i’d consider bad writing but just for being a shithead i’d have known in highschool

Travis’ death made me laugh simply because of how abrupt it was and also how he just yeeted himself out the plane like yes a walker in there while they’re busy crashing down is bad but also lol (also Taqa going to the leftovers with Alicia all proud they shot it out the sky...................i also had to laugh because DUDE YOU ARE NOT DOING THAT....bitch is proudly showing off his kill from the wanna-be military ranch and it’s basically her dads corpse in the context of things.....like........i am dying xDD you can not be serious what was the plan here other than showing off? and then immediately having to feel a bit bad about it because woops killed the wrong man)

also trav dying via neck bullet vs morgan surviving heart bullet for over a month and being just fine after it got out travis forgot his plot armor rip v-v

#txts #also shoutout to the asshole driving the swat car #because he could not just drive back a little bit to have the guns actually hit #and got it stolen back by one guy basically #like yeah i was routing for our guys #but also...god you are bad at your job arent you?#you have basically a tank on your hands #and cant use it properly #and in nitpicky details #you try to throw dwight off by swerving left and right but keep it in the same rythm after a turn or two #i get nitpicky when i wanna make fun of characters dont take this too serious #but its also in my most recent memories because i just saw that episode a couple hours ago so its fresh in my mind #this went on for too long #i think i have been thinking/typing for 20minute so i'll leave it at that or gods help me #i am sure i could think of more if i tried but i am just here vibing #none of this is constructive criticism #well except the 'fuck the start of season 4 for how it was shown/written' bit because fuck that #i hated it in the main show and they just went further and further with it here so fuck it #and the usual 'why is this 16 episodes long #or 'do we have to have a whole episode only/mostly about xcharacter'#bit but we def had worse for those from what i remember #love the action in season 7&8 of the main show but dear god if i had to wait week to week for a new episode of nothing i think i'd have died #the walking dead #fear the walking dead #hi i am just here throwing word soup out w/out coherency so don't mind me here

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writella · 8 months

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hi! s10 is so fun so enjoy it when you start it! can i request a daryl smut of any kind?

Before We Leave

Synopsis: Here’s one about you sitting all sweet on Daryl’s lap because I have not stopped thinking about him holding you in his arms and giving you all the kisses after reading this headcanon! ♡

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, set during the period between seasons 8-9, kissing, smut—grinding, thigh riding, fingering, making a mess when you have places to go (such sillies). Mostly proofread. Feel free to give feedback!

A/N: It’s been a minute, guys, I know :( and to ava, so sorry for the wait ♡ I hope you like this and I can’t wait to get to season 10 too!! And know that I definitely still have your initial request in mind for later on!!

First, you noticed his hair: ever so endearingly disheveled, the waves falling so effortlessly as they did in their shaggy way; and then you noticed his skin— it shined. Normally, this would have been because of work and sweat from the late spring heat, but he was clean, he had showered today. He even changed his clothes, and surprisingly, his light beard was trimmed, his face was washed too– it illuminated with his small lazy smile that appeared as you came through the door. He looked so nice and ready to go. Your handsome man. He was waiting for you.

He wore a dark blue long-sleeve, the buttons at the start undone, exposing the top of his chest as he always preferred. And his sleeves, only just big enough to be slightly loose around his arms; they were rolled up at the forearms. It looked good. Though the better fit was his equally loose vest that was layered on top. Seeing it reminded you of how much you missed it. It took him so long to get it back from Dwight. It’s only now that you’re realizing how it fits again, how well it suits him. It’s not that he needed it of course, but you did love how it completed every outfit he wore, making it just so him.

In fact, everything about him was so, so—

“Hey,” he calls to you, his voice itself a finger snap to your attention, “you alright there?”

“Yeah,” you respond, meeting his eyes as you pathetically try to joke, “Just can’t think of the last time I actually saw you sit. We’re always… fighting or doing something aren’t we?”

“Mmhm.” He smiles inwardly. Your staring was nothing short of obvious, and you both know it: You were leaning against the door frame, eyes wide and lingering, trailing over him as he sat on your desk chair. But to him it was sweet, honestly. Almost humorous to see. It was nice to see you smile over nothing other than looking at dumb old him, or at least that's what he assumes of himself. He should know better by now than to think like that, but it's still just his way sometimes. You were in love with him though, and he loved you; and you liked looking at his dumb old face, and he knew that. That's why he doesn’t mind your gazing. That’s why he says, “C’mon,” patting his lap, knowing you wanted to come closer; his eyes catching how much yours went lower and lower, changing from innocent peerings to just a little something else, something more.

You’re hesitant at his invitation, but smiling like a kid. It's true you couldn’t help how good his thighs looked and how good the fingers that splayed over them were— rough and thick— their feeling on your skin taking you back to the past— but his noticing… Well, it just makes you blush. It makes you take slow footsteps, one in front of the other as you come closer to him, bashful and snickering. Once you’re near enough he holds you by the hips and you skip to meet his movements towards him. He turns your backside to him on the right side of the chair and sits you down, horizontal from his forward figure.

“Silly,” he calls you, flicking your nose as he taunts. It’s gentle and harmless even in his typical, slightly grumbled tone.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your wrists and hands curling at his neck, your side pressed into him. He feels bigger when you’re in his arms like this. As if he can comfort you or sheild you from anyone or anything— and you know he could. So safe is what you feel with him; the sigh you let out proves it. The fighting may have finished almost a year ago now, but moments like this are truly what feels like peace. And with that, your mind drifts backwards again. Realizing how you don’t remember the last time you’ve sat like this. With him. Just holding you.

One of his hands holds your thigh while the other grounds you by the lower waist, nearing your hip. You turn your face to his, raising a hand, parting some of the hair in front of his forehead, holding his jaw and you kiss him. You put your tongue between his lips. It’s quick but tender. There is a tiny trail of spit between you two as you let go. Tilting your head, you look at him with an already happy and dazed little smile. You don’t remember the last time you got a good look at him either. And you’re not talking about any of the times you’ve looked at him while simply talking or standing by him, that was almost all the time; but for so long standing next to each other was to cover one another in a fight, kill a walker, but this— this was simply because you wanted to, because he was yours, and you loved him, and you could.

He goes in to meet your lips first this time, holding you by the neck and jaw with one hand, and the other is at your back making you lean in closer. You give in to him, let him take the lead. Your feet curl under the chair and you smile into his indefinite kisses. It makes you accidentally nip at his lower lip which turns into him intentionally biting your lip thereafter. It’s just a bit harder, but he might have done it a tad more sharply than he intended.

“Ow,” you hiss, hushed and soft between breaths, but he’s already soothing the area at the corner there, giving you a lick and little pecks before returning to what he was doing before: kissing you and kissing you.

“You’re fine,” he tells you dryly in between.

Your hands lowers to his chest, feeling his collarbones, then down to his heart. Your fingers rest on the exposed skin there, then trailing lower, ghosting over the closed buttons. You want to, but maybe you shouldn’t. It wasn’t exactly the time.

Originally, you had come home to shower and change: Everyone was having dinner together at Rick and Michonne’s tonight, the first time in a long time. In fact, it was Judith who requested it; she said specifically how much she wanted all of her friends to be there. And you couldn’t disappoint the sweet girl who gave you a construction paper and crayon written invitation, asking you to promise Uncle Daryl would come. The ticket was for both of you, a little picture of you two holding hands at the bottom. ‘Pretty smile you,’ and ‘grumpy pants him,’ she explained.

It was hilariously perfect and it made your heart leap. You and Micchone laughed for a whole minute about it and you hugged Judith immediately after.

Though you couldn’t believe that she could possibly think Daryl wouldn’t come. Of course he’d do anything for her, and you would too, so just as much, ‘Of course,’ you told her, ‘We’ll even be there 10 minutes early so we can pick seats next to you,’ you had said.

But now you’re here, in such a cliche you’d roll your eyes at if you weren’t so in the moment, with Daryl touching up your leg and you allowing it. For once, you’re the one all dirty in your work clothes. And the longer you kiss him, and the longer he holds you on his lap, the more you feel it; the want, the need. You’re getting restless and you’re struggling to weigh the options in your mind.

You lived in Alexandria, helping Rick, Micchone, Rosita… And Daryl, he was sent off to head reconstruction at the Sanctuary: you two don't get to see each other as often as you’d like.

And the Sanctuary wasn’t a place you particularly liked visiting anyways, especially not at first, and he didn’t blame you. But you had still talked to him about trying it, staying there. Maybe a week, maybe longer, maybe seeing if someone else can take over your Alexandria responsibilities, but honestly, he didn’t want you there either. He didn’t even want to be there. Every week that went by was another step closer to talking to Rick about leaving.

Still, moments like this are when you wonder about asking again, if you should be the one to finally move instead… The thought fades as Daryl now groans slightly into your mouth, you had pushed yourself down on his groin which elicited the dark sound, and you moan into him in response. Your hand gripping tightly to his bicep and his digs into your side, holding you tight— you’re losing the ability to think.

His tongue is twisting with yours, and his hand goes lower on your hip, the other deeper into your hair. You’re starting to have a heat pool at your center and you're squeezing your thighs together.

Daryl can sense it and feel all of it: the indecision, the squirming– your feet shuffling and curling against each other, your legs slowly swinging up and under the chair as you do so, as your continue to melt into his lips.

And he does feel it too, though he’s better at not showing it, but you do start to feel him shifting underneath you. An erection starts to harden as your hand goes lower on his chest and the little sounds of you humming into his mouth become more sexy, more desiring, than simply sweet as you continue.

He lets go, slipping his fingers between your knees, “We don’t gotta do too much.”

This makes you laugh. You’re still looking at him all dopey eyed, and more than slightly needy despite your words terribly trying to fight it, “What’s just enough then?”

His hand moves up along your inner thighs as an answer. His fingers trail up until they reach the center, and press into you at the inseam of your jeans. You start to buck up to his movements just as they begin. You even put your own hand over his, pressing into yourself more, your head tilting back. You bite your lip, whining lightly.

“Like that?” He asks, your neediness surprising the both of you.

“Last time I saw you was last week— for a day,” you’re speaking between light, out of breath pants, “outside- scavenging- no time.” Leaning forward into his touch, pretty sounds trail out, “-uh, mmm.”

You continue to grind against his hand harder, adding your other hand on top of his for more pressure until he says, “Get up.”

You stand, starting to undo your jeans and Daryl pushes the back of your chair further against your desk and starts to unbuckle his belt, but right before he finishes, you stop him. You grab his hands, “Wait,” you tell him, slipping off your shoes, and discarding your pants until you sit down again, straddling his lap.

There was something about the way you could see the outline of his bulge by how his pants laid on him, and the nice friction you knew the jeans would cause underneath you that felt so enticing. And more importantly, his bulge looked huge, fat even, you wanted to sit yourself perfectly right on top of it, making sure you could feel it all squish deliciously into your pussy lips with only your thin underwear covering you.

You begin to rock, pushing down against him. Your tiptoes reach the ground, helping you dig in and your hands go to grab onto his shoulders. Daryl holds your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, helping to roll your body into his.

His legs shift beneath you and it makes you think about his thighs again. How yummy they would feel just like his bulge…You have a little bit of time, right? Never mind- you’ll do it fast.

You get up once more, now placing yourself on his left thigh and you start rocking against him again.

Daryl quietly lets you, his hands go under your shirt and you let him take it off, leaving you in only your underwear while he’s fully clothed. He doesn’t mind letting you do what you want right now, he’s enjoying it. Grunting lowly, loving how he can watch you in your blissed out state: your open mouth, your sloppy humping and riding, how you're whining and panting as he touches up your stomach, how you’re so needy that you take one of his hands higher to caress your breast. He licks his teeth, “Need it bad, huh?” He tenses his quad, applying pressure so perfectly, just as you’d been thinking about for days. “Huh, sweetheart?”

“Think about you everyday, Daryl.” You sound just a bit too pathetic, but he eats it up, a small wicked grin coming to his face just looking at how much you wanted him. Not only thinking about his cock stuffed in you, but even how you wanted his thighs too? Just him in general? His poor girl, so deprived of him. He hated being apart, but fuck did he love how desperate it made you when he visited, desperate for him, desperate for him to give it to you or let you have it in any way. It gave him ideas of what he would do to you after you got back from dinner.

Your knee is centered in the middle of his thighs, pushing against his groin with each roll of your pelvis and the rock of Daryl’s hands as he pushes your hips forward, both helping you reach that point of pure bliss, going hard and deep, while giving him just a bit a release from the tension he feels because of you.

You close your eyes, head tilting up to the side lightly, mouth agape. “Ah, mm-” Your frustrated sounds then turn into you sighing so light, so sweetly, “I missed you.”

His hand reaches the side of your face briefly, rolling over your hair and cheek, “Missed you too.”

You knew your underwear was more than damp at this point, but you hoped the dark denim of his pants would mean it wouldn’t be that bad. You were lying to yourself honestly, but you did have wipes anyway, and… Was it bad to say you wanted to soak his jeans? For him to see the mess you made? Remember how big of a spot you created for later? There was no mistake, he had to spend the night. Having dinner in Alexandria made it so that it was too late for him to go back to the Sancutary afterwards. You wondered what he’d do to you later, what you’d let him do. He did miss you, he said it himself after all. And you feel his stare on your lower stomach as you continue to roll yourself on him, as he watches your clothed pussy make a mess of his jeans. And he sees the way his unintentional grunts and slight growls to the sight of you make your head tilt back, mouth opened so wide like you were already preparing to suck him off.

Your eyes are closed, your open mouth allowing a string of “ahs,” to come out as you continue to rub yourself against his muscle, wiggling a little, back and forth, going in a circle for a second to get more attention onto your clit, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter from your boyfriend’s big, and thick thigh. Your knee digs into him harder and he uses one hand to push it against him more.

After he lets go, one of his hands slips into your underwear, placing his middle finger over your clit, rubbing fast circles into it as much as he can as you continue to rock down on both thigh and fingers now. The extra friction feels so good. You’re whining, your panting, holding onto his shoulder with one hand, the other hand grabbing onto your desk, trying to stabilize yourself as you attempt to go faster, your movements becoming more erratic. “Daryl, please,” you whine, “help me.”

He places his free hand on your ass, kneading it forward and his other hand tries its best to circle into your pussy as much as it can.

As his middle finger continues to circle your clit, his two other fingers push into either side of your labia. “Go on,” he encourages, “Already made a mess. Make it bigger.” He moves his hand to your hip again, pushing you down. “You got it.”

Then he starts bouncing his leg, you bounce along with him, trying to rock as hard as you can. You start moaning louder, it’s continuous, you’re getting closer, you see yellow white light behind your eyes as a release takes over you, it’s hot and you can barely breathe, you almost wail as you coat his hands, ruining your panties, soaking his jeans. It felt amazing.

You huff out heavily now, finally opening your eyes to see Daryl take his hand from beneath you, licking his fingers clean. Wet popping sounds come out after he sucks each one, looking you directly in the eye. “Mmm.”

You blush gingerly at him. Getting up you see the large wer spot on his pant leg. It wasn’t a circle, it was ovular, taking up half the area of his thigh. Your teeth clench, you thought it would be big, but… you didn’t know it would be that big. This wasn’t something you could quickly clean off. “I guess it’s a good thing you keep your extra clothes here?”

He keeps his face straight, he figured as much would happen, but it was fun to see you squirm. “These were my extra clothes.”

“Oh.”

You should have let him take his pants off.

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 year

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Can we get a Jim Halpert x short!gn!reader who is just enamored with how much Taller Jim is than them. Like sometimes when they’re trying to reach up for something he suddenly just lefts them up so they can grab it, or if someone is bothering them he uses his hight to be intimating, and they just swoon. <3

Summary: Being the shortest person at Dunder Mifflin comes with a lot of problems- one namely being your boss, Michael Scott, who thinks he must be the newest and brightest comedian of their century. Spoiler alert: He’s really not. Warnings: short jokes (beware), A/N: So i’ve been called short maybe once or twice, but to be completely honest I’m literally at the ‘average’ mark on the scale so i’m just here, existing in neither shortness nor tallness. However, i’ve always heard the ‘short jokes’ are unending so I figured I’d base it on that? Sorry i know they’re annoying, but hopefully Jim’s sweetness makes up for it

“Aha! There they are!” Michael calls out just as you enter, and you feel a deep sense of regret begin billowing into your stomach. “Winner of the shortest person award!” Michael’s laughter was boisterous, making you want to cringe away from him and just make it to your desk. Just make it there, at the very least. You did literally just walk into work, you haven’t even set your briefcase down yet. Michael thankfully jumps away from you, approaching accounting. “I’m surprised you’re not starting a real cat fight Angela, with how Y/N over there stole your special office title!”

“My official title is ‘Accountant,’ Michael,” Angela reminds him in a wary voice, huffing her displeasure at being spoken to. Michael just laughs and begins shrugging his shoulder against Angela’s own as if they shared a common joke. Angela just looks on in disgust as Michael continues on.

“Catfight, get it? ‘Cause you’re the cat lady!” Angela only scoffs and Michael continues his boisterous laugh, turning and making his way back to his office.

“Michael, don’t forget,” Pam calls out behind you as you place your bag onto your desk, the solo desk in the Quality Assurance position at Dunder Mifflin. You turn to watch this interaction, Pam looking frustrated as she shakes a wad of papers at the man. “You have that appointment with corporate in-”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t have Pam, god!” Michael pushes the wad of papers away and storms into his office, and you still can’t for the life of you figure out how Michael can switch between emotions so quickly. Your eyes scan the room- mostly the sales department- and wonder about where half of the team had wandered off to. Stanley remained sitting at his desk, but it seemed as if the rest of them had disappeared. You hear a quick ‘Psst!’ and turn to lock eyes with Pam, making your way over at a wave from her.

“Michael came out here before you got here, said something about a massive sale that he needed all of his sales associates to go on.” Pam stage-whispered over to you, and you nod along slowly.

“Ah, that makes sense-”

“So, yeah, that’s where Jim is.”

“Pam-” You start, looking around nervously before skirting around her desk to see her more eye-to-eye without having to stand on your toes. “Shush up! I told you that in confidence!” You watch Pam giggle, placing a hand to her mouth as she does.

“Oh I know,” Pam nods with wide eyes, leaning against her desk faux-casually as she watches you. “Just like Jim told me in confidence that-”

“What’s a couple of short stacks doing back behind this huge desk?” Jim’s voice emanates suddenly from behind you and you jump, turning with wide eyes toward him. He seems to be locking eyes with Pam, who giggles once more with her hand covering her mouth. You couldn’t quite translate Jim’s look to her, but it held some sort of meaning you were sure.

“Oh! Hey Jim! I thought you had that sales thing?” Jim raises an eyebrow toward you, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“I did but then I coughed at Dwight and got out of it. Figured they had enough people as is- but the real question here is: How did you know about the sales call? You weren’t in here when Michael announced it.”

“Watching for me, Jim?” You tease, circling the desk and making your way back to your own. Jim quickly skirted around the desk, following behind you.

“Well, yeah, obviously. You’re so tiny I have to know where you are so I don’t trip over you.” You groan at yet another short joke, rolling your eyes and turning to look at him with an unimpressed look. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Pam told me where you- where all the sales associates went.”

“Asking after me, Y/L/N?” You scoff loudly, turning to lean yourself against your desk, crossing your arms up at Jim.

“Pam volunteered the information, thank you very much.” You look up into Jim’s eyes and can’t help but feel shrouded by his form. He takes another step closer, pushing you over slightly to lean against your desk himself, and hunching toward you whether he realized it or not. He acted as a sort of shield from the rest of the office, which some days you definitely felt like you needed.

“And why would Pam do something like that?” Jim’s voice was quieter like he was accounting for the new distance- or lack thereof. You stare into his hazel eyes, swallowing roughly. You couldn’t help but feel safe in the shield of comfort that he provided.

“Perhaps because half of the room’s occupants were not seated at their usual desks, which is a rather odd occurrence for a day at work.” You turn, grabbing a random handful of papers and tapping them on your desk. “Speaking of, isn’t that something you should be doing?” Jim laughs, pushing himself to stand from your desk before turning and saluting at you, walking backwards back to his own desk.

“Touche, Y/N!”

“Watch where you’re going!” You didn’t mean to sound too worried as you called it out, but Jim just chuckled, shrugging toward you.

“Why? I’m already keeping my eye on one safety hazard.”

“Yes, because I’m so short, ha ha.”

Coffee.

That’s what you needed today was coffee. Perhaps multiple cups to get through this shitshow of a day. After Michael’s brilliant start to the day with the short jokes, it seemed he had retired to his room solely to come up with more jokes to torture you with. You weren’t sure why it was your turn to take all of Michael’s attention, but you were ready to throw in the towel and leave early for the day already. You could just start over tomorrow morning, no harm no foul! Except then Michael would cry because he didn’t think you liked his jokes- which you don’t- and then you’d have to deal with consoling him for a solid hour before he eventually yelled that he didn’t need pity, and you would respond that it’s not pity- which it was- and spend another hour consoling him of that as well. You would know- it’s happened before.

And now you didn’t even have Jim around to curb the jokes or turn them into something that was actually funny. After your play-fight with Jim, he was then swiped away by Stanley- who apparently was the last one of the sales associates left only because he had his own sales call to go on. He had begged Jim to tag along, and of course the man agreed considering how nice he is. What wasn’t nice was leaving you alone with Michael when- well, just ever really. So if you look at it that way, it really all was Jim’s fault. Stupid Jim.

You shook your head, waking yourself from your daydream as you stared at the coffee pot, urging it to brew faster. It was already filled with half a pot, and you knew technically you should wait for the full pot to brew before pouring any but you really needed caffeine in your life immediately. You wandered over to the drainer by the sink to grab a cup, then hesitated as you realized there were no cups laying there. There were no dishes at all, actually, indicating someone actually came in here and took the time to put the dishes away. That’d normally be a good and nice thing, aside from the fact that you were too short to reach the cabinets above the counter where the mugs were all stored. Sighing, you turn to look for the step stool you usually keep around. (Technically it was the office’s step stool, but you were the only one that ever had to use it.)

It wasn’t where you left it, over to the side of the counter and next to the table. Looking around the room, you couldn’t spot it still. You checked the bathroom, thinking maybe it was in there- there had been a time or two it was moved in there either for use or for storage- but you couldn’t find it there either. You didn’t bother to check the other bathroom, just huffing to yourself and placing your hands on your hips. Glaring upward at the cabinets above the sink, you will the doors to open and a cup to float down by itself. Then when that didn’t work, you got to work trying to stand on your toes and reach up. The handle to the door was just out of your reach, but you should be able to swipe it open, maybe-

You startled at a large hand intercepting your own, swiping you out of the way and opening the door. You set yourself off of your tip-toes, flat-footed now only to turn and notice Jim pressing you in close to the kitchen counter as he reaches above you. He pulls down a mug- your favourite mug, no less- and places it on the counter beside you. You were able to turn around in place, but Jim only places his hands on the counter to either side of you, blocking you in.

“You should ask for help next time,” Jim whispers down to you, and looking up into his hazel eyes has your heart doing funny things. Maybe it’s the crush you have, maybe you’ve just developed some sort of heart-stuttering problem that you’d need to get checked out, but with Jim’s proximity, you couldn’t really think straight to debate either at the moment. You bit your lip, glancing at your cup and back up to him before finally finding your voice.

“I had that perfectly fine-”

“You couldn’t even reach the door, Y/L/N.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I was trying to get two cups, so,” You were just about to turn when Jim lifted his gaze finally. You felt like you could finally breathe- for the one whole second it took for Jim to lean forward into your space to reach above your head. He pulled down another mug to set on the counter, and you pull in a deep breath full of his scent that only serves to make you dizzier. You lift your gaze to him again, shaking your head. “No, I just meant-”

“What, three cups?”

“Maybe,” You mumble out, turning to face the kitchen counter again. You reach up to try your own hand- you would not be two-upped by him- and it’s an even worse predicament than before. At least with the door handle you had even a chance, and right now you couldn’t even reach to touch the bottom of the cupboard. Attempting to stretch yourself further, already on your tip-toes, you were just about to give up when you felt two large hands grab right under your armpits. They heave you up, and suddenly you’re at a height that you’d never really seen this room at before. Quickly reaching forward, you take two more mugs into your hands before the hands slowly set you back down on your feet.

‘Holy hells, how strong is he?’ You think to yourself, turning to lift your gaze back up to Jim. He was smiling, likely on the verge of laughter, though he had yet to. You could feel your face heating up and knew that blush was lighting up your face. What were you supposed to do now? Jim just picked you up, how do you move on from that?

“Four cups?” Jim questions you as he reaches forward to one of the new ones you had grabbed, taking it from your hand to turn it over in his own. He probably chose to grab that one as it was the one you had seen him use the most often, you figured it might be his favourite. You hoped so at least, considering he was able to grab your favourite after just one try.

“Three,” You admit quietly, turning to watch the last of the coffee brew into the pot, “I grabbed an extra in case you wanted some.” Jim’s head shot up to look at you, and you tilted your head in confusion at the reaction. His eyes were wide, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve said a slight blush was lighting up his own cheeks now. But why would offering him a cup of coffee make him embarrassed? “That’s only if you want some, of course.”

“I do!” He insisted, placing the cup down and spinning it slowly with one hand, staring at you the entire time. You got a little squirmy, reaching out to heft the large coffee pot and begin pouring it into your three cups. “Did you-” You glance briefly up at Jim- who was biting his lip by the gods is he trying to kill you?- before looking quickly back at your task so as to not spill any coffee. “Did you know this was my favourite cup?”

“Yeah,” You replied easily, watching his fingers stop spinning the cup right as you answer. “That’s why I grabbed that one.” You motion the pot over to his cup, watching him jump slightly before sliding his cup over toward you. You pour the coffee before replacing the pot back where it goes. You begin the process of adding sugar and creamer to the cups, sighing softly.

“So, why three cups? You being generous to someone else out there?”

“Nope,” You pop your mouth on the word, smirking up toward Jim before resuming your objective. “I just figured that the minimum amount of coffee I need to complete this day would be three cups, so I’m planning accordingly.” You hear Jim chuckle, smiling softly to yourself and beginning to add the sugar and creamer to Jim’s own- less than you like in yours, but that’s how he normally took it.

“Is that right? Did something happen that’s exhausting you today?”

“Just Michael and his dumb short jokes.”

“Ah,” Jim breathes out, leaning his hip against the counter and looking over his shoulder toward Michael’s office. “Did he do the old ‘appreciate the little things’ one?”

“Followed by a big hug, yep,” You sigh, taking one of the cups and scalding your mouth to take a drink of it. “Had to practically push him off of me.”

“And the miniature golf one?”

“‘Do you just call it regular golf?’” You repeat Michael’s joke from earlier, deepening your voice to mock him. Sighing, you take another large gulp and wince at the temperature. Jim reaches forward, seemingly unconsciously, and slowly lowers your cup to the counter, pushing it away from you. You wonder if he realized you were burning your tongue on it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Sounds like a rough day if he’s going all out.”

“Oh, absolutely. He also tried out a new one! ‘Sometimes when I look at short people, I wonder if they’re able to reach their goals!’” You turn at this, huffing out an aggravated breath. You had meant to tell this one as a joke, but just as it had hit you off guard before, it was hitting you again. You tried to keep from tearing up, but really- who wanted to work as Quality Assurance for a paper company? Obviously, you haven’t been able to reach your goals and Michael just unwittingly mocked you for that.

“Hey, hey,” Jim began, reaching an arm out to place against your upper arm, noticing how fragile you suddenly became. “That was uncalled for,” Jim agreed, stepping closer to you to tower over you once more, “I’m sure Michael didn’t mean for it to be that bad, he’s just trying to think up different short puns.” He patted your arm, squeezing it once before continuing, “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to go to his office to look them up. I bet he didn’t even come up with it on his own.”

You laugh blearily, raising a hand to wipe away a tear that had yet to fall, but almost did. Jim began rubbing your arm up and down, and you lifted your coffee cup once more to take a big gulp. You hear the door to the room open, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

“Oh, there you are!” You hold back a groan at the sound of Michael’s voice, closing your eyes to try and rein in your feelings. “Hey, I have a good one! What do you call it when a short person says goodbye?” You can hear Michael’s excitement behind you, and while normally you’d feel bad for ruining that sort of happiness, you just really weren’t in the mood for it right now. “Y/N, hey! What do you call it when you say goodbye!” He taps on your shoulder, and you finally turn to look at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Michael,” Jim tries to inject, raising a hand between the two of you. Michael, too excited to stop, jumps up and down before he finally bursts out laughing, his words jumbled and almost unrecognizable.

“A microwave! Get it! Micro!” He laughs again, and you try to find any semblance of care to keep this job, anything to get you to smile at Michael and move on like you usually do. That’s when Jim steps in front of you, moving closer to Michael. You gulp, his whole body blocking your boss from you, and you slowly realize that Jim was backing Michael up to the wall, towering over him very specifically.

“What about me, Michael?” Jim takes another step forward, Michael stumbling on a backwards step. “Have any tall jokes for me?”

“But, tall jokes-”

“Michael,” Jim’s voice lowered, and while you couldn’t see his face you could almost hear how serious it must’ve looked. Michael scurries out from next to Jim, hurrying over to the door. He clears his throat, throwing an undisguised fearful look toward Jim before straightening his suit coat and turning to leave the room.

There was something about that- maybe Jim using his height for you or even defending you from someone you were obviously having problems with- that made you suck in a breath. You knew you were blushing before, but your face felt like an inferno now. As Jim turns to look at you with an apprehensive look, you didn’t know what your own face was projecting at this point. All you kept thinking was that scene, Jim towering over Michael and chasing him away. Jim and his big body and big hands and-

A hand was being waved in your face and you jumped, widening your eyes further and drawing your gaze upward to meet with Jim. He was smiling, laughing it seemed, and finally crossed his arms. “I seemed to lose you there for a second, you alright?”

“Yeah- yes, I’m fine.” You could hear the breathless tone to your voice and cursed inwardly, turning to quickly grab your cup of coffee and drain the rest of what was in the cup. Jim raised his eyebrows at this, laughing again as you place your mug into the sink and grab the second one.

“No, but really, are you okay? Michael has some pretty shitty timing.” Timing, right. You were talking to him about something. What were you talking about? You met Jim’s gaze again and took another drink, hoping to buy time. He only laughs, reaching for his own cup and mirroring you, taking his own sip. His eyes dart briefly down to his cup before raising back to you, something in him softening at the taste.

“I’m fine. Really. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course,” Jim answers right away, smiling and holding his mug close to his chest. “If only I had been here the rest of the day, I would’ve been able to help out before it got too bad.”

“You know,” You were surprised you finally were able to find your voice, taking another drink from your coffee just to keep him in suspense. “I’m now wondering if he ran to his office to start looking up tall jokes now.” Jim groaned playfully, rolling his eyes and leaning a hip against the counter. “‘How’s the weather up there?’ And whatnot, you know?”

“Oh, I know, “ Jim insists, causing you to bubble up with laughter once more. “I think his most recent one was, ‘What’s the difference between a clown and a tall person?’” You raise your eyebrows, taking a drink from your coffee. He smirks, continuing on, “Their shoe store.” You huff a smile laugh, shaking your head.

“That’s horrible.”

“I didn’t mind it that much,” Jim replies with a shrug, watching your face. You wonder why you’re being scrutinized so closely, until he finishes his sentence, “I mean, you know what they say about big feet.” You choke on your coffee, turning and coughing away from Jim. Your eyes were wide, running that sentence through your head. You could swear that you’ve never blushed this often in your entire life, and yet your face heats up once more to its familiar warmth and you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do with your hands. Placing your now empty second mug into the sink, you take hold of your last one and fake salute toward Jim.

“Alright! And with that, I am off!” You hear Jim laughing loudly behind you, shaking your head and pressing the back of your hand to your cheek. You turn and call back into the room, “To do work! Like we’re supposed to be doing!” The door closes on Jim’s laughter, and you hurry to make it back to your desk. No one seems bothered by your commotion aside from Pam, who just looks at you with a smile and a head tilt. You just shake your head in response, finding refuge at your desk.

“So, drinks tonight?”

“Yeah, drinks sound great!”

“Are we going to-”

“Of course!”

“Hey, Y/N!” You turn your head at your name, eyeing the group of coworkers congregating at the glass doors as they all take turns putting on their jackets. It was Phyllis who called your name, and you tried to turn your brain back on enough to pay attention. After all, work is over now, you shouldn’t need to use your brain anymore. That just sounded exhausting.

“Yeah?”

“Are you coming?” At that you tilt your head, and Phyllis smiles at you kindly, “Everyone is going out for drinks.”

“Oh,” You consider it, looking at the group of them before nodding, your smile growing. “Sure! That sounds fun!”

“Nope!” You jump at the loud sound of Michael’s voice, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He approaches you and hunches down to look you in the eye- completely unnecessarily. “You can’t come!” He stands again, holding a hand above your head, “You must be this tall to ride this ride! Sorry, gotta be this tall to have a drink with the lads!” He laughs loudly, turning to usher everyone out of the building. You stand there gaping, then turn to look at Phyllis, who in turn looked horrified.

“Oh, Y/N, that was-” She huffs, “You’re still allowed to come you know.”

“No, that’s okay Phyllis,” You began, sighing and glaring at the back of Michael’s head. “I don’t think I’d have much fun with him around anyway.”

“Well, since you’re free,” You startle again, huffing when you turn around and come face-to-face with Jim. Well, face-to-chest, but you’re not here to make fun of your own height.

“Jim! You scared me.” You playfully glare at him, finishing up packing up your desk. Phyllis, unnoticed, smiled at the two of you before leaving.

“As I was saying,” Jim continues, circling around to stand right next to you. You raise your eyes to him once more, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. When he takes your hand, your eyebrow immediately falls, and you drop your gaze to look at the sight of his fingers mixing with yours. “Since you’re free tonight, maybe we could go get a drink ourselves?” You raise your surprised gaze to Jim, unsure what to say as he finally continues in a lowered and deeper voice, “Just us?”

“Jim,” You begin, his name more of an exhale than really spoken, “What are you- like a date?”

“I know our size difference is so vast,” Jim playfully insists, pulling your hand twice with his own before tangling your fingers together, “But somehow I think we can push past it.”

“So, a-”

“Yes, a date,” Jim clears up with a laugh, reaching his other hand to place against your cheek. “I promise I won’t take you to a giant’s bar.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“I better be able to fit on the stools.” His smile widens, using your hands to pull you in closer.

“Is that a-”

“That’s a yes, yeah,” You agreed easily, attempting to stand on your toes to reach up toward him. Luckily, at the same moment, Jim leaned down and your lips finally met. Jim’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you in closer and you couldn’t help but melt against him. When your kiss finally breaks and he straightens back up, you pout up at him. He chuckles, shaking his head with a soft look.

“A kiss like that and all I get is a pout? I must be off my game.” You laugh, playfully hitting his chest before huffing.

“Not that, the kiss was amazing. It’s just,” You playfully glare up at him, taking hold of his tie, “You’re too tall. I can’t just surprise you with a kiss, you have to lean all the way down here just for it to happen!” Jim laughs, sliding his head from the back of your head down to your back while you spoke and pulling you in closer.

“Well, that just sounds like quitters talk.”

“You’re on then, Halpert.” So, maybe today wasn’t the worst day.

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #jim halpert #the office #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #short reader #michael scott #pam beesly

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juuuulez · 9 months

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📰 | part two: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, female reader, father-figure Negan, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, no use of (y/n) because immersion.

summary: During your first visit to Alexandria, when Carl misfires a gun, you’re instructed to “babysit” him. This does not go very well.

previous | next

I’m glad everyone liked the first part!! This one is definitely more juicy. Kids being kids. Writing the next part now, let me know if you have any particular requests!

Also (finally) titled!! Drawing heavily on Romeo and Juliet, except… more spiteful at the beginning.

A few days later, and you’re back.

The town of Alexandria is actually quite nice, when you aren’t being cooped up in a cell.

Your fellow Saviours seem to think so too, exploring the place, taking supplies they deem useful for the Sanctuary. After all, there’s mouths to feed, therefore you’ve stopped feeling bad for all these communities you bleed dry.

Well, you felt a little bad last night.

The lineup was rough, it always is. You hadn’t seen the brunt of it, instead sitting safe in the RV where Negan had all but interrogated you regarding your time locked up; coming from a place of concern for your well-being. But you stepped out just as dawn was beginning to hit, and saw the aftermath.

It was just for a few seconds, to retrieve a weapon from Dwight, but you felt a twinge of guilt as Negan taunted that poor boy.

At least he wasn’t wearing the stupid hat anymore.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you told yourself. Guilt had no place in the apocalypse, especially not for the Saviours, a group of well earned apex predators in this bleak world.

That’s how you saw it.

You oversee the work of your people whilst Negan is talking with Rick. Everybody respects you.. or maybe everybody is scared of you. Scared of your father. Either way, it works.

You’re comfortable as a leader. Somebody who can give orders without hesitation. At the start, there was resistance. Who wanted to be ordered around by a teenage girl? But eventually everything fell into place, and people realised that you were a central part to this operation.

Then the sound of a gunshot rings through the air, putting everybody on edge. Weapons suddenly unholstered, dropping whatever menial task they were completing.

You command them to stand down with a wave of the hand, going to investigate yourself.

Fortunately enough, the situation has already been handled.

Or mostly handled.

“Just who I wanted to see.” Negan says with his usual prowess, however it’s dimmed by an underlying irritation. He brings you further into the room with a gloved hand on your shoulder.

He positions you there like a prize, something valuable. Or maybe a dangerous weapon. A constant show of ‘look at what’s mine, look at what she can do.’ You quite like that.

“Now, it appears that young Grimes is too trigger-happy for his own good,” Negan continues, to which you finally notice Carl standing in the middle of the room, “So why don’t you babysit him for me, darling?”

The boy is practically seething. That same expression you’d seen at the lineup, pure anger and rebellion.

You could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“Of course,” You agree, a grin spreading across your lips, “I’d appreciate a tour, to see if anything here interests me.”

There’s no reply. Carl glares at you, then shoots a pleading look at his father, but to no avail. Rick nods his head in the direction of the door, and you feel like you’ve just won the lottery. This was going to be good.

Now, you didn’t enjoy toying with peoples emotions, per-say. But getting them all riled up sure was fun.

And a teenage boy? This was like a gift from above.

Grown men grew tired of your commanding nature, they’d get violent, speak out of line. It was a dangerous game, one that you loved. Like a cat and mouse, or Icarus flying too close to the sun.

A teenage boy was much more in your ballpark.

“You play sports?” You ask Carl, who is walking a few paces behind you, begrudgingly following despite the fact he was meant to be showing you around. But you didn’t mind.

He doesn’t answer.

You turn to face him, shooting him a backwards glare of what the hell is your problem. “What, you took a vow of silence, or something?” It’s snarky, immature, prodding the bear.

But it works.

“No, I don’t play sports.” Carl answers reluctantly, his tone flat and unamused. It’s becoming more and more evident that when you’re in power like this, in control, you can be a nightmare.

You don’t bother to suppress your grin of satisfaction, turning back away from him, “Yeah, didn’t think so, stringbean. Bet I’ve got more muscle mass than you.”

This must do something, as suddenly Carl has closed the few paces between you, and is blocking your path from continuing. He’s in your face, closer than comfortable, but you love it.

“What the hell’s your problem?” He asks, clearly angry at your snide little comments. That righteous attitude is back. “You can’t come in here, and tell everybody what to do. We’re gonna fight back, and when we do, you’ll be sorry.”

You give him a firm shove, letting Carl stumble a few feet back, “Yeah, how’d that go for you back there, huh? Aim much?”

It’s a low blow, you know that, which is why it feels so goddamn good.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him.

“Didn’t shoot me at the satellite station, either. I’m starting to think you’re more harmless than you’re letting on.”

“I’m not exactly in the interest of murdering children,” Carl retorts angrily, “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m seventeen!” You yell back at him, walking swiftly past the boy, but making sure to harshly bump your shoulders together. “Now show me your armoury. You’ve got something of mine.”

You’re walking too quickly for Carl to shoot back a comment, and he needs to awkwardly skip in order to catch up. This time he takes a few strides forward, making the effort to walk just fast enough to stay in front of you.

He wants to be in charge.

Luckily, you love to be petty.

As the pair of you reach the armoury, you swiftly side-step Carl, entering the room first, much to his dismay. You’re eyes are scanning the shelves, rows and rows of guns and weaponry, with one thing in mind. The bat.

“Too bad we’re confiscating all your guns, this is quite the collection,” You comment, finding a supply sheet to glance over, “Good job on that one, by the way. Aren’t you helpful?”

Carl essentially ignores your sarcasm, speaking from the other side of the room, “Looking for something?”

You turn, a momentary flash of confusion on your face, until you realise that he’s got it. The metal bat clutched in one hand, held up tauntingly. When you take a step forward to retrieve it, he only takes a step back.

“That’s not funny.” You say, a sense of agitation in your tone, that dominant and teasing persona gone in an instant.

It only causes Carl to grin, taking pleasure in this momentary inch of power he’s gained.

“You even know how to play baseball?” He asks, switching the bat into his dominant hand, pretending to slowly swing it.

“I do, actually,” You snap, reaching out to finally grasp the metal bat, taking it from his grip unceremoniously, “Wanna see? I can use your skull as the ball.”

This works to shut him up, judging by how Carl’s eyes narrow into a glare, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. You take this as a victory, once again knocking shoulders as you leave the small space, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

You’re not even a few meters down the street before there are footsteps again, Carl still following you, despite wanting otherwise. It makes that malicious grin to return.

“Aren’t you obedient?” You quip, not even bothering to look back at him as you speak, as if he isn’t worth the time. It’s a power trip, one you’re addicted to, one Carl is unknowingly feeding into. Or, maybe he does know, but can’t do anything about it.

Carl scoffs, “Coming from you. Do you always do everything Negan tells you to?”

It’s smart, getting you to roll your eyes in displeasure, that metal bat swinging by your side as you walk. “It’s called being a good soldier, like you would understand.”

“Yeah? Soldier, or pet?” He continues, and you can basically hear the grin in his voice.

The fuck does he know?

You finally spin around, grip tightening ever so slightly on the bat. Control is slowly slipping through your fingers, this stupid back and forth game beginning to get on your nerves, despite being the instigator.

“You wanna talk about pet?” You spit, closing in on his personal space, “Rick tells you to murder twenty people, and you do it? That’s called being a little bitch, okay, daddy’s boy?”

This works, as Carl’s face twists into a look of anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

But you continue, “This stupid group has had this coming for a long time. There’s no such thing as being the good guys, you’re just another bunch of stupid pricks, who need to be put in their place.”

It snaps something inside of Carl, because suddenly he’s giving you a harsh shove, where you stumble a few feet backwards. You mirror his childish temper, throwing your body at him with equal force, where the two of you awkwardly wrestle in the middle of the street.

You attempt to gain leverage, steeling your feet into the ground, bending your knees. Then, out of nowhere, you’re raising your arm with the bat, ready to try and dislocate his shoulder, or something. Anything. Just to show that you aren’t weak.

But before you can swing, there’s resistance, and you snap out of this little squabble to realise that somebody else is holding your bat.

“The hell are you doin’, girl?”

Negan swiftly lifts the bat from your grip, holding it at an arms length. You let go of Carl, whipping around to glare at the older man.

“He’s being a total jagoff!” You shout, twisting to see a similar look of discontent on Carl’s face, like he’s itching to leap back into your little fight.

It’s no use, because then Negan is holding your shoulder, giving you a gentle push in the opposite direction, “Truck, now. We’re making our departure.”

And you listen, despite everything telling you to continue. To prove yourself, maintain that power.

To make matters worse, Carl has taken this experience as some sort of mental victory, yelling out from the footpath, “Daddy’s girl!”

You can only turn, angrily giving him the finger as you storm off towards the gates, but it acts as fuel to the fire. Getting sick of that stupid expression, you turn back away, footsteps quickening in an attempt to seperate yourself from the ever so slightly humiliating experience.

Next time you’ll get him.

#twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x you #negan smith x reader

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freesia-writes · 14 days

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Pets4Vets: Jesse (2/4)

Chapter 2 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List - previous chapter here

Jesse’s leg jiggled incessantly in his flimsy plastic chair in the reception area. He fidgeted with his fingers for a bit, then sat back, crossing them across his chest and lifting his chin. You swung open the door, datapad in hand, and scanned the empty room, stifling a grin at the fact that he nearly took up the entire corner. He was indeed “a big boy”, and his thin t-shirt made no attempt to conceal that fact. The giant Republic cog tattooed across his face and head was quite the statement, too. Resuming your businesslike manner, you invited him to follow you.

His eyes roved around your office as the door closed behind the two of you, the large window that made up the upper half allowing you to see people passing by outside. You felt a flicker of self-consciousness that surprised you as the faintest of smiles ghosted across his face at the sight of the many knick-knacks, memorabilia, and images that filled your walls. Past and present animals, with and without their owners, were peppered between what seemed like everything you had ever loved. But why should you care what some random trooper thought? You cleared your throat.

“So… You’re looking for a large dog ‘or something equally badass’?” you asked, reading off your datapad.

“Yeah,” he said, simultaneously proud yet a little unsure at his answer now that he heard it read back to him. “I just thought it’d be… nice. I’ve heard good stuff. Brothers seem to like their pets.”

“Many of them do, yes,” you agreed.

“At least the ones that can’t land a girl,” he scoffed, laughing and nodding at you as though you’d wholeheartedly agree. You didn’t, and stared at him for a moment before deciding to let that one go.

“The process might sound extensive, but the animals actually have a lot of nuance and personality, so we like to get to know our clients as well as possible so that we can find the best fit.”

“Ugh. You and the matchmaking people,” he blurted, pressing his lips together immediately. You realized he hadn’t meant to let that slip. Now you were torn about calling him out on it or not. Maybe feel him out a bit more first.

“Yes, it is essentially matchmaking,” you grinned. “Many of these animals will be with you for a good portion of your life, so they do become a beloved partner in a way. Just don’t have sex with them.”

He guffawed so loudly he clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes large at the unrefined sound he’d just made. You couldn’t resist a chuckle at that one yourself. You did have a bawdy sense of humor at times, but it wasn’t always received well, so his laughter was a bit gratifying.

“Just need to be clear on everything from the start,” you continued. He was trying and failing to arrange his features into the confident mask he’d worn through the door. You were surprised to find it endearing. But no time for that. “So… tell me about yourself. Your lifestyle. Your personality. Your priorities.”

“Kriff, that’s a lot. I mean… I was a soldier, obviously. Did a lot of wild and awesome things,” he grinned. Ah, back in his element. “Basically saved the galaxy. You know. You can show your gratitude in a variety of ways if you feel so inclined.” He ran a head over his bald head, leaning back to manspread a bit more on the other side of your desk.

You didn’t know what to say, but apparently your face said it all.

“Anyway…” He coughed, then continued. “Now I’m apparently just a regular old person with a job and an apartment and a whole exciting life ahead of me…” A flicker of something crossed his face; you weren’t sure what it was, but you were suddenly quite intrigued. He moved on quickly, however. “So nowadays I work as a personal trainer at Dwight Schrute’s Gym for Muscles. Mostly afternoon and evening shifts. Cause I like to sleep in… After long nights, you know? Ahah.”

“I bet,” you murmured, swiping on the datapad screen.

“I can tell you’re impressed,” he chuckled. You stared at him for a moment, unable to tell if he were being serious or not. “It’s okay, it happens to everyone.” Gods above, he was being serious.

“I am… quite stunned,” you said, meaning every word.

“Well don’t worry, I’ll pick you up if you faint.”

“Mm. Thanks.”

“Nothing any hero wouldn’t do.”

“Naturally.”

“What about you? What’s your story?”

You looked up, taken off guard. Why would anyone be asking about your side of things? You were suspicious. “Nothing too exciting. I work here. Annnnd that’s about it. So you’d say you’re pretty active… Are you able to get outdoors a lot? If a pet needed a decent amount of exercise? Considering your sleep schedule, a crepuscular animal might be a good fit.”

“No crabs, lady,” he said, shaking his head and putting both hands in the air. “I’ve avoided those all my life and I’m not about to start now.”

“Crabs?” you echoed, confused for a moment before it dawned on you. “Oh… Not crustaceous,” you clarified, biting back a giggle. “Crepuscular means animals that are most active in the twilight hours, so dawn or dusk. I suppose you’re not up early, but you mentioned a roommate? If they were able to give it a little attention in the early hours, you’d be on evening duty.”

“Alright,” he nodded, toning it down a bit. “I thought Massiffs were daytime animals though.”

“They are. I don’t think that would be the best fit for you, though.”

He looked affronted, “You think you know me already?” A flash of a grin, both cocky and insecure.

“No,” you smiled. “But I know our animals, and I’ve gotten pretty good at reading vibes.”

“Vibes?” he echoed, making no attempt to hide the condescension in his voice.

“Energy, personality, whatever you want to call it. I’m good at pairing.”

“Ah, so you must have an amazing boyfriend then, eh?” he jabbed, unaware of the territory he was wandering into. The sharp look on your face gave him some clue, though, so he tried to correct. “Er, girlfriend? A theydey or gentlethem?” Then he gasped, forcing a conspiratorial look onto his face. “Is it even human?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absolute ridiculousness. Where did he get the audacity? He was probably expecting you to be overwhelmed or impressed or have some kind of diminutive response. But that wasn’t quite what you were feeling at the moment.

“Actually,” you said, imitating his tone, “it’s a rancor.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, only this time it was authentic delight and surprise instead of the cocky little “ahah”s you’d been getting so far. You were grinning without meaning to, momentarily pleased by the awe on his face. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, wagging a finger at you. “So you like it freaky.”

“I actually haven’t been on a decent date in over a year now,” you deadpanned, relishing the shock that replaced his swagger. He legitimately didn’t know what to do with that, and that felt wildly satisfying. “Anyway, that’s all I really need for today. The receptionist will book your next appointment on your way out.”

He was too speechless to craft any sort of cocky response as he shuffled out of the room.

* * *

“This place is LOUD!” you yelled to your friend over the music. You’d finally caved at her incessant requests to go to 79s, and after hours of fretting over what to wear and how to do your hair, since you were mostly used to work attire and a ponytail, you were there. You’d opted for a simple black dress but had left your hair down since you wouldn’t be surrounded by animals for a change, although your friend had laughed and said that’s exactly what you’d be surrounded by.

“You’ll get used to it!” she yelled back, waving enthusiastically at a table of troopers that she apparently seemed to be familiar with. A few of them howled back, beckoning her over, but she pointed at the bar first, and a few of them pushed past one another to meet her there. It was odd to see them all gathered in one place without their armor. Since the Clone Rights and Personhood Act had passed, they had no need for anything other than civilian clothing anymore, but it was still unique to see so many people with the same face. Granted, they all had their own unique style and approach to individuality, but you just weren’t used to all of it quite yet.

Your friend dragged you to the bar counter along with the troopers, each one wearing a different t-shirt over some plain jeans, and the flirting began immediately. You stood behind the group, squinting to try to make out what was on the menu. The choices were fairly slim… a couple of cocktails or some very watered-down beer, or so you’d heard. Maybe you’d just stick with water tonight.

Or so you thought.

Two hours later, you were completely drunk, having given in to multiple offers of drinks and dances, and your face was flushed red from the thrill of it all. It was quite unlike you, but you didn’t care. The troopers were adorable and endearing, and you were having an absolute blast learning so many names, dancing like a crazy person, and enjoying the shenanigans of the rowdy bunch. A naval officer currently had his hands on your hips, a gleeful grin on his face as the two of you rocked to the music. You’d been self conscious at first about dancing for all of two minutes, but the clones didn’t seem to care at all. They were just there to have fun, and you’d quickly found yourself caught up in the joy of it all.

You were tiring quickly though, having danced for almost an hour straight, and you thanked your partner before heading off to the side, leaning against the wall and fanning yourself for a minute. Touching your hands to your cheeks, you giggled at how hot they were. You felt so pleasantly bubbly, just a little dizzy, warm and fuzzy inside, and absolutely delighted with anything and everything.

“Well well well. Didn’t expect to see you here.” A clone had appeared at your side, immediately recognizable by the giant Republic cog tattoo across his face.

“Jesse!” you yelled, flinging your arms open and throwing yourself at him for a hug. He stepped back, surprised, and lightly touched your back before you pulled back to regard him fondly. “This place is great!!”

He chuckled, eyebrows furrowed at the shocking departure from what he’d seen of your personality at the animal shelter. “Yeah, I mean… You alright?” he tilted his head as you giggled, smacking his chest playfully.

“SO GOOD!” you squawked, hand sliding up to his shoulder, then down his arm. You gave it a squeeze, then dropped your hand. “Damn, lookin good, trooper. What are you doing?”

“Just… hanging out,” he grinned. “You lookin for some fun?”

“I seem to have found it!” You waggled your eyebrows, stepping closer and toying with his waist. “This place is great!”

“Yeah, you said that,” he laughed. “Want to dance?”

“Hellz to the yeah!” And you started dancing right there, swinging your hair around like your life depended on it.

“Wow… Okay… Let’s get you some water first,” he suggested, now torn between concern and delight.

“Water is for boglings!” you squawked, grabbing his hand and doing your best to drag him to the dance floor. But he was significantly larger than you, and he tugged you right back. You collided with his broad chest and looked up at him indignantly.

“Water first,” he insisted, tapping the tip of your nose playfully.

“Get out of here,” you laughed, swatting at his hand. “But fine... if it means I get to grind on those juicy thighs!”

“Deal,” he grinned.

You gulped down the pathetic cup of water he’d been able to wrangle from the bartender, then the two of you hit the dance floor. Whether it was all the pent-up energy you’d choked down from your disappointing dates or just the sheer intoxication of… well… being intoxicated, you were happy to let loose. Jesse was smooth and strong all at once, hands growing heavier on your body as you writhed against him, and you reached an arm up to cup the back of his neck. He lowered his head, brushing his lips against your neck, and hot fireworks exploded throughout your core as you continued to sway together.

“Want to get out of here?” you yelled, turning around to face him and gliding your hands down his front. Your hair was scattered across your shoulders, cheeks bright red on either side of a dumb grin, and he swallowed. His gaze darkened for a moment, and he pulled you a little closer, cupping your face and meeting your eyes with undeniable desire. But he looked at you for a moment longer, and his shoulders slumped a tiny bit.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

“No, I meant to bang!” you pressed, laughing in complete disregard.

“I know...” he chuckled, taking your arm and steering you toward the door. "I know."

* * *

You woke the next morning with a raging headache and a sick stomach. You sank your face into your hands, groaning at your desk as you tried to read the datapad with bleary eyes. Only a few appointments today, thank the Maker. Cleaning the animal kennels had nearly made you throw up, so a quiet day of desk work was about all you could handle before crawling back home to your bed. Your friend who'd taken you to 79s had commed you far too early in the morning, gleefully informing you that you’d been “off the hook”, and while you’d dreaded the answer to your the question you had for her, she’d assured you that you’d messaged her upon arriving at home and that you went to bed alone.

Whatever else had happened, you couldn’t remember. At least you didn’t have to get tested for "crepusculars", you chuckled to yourself.

A light knock on your door rang loudly in your ears, and you squinted through your window at the receptionist, who was waving with far too bright a smile for the ungodly hour of 10am. She jerked her head behind her, giving you a not-too-subtle thumbs up as she opened your door and ushered in the cocky clone from a couple days ago. Something about him looked different though… Your wracked your brain but came up with nothing other than an unsettled feeling. Maybe you’d had a dirty dream about him… it wouldn’t be the first time some random client had popped up while you slept. Either way, you felt your cheeks redden slightly as he stepped into your office, the door closing behind him. Only when he sat in the chair on the other side of your desk did you notice that he had two smoothies in his hands, one of which he slid across to you.

“Good morning,” he grinned, and your stomach dropped as you realized he seemed to know something you didn’t.

“Morning…” you said suspiciously, taking the smoothie and inspecting it before looking back at him. “What’s this?”

“It’s a lil somethin from the gym I work at… All kinds of healthy crap in it… But it’s supposedly great for hangovers.”

You stared, heart sinking in your chest. What had you done…

“So,” he continued briskly, all business and innocence. “What’s the next step? Meeting some animals today?”

“Yes…” you said slowly, entirely unsure of how to move on. You were kicking yourself for having been so careless… You were never the type to drink so much that you couldn’t remember. But you’d felt safe and had been so buoyed by the infectious atmosphere… Regardless, there was work to be done, and you turned to your datapad to avoid his eyes. “There are a few different options that I had in mind after reviewing your file…”

“Is that what you call it…” he murmured, causing you to jerk your head up so fast that it throbbed. You winced, rubbing your temples and taking a sip of the smoothie. It was surprisingly refreshing, and you took a few more gulps, staring at him skeptically.

“Alright,” you snapped, equally indignant and resigned. “Out with it.”

“With what?” His angelic smile made your heart skip a beat, which further added to your confusion.

“Whatever you’re gloating about.”

“You just seem so… professional in here…” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his own smoothie before putting it down with a flourish.

“And…?”

“And a little more laid back when you were grinding on me like your life depended on it last night.”

You were stunned into silence, mouth falling open a little bit as you stared at him, speechless. You couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even your type. Plus, you doubt he would have let you go home alone if you’d done what he was accusing you of.

“You’re lying.”

“Mmkay,” he shrugged. Somehow that made you even more incensed.

“So what else happened?” you challenged, lifting your chin a little bit.

“Drinks and dancing. You really like to fling your hair around,” he chuckled. “Then I walked you home.”

“And?” you squinted.

“And that’s it. You said you could make it up to your apartment. Did you?”

“Yes,” you sighed, relieved that your report to your friend had been accurate. But it struck you as odd. Wouldn’t he be the type to take advantage of your momentary lapse in judgment?

“But if you still want to ‘bang’, as you put it, I’d be happy to oblige.” He folded his arms behind his head, showing off his muscles and arching an eyebrow at you, unfazed by your grimace and audible groan.

“Did I really say that?” You didn’t even really want to know the answer.

“Mhm. Didn’t know you wanted me that bad.”

“Kriff,” you muttered under your breath. Why did it have to be him? Of all the troopers in that Maker-forsaken bar… This was beyond repair. “I’m gonna have my colleague Tosak take your case,” you said suddenly, rising to your feet and grabbing your datapad. “He’ll be able to pick up where we left off and you should be able to take your animal home by the end of the week.”

“Wait, why?” Jesse stood up quickly, dropping the cocky facade immediately.

“You expect me to be professional after that?”

“No,” he answered bluntly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Exactly,” you sighed, the flicker of a smile touching your cheeks. “It’ll be better this way.” You slipped out the door, once again leaving him in your office, mouth slightly open with a million different things to say.

Next Chapter

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#jesse fic #jesse x reader #tcw jesse #tcw jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse #pets4vets #jesse fluff #clone fluff #clone trooper jesse #tcw fic #tcw fanfic #clone fanfic #clone fic #x reader fluff #x reader #clone x reader #the clone wars

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rootsofdread · 9 months

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I live for goofy moments with survivors mid serious matches tbh. Nuthin'better than throwing the game because some guy found a way to jump on the table!

Ace, Rebecca, Feng and Dwight with a usually ferocious killer, who's easily amused and/or distracted? They basically see red at all times, running and slashing and tearing everything apart.. untill people stop running away and start doing something unconventional for the place. They see a survivor behind the counter in the Dead Dawg Saloon? Yeah, no, it's not a hunt anymore, it's a bar night. Someone watches TV at Lery's memorial? That's their favourite thing to do now, too! And the carnival games.. Don't even get them started on carnival games. So it's mostly the matter of "who can entertain the said killer for the most time possible" instead of "who can outrun them" most times :)

🦞 uhavefuntoo

this was a fun one to write hehe!! fun fact i based the dwight one off of an experience i had in-game, i can't remember if i was playing dwight at the time but i had gone to pet maurice with two of my teammates and while we were petting him our killer, a nurse, came over and just watched us for a little bit, then left. IIRC, she massacred us, but it was funny X)

(i also tried to amuse a sadako in a similar way...i pretended to be watching one of her TVs, crouched in front of it, was pointing at it, and so she teleported through it, which got me to laugh. she also ended up killing me though lol)

Dwight Fairfield:

For the most part, Dwight is so afraid of you that anything funny or distracting he might do is completely by accident. For example, when he was trying to hide from you on the grounds of Father Campbell’s Chapel. He ducked down by Maurice’s favorite tent, hiding slightly behind the horse hoping you wouldn’t see him. He began gently petting Maurice to calm himself down, because he swore he could feel something looming over his shoulder. The feeling kept nagging at him as he pet the animal…until he decided he should turn around, and saw you staring at him. But there was something different about your demeanor — you seemed to have calmed down. He was still petrified, of course. Especially when you moved closer and crouched down beside him. He almost bolted away, but you started petting Maurice with him. Confusing as it was, he decided…whatever keeps you from killing him. Maurice seemed happy, too.

Feng Min:

Feng has quite the penchant for messing with killers. Whether or not they ever enjoy it could be up for debate, but it doesn’t stop her from doing it, and she always has fun with you. Every time the two of you are running through the Dead Dawg Saloon, she’ll make some distance between you and her and dive behind the counter inside the saloon, and when you finally catch up to her, she pops up from behind it and announces she’s here to take your order. Seeing the immediate change in your demeanor amuses her to no end, when you suddenly stop and politely approach the counter. Typically, you two will end up playing barkeep for the rest of the match while Feng’s teammates finish generators and everything. Sometimes, other survivors will wander in and either be confused by the scene or decide to join in your games. Either way, Feng loves having fun with you like this.

Ace Visconti:

Of course, Ace is no stranger to testing his luck, especially when it comes to killers. He was testing wacky ways to lose you or direct your attention to something else long before he knew how easy it really was to distract you. He didn’t truly discover this until one day, when running from you around the carnival grounds of Father Campbell’s, he decided to stop at one of the booths. It was a milk jug ring toss game, he figured if he landed a shot, maybe it’d amuse you enough to leave him alone for now. To his surprise, you actually stopped your bloodthirsty rampage to watch him play the game, and you even took a turn after he’d thrown a few. He soon realized, after a couple rounds, was actually having fun with you. A killer…! If he would’ve known this was going to work, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

Rebecca Chambers:

Rebecca doesn’t tend to goof off during trials, not even with other survivors, especially not with a killer. Normally, she wouldn’t be particularly inclined to waste time either, but during a trial between the two of you inside Lery’s Memorial, as she was running from you she was quickly realizing she was running out of ways to keep you distracted. She noticed a television up the hallway, and as a last-ditch effort, sprinted towards it and called a time-out to watch TV together. She didn’t think it would work. But you actually stopped and lumbered towards the TV with your head cocked, and you stood next to her in front of the screen. She was still tense, but internally, she heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow, it had worked…she had gotten you to calm down and stop terrorizing everyone for a few minutes. In a way, it was nice, almost….

#inbox #killer reader #gender neutral reader #dwight fairfield #feng min #ace visconti #rebecca chambers #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dwight fairfield x reader #feng min x reader #ace visconti x reader #rebecca chambers x reader

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sbrown82 · 1 year

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THE FULL HISTORY OF THE MICK JAGGER & MARSHA HUNT (A.K.A. “BROWN SUGAR”) RELATIONSHIP!!! (PART 1)

First, some background on the model, singer, actress, novelist, playwright, activist, icon, 60s goddess, and the woman who inspired one of The Rolling Stones’ greatest hits, “Brown Sugar”, Marsha Hunt. She is often described as London’s own Josephine Baker and is celebrating her 77th birthday today!:

Marsha A. Hunt was born on April 15, 1946 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and is the youngest of 3 children. Her mother, Inez “Ikey” Hunt, worked in an airplane factory during World War II, and her father, Blair Hunt Jr. graduated from Harvard and became one of America's first Black psychiatrists.

Marsha was raised in a middle-class neighborhood mostly by her mother, aunt, and grandmother who had roots in the deep south (Mississippi delta) and who she’s described as an “extremely aggressive and ass-kicking independent woman.” Her father committed suicide when Marsha was 9 years old (but she never found out how or why).

After moving out west to California with her family, she graduated high school at the top of her class and later attended UC, Berkeley in the mid-’60s where she wanted to study psychological anthropology.

While at Berkeley, she became friends with a slew of interesting people like activist Mario Savio and Huey P. Newton, who later became one of the founders of the Black Panther Party.

[TOP LEFT: Marsha’s mother Inez Hunt; TOP RIGHT: Marsha’s father, Blair Hunt Jr.; BOTTOM LEFT: Marsha at her home in Philly with her father & siblings, Pamala & Dennis; BOTTOM RIGHT: Marsha’s high school graduation photo in 1964.]

Even though she thrived academically and was very involved in student activities, she became bored with college life and wanted to experience life outside of the country and pursue her real passion – music. In early 1966, she sold her car and some books, and trailed off to London with only $1.83 in her pocket.

Around that time, London was THE city to be in, and was even dubbed “Swinging London” for being the epicenter of art, culture, fashion and of course music, especially due to the popularity of famous acts like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.

When Marsha first arrived, she slept on the floors of mutual friends, took odd jobs (including one as an au pair), and even appeared as an extra in Michelangelo Antonioni's box office hit film, “Blow-Up,” which also featured the British rock band, The Yardbirds.

SHOCKINGLY, in that same year she actually saw The Rolling Stones in concert for the first time during their UK tour at the Royal Albert Hall in London because she wanted to see Ike & Tina who were the supporting act on the bill. Girls were going crazy over the Stones, but of course, she was more impressed by Tina’s show-stopping performance! (Purrrrr 💅🏿)

[LEFT: Marsha in 1966; RIGHT: The Rolling Stones performing at the Royal Albert Hall in London with Marsha in attendance.]

After roaming the city, making new friends, and trying to find steady work, Marsha ended up auditioning for a blues band fronted by British blues musician, Alexis Korner, who was looking for backup singers. Coincidentally, he was the exact same guy who gave The Rolling Stones their start back in 1962. Later on, she was offered another backing gig for Long John Baldry’s band, Bluesology. John is also a longtime friend of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.

Though she loved music and worked really hard at it, Marsha always claimed that she was never a good singer. People in England just assumed she was because they thought all Black Americans had talent.

She then lived with English blues singer, John Mayall, who actually wrote a few songs about her including, “Marsha’s Mood” and another song coincidentally called “Brown Sugar”. Around this time, she became good friends with the founding members of Fleetwood Mac, famed British artist Kaffe Fassett, and keyboard player for Bluesology, Reg Dwight (a.k.a Elton John).

[LEFT: 19 year old Marsha sporting a wig in London; RIGHT: Marsha with a young Elton John].

Around the time Marsha broke things off with John, he was also putting a new band together, which included a young guitarist named Mick Taylor, who showed up at the audition without a guitar. He later became another good friend of Marsha’s.

In late 1966, Marsha met musician Mike Ratledge from the British rock band, Soft Machine. At the time, she was having trouble getting a visa extension to stay in England, so the two got married on her 21st birthday. She later claimed it was a marriage in name only as they were not romantically involved and “never held hands and never kissed".

[LEFT: Guitarist Mick Taylor & John Mayall in the mid-60s; RIGHT: Marsha’s “husband” Mike Ratledge of Soft Machine.]

That same year, Marsha’s hair started to fall out from using chemical relaxers, and after wearing wigs for a while, she finally cut it all off and vowed to never straighten it again. Hence, why she started sporting her iconic afro hairstyle which made her quite a showstopper in London.

In 1968, she found luck when she was cast in a buzzy new rock musical with an ensemble cast called “Hair.” The musical became an instant hit in London’s famed West End. And even though her character “Dionne” only had two lines, she suddenly became the face (or the hair) of “Hair”. The show was a huge success, and also became quite a sensation and a social landmark because it highlighted controversial subjects like drugs, casual sex, profanity, nudity, and anti-war rhetoric. While there, she met another close friend, actor Tim Curry.

[BOTTOM: A poster of the hit musical “Hair” that debuted in the Shaftesbury Theatre in the West End, 1968.]

Her life completely changed overnight and she instantly became a PHENOMENON, attracting wide media attention. In fact, after the musical’s opening night, the editor of British Vogue sent her a huge bouquet of flowers and wanted her to pose for a photo session, which ended up being a 4-page spread with a written profile. Marsha was also the first Black woman to appear on the cover of Queen magazine as well.

[LEFT: Marsha pictured as the first Black woman on the cover of Queen magazine; RIGHT: Marsha photographed for British Vogue in 1969.]

She immediately became a sex symbol, celebrity, and the face of the “Black is Beautiful” movement, which was already taking over America in the mid-60s. This helped her snag lots of modeling gigs and everyone wanted to photograph her. (I mean, sis was booked & busy!!!)

[BOTTOM: More of Marsha’s most iconic shots. *The melanin was melanating, 4C afro was on deck, eyelashes poppin’, lips bussin’...she was a *bad bitch*!!!]

In March 1969, she signed a contract with Track Records, the same independent label that also repped the British rock band, The Who and Jimi Hendrix, as she later said, “There was one luxury that London celebrity afforded me: the freedom to be myself without a single apology for my gap, my freaked-out hair, my brown skin, my slave-class ancestors or my radical views.”

Around this time, she also had a short-lived love affair with Marc Bolan, the singer and founder of the English rock band, T-Rex (even though he was much shorter than her 😂.)

She scored a few minor hits during her underrated music career with singles like a cover of T-Rex’s “Desdemona” and her debut single, a cover of “Walk on Gilded Splinters”.

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing the T-Rex cover “Desdemona” live.]

The record soon went to the charts, and that spring, she was asked to perform on various shows, including a popular British TV program called, “Top of the Pops”. During her live performance on the show, the tight bolero suede top she wore nearly came undone and partially exposed her breasts, a wardrobe malfunction that gave her the reputation of a “bad girl.”

NOW…Here’s the part y’all have been waiting for. Get your popcorn. Y’all got it? Ready? Good!!! 🍿

After her performance aired, Marsha soon received a phone call out of the blue from Jo Bergman, the then secretary for The Rolling Stones on behalf of the band’s frontman Mick Jagger who was actually watching the show live, asking her to pose semi–nude for a publicity photoshoot to promote the band’s new single, “Honky Tonk Women”. She said, “The picture was going to be of a girl dressed like a sleaze bag standing in a bar with the Stones and they wanted me to be the girl.”

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing "Walk on Gilded Splinters” on ‘Top of the Pops’ in May 1969. This was also the exact moment Mick Jagger first laid eyes on her!]

dailymotion

Marsha, who was not a Stones fan, was already established and didn’t really need the extra exposure. She later declined because she had her reputation to think about and said she “didn't want to look like [she'd] just been had by all The Rolling Stones.” She also claimed, “The last thing [Black women] needed was for me to denigrate us by dressing up like a whore” among a band of white men.

ENTER MICK JAGGER:

When she tried to get in touch with Mick to say, “thank you, but no thank you”, he later returned her call in an attempt to change her mind and even suggested he come over as he was very intrigued that a girl would turn him down.

Mick then showed up at her apartment around midnight as she claims, “He was framed by the doorway as he stood grinning with a dark coat ... He drew one hand out of his pocket and pointed it at me like a pistol. His silly 'Bang' was precisely the icebreaker we needed to get over my ungracious hesitation before I invited him in, not sure how to salute a notorious rogue who rings me just before midnight and suggests he pop round on a pretext of loneliness.”

They talked for HOURS, well until the sun came up about any and everything from music to social issues and politics, and according to her, Mick “made me squeal whenever he used Melanigian slang (aka Black vernacular/AAVE).” 🙄🤦🏾‍♀️

Marsha didn’t really find Mick physically attractive at first, stating, “He wasn't beautiful or even striking” however, he was boyish, open, direct, yet seemed quite awkward and shy. She found it a relief that he was nothing like other musicians she’d known or the image the media had portrayed him. He was incredibly charming, intelligent, funny, radical, and straddled the racial line, much like she did. She also quickly noticed that he had a penchant for Black women, as he claimed “They [Black women] just do something to me”.

The two of them had a lot in common and just clicked right off the bat. And things eventually turned hot as they ended up having sex. From there, they embarked on a passionate, but very private, deep romance and year-long affair, at a time when interracial relationships weren’t widely accepted yet.

Marsha didn’t expect to hear from him again, as he had a wide selection of women to choose from, but surprisingly, Mick wanted to see her and talk all the time, mostly because she was great to look at and he could count on her. Marsha said, “He knew that I adored him and that he could depend on me…he realized I respected him as I respected myself.”

Mick’s friend and interior designer Christopher Gibbs once said often when he dined with Mick, women who had slept with him would come up to the table and “he’d have absolutely no idea who they were.”

[LEFT: Mick photographed at the Shaftesbury Theatre in London to see the new musical “Hair” for the first time; RIGHT: Marsha performing in the show.]

1969 was a very rough year for Mick. He was having trouble with his band The Rolling Stones (which he was practically running by himself) because the founder and guitarist, Brian Jones, was becoming increasingly unreliable and spiraling out of control due to his deep drug addiction and legal troubles that led to him having difficulty getting a US work visa to go on an upcoming tour. Mick’s personal life was also a mess because his long-term girlfriend at the time, pop singer Marianne Faithfull, was also a very serious (and sloppy) drug addict, who often embarrassed him and became more dependent and difficult to be around. Things had gotten so bad between them, their relationship grew to be strictly platonic by this time.

Mick and Marianne were quite destructive together and often found themselves in legal troubles due to drugs. Marianne was also quite messy as she previously slept with Mick’s bandmates Brian Jones, Keith Richards, and even left her husband, John Dunbar, for Mick who was dating Black soul singer and former Ikette, Pat “P.P.” Arnold, when they first met.

P.P. also later claimed in her autobiography “Soul Survivor” that the three of them would often engage in drug-fueled threesomes much to Mick’s delight.

[BELOW: Soul singer & former Ikette, P.P. Arnold, who dated Mick from 1966-1967.]

While in London, Mick was still messing with P.P. who later became pregnant with his baby in 1967, but they both agreed to have an abortion, partly due to his growing relationship with Marianne.

[BELOW: Mick arriving at a courthouse with his then girlfriend, singer Marianne Faithfull in 1969.]

Marsha on the other hand, was stone-cold sober and didn’t do any drugs (NOT ONE), which was like a breath of fresh air for Mick, though he dabbled with hashish, LSD, and marijuana among other drugs himself. But unlike those around him, he was able to control his habit.

Even though their relationship quickly turned sexual, they were really, really close friends. Mick often retreated to her home to relax, he told her all his secrets, his troubles – he just trusted her. He was completely enamored of Marsha, who many describe as warm, intelligent, sensitive, funny, and very easy to talk to. He liked that she didn’t go gooey-eyed and weak-kneed in his presence like most (white) women/female fans did. Instead she had a crisply forthright manner and was almost quite “butch”. The Rolling Stones then manager was even quoted as saying that Mick was “obsessed” with Marsha as she was very exotic, and he even gave her the nickname “Miss Fuzzy” due to her afro hairstyle.

Ironically, Marsha enjoyed their well-kept relationship and is one of the only people who often calls him Michael instead of Mick, to distinguish him from his Rolling Stones rockstar persona.

Since Marsha was a fellow recording artist, they were able to be seen together in public without any arousing suspicion—in any case, London still had almost no paparazzi. They would often go to the same parties or events, even with Mick’s girlfriend there, and no one questioned it.

Mick would often pop into some of Marsha’s studio sessions with her band White Trash, and everyone around would be in awe of him.

Later, after officially firing Brian Jones from the band, Mick and the rest of the Stones were in desperate need of a new guitarist. Marsha promptly suggested her good friend, Mick Taylor (Yes, Stones fans – thank Marsha Hunt for that one!), as a replacement for Brian just days before he was mysteriously found dead (he sadly drowned in a swimming pool at his home) on July 3, 1969.

Additionally, when Mick sought a replacement for Jo Bergman, the secretary who handled all The Rolling Stones affairs, Marsha also suggested her friend and tour manager, Peter Rudge - (The same guy responsible for getting the Stones all those huge tours in massive stadiums. Again, thank Marsha!)

Two days after Brian’s death, the Stones played a free concert before a crowd of over 250,000 people in Hyde Park, London, which was previously planned to debut their new guitarist, but turned into a memorial/funeral for Brian. Mick invited both Marianne (who looked a hot ass mess and was in withdrawal from heroin at the time), and Marsha (who showed up looking sexy af with her titties bustin’ out of her buckskin suit) to the concert, and rudely and distastefully opened the show with a song called, “I’m Yours and I’m Hers.”

[BELOW: Mick & Marsha at The Rolling Stones tribute concert to Brian Jones in Hyde Park, London on July 5, 1969.]

Marianne who sat on the other end of the stage with her 4-year old son Nicholas and the other Stones wives/girlfriends, actually saw Marsha that day as she was placed right above the stage in the scaffold VIP section at the request of Mick so that he could look at her while he performed. She later said, “I saw her [Marsha] you know. And she was stunning…If I’d been Mick in that situation, I might have done exactly the same thing.”

Mick arrived at the concert with Marianne that afternoon, but left with Marsha and spent the night at her place where they made love.

A day after the concert, Mick kissed Marsha goodbye, and flew with Marianne to Australia to shoot a biographical film they were both cast in called “Ned Kelly,” based on the infamous bushranger. However, Marianne who was reeling from the recent death of Brian Jones and a horrible miscarriage just a few months earlier, overdosed on 150 Tuinal barbiturates while traveling with Mick, and fell into a coma in their hotel room.

[LEFT & RIGHT: Mick & Marianne arriving in Australia to film “Ned Kelly.” Marianne slipped into a coma just hours later from an attempted suicide.]

At the last minute, Mick was forced to film the movie without her, but phoned and wrote to Marsha, who was extremely frantic and worried about his mental health and emotional well-being, almost everyday. She was scared that he didn’t have the stamina to deal with yet another crisis. He sent Marsha over 10 handwritten letters (some even written on the same headed stationery paper of Chevron Hotel where his girlfriend just tried to kill herself) about his deep feelings for her, his experience filming on set, being in the Australian outback, his new interests, the historic day of the moon landing of 1969, future career plans, his regret at missing her performance at the famous Isle of Wight Festival, and other aspects of pop culture (including “John & Yoko boring everybody…”). The letters also reference the recent death of his former bandmate Brian Jones, Mick’s increasingly difficult relationship with Marianne, and another letter even had the full original lyrics for The Rolling Stones song “Monkey Man”, which was later rewritten.

Mick’s letters also went on to mention the foul Australian winter weather and an unpleasant virus that swept through the film unit, a fire that destroyed most of the film’s costumes, along with various other accidents – including a prop gun that backfired in his right hand. He was just having a real shitty time. So, he found solace writing to Marsha.

His letters to Marsha showed how pensive and romantic he was. He said things like,“I feel with you something so unsung there is no need to sing it...” and “If I sailed with you around the world, all my sails would be unfurled.” He also thanked her for being “so nice to an evil old man like me”. And in another steamy note, Mick promises Marsha: "I will kiss you softly. And bite your mouth too."

[RIGHT & LEFT: Mick’s private letters sent to Marsha while filming “Ned Kelly” in Australia during the late summer of 1969.]

Mick also celebrated his 26th birthday while filming in Australia and Marsha sent him a huge package of books (which he loves) and albums, including her friend John Mayall’s record “Brown Sugar.” Along with his gifts was a note stating how she missed him desperately.

While still trying to rehabilitate his hand from the prop accident, Mick toyed with a new guitar he had and started work on a song he had in his head, which was partly inspired by Marsha and that he initially titled “Black Pussy.” He decided that name was a little too direct and changed it instead to “Brown Sugar” with the lyrics:

[Verse 1]

Gold coast slave ship bound for cotton fields Sold in the market down in New Orleans Scarred old slaver knows he's doing alright Hear him whip the women just around midnight

[Chorus]

Brown sugar, how come you taste so good? Uh huh Brown sugar, just like a young girl should

[BOTTOM: Recording of “Brown Sugar” by The Rolling Stones later released on their Sticky Fingers album in 1971.]

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Mick later confirmed in a 1995 Rolling Stone magazine interview that the song is a double-entendre: “brown sugar” being the street name for unrefined heroin and of course also meaning his seemingly equal addiction to having sex with Black women. The song was a huge commercial success and ended up becoming a huge #1 hit around the world, making it one of the Rolling Stones’ best-selling records to date.

[TOP: A movie poster of “Ned Kelly” which was released in June 1970; BOTTOM: Mick with his guitar composing “Brown Sugar” during filming.]

While Mick was still filming overseas, Marsha was booked to perform at the iconic 3-day outdoor concert, the Isle of Wight Festival on August 30th, 1969. At the time, it was the biggest open-air concert in music history and she was the only woman billed to perform. She was there alongside acts like The Who, Joe Cocker, and even Bob Dylan who hadn’t been onstage in three years.

Mick told her in a letter that he was so proud of her and promised her that he was “there in my head and in my heart.” Keith Richards, Charlie Watts and his wife Shirley, and Jo Bergman were also in the audience watching Marsha perform.

Marsha also made headline news as she wore custom-made leather shorts to which the press ran with and by the next fashion season, short shorts were featured in every fashion magazine. She was the first person to popularize “hot pants”.

[BELOW: Marsha performing with her band White Trash at the Isle of Wight Festival in 1969 with members of The Rolling Stones looking on in the audience.]

After Mick came back from Australia, Marsha was offered a part in a film called “Welcome to the Club” which is a comedy about three Black USO performers sent to Hiroshima in the 1940s to entertain the troops on an all-white base. The film was being directed by Walter Shenson, who had produced The Beatles' films “A Hard Day's Night” and “Help” and shot it entirely in Copenhagen, Denmark.

She was also asked to fly back to London to shoot another cover for American Vogue which was shot by photographer Patrick Litchfield. (They‘d never had a Black woman on the cover before.)

Mick began touring in America again, his first since 1966, and with the number of girls he had access to, she knew he was keeping himself busy on and off stage.

[LEFT: Mick on stage at Madison Square Garden during the Stones’ 1969 tour; RIGHT: Marsha filming “Welcome to the Club”.]

He even started a short-lived relationship with yet another Black singer and Ikette Claudia Lennear, as well sparking up a fling with Devon Wilson, a notorious rock & roll groupie and the girlfriend of Jimi Hendrix who famously wrote the song “Dolly Dagger” about their affair.

[LEFT: Mick arriving at Madison Square Garden in November 1969 with Devon Wilson; RIGHT: Mick backstage at the same event with singer Claudia Lennear.]

But on December 6, 1969 - everything changed dramatically when an 18-year old concertgoer was stabbed and killed during the Stones’ free concert at the Altamont Speedway in California by the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club, who was the band’s security. Members of the Hell’s Angels blamed Mick for the incident and subsequent to the concert, put a hit out on him and threatened to murder him. This marked the third major tragedy to happen since Mick and Marsha met each other.

[BELOW: A scared Mick looks on as 18-year old Meredith Hunter is stabbed to death by the Hell’s Angels in front of the stage while the Stones performed at Altamont Speedway.]

Marsha stayed with Mick after the chaos at Altamont, which the media dubbed “The Death of the ‘60s”. By this time, he had officially split up with Marianne and moved Marsha into his house on Cheyne Walk where she helped him to transition and readjust his life. It was then their relationship intensified!

This is around the time she got a chance to know some of Mick’s friends who lived on the same road, including Keith Richards and his girlfriend, actress Anita Pallenberg, who just had a son, but was hooked on heroin. She thought they were both nice, but they’d visit or show up unannounced to their home all the time. Their hard drug-taking also scared Marsha, so she kept her distance and didn’t voice her opinion.

She also met Mick’s parents, Eva and Joe Jagger, along with his little brother Chris who was a bit of a hippie and had just returned from India with his American girlfriend. They both had no work, no money, and nowhere to stay, so Marsha kindly gave them a job, one included painting her new apartment.

That Christmas, Marsha got Mick a puppy and Mick, for the first time, told her that he loved her.

Marsha was in a good place. Opportunities were coming to her fast, she had a new apartment, and she was in love with Mick. She had newfound stability and independence.

In January 1970, they were having dinner at the celebrity hotspot restaurant Mr. Chow’s when Mick said that she’d be a good mother and that they should have a baby together. Prior to this Marsha thought she was just another girl he fancied, as he was a notorious womanizer. But the talk of having a baby made her feel special to him. Her feelings for him were so deep that she also claimed, “I would have died for him.”

She knew Marianne miscarried around the same time Keith Richards’ son Marlon was born. Mick also missed family life with Marianne’s son Nicholas, so wanted to give having a baby a second try.

This fool literally made Marsha take out her birth control and IUD coil, they proceeded to have sex like rabbits, and when she found out she was 3 weeks pregnant, she told Mick who was ecstatic.

Marsha literally said to him, “Listen, if you’re not ready and you changed your mind about this, it’s okay.” She was totally ready to get an abortion. But he assured her that it was what he wanted and he was happy.

They had their first argument when it came time to naming their baby. Mick wanted a boy who he could send to the prestigious Eton School (the all-boys school where Prince William & Prince Harry attended), and he proposed that they call the baby ‘Midnight Dream’. Marsha wasn’t having it and even said, “Imagine sticking your head out of a window to call your child home and yelling, 'Midnight. Midnight! Time for tea.’”

She'd known that he and the band were leaving England for tax reasons and moving to France in the coming year. The Stones were also gearing up for their upcoming European tour.

Even though she loved Mick, he was young and she claimed she was “all for Mick doing his own thing”. They were supposed to be the sophisticated embodiment of an alternative social ideal — parent-hood shared between loving friends living separate lives.

This was around the time of the sexual revolution and people were exploring different types of relationships. Marsha didn’t find gratification in being “Mr. So and So’s” wife, plus Mick wasn’t the marriage type either. He was the type of guy to get up at 2pm to start his day - so marriage was sort of off the table. Though, unbeknownst to Marsha, Mick has thought of proposing, she claimed their relationship “thrived off her being supportive” and she loved to see him “run free”. And since she grew up in a matriarchy, the ideal of a man and woman living together seemed nice but unnecessary. They agreed that Mick would be a good absent father while he made his music and toured with The Rolling Stones, and Marsha could still have her own life and career. It was all very modern!

Marsha also feared that her association with Mick would crowd out her own identity. She didn’t like the limelight because it was a discomfort. She also never wanted to be known as Mick Jagger's girlfriend (can you blame her? So many of his girlfriends tried to commit suicide). Like him, she wanted her own independence.

By June 1969, Marsha told her band and the press that she was pregnant, but did not give up the name of her baby’s father. However, one little clever ass reporter actually found out it was Mick Jagger and threatened to print it. She thought of suing but asked the Stones PR team to link him to another girl. She managed to get through her pregnancy without a media frenzy or being linked to Mick even though they had stepped out together many times, and he was ready to have it reported.

While Mick was away touring in Europe, his phone calls got less frequent. The tour was a bit crazy, and although Mick invited her to go to Paris, he knew she'd refuse – she didn’t want to get caught up. But he told her he was lonely and had met someone in Paris that he was taking to Italy. Her name was Bianca. She was Nicaraguan and spoke little English. Mick didn't mention her again, but after the tour, Marsha knew that she had moved to his house in England.

His publicist sent her an invite to the premiere of his corny movie, “Ned Kelly,” but he didn’t show up. He also invited his parents to the event and it was there she realized that the bastard didn’t tell them that he had a baby on the way. Mick hardly lavished praise on his parents and even once told the press, “I owe them nothing. They are my parents, that is that…but there are no dues to be made by me to them!”

By her third trimester, having a baby became her whole reality and his passing fancy. He started to forget that the baby was HIS idea.

Despite Marsha carrying his child, practically all references to her and the baby were quickly airbrushed out of his life. Chris O'Dell, Mick’s PA in the early ‘70s was even quoted as saying, “I never remember him talking about their child. In fact, I wasn’t aware of a baby being around at all. It was almost like [his first child] didn’t exist.”

Marsha was put in a difficult position because it was too late to go back and sometimes he’d phone her like nothing ever happened. She claimed his mood would change so quickly, he was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She also said, “I've discovered that he can burn hot and suddenly cool to below zero.”

She started to worry that he didn’t care anymore, so, she tried to squeeze in any and every piece of work she possibly could to hold her up during and after her pregnancy (tv shows, photoshoots, etc.). She also volunteered at a local mental-care center in the autistic unit caring for a 12 year old boy to keep from feeling useless.

[BELOW: A heavily pregnant Marsha performing in late 1970.]

At the same time, Mick also did a lot of peculiar interviews, either stating he wasn’t interested in having children or flat out dissing Marsha. During a 1970 interview with London’s Daily Mail newspaper he even said, “For me, life has always got to be on the move and exciting. I love kids, I really do…but it’s not something I’m thinking about.” He of course failed to mention that Marsha was expecting their first child.

[BELOW: Mick during an interview referencing Marsha & his unborn child in 1970.]

Once it was time for her to give birth, a hard-up Marsha was ashamed and reluctant to ask him for any contribution because he never once offered. Mick ultimately gave her a measly £200 to get by, which came with a note saying “I know I haven’t done right by you” and he also “loaned” her a ring he always wore.

She had initially planned a natural home delivery to keep the press at bay and because it was the “it” thing to do at the time, but was told by her OB-GYN that her baby was in danger and that she had to go to the hospital the next day.

On November 3rd, she dragged her own luggage and hailed a taxi to the hospital only to be told there weren’t enough beds. Panicked and scared, she went back home quite sure she was going to die from an unassisted childbirth.

When she went back to the hospital the next day for an induced labor, she checked in with her married name “Ratledge” to protect herself (and Mick). On November 4, 1970 after hours of labor, she gave birth to a girl she named Karis and phoned Mick first and then her mother. That day was the first time Mick actually told his now girlfriend, Bianca, that Marsha and his baby existed.

While waiting in the maternity ward, the nurses also forgot to feed Marsha who was so hungry. But being on The National Health, she didn’t complain.

When she checked out of the hospital, Mick sent a bouquet of red roses, a miniature muse figurine for the baby, a silver spoon, and some cheap Indian earrings for Marsha. He “dropped by” two days later to see his baby but was in a hurry to be somewhere else.

10 days later, he paid another rushed visit, but she eventually took him to the side because she wasn’t in the mood to entertain his detachment. And she was kinda like, “Hey! What’s up with you? Why don’t you call or come around more often for the baby” trying to get some genuine reaction out of him instead of keeping her at bay with the polite chitchat bullshit, in which he snapped and yelled at her, “I never loved you” and told her that she was “mad to think that he had”. Of course Marsha, hormonal, stitches still in, burning and all, did not expect for him to stab back and immediately started to cry, which only made him more angry. The piece of shit even had the audacity to threaten to take her newborn baby away from her if he chose. She stopped and in a stern voice said, “Try it! I’d blow your brains out!!”

In that moment, the loyalty she had for him was gone. She had no choice but to push forward and tried to find as much work as she could to support herself and her baby.

[BELOW: Marsha & Mick after the birth of their first child Karis Hunt in late 1970.]

READ ‘PART 2’ HERE!!! ☕️☕️☕️

#marsha hunt #mick jagger #the rolling stones #brown sugar #rolling stones #interracial couple #black women #karis jagger #music #history #rock history #rock & roll #musicians #thread #gossip #old school tea #1960s #1970s #sbrown82

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deadbydangit · 4 months

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Getting into an Argument with them

Dwight, Jane, Adam

Dwight Fairfield

When Dwight gets upset, you know he's either been pushed to the limit, or it was just that bad.

He doesn't like to argue with anyone.

But today was just Hell.

Shitty trials, shitty killers, shitty survivors.

It was all shitty.

So he was short.

And when you commented on that.

"Well, you're just a fucking bitch!"

And it will come out of nowhere.

When Dwight's upset, things just come out of his mouth.

It's like he's a whole other person.

Immediately, he'll realize what he said.

And he'll feel so bad about it that he shocked himself into silence.

He'll just make incoherent sounds trying to form an apology.

After about a minute of stuttering, he'll run into your arms and pull you into the tightest hug.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean that! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!-"

And he will start crying too.

He'll continue blubbering apologies until you're able to stop him.

If you don't stop him, he'll go on for hours.

He'll remind you how much you mean to him. How much he loves you.

He might even be begging at your feet for forgiveness.

These arguments are extremely rare, so cut him some slack.

If you're upset anytime, he'll understand.

In the meantime, he'll do everything you like to make it up to you.

Because he loves you; and he never wants to lose you.

Jane Romero

Jane is very vocal when she's upset.

It doesn't matter what happened. You'll know when she's upset.

Usually, she tries to stay out of everyone else's path.

She doesn't like taking out her anger on people who don't deserve it.

If you accidentally cross her path while she's upset, she'll probably snap at you.

Most likely, she'll tell you fuck off.

You have two options at this point: walk away or engage with her.

If you walk away she'll likely scoff at you.

"Oh, now you're too good for me?"

When she gets angry she just lashes out.

If you engage with her, get ready for a screaming battle.

Jane has a very loud voice and she isn't afraid to use it.

No matter how loud you yell, she'll find a way to yell louder.

And even if you do try to yell over her, she'll keep interrupting you while you're talking.

She has a habit of shutting people down when she's upset.

It's a: my way or the highway type of deal.

It's best to give her space.

Give her some time to cool off before approaching her again.

She'll be very embarrassed and apologize sincerely.

She knows what she did was wrong and, even if why she was upset was your fault, she shouldn't have said those things.

She's very good about fessing up to her mistakes, even though she doesn't like to.

She won't be upset if you're angry with her. She knows she would be too if she were in your shoes.

After a little time to decompress she wants to talk about what happened.

"Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy."

She knows she has a temper, and she wants to work on it.

She's aware she isn't perfect. She knows she has flaws.

But she's willing to work on them with you.

Because she loves you and can't imagine a world without you.

Adam Francis

It's very rare that Adam gets upset.

He's usually very mild-mannered and calm.

Being one of the more mature survivors, he knows how to control his emotions.

However, like everyone else, he has his breaking point.

And, well it's very hard to reach that breaking point, it is achievable.

He's always around to lend an ear or help anybody in need.

But, the stress does get to him occasionally.

Adam is the one who is usually mediating fights between other survivors.

But when he's upset, he isn't going to be helping anyone.

If anything, he'll make it worse.

But he isn't doing it on purpose.

When he gets upset he's very short and sarcastic.

And that usually creates more tension.

He isn't one to yell, instead, he'll try and seclude himself or give very short snippy answers.

Or, he'll give you the silent treatment.

He won't let you know that he's upset. He doesn't want to start a verbal argument with you.

Mostly because he knows it won't fix anything.

If you passed him enough, he may snap at you.

"Yes, I'm angry. Now could you leave me the fuck alone?"

He won't shout, but he'll be very stern.

Like he talks through his teeth and tries not to yell.

Kind of like a growling.

Then he'll storm off.

Don't follow him.

It's better to just let him have his alone time.

After he's calmed down, he'll return to you and apologize for his behavior.

He'll want to discuss what had happened and what led up to the chain of events.

And how things could have played out better.

This is to improve your relationship for the future.

It may seem unnecessary at the moment. But it's only because Adam loves you and never wants to lose you.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd survivor #dbd dwight #dbd jane #dbd adam

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hexbimbo · 8 days

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DBD Random Hc #3

General

Survivors that are killed in trial are briefly reincarnated into Crows should they choose to spectate. When the last person has escaped (or killed) they will return to their human forms.

When a Killer “Dc’s”, it’s actually the Entity taking the killer for a much needed “lesson”. Survivors assume it occurs with continuous lack-luster performance.

Survivors are big on naps. They enjoy curling up by the fire or snuggling up in communal cabins on chilly nights.

Trails aren’t continuous. Typically, a survivor participates 2-3 times a week. Killers participate 3-5, depending if they are particularly blood thirsty. This is done so the Entity can savor in the breaking of the spirit.

A trial can last between an 1-4 hours. The quickest recorded trial was 34 minutes, Killer won.

A generator takes an average of 5-10 minutes to complete. Survivors and Killers both sneak out generators to power their living spaces.

The Entity has a sense of humor (BBQ events, My Little Oni.) Does this to lift spirits and stagger the process of “feeding.”

The Entity is very weak outside its relm. Hence, why it only takes people every few months. Continued exposure to out worlds sun greatly damages it.

Blighted Killers and “Archivist” Survivors are future versions of the Entity’s downfall era. Blighted killers need the extra strength to beat down the survivors. Survivors begin to use the Observers notes, tools, and research to fight back.

Voided survivors or killers probably lost hope or began to lose themselves as trials went on.

Survivors

Jonah is obsessed with patterns. They don’t have to be about math either. “Felix takes a sip of water everytime Élodie sits and we have one mega cabin for two tents on the east-“

Jeff learned how to tattoo! The most popular ones he’s given are Survivors perk emblems with the forth empty diamond being “Hope.”

That guitar strumming survivors hear while in the lobby? That’s Kate! No noise makes her go nuts.

Nobody liked Dwight at first but for some odd reason, was looked to as a leader (albeit a very “mid” leader.) Most of the time, he has no idea what he’s doing. Even stranger, his cheesy advice is USED and WORKS.

“What’s the move Dwight?”

“We gotta do gens and live 🧍🏻‍♂️.”

*escapes with zero hooks and deaths.*

Yun-Jin followed the tenants of the 4B movement. ( “4 No’s.” Essentially excluding sex/romance (with men in particular) and children in favor of a more independent lifestyle.)

Everyone forgets Yoichi exists. Everyone. Kinda like a Hetalia Canada situation.

Vittario frequently experiences culture shock. Due to no one knowing 1300’s Italian, he just points at something, acquires the word, then uses word as needed.

“Vito! Did ya’ see Jane?”

“Bus.”

“…She’s at the bus?”

“Bus 🗿.”

Alan was genuinely shocked (if not a little saddened) that no one knew who he was. Writes little books, essays, or theories based on his life in the fog.

Yui will always put her girlies first. Not that she doesn’t like the male survivors but rather believes that women should always have each others backs.

Gabriel is a closeted Agere though he doesn’t quite understand/realize. Enjoys childish knick-knacks, rough play, and has a very active imagination. However, he feels deep shame with the interests and typically regresses in private.

Killers

Unknown, Demo, and Dredge are all best buds. No explanation required.

Tarvös and the company spend their down time with drinking games and hunts. Best catch has the honor of roasting it up for a feats. (Literally a medical BBQ)

Evan experiments with art mediums in his free time. Nothing major. Mostly scrap sculptures that he tinkers with. Oddly nice to look at. His most popular one is a crow made from old tin, copper wire, and nuts. Spins in large wind gusts.

Blighted Legion is very protective of their body. Similar to Charlotte and Victor, holds each others hands. Also self hugs, caressing, and soothing murmurs. Despite it mainly being Franks body, personas frequently switch in and out. Uses “We” in place of “I”.

Wesker has acquired a small fan club of people in the fog who think he’s oh-so handsome or cool (read legion). He’s in on the joke and approves it for the ego boost.

Adrianna is a Karen. No one likes her. Not even the other killers. Was the person who made a scene when a minimum wage employee forget her extra sauce.

Nemesis lies dormant when not in a trial. Almost statue like. This goes for the zombies too. Only animates in the queue zone and in a trial.

Same for Sadako. Resides in the well until called upon.

Herman actually had a normal childhood. Loving mom, hard working dad, maybe a little sister. I just think his “appreciation” for the sciences was not well monitored.

Jefferey is an open mouth breather. Yea, it smells exactly like you’re thinking.

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galadrieljones · 29 days

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Daryl's Arrows: Symbolism, Pt. 3 (When the arrows are all gone.)

Part One | Part Two

In parts one and two of this series, I have gone through Daryl's character evolution during his time with Beth, and in the wake of her absence, via the changing color and quality of his arrows. So far, I've looked at how his arrows have evolved from green/white (Beth arrows) to faded red/white ("inverted" Beth arrows), and when I left off my previous post, he had just had his crossbow stolen by Dwight, leaving him in a major period of limbo and with his faith in the goodness of people and his spiritual connection to Beth and her protective force in his life greatly diminished.

This post was originally supposed to cover much more information; however, there is more to cover here than I realized!! Thank you for your patience.

"The Next World": Eclipse

In 6.10 "The Next World," Daryl is notably without his crossbow. Losing the crossbow for Daryl is a bit like losing a limb. From the audience perspective, we have a hard time envisioning him without it. That said, do keep in mind that in the current moment, Daryl is also WITHOUT his crossbow (in France). I will get to this, but to do that, we need to look at what happens, and what it means when Daryl DOESN'T have his arrows, particularly when they've been taken from him.

In "The Next World," Daryl's first major episode post-"Always Accountable," we begin to see many important changes in Daryl and, perhaps most significantly, how Daryl will soon serve as a mirror for Rick, who is on a dark course, albeit completely unaware. It's notable that in "The Next World," Daryl and Rick are frequently placed parallel to one another in the shot, re: the shot above, and these below:

These shots communicate a sort of "eclipse." Daryl and Rick are dynamically opposed to one another quite often post-"Coda." Up until now, Daryl has been an attenuating force for Rick, but not anymore. Now, he's right on Rick's level. He holds little trust in strangers and seems disinterested in looking for new people to bring back to ASZ, a direct reversal of his attitude in "Conquer" and "Always Accountable." For us, as we were with him during the events of "Always Accountable," this change may not come as a surprise, but for Rick, who hasn't been out on the road with Daryl for a while, the change is new, and it seems to stop him in his tracks.

It's funny, and this is excellent characterization, because Rick is perhaps not able to see how he, himself, has changed, until he begins to see the same change manifesting in his lonely and recently distant best friend. Especially as Rick gets closer to consummating his relationship with Michonne, he notices Daryl distancing himself even more completely, and in "The Next World," we can see how he's trying to correct that. He wants Daryl to be how he used to be, and he wants them to be like they were.

"The Next World": Beth Proxies

Daryl's motivations in the episode are mostly on auto-pilot, in terms of how they relate to Rick's. The one thing that does seem to motivate him personally has nothing to do with Rick. It's an errand for Denise.

"The Next World," much like "Still," begins with a quest. Denise asks Daryl if, while he's on his run, he could keep his eye out for a drink: orange soda. The soda is for Tara. Denise becomes flustered when asking Daryl for help, and Daryl plays it down comically. This little moment between them, and how she regards him with embarrassment, and the fact that she asks him specifically, even though she is clearly nervous about it, and how he meets her babbling concern with a kind of casual confusion, communicates the beginning of their little bond, a bond that will prove very meaningful for Daryl in episodes to come, and which provides some small amount of purpose for him that day.

Denise, with whom Daryl shares a special friendship in season 6, serves as our next Beth proxy. The one thing about Denise that is extremely pertinent given Daryl's current circumstances in France is the way in which tptb use characterizing factors to defuse any romantic inclination from the relationship. Denise is a lesbian, in a relationship with Tara. In a similar dynamic, Isabelle, Daryl's Beth proxy in France, is a nun. Both women are unavailable to Daryl and this neuters romantic potential in the eyes of the audience (or, I mean, it's supposed to) and foils the fact that Beth, who was neither a lesbian nor a nun and who was perhaps the most romantically available female on the show at the time, was his first and perhaps only romantic interest of ANY significance. And after she's gone, every single meaningful relationship he has (barring Connie, who I'll talk about later, and who holds other parallels to Beth) is a blond woman with a ponytail. Weird!

Of course, Jesus is another major Beth proxy who shows up in "The Next World." Aside from his name, when we first meet Jesus, he is wearing a face mask, in a moment that will later be echoed by Daryl's jarring encounter with a very blond Leah in "Rendition."

I will discuss more on these Beth proxies in the future, but for now, let's finish discussing "The Next World."

"The Next World": Confrontation

In some ways, the title of this episode "The Next World" is indicative of a major change taking place. Dialogue with Jesus implies that they already live in "the next world," ie: they have already descended into unknown territory, they just don't know it. Jesus also serves as the catalyst of much of the plot to come.

In this episode, the main tension between Daryl and Rick, who are constantly paralleled visually with one another, revolves around Daryl's recent, growing indifference toward human life, and Rick's rapid noticing of such and desire to correct it. In this episode, we see some major development with Rick and his sense of self-awareness as he begins to realize that perhaps he hasn't been there for Daryl as much as he should have, and in this, Daryl has begun to slip from his grasp. It's possible Rick has only just now begun to realize how much damage Beth's loss has caused for Daryl, and also how much his actions actually affect those around him, particularly Daryl, his second in command, who codes strongly as his younger brother, and for whom Rick was once arguably a role model.

Just after the climax of the episode, while Rick and Daryl watch their bounty sink to the bottom of the river, Jesus lie unconscious in the grass, and Daryl is prepared to just leave him there for walker bait. But Rick challenges him. Daryl softens somewhat, but ultimately remains unconvinced that he should care.

Later, in the car on the way home, Rick address the issue further in a conversation that is not well discussed. Here, Rick openly acknowledges that Daryl, along with Michonne and Glenn, did attenuate his flippancy toward human life when they first arrived at Alexandria. Now, Rick is trying to do the same thing for Daryl.

The conversation in the car, which is, at first, filmed through the windshield, which is reflective, obscuring some amount of the shot, is greatly oblique, meaning, it's not on the nose. It comes to the point in a way that is indirect and even off-topic. This is a product of Daryl and Rick's communication style, which is surly. It's a beautiful scene, which finishes later on in the episode just as they arrive back at the ASZ. Daryl tells Rick that he thinks what he said before, after what happened with Reg and Pete, that they shouldn't be going out to bring in new people anymore, that he was right. But Rick disagrees now. He says, "No, I was wrong. You were right."

Ultimately, I believe this scene does make a difference for Daryl, if only because it communicates to him that Rick sees him, that he agrees with him, and that he actually isn't alone, no matter how alone he feels; however, it's unclear at this point if Rick is too late, or if Rick's influence is simply no longer as important to Daryl as it used to be. Remember that Daryl's only moments of intentional motivation in the episode, beyond simply going along for the ride, are related to Denise. Remember, too, that Daryl gave up his search for Rick in "Alone," to be with Beth. This was a clean break, and just because she went away, that doesn't mean the feelings that caused him to make that choice went away. These are the beginnings of Daryl becoming his own man, and the protagonist of his own story, coming out of Rick's shadow and casting his own. Of course, getting there is going to be a long, violent, and lonely road.

In the end, whatever effect this exchange with Rick might impart on Daryl is latent or else it never comes to fruition, because Rick is, unfortunately, and in all of his hubris, about to step into a trap of epic proportion, and Daryl, who is floating without an anchor, and whose loyalty may have been temporarily boosted during this trip, follows him right to it. We can already see how the nature of Daryl's choices has changed since the events of "Always Accountable," and how they are much more pessimistic and lacking in trust in people and the outside world. Daryl is about to undergo an enormous test of faith.

"The Next World": Carl

Something that's super interesting, too, in this episode, is the B story, which involves an undercurrent of familial tension and backstory, revolving around Carl. While out in the woods, Carl and Enid discover Deana's walker, but for reasons that Enid doesn't understand, Carl refuses to kill her. Instead, he lures Deana closer to the walls where her son Spencer waits, so that he can put her to rest. Later in the night, Carl has an argument with Michonne, who saw him out there and misunderstood his intentions. Michonne asks Carl why he didn't just kill Deana, and Carl tells her that he couldn't kill Deana, because it should be someone who loved her to do it. He says that Michonne wouldn't understand, referencing his final moments with Lori. Carl also says that would do it for Michonne, which affects her deeply.

During the entire conversation, Carl is holding Judith in a visual callback to Beth, and I believe that Carl's arc in this episode is informed by the missing 17 days, and the fact that Beth never received a burial, and that most of them believe her walker still to be out there, somewhere. I believe that much of the psychology running through seasons 5 and 6 are related to Beth's loss and the clearly traumatic events of the missing 17 days, which we still have never seen or learned about. This is an important time as well to remember that in this episode, re: main thesis of this post, Daryl does NOT have his crossbow, and he doesn't have it now either, in France. I believe that Daryl is undergoing a similar, albeit more direct, even dramatic test of faith in Daryl Dixon, in which he is once again, a fish out of water, a ship lost at sea.

I want to point out, too, that immediately after cutting away from Daryl and Rick in the car is this little moment with Carl showing Judith how to find the North Star.

If you remember from my last post, I discussed Daryl without Beth as a ship without an anchor. Another way to discuss Daryl's current state is to call him a wanderer who has lost sight of the North Star. In this little scene we get a beautiful glimpse at how Carl, the bearer of the "resurrection" music box in "Them" is carrying Beth's torch and lighting the way in her absence. Taking care of Judith, helping people reunite with their loved ones, arguing for what he believes in, even when others disagree. This is important, because later, after Daryl has made the full scope of his descent, it will be Carl's death that brings him back into the light. That is for a future post, but in this episode we can see how Carl's character, along with Beth, informs the character Laurent in the spin-off.

Beth's Knife

I want to point out that even though Daryl doesn't have his crossbow or his arrows during this liminal stretch of season 6, that doesn't mean that he has lost his connection with Beth completely. Daryl continues to carry Beth's knife, given to him by Carol in "Them," on his left hip, all through "The Next World," as well as during the next episode "Knots Untie," which is the episode when they visit Hilltop. He doesn't take it off until the episode "Not Tomorrow Yet," which is the episode in which he and Rick lead a team to ambush the Saviors at the Satellite Station. Though Norman has informed fans casually that Daryl still has it, we have not seen Beth's knife since "Knots Untie." Why does he take it off?

If you'll recall, it's actually Daryl who offers to take out the Saviors at Hilltop, in exchange for food and supplies. He kicks into gear after Jesus tells them about how Negan, in an effort of intimidation, killed a sixteen-year-old boy. Once again: Why do innocent people always have to die? Here, Daryl thinks he sees a way to finally right this wrong. Episodes 6.10-6.14, during which Daryl does not have his crossbow, are filled with seminole choices that Daryl makes, all of which inform the man he will become in seasons 7-9. He keeps making the wrong choices, but as an audience, it's easy to feel mislead, as most of the rest of the characters are right there with him. Even Glenn goes on the Satellite Station mission. This is enough to make it seem like what they're doing is right thing. Of course, it's not, but it communicates the mass psychological damage with which the team is currently coping.

At this point in the story, after what happened at the prison and the fallout with Beth, they are all desperate to establish a home with food security and safe walls, and they are willing to do almost anything to make that a reality. Maggie's pregnancy, referenced in "Knots Untie," which ends with the group passing around her sonogram in the RV, is also a motivating factor. I also believe that the Saviors are, at this point, a scapegoat, for the enemy they couldn't kill back at the prison, ie: someone they CAN kill as a way of dealing with Beth's senseless loss as well as the losses of Hershel and the prison, and the grisly deaths of Tyreese and Noah that followed almost immediately after. Going after the Saviors is especially meaningful for Daryl, as he is still harboring vengeful feelings toward Dwight, who took his crossbow, and with it, his faith in the goodness of people.

When Daryl takes off Beth's knife in "Not Tomorrow Yet," I believe we can interpret this two ways: First, he takes it off because he doesn't want her memory to be mixed up in deeds he knows for certain would disappoint her. For the same reason, he sometimes wears his hair like a mask, Daryl, well-aware of what's going on, is hiding from her disapproval. Of course, this shows that, even as his actions speak volumes, Daryl has not forgotten about Beth. But he knows he may need to repress her for a while, and this is something we will deal with directly in the season 7 episode "New Best Friends."

Second, Beth’s knife, given to him by Carol in “Them,” is a Browning Hunter knife with a fixed blade and a handle made from the antler of a stag.

A stag, or a buck, is a male deer, and I would like to now consider the powerful ramifications of this, as, not long after Carol returns this knife to Daryl, he encounters a dead doe, or female deer, in the woods. We have a lone stag (Daryl), and his dead doe (Beth). The fact that Beth carried the stag knife at all is, in my estimation, given Daryl’s visual devastation in this scene, crushingly romantic. The antler provides him with further protection in the wake of his missing crossbow, similar to the symbolic function of his white arrows.

The knife stays behind to protect him for much of his period without the crossbow in season 6, like a last line of defense; however, when he takes it off, this foreshadows grave trials, which he will have to undergo while greatly exposed to pain and suffering, with no weapons or spiritual protection at all.

I think it’s important that all of Daryl’s weapons have been touched and wielded by Beth at some point. His main knife, which he used in “Still,” her stag knife, and also his crossbow. This is very important as there is not another character for whom this is true, and because it sets her up as his spiritual protector very early on. Further, as a warrior, Daryl’s weapons are greatly important to his functioning in the world, and as I said before, his crossbow is almost like a fifth limb. Beth’s possession of his weapons during their time together communicates her claim or possession over him. This is foiled by his encounter with the Claimers who seem to point out to Daryl that there is nothing in this world worth anything anymore that hasn’t already been claimed.

You will see, too, in my next post, how this period also comes with the absence of not just Beth’s knife and the crossbow, but Daryl’s angel vest as well. All of this inventory is a part of Daryl and his blessed disposition, per Beth’s “Still” prophecy that he’s going to be the Last Man Standing, and which we first see fully examined in “Consumed.” Without it, he struggles, fallen from her grace.

None of these things is stated overtly in the text. All of it is oblique, subtle, and noticeable only to fans who are watching closely. And who watches more closely than TD?

In my next post, I will discuss Denise's death and the effects of Daryl's incarceration at the Sanctuary. I will also look at what happens when, after finding safe haven at the Kingdom, Daryl is gifted ANOTHER crossbow (pictured above), by Richard, introducing an entirely new era for Daryl's arrows and foiling Daryl's mercenary, ruthless outlook on the coming war.

#the walking dead #team delusional #daryl's arrows #beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is coming #beth is alive

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love-little-lotte · 2 months

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A Look Into My New Guilty Pleasure: Poldark (2015 Series)

My biggest weakness is period dramas — especially period dramas with a talented cast, sweeping romance, terrific scenes (preferably set in some kind of country/provincial side), and lots and lots and lots of just sitting around and talking.

That's probably why Poldark has captured my heart. As a big fan of Outlander, it's no surprise that I fell in love with this show. Outlander and Poldark have so many similarities that I may make a lengthy post about it, but for today, let me just rant about my new guilty pleasure. I'm so obsessed with this show that I actually finished watching the entire five seasons in one week!

Poldark is based on Winston Graham's novels and adapted by Debbie Horsfield. I was so excited to start this show, with a male protagonist originally written by a man, created and written for a series by a woman. I haven't read Graham's novels (I'm going to one of these days, I swear!), so I'm not sure how well Debbie's adaption worked. I've read many Reddit threads, though, and some fans of the novel are not that impressed with how she omitted and added details to the show (will get back to this once I've read the books or at least the seven ones that were used in the show). The show has also been adapted in the 70s, so this was not the first time Graham's novels were seen onscreen!

Despite not having read the books, I fell in love with the story, the characters, and the cast! The show follows Ross Poldark returning to Cornwall after fighting in the American War in the 1780s. He looks forward to marrying his childhood sweetheart Elizabeth but, believing him to be dead, is now engaged to his cousin Francis. He then tries to resurrect his family's mining business and hires a young girl Demelza to be his kitchen maid (whom he eventually marries) while also crossing paths with the villain George Warleggan, a corrupted banker who stops at nothing to ruin Ross's prospects and personal life. As the show progresses, we also meet other characters, including Prudie and Jud, Ross's servants, Verity, Ross's cousin and Francis's sister; Ross's friend Dr. Dwight Enys and his love interest Caroline Penvenen; Sam and Drake Carne, Demelza's brothers, and Morwenna Chynoweth, Drake's love interest.

Yes, this show has a large ensemble cast, and trust me, there always comes a point when you hate or love them. Especially our protagonist Ross Poldark. Ross... is an interesting character. He's terribly, terribly flawed and many times times, I'm so infuriated with him to the point that I want him to suffer. I swear, you cannot go through this series without screaming at Ross. (When that moment came up in Season 2, I swear I had my middle finger ready every time Ross showed up on my screen from then on.)

But my favorite character in the show is Demelza, Ross's wife who started as his kitchen maid. She's the heart of the show, the voice of reason, and even though she makes questionable decisions along the way, you can't help but get on her side no matter what. She's the perfect fiery yet gentle match to Ross's stubbornness. He treats her like shit many times in this show, which makes me angry to no end, but they eventually grow to be understanding, loving partners.

And it also helps that Aidan Turner and Eleanor Tomlinson have one of the best romantic chemistries I've ever seen. They're terrific actors as well and they bring the characters to life so effortlessly. They just seem like they have the best time shooting this show. I kind of want to rewatch Loving Vincent now just because they're in that movie, even just in supporting roles.

Poldark is a roller coaster, with so many ups and downs (mostly downs, to be honest, please give Demelza a break!) My favorite season has got to be Season 1. Season 1 had the best Ross and I loved the early stages of his relationship with Demelza. It also has my favorite episode: Season 1, Episode 8. That episode broke me so much, thanks to Aidan and Eleanor's perfect performances. It's the only time I ever cried watching this show. I usually cry in period dramas (I've cried countless times in Outlander and Downton Abbey), but for some reason, I only cried once in Poldark. Most of the time, I'm annoyed and infuriated (hahaha but I still love it!)

The romance in Poldark is also quite unique, something I haven't seen before. Ross and Demelza emotionally hurt each other many times in this show, and they don't have the best communication. It's not an ideal marriage, but that's what makes it so raw and real. It hurts when Ross sleeps with his first love Elizabeth or when Demelza falls for the much-sensitive Hugh Armitage, but these are challenges people face all the time, and it's interesting to view it in characters and circumstances through 18th-century lenses. Plus, it can be very tiring to see perfect couples onscreen all the time. So watching Ross and Demelza's relationship thrive, suffer, and reconcile is very refreshing to me.

Nevertheless, Ross and Demelza are still able to work together. Seasons 2 and 3 showcase the worst moments of their marriage, from infidelities to insecurity, but the love between them still perseveres and they learn to forgive. In the end, they realize that they belong together.

And despite the unconventional marriage, Poldark is not a stranger to grand romantic gestures. Two of my favorite Ross and Demelza moments occur in Season 2:

A real funny, old-married-couple type of bicker in The Beach Scene:

And of course, showing all intimacy in The Stocking Scene:

(Let's just not talk about what happened 2 episodes after this!)

The romance in Poldark not only ends with Ross and Demelza. We also got two really good couples in the series: Dwight and Caroline and Drake and Morwenna.

And these love stories don't just happen! They're fleshed-out characters with proper backgrounds and their own problems, especially Drake and Morwenna's relationship. Morwenna is one of my favorite characters, and she doesn't deserve all the shit thrown at her. The last season of Poldark is not the best (bordering on bad, actually, especially the last two episodes), but watching Drake and Morwenna get their happy ending is worth it.

Finishing all five seasons is bittersweet. I enjoyed most of the story and fell in love with different characters. I kind of regret watching everything in one week haha. But what can I say? As soon as I finish each episode, I'm so tempted to start another episode. I think the last time I stayed up until 5 AM the next morning to watch TV shows was Yellowjackets. Poldark's just too good to binge! It's one of my favorite TV shows now. Maybe I'll watch Sanditon next...

I want to write more about Poldark soon, maybe a comparison with Outlander or maybe just a post about each character. I realized I hadn't talked much about Elizabeth, Francis, and George in this post; I was too preoccupied with the love story aspects and Ross and Demelza. We'll see!

#poldark #poldark 2015 #ross poldark #demelza poldark #aidan turner #eleanor tomlinson #period drama #tv shows #a bit of a rant #current obsession!!!!

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