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hannibals-favourite-meal · 4 months

Note

Rick/reader/Daryl are a throuple and the Alexandria residents don’t know how to react.

.⋆｡Her Poor Cat｡⋆.

Daryl x plus size reader x Rick

Obviously the Alexandrians were pretty vanilla

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and smut, bit of a crack fic, humour, fluff

WC: 900

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The welcome party was an interesting touch to the new-comers. It was so weirdly reminiscent of the old world with the nice clothes and good food and alcohol but at the same time, many in the room carried that haunted look in their eyes from the hell just outside the walls. But the food was fresh and the company was pleasant enough.

Carl had scrambled off a couple minutes ago, presumably to try and sneak some whiskey behind his father’s back, leaving you alone with a sleepy Judith perched on your wide hip. Her chunky hand tightly clutched at your shirt as her big blue eyes fluttered.

“Mama.” She muttered, nuzzling further into your hold. You gently cupped the back of her head and began to sway softly.

“We’ll leave soon, just need to find your dads and make sure they don’t get into any trouble.” Your eyes skipped over the crowd but you were quickly stopped by someone coming up beside you.

“It’s so good to see healthy children during these times.” Deanna seemed less focused on you and more on the now half-asleep child in your arms, which you were incredibly grateful for considering that your poker face wasn’t as good as it used to be and she legitimately freaked you out.

Judith grumbled as you hitched her higher on your hip. “Judy is an easy baby, pretty much eats anything that gets put in front of her.” You chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“You and Rick must be very proud of your kids.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, it’s not-“

A strong arm was suddenly wrapped around your thick waist and you were tugged back into their hard stomach. The scent of cigarettes and motor oil filled your senses as Daryl’s lips brushed against your earlobe. You watched as Deanna went pale, obviously coming to her own conclusion about your relationship with the archer.

“I-I didn’t realise, given how affectionate you are with the kids, I thought Rick was your partner.” You could feel Daryl’s broad chest rumble with discontent.

“So what if he is?” The noise from the party faded away to a faint whisper as all eyes turned to you. Internally, you groaned, vowing to get some sort of revenge on your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry?” Deanna seemed genuinely confused but you knew that whatever was about to come out of Daryl’s mouth would not serve to lessen that feeling.

With your free hand, you dug your fingers into his hip, urging him to shut the hell up but like always, Daryl refused to listen. “So what if we’re both fucking her?”

And there it was. Your body sagged with embarrassment as heat raced up your neck, blooming across your cheeks. “You fucking asshole.” Your group all seemed to be holding back their laughter as the Alexandrians were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Carl groan loudly from somewhere behind you. “Not again.”

“Both of them?” Spencer materialised beside his mother, jaw practically on the floor. “At the same time?”

Just as Daryl’s mouth opened once more to very rudely answer the mayor’s son, Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. His grip was light enough to appear friendly but the way his fingers curled into his collarbone kept the other man silent. “What Daryl meant to say is that we are all in a relationship together.”

You then made the mistake of making eye contact with Maggie and Carol who both seemed to be on the edge of suffocation as they desperately tried to stop giggling. You glared at the women and got back a rather rude gesture from Carol that restarted their laughter anew.

“I think I need to get Judy to bed.” You tried to pull away from Daryl’s grip but the stubborn man he was, he just held you tighter.

“How does that work?” The question came from a woman towards the back. You could practically feel Rick’s smirk as he cleared his throat but very quickly, another woman decided to answer for him.

“Obviously they take turns.” A murmur of agreement filled the room followed by- “Oh her poor vagina.” This makes Glenn snort into his drink.

With a horrified look on her face, Deanna spoke again. “This is highly inappropriate.” Yet no one seemed to hear her because someone else piped up.

“I can’t believe that she isn’t pregnant all the time.”

“I think that’s enough of that! Thank you all for the wonderful party, but we really should be going now.” Your voice boomed, starling Judith awake but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. Daryl went easily enough as your fingers clamped down on his wrist and you pulled him along, although there was a prideful smile on his lips.

But Rick had other ideas. “It’s not like we don’t try every chance we get.” Faster than you thought you were capable of, you dropped Daryl’s hand and your arm darted out, grabbing Rick’s ear with a force that made him visibly flinch.

“I said that’s enough.” You snarled and tugged him towards the front door, Daryl trailing close behind you. “Goodnight.” The door slammed shut behind you, leaving behind a room full of stunned Alexandrians and your friends who were all laughing loudly.

“Well, I guess that cleared that up.” Deanna murmured and took a long pull of her drink.

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ohnoitstbskyen · 1 year

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A quick list of favorite video essays on YT?

You fool! You have activated my trap card! Now suffer the flood of recommendations!

We'll start with the more famous ones and work our way down to smaller and smaller creators as we go:

The Nostalgia Critic and The Wall by Folding Ideas: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rokAtlFGa7Y

Violence & Protest by Philosophy Tube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh4G1Gjv7bA

Mel Brooks, The Producers, and the Ethics of Satire about N@zis by Lindsay Ellis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62cPPSyoQkE

Weighing the Value of Director's Cuts | Scanline by hbomberguy and Shannon Strucci: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6OT77T7YlE

Incels by Contrapoints: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fD2briZ6fB0

POLYBIUS - The Video Game That Doesn't Exist by Ahoy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7X6Yeydgyg

Disney's FastPass: A Complicated History by Defunctland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yjZpBq1XBE

Dropping the Bomb: Hiroshima & Nagasaki by Shaun: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCRTgtpC-Go

The Alt-Right Playbook: How to Radicalize a Normie by Innuendo Studios: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P55t6eryY3g

TRAINWRECKORDS: "American Life" by Madonna by Todd in the Shadows: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCMNzdm_RKo

The Speedrun Where Link Stares at Rupees for 17 Hours by Lowest Percent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2nRW3wKnVY

The Simpsons and the Death of Parody by Jonas Čeika - CCK Philosophy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hi_fxwLBSFo

CATS & The Weird Mind of TS Eliot | An Analysis by Maggie Mae Fish: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tYcPuVYDHw

Fashion in Final Fantasy by ThorHighHeels: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3Yl0Moy_ic

action button reviews boku no natsuyasumi by Action Button: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=779coR-XPTw

Transvestigation: The Conspiracy Theory That Everyone Is Transgender by Mia Mulder: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH5-MDXzfmg

The Matrix Sequels Are Good, Actually by Sophie from Mars and Sarah Zedig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0VnYcMHuDc

The Last Unicorn: Why Must You Always Speak In Riddles? by What's So Great About That?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNrTM74pdTk

Bisexual Lighting: the Rise of Pink, Purple and Blue by KyleKallgrenBHH: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gU3IA4u-J8

I Watched ALL the Swan Princess Sequels by Laura Crone: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saM3afhPfO8

Knives Out: The Simple Art of Trolling Everyone by let's talk about stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_2kzuC3GM0

Crime & Humanity in Yakuza by HeavyEyed https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbElfOjJJbw

FAKE FRIENDS EPISODE TWO: parasocial hell by Shannon Strucci: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLA-uFKjQ-g

Left Wing White Supremacy? by JohntheDuncan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZaOCR-mUm8

How Will Games Be Preserved? | Capturing the Frozen Flame by Transparency: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVo4M57wWLc

Queer Relativity by Aranock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=di1aTOJUncM

#tb answers #video essays #video essay recommendations

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gunthermunch · 5 months

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[Transcript under the cut]

Cassandra: interesting… Cassandra: kitty spirit box is that your only song? Cassandra: you're just playing around. WG: Bluma!! c'mon girl. you're seven years old that ghoul's gonna eat you up WG: … damn that's a bunch of garlic. WG: shit WG: [wheeze] Jesus- stupid lungs WG and Cass: OOF Cass: watch it! WG: SORRY- sorry, my flashlight is-- is that Metallica? Cass: ugh. yes WG: where'd you even come from?! Cass: secret stairs behind that wall. this place is a maze WG: there's more?! Cass: shh-! did you hear that? Door screech Bluma: oh hey! what took you so long? WG: …huh Bluma: come on in, i want you to meet someone Bluma: this is Jojo! Cass: …that's a cat WG: lord take me Bluma: he's so polite and cuddly. Jojo was the one making all that noise, he just wanted out but couldn't get the door open. Bluma: can we- WG: there's no way we are keeping that thing Cass: don't listen to your uncle, i let him adopt a trash panda years ago and he cuddled it like a baby Bluma: really?? Cass: mhm. can i carry him? WG: i can't with this Cass: hi Jojo. is this your maze? you did quite an interesting job on it. Jojo: mrow Bluma: i think he wants down Cass: only if he lets me investigate the place. Jojo: meow! WG: so you're not gonna ask how's that thing still alive? Bluma: maybe he's been living off the mold in the walls WG: word Cass: Wolfgang, look at this WG: what's that Cass: these are notes on vampirism. I think whoever owned Jojo before was working on a cure or something similar. WG: ( reading ) Even if i'm following your recipe exactly the way you lend it to me, i don't think i will ever have it done. I don't see it all like you do, i fear i will never do. i'm sorry. Cass: something fell off. what is it? WG: a coincidence. Hey Blooms, grab that guy. We are going back up Bluma: Maggie, this is Jojo. Jojo, Maggie. Meet each other, talk. Cass: Wolfgang. WG: you are getting married. Cass: well, i'm already married. WG lits cigarrette WG: …i'm sorry, Cass. I really suck at words but, yeah. i wish i could've been, i don't know, better. Cass: don't you mean be? WG: yeah, maybe. WG: so. is Nervous married too? i'm up for more surprises Cass: well i haven't seen Nervous in a while, but i keep in touch with Annie and as far as i know, everything's jolly. also you're a grandparent WG: the hell Cass: yeah congratulations. PB had four pups and Nervous named one of them after you WG: …holy shit. Cass: yeah, everyone's changing. Cass: … i don't forgive you, by the way. Cass: but, i don't regret going on that date with you either.

Bluma: is she's gone… gone? WG: i don't know. but she said she never cared about me stealing her truck. Bluma: why do all your friends come and go? WG: all my friends? Bluma: yeah, like the freckled one. Morgana? WG: Morgan…? Bluma: yeah! she was here some years ago asking about you, and gave me my glasses. she had beautiful orange hair… like a butterfly! Bluma: are you okay?! WG: yeah yeah- just-- why don't you show Jojo our curtains and- your dad's socks collection Bluma: oh- yeah! you're right

#oh #ts4 #ts4 story #munch #well thats a lot to digest so i will keep my mouth shut #wolfgang munch #cassandra goth #bluma vatore #maggie the cat #JOJO THE CAT

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ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing · 6 months

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I love how Stede managed to accidentally, with 0 conscious thought, flirt with and charm multiple badass pirates who could absolutely kill him with ease, from Blackbeard to Anne Bonny to Hell-Cat Maggie (to Steak Knife????)

I want to see more of that

I want it to fuck Ed up because look at how cool and charming and sexy his boyfriend is and look at how many hearts he's (unknowingly) breaking because he only has eyes for Ed

I want Ed to have his teen romcom moment, where the charming Bad Boy™ on the motorbike who could have anyone in school is only interested in the studious Good Girl™ in the sweater

(Except this is 90% just Ed's pov and fantasy - they end up roleplaying it in public though, much to the general annoyance of everyone else)

#*thinking of izzy's hand on stede's thigh* : to izzy?????????????????????#ofmd spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death season 2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #our flag means death s2 #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ed x stede #stede x ed #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd edward teach #ofmd ed teach #ofmd blackbeard #ofmd stede

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lambsouvlaki · 9 months

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For the Hell of it - Robin

Characters: jason todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,626

Summary: A peaceful evening is interrupted by a visitor through time.

Masterlist

------

They were lounging together in Jason’s apartment, Downton Abbey played in the background while they both focused on their own things.

She was sitting up on the couch, half heartedly reading a new fantasy book. Jason was lying with his head on her lap, on leg swinging over the end while he blithely poked through the GCPD’s servers. A half empty board of snacks sat on the coffee table next to two wine glasses.

She carded her fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. He occasionally moved his head against her hand seeking out scratches in different spots like an overly large cat. She wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it but she sure as hell wasn’t going to call it out.

Her eyes were puzzling through a sentence with too many invented fantasy words, when something in the air shifted. She looked up. Jason arched his neck to look around. Her ears popped.

Then Jason was suddenly gone and the head on her lap was significantly smaller.

She blinked down at a kid in a domino mask. He wore a bright red tunic, a yellow cape bunched up on the couch, bare legs and bright green knee pads and little pixie boots.

He looked about as startled as her.

On the TV Maggie Smith gasped in dignified shock.

He pulled away all at once, backflipping off the coffee table. He landed in a cautious stance in the middle of the room. She half stood, holding up wary hands.

“Jay?” she asked, tentative.

“I’m Robin! Who are you?”

“I’m Andy. Where did you come from, Robin?”

He looked around, taking in their surroundings with no overt reaction. She studied him. His face was round with baby fat, but that was about the only fat he had on him. He had familiar curls on his head, sans a white streak at the front.

“I was fighting a magic guy,” he said. He pursed his lips. “He didn’t really know what he was doing. Lots of purple light flying everywhere.”

“Did you get hit? Is that why you swapped places with Jason? Oh.” She dropped her hands. “That wizard’s day just took a very bad turn.”

“Jason?” he asked, carefully casual.

“Black curly hair, blue eyes, about twice your size. Turns twenty four in a week.”

“Huh.”

He looked at her. She looked at him.

“Do you want me to tell you the year?” she offered.

“Na, I got it, thanks.”

“What happens now? Is there… protocol for this?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, and then trotted off to an empty corner for the illusion of privacy, yellow cape flapping behind him.

What a polite young man, she thought, failing to mentally connect him to Jason in any way. She paused the episode and sank back onto the couch.

Jason had never actually told her he used to be Robin. She suspected, but not enough to ask. It was one of those things about him that everyone seemingly knew and never talked about. She knew he’d died at some point in his teens, and then stopped being dead, carving his life into a distinct before and after.

Seeing the ‘before’ was surreal and heartbreaking.

He was calling someone, and who that was wasn’t a great mystery. His grin was bright and infectious, and utterly foreign to her. His nose was crooked but it had broken in a different place than adult Jason. Weird.

How did this weedy little sprout turn into her absolute unit of a man? Jason was a verified motherfucker extraordinaire.

She watched while Robin described his situation and location to Batman, then recounted everything she had said, word for word.

Well, damn. Batman was probably going to come here then to collect his wayward Robin.

She had never met Bruce and had really been hoping to keep her winning streak going. He was probably fine as a person, but she didn’t want to turn this sweet little boy over to someone she didn’t know. Going by the earnest smile, he had the utmost faith in him. She couldn’t imagine a Jason who had ever been quick to trust people.

He finished his call and drifted back near her.

“So. You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

“We haven’t met yet.”

“Yeah I figured that.” He looked at her with shrewd eyes. “Are you my– his–” Despite his brashness, his ears turned pink and he looked down at his feet.

“No,” she said gently, ignoring her own cheeks feeling warm. “We’re not… not anything. He and I are just friends.”

He cocked his head. “Riiiight.”

She was suddenly overly aware of the borrowed hoodie she wore, her short shorts and bare feet. This was clearly a man’s apartment, and it was almost eleven at night. It wasn’t the most platonic looking situation.

But she recognised the careful assessment he was giving her, even through the mask. He might be fun sized but he was already sharp as a tack.

“Actually, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you anything,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Something something, preserving the timeline. If you know what’s going to happen it might not happen anymore.”

“Oh yeah.” He puffed out his chest. “No need to worry. Batman and Robin will take care of it.”

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” She picked up her book again. She wasn’t really reading, but she made a valiant effort to move her eyes along the lines.

Robin looked around.

“Stop it,” she said.

“Stop what?”

“Hunting for clues.”

He snorted. “I don’t exactly have to go hunting. What’s with the wall of guns and swords?”

Oh yeah. That. She shrugged.

“Ask me again in a decade.”

“So it is my apartment.”

“Don’t touch. He’s very intense about security and I don’t know if your biometrics will line up.”

He looked baffled.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

She stared at the words on the page. She shouldn’t have said that.

“Robin?” a quiet voice called from a dark corner.

She jumped and stood up.

“B!” The kid dashed across the room.

The shadows coalesced into a man, who stepped forwards and wrapped his cape around Robin in an expansive hug. Batman bowed his head.

She looked away. She tried to tune out Robin’s quiet muttering to his dad. She felt like an intruder just being in the same room.

Batman rallied himself, and they turned to the door. Of course, Bats never said goodbye, they just stopped being present.

Batman halted before disappearing though, and looked back at her.

“Andrea.”

“Batman.”

“Good luck on your exam next week.”

She did not roll her eyes. It was a near thing.

“How long do these things usually take to resolve?” she asked.

He looked at Robin with a pain so profound he could not grasp its enormity. Robin looked a little uncomfortable under his stare. Batman didn’t say anything.

The two of them left.

She stood alone in the apartment. She looked around, feeling the size of the place for the first time. She stooped to collect the leftover food and empty plates. Jason would want the food saved, so she wrapped it up and put it in the fridge.

What a precocious little rascal he used to be, she thought, in the silence. No wonder Bruce was so heartbroken.

She stood alone in the empty kitchen.

She wanted her Jason back.

Feeling selfish and ashamed of it, she returned to the couch and sat with her feet pulled up beneath her. She turned the show back on but wasn’t really watching it. Maybe she should turn the heating off. It felt silly to heat the whole place just for her.

Less than a minute later, the door swung open.

Full Size Jason strolled in, with a bent piece of rebar casually resting on one shoulder.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, tossing the rebar onto his weapons table.

“You’re back!”

“Yup, switched back in the elevator.” He was in the same loose t-shirt and sweatpants as before, and they weren’t even blood splattered.

“What happened on the other side?”

“Beat up a wizard.” He collapsed onto the couch next to her and picked up her half-drunk glass of rosé. He took a sip and put his boot up on the edge of the coffee table. “Real amateur production. I shouldn’t know how to use your magical artefact better than you. How was the kid?”

“Very sweet,” she said, relaxing. “Bit of a snitch.”

“Yeah?”

“Immediately called Batman and reported every word I said.”

He scoffed. “Yeah he would.” He looked morosely into the glass. “How did Batman take it?”

“...He was devastated.”

He frowned at the wine. “He didn’t say a word when we swapped back.”

She frowned at the screen.

“I’m glad to have my Jason back,” she said. She wasn’t brave enough to look at him.

He was watching her though.

“Yours, hm?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed. They settled down again, both looking at the screen. Neither was really watching.

“How was young Batman?” she dared to ask.

He sighed quietly. “Younger than I remembered. Worried about his Robin.”

They watched in silence. What could she say to that? Some things couldn’t be fixed, and platitudes were just bandaids on scars.

That little kid smiled so brightly, and it was a fucking tragedy. But it wasn’t hers.

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against him.

She relaxed into his side, and he stretched out some more. She snuck an arm around his waist, he nuzzled the side of her head, and neither commented on the desperately tight grasp he held her with.

Next>>

#Jason needs more people in his life who are happy he came back to life #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #for the hell of it #my fanfic #dc #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #Robin!Jason

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skelavender · 1 month

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He doesn’t know how to do this. He’s been scared for her life before, he’s seen her pale and unmoving in a hospital bed with a machine breathing for her, but he’s never had to see her covered in a sheet on the cold, unfeeling metal of a morgue slab. OR Wetwired: marriage of convenience style.

read closed doors on ao3, or below the cut!

Mulder’s shaking. He struggles to hit the correct button to hang up the phone.

Dead. Scully’s dead.

“What happened?” Frohike asks from behind him.

“Maryland State Police.” He tries to keep the shake, the fear, out of his voice. “They think they've found Scully.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, um... they think maybe I should come down and I.D. the body.” He chokes on the last word, and closes the door behind him before his friends can react.

Mulder doesn’t remember the drive to the county morgue. When he parks, he’s still trying to hold back his tears, his grief. This isn’t right.

What is he supposed to do? She can’t leave him a widower, once again partnerless within the FBI, chasing her ghost through the X Files. It’s not right.

He’s hazy through a confrontation with his source, letting the anger at the injustice fuel him. He yells, and it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. If Scully’s gone, then what’s the damn point. They’ve already gotten away with it.

He kicks the door of the man’s car, and goes inside to identify his wife’s body.

But it’s not her. It’s not Scully. There are no words for the relief he feels at seeing another woman through the slats of the blinds. He almost collapses right there, the tension of mourning fleeing his body. Scully is still Schrodinger’s cat, both alive and dead as long as she remains unseen. Though the dead woman is still somebody’s loved one, she is not his wife.

“It’s not her. Somebody has to call her mother.”

“We already tried.” The coroner says, “We weren't able to reach her.”

“She's not answering her phone?”

Just like that, Mulder knows where Scully is.

***

Mulder knows that he has a pretty good relationship with the woman who is technically his mother-in-law. It helps that Maggie is one of the most kindhearted and likable women he’s met, and that she doesn’t know he’s married to her daughter.

As a result, Maggie has never, ever, told Mulder to go away. Not on the days when Scully was missing that she couldn't stop crying, not when Mulder showed up shaking and swaying on her doorstep. Never. She had always offered that motherly, soft smile and opened the door with a “Come on in, Fox,” and scolded him when he tried to address her formally.

This time, when he casts his shadow across her doorstep, frantically knocking and peeking in the windows, she tries to close it in his face. She makes no comment on her name.

He pushes past her with a half-hearted apology. He needs to see Scully, to wipe away the mental image of another redheaded woman on a metal slab, laid out and labeled potentially with his wife’s name.

Mulder sees Scully’s gun before he sees her. Her weapon leads her from around the corner, and it is immediately trained on Mulder’s figure. Instead of tensing up at the threat, Mulder relaxes. She’s alive, she’s upright, she’s breathing.

He knows she won’t hesitate to shoot, hell, she’s already shot him once, but he’s not scared. Not for himself, at least. For Scully, out of her mind from too much TV, yes. For Maggie, who Mulder is trying his best to keep behind him in case Scully does fire her weapon, yes. But he’s not scared for himself. Even if Scully shot him now, straight to the heart and he bled out in seconds, the pain wouldn’t compare to the half an hour this evening when he thought she was dead. Nothing can hold a candle to the horror that had sunk into his bones.

“You’re in on it. You’re one of them.You’re one of the people who abducted me. You put that thing in my neck! You killed my sister!”

The accusation stings. There’s always been a part of Mulder, buried deep in a chasm of guilt over Samantha and everything else, that has felt responsible for Melissa’s death. If he had never dragged Scully into the conspiracy shrouded corners of the world, her sister might still be alive. So maybe Scully’s right, in a twisted way; maybe he did kill her sister.

“That’s not true, Dana.” Maggie steps out in front of Mulder’s human shield.

“It is! He’s been manipulating me since day one. He even m–” she removes a hand from her gun and presses it to her mouth to keep in a sob. Mulder can fill in the rest of the sentence. He even married me to manipulate me. His heart breaks.

“I want you to listen to me.”

“Mom, just get out of the way!” Scully sobs. Her gun shakes in her single hand.

“You trust me, don’t you? You know that I would never hurt you? That I would never let anybody hurt you. That’s why you came here, isn't it? You’re safe here. Put the gun down, Dana.” Maggie steps closer as Scully’s gun retreats to the ceiling, her arms folding to her chest. “Put it down.”

Finally, Scully lets herself crumble in her mother’s arms, dropping like a puppet with her strings cut and sobbing, sobbing, sobbing like he’s never seen her do before. She doesn’t let go of the gun.

Mulder steps closer on light feet, approaching to release the weapon from Scully’s chokehold. Unfortunately, he hits a creak in the floorboards.

“No!” She screams and lifts the gun to him again.

“Scully, please.” Mulder begs, his voice cracking. “Please let me help you.”

“It’s okay, Dana. Fox loves you, he’s not here to hurt you. It’s okay.”

Mulder stays across the room. “Do you two want to get into your car to go to the hospital, and I can follow?” he asks Maggie. She nods. “Okay. Scully, would you hand the gun to your mom, please?”

Maggie puts enough space between their bodies for her to receive it, then holds it out to Mulder, who finally approaches to retrieve the weapon. He clicks the safety back on, removes the magazine, and places them in separate places around the living room. He does the same with his own, and helps Maggie lift a still-limp Scully upright.

“I’ll go grab my keys, Dana, you’re safe with Fox, okay?”

Scully, leaning most of her body weight on Mulder and completely out of it, makes a vague sound of agreement. While Maggie is out of the room, Scully shifts to lean her head on Mulder’s chest. He rests his right hand on the back of her neck, running a finger along the two chains that lay there: her cross necklace from her mother, and her wedding ring necklace from him.

The wedding ring that Maggie doesn’t know exists. Shit.

“Scully, I’m going to take your necklace, okay?” He whispers, “So your mom doesn’t see.”

Scully lets out a little whine from the back of her throat and nods slightly. Mulder’s fingers fumble at the clasp, and he manages to slide it into his pocket half a second before Maggie reenters the room.

***

Mulder puts his hands up as he enters Scully’s hospital room tentatively, trying and failing to make a joke of the situation. Maggie, thankfully understanding their need to talk in private, exists as Mulder enters.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, taking a seat beside Scully’s hospital bed. He scoots the chair closer in before grabbing her hand in his, and lifting the other to brush her hair from her face.

“Ashamed,” she confesses. “I was so sure, Mulder. I saw things, and I heard things… it was just like the world was turned upside down. Everybody was out to get me.”

“Now you know how I feel most of the time.” Mulder tries to lighten the mood, to make her feel less… guilty, if Mulder is reading her right. It doesn’t seem to work.

“I thought you were going to kill me.” It comes out as a whisper, as another confession.

“I'm not surprised.” He leans toward her, and explains the common link between the victims and their hallucinations, turning their worst-case-scenario anxieties into a reality in their eyes.

“Like me thinking that you'd betray me.” Scully offers in understanding, “I was so far gone, Mulder, I thought that you had gone to the other side.”

She tells him what she had seen, him conferring with the Smoking Man in the parking lot, selling their secrets. She doesn’t tell him about seeing a smudge of lipstick on his collar, or the scent of an unfamiliar perfume in their motel room. For the sake of her own sanity, those shall remain unmentioned and she will just accept that they, too, were hallucinations induced by the recorded television programs.

Mulder considers the Smoking Man for a moment, formulating a theory as to who was behind the induced mania.

“Why don't you try to get some rest?” He says, and rises to leave the room. Before he crosses the threshold, he remembers half his reason for coming by. “Oh!” He turns towards her, and fumbles with the pockets of his coat “I almost forgot.” He pulls out a familiar chair, with an even more familiar ring dangling at the bottom.

Scully smiles softly and holds her hand out for Mulder to drop her wedding ring into. “Thank you, Mulder.”

“I… let your mom take the lead, with the hospital. She still doesn’t know.” He says quietly.

Scully nods and slips the chain over her head. She motions for him to come closer, and he leans down to her. She presses a soft, grateful kiss to his cheekbone.

“I’ll just uh, go take care of the Cancer Man and stuff.” He bends down to place a final kiss to her forehead, and steps out the door.

He’ll deal with the rest of it. He’ll clear the path of obstacles, of things they need to investigate, so she can focus on getting better.

***

When Scully is discharged to Mulder’s care and he takes her home, she beelines for the loveseat that backs the kitchen. What Mulder considers her solitude chair. She sits sideways, crossing her ankles and pulling her knees to her chest, and sets her book on the arm of the chair.

Knowing she’s unlikely to relocate to the couch, he stretches out across the length of it so his feet are closest to her and grabs the book he left facedown on the coffee table last week, which Scully had placed a bookmark in and closed to save the spine. They sit quietly, absorbed in their respective books, each enjoying the quiet, steady company of the other.

“I’m going to go to bed.” Scully says, breaking the silence and rising from her seat.

Mulder smiles up at her, “Goodnight, Scully.”

She gives him a watery smile and disappears down the hallway.

When Mulder gives up on his book an hour later, he retreats down the hallway after her. When he reaches Scully’s bedroom door, accustomed to sliding into bed with her as has for the past few weeks, he pauses with his hand on the knob.

It’s closed. It’s never closed.

This is… new. Scully closes the door when they retreat to bed together, and had done so in her own apartment as well when he had stayed there. It hadn’t surprised him in the slightest, Scully’s a practical person, and a closed door is safer in the event of a fire. Usually, on the nights he joins her late, he closes it behind him. So far, she’s always left it open those nights.

But it’s closed now. The invitation he’s been eating up so greedily is closed, at least for now. Mulder turns to the other side of the hallway, swinging open the door to his own bedroom. The hinges creak.

Without even stepping in, Mulder knows he can’t sleep there. The room is cold, stale, hollow in a way an extra blanket and Scully’s fancy scented candles can’t fix. It’s not Scully’s room, with her soft pink walls and soft mattress and, well, Scully. His own bedroom serves a walk-in closet with a mattress.

There’s no love here.

He clicks the door closed and retreats to his leather couch, pressed against the staircase in the basement room that they use as a home office. At least on the couch, there is no empty side where someone else should lay.

***

When Mulder wakes a few hours later to shift positions, he feels the pressure of something resting against his knee. He opens his eyes to see Scully leaning against the couch, legs folded under her, dozing with her head rested on his knee. It’s not dissimilar from when she had snuck into his old apartment months ago, an instance they had never outright addressed.

He tries to shift his cramping leg slowly, gently, as not to wake his partner. She rouses anyway, turning around to blink up at him sleepily.

“You alright, Scully?” he asks, voice rough.

She nods. “I’m sorry I locked you out.”

“‘S alright.” He stretches to relieve the ache in his leg, and once it’s gone, lays flat and reaches his arms out to her in invitation. She rises, only to lay back down on top of him, legs intertwined and arms wrapped securely. Her head rests on his chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of it.

“I do trust you.” Scully’s voice is quiet beyond a whisper, and Mulder’s not entirely sure he actually heard her say it.

“I know.”

“I’m just…” She sighs. “Unsteady. Like I’m not sure what’s real.”

“This is real, Scully.” He says into her hair. “We’re home, we’re safe.”

“But are we?” She lifts her head to look at him properly. “Mulder, we’ve been manipulated and abducted, there have been attempts on both of our lives. I’m not certain we’ll ever be safe, much less feel it.”

“You’re right that it’s possible that this will go on forever.” He replies. “But it’s also possible that that’s not the case. It’s possible the Smoking Man will be dead on our doorstep tomorrow morning, and we won’t have to worry about him anymore. It’s possible that we’ll get a tip about Samantha’s tomorrow. If we worry about every horrible possibility, we also have to let ourselves dream about the wonderful ones.”

If only you knew, Scully thinks. She does daydream about peaceful and happy futures, and every single one of them involves him.

#fall into place series #LTW: closed doors #LTWrites #.txt #fics #the x files

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chocolatecoffeeshot · 26 days

Text

Boop! Inspired one-shot | AO3 LINK

Fluff with a boop of angst (prank)

Summary: Azirpahle wakes up to an empty bed and a missing Crowley with no proper explanation. Has Crowley been dragged back to hell or is it something else BOOP ME A KISS

Aziraphale woke to his left arm and toes shivering. This shouldn’t have been possible at 6am as Crowley was supposed to be curled up into them. Maybe he was just downstairs, panic rose in Aziraphale’s chest, maybe hell had pulled him back. But oh, there was a note.

“Out to get some fresh air” scrawled on it. This was usual as Crowley woke up at only after 10, like a bank (nothing like a serpent) and the first thing he did was saunter over Nina’s for his espresso shots. Then he would get back a cupcake or a pastry for Aziraphale, occasionally a brownie to split, as a midday snack. Aziraphale’s waddled up to the window pulling the blanket around him and peeked to the blinds and saw the Bentley. “Maybe it is an early morning stroll after all.” Aziraphale cast out his sense and sensed Crowley near St. James. So he fell back to bed.

At nine he went over to Nina’s himself, as Crowley was yet to return. “Hi, Aziraphale, where’s your thin dark duke today?”, Nina greeted cheerily. “Crowley went out for a morning walk today, I rather wondered he might have made his way here after that”, Aziraphale said hopefully. He hadn’t been able to sense Crowley after he’d woken up. More importantly Bentley was missing. “No, not come this way. Wasn’t expecting him to as yet. Say you want to order something and wait here? Camomile perhaps?” she offered. “Oh a chamomile sounds rather lovely”, Aziraphale took his order and settled by a corner seat and went through his list of why now would be good time to panic about Crowley’s absence. Nina meanwhile got him a vanilla frosted cupcake, which accidentally made unfortunate contact with his nose on Nina’s careless account. Very lightly but yet. “Oh I’m so sorry!!” Nina yelped and offered up a tissue instantly. “It’s alright, I’ll just head back anyways I think. Can’t seem to sit around” he gave a polite smile. “I’ll let you know if I see Crowley”, Nina called. “Thanks Nina” Aziraphale grumbled and made his way to the records shop.

“Crowley did come in today yes, asked for a CD, and left”, Maggie said. “Rather fast, no time to chat he said”. “He got a new CD?”, Aziraphale was surprised. This day kept talking weird turns. Too weird. Something was not right anywhere. “We’ll I don’t think he particularly browned for one, just picked up the first of the rack, really.” “I see”, Aziraphale muttered. There was no rhyme nor reason for this behaviour. “Mr. Fell don’t mind me but I ought to…”, Maggie reached out and brushed her finger over his nose. “There, there was a leaf stuck”, she said with a pursed smile. “Ah” Aziraphale gave it a few more stern brushes to ensure any remaining stickiness was gone.“There was a frosting incident.” Maggie’s giggles were dangerously close to spilling out so Aziraphale considered it as his cue.

Outside the door of his bookshop lay a tiny black cat, mewling it's guts out. Aziraphale crouched down to examine it, perhaps a miracle was needed. The second he touched it, the cat shot out his paws, smacked him on his nose and shot out. “For God’s sake would you leave my nose alone!!!” Aziraphale yelled in despair. His Crowley was nowhere to be found and his nose was close to being battered! This was the worst day, since since .... “Angel? Issss that you?”, a voice hissed out from inside. “Crowley? Crowley you’re back?” Aziraphale rushed in, arms open and engulfed the demon in a hug. “I thought you’d gone” he whimpered, “left me.” “I would never!? A ludicrous accusation that”, Crowley pulled back. His eyebrows arched,"I left a note, yes?”

“Yes but Bentley was gone by the time I woke up. What was I supposed to think you fiend?” Aziraphale smacked him on his arm.

“You saw a missing Bentley and went to Nina’s to look for me there?” Crowley asked sarcastically.

“Well I wasn’t particularly cool minded and I thought she might’ve noticed ….. hold up how do you know I went to Nina’s?” Aziraphale wondered.

Crowley’s smirk grew like a Cheshire cat’s, a little guilt flashing on his eyes.

“Anthony Crowley Fell, WHAT have you been doing?” Aziraphale spoke threateningly.

Crowley swindled and flopped on the armchair and put his legs up.

“So you see spring has started right, a new month has rolled around, I thought I might get a little gift angel,” he said sweet nonchalance laced in his words.

He miracles a paper from below and present it to Aziraphale.

“I say, I say, IT WAS YOU!!!” Aziraphale’s was shocked and surprised. The paper, photograph really, was a collage of a his recent nose accident’s. All snapped at the exact time his nose was squished, his entire face scrunched up.

“Explain yourself!” Crowley stood up in one swoop, pulled Aziraphale back into his arms and kissed him on the nose.

“Boop!”, he whispered quietly. Colour of vibrant red crept into Aziraphale’s cheek.

“ What?” “Boop!”, Crowley kissed.

“Again.” Crowley obliged the blue pleading eyes, slowly softly and Aziraphale gave his kiss back.

“Happy April Fool’s, angel. You made a very cute one.” Crowley’s golden eyes ablaze.

“Hang on a minute, were Maggie and Nina in this too? The cat!?” Aziraphale felt incredulous.

Crowley was laughing now.

“The gift was for me, Angel. Won’t this be perfect over the mantelpiece” he winked.

“I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Well, you have all the time in the world.”

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fluff #good omens one shot #boop #good omens boop #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #a little prank played #aziraphale #crowley #I’m not sure what my writing comprehension at 1am is but I wanted to post it ASAP

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marie-mcd · 2 months

Text

A recurring feature that I like in Neil Gaiman's and Terry Pratchett's stories is the mundane and ordinary juxtaposed and blended with the extraordinary and fantastical.

There's a lot of humour derived from this, but it got me wondering if the concept also works as a theme under the surface of the humour, so I'll explore that idea a bit here with examples from Good Omens and Discworld.

First a look at the humour side, because it's fun, and so that people know what I'm referring to:

-In the opening sequence of Good Omens S1E1: an angel and a demon (fantastical beings) are conversing like ordinary people, using idioms like "Well that went down like a lead balloon", against a setting of biblical proportions.

-The Archangels' meeting in S2E6 discussing first the Second Coming ("Nah!"), and then next on the agenda is the cleaning roster.

-The visuals of heaven and hell in general - it's the subversion of expectations on what these places "should" look and function like - offices, clipboards, contracts, bureaucracy. This is humour and seems like theme/motif at the same time; the visual cues say a lot about heaven and hell and their role in this story.

-Death from the Discworld books owns an umbrella stand and a hairbrush, likes kitty cats, and rides a white horse named Binky.

-In Small Gods, the Great God Om is incarnated as a tortoise:

And it came to pass that in that time the Great God Om spake unto Brutha, the Chosen One:

'Psst!'

Next, looking at the concept's thematic or metaphorical potential.

The following excerpt gets me thinking about how people put outsized importance on mundane things, and about normalcy bias kicking in when a narrow mind is confronted with extraordinary events.

From Good Omens book (about RP Tyler):

It is a high and lonely destiny to be Chairman of the Lower Tadfield Residents' Association.

[…]

Your car is on fire.

No. Tyler just couldn't bring himself to say it. I mean, the man had to know that, didn't he? He was sitting in the middle of it. Possibly it was some kind of practical joke.

Next, a scene that makes me think about retreating into the mundane to cope, after being confronted with an extraordinary event.

From Good Omens S2E6:

Nina: Oh, God, I should've been open half an hour ago.

Maggie: How can you think about that after all this??

Nina: People need coffee, I sell coffee, it's my coffee shop.

And next, thinking about how the minutiae of the everyday distracts us from paying enough attention to big world issues (a bit of normalcy bias again too).

From Good Omens book (when the horsepersons of the apocalypse arrive at the airbase):

No one stopped the four as they purposefully made their way into one of the long, low buildings under the forest of radio masts. No one paid any attention to them. Perhaps they saw nothing at all. Perhaps they saw what their minds were instructed to see, because the human brain is not equipped to see War, Famine, Pollution, and Death when they don't want to be seen, and has got so good at it that it often manages not to see them even when they abound on every side.

Next, two excerpts from Discworld books. At first I was thinking along the lines of needing to focus on the everyday because we can't spend all our time focusing on big existential stuff, or, how we take the wonders of nature for granted because of busy lives; but then I realized, I think it's actually a clever inversion of what we consider to be ordinary - that just being alive, against all odds, in the vast universe, is actually quite extraordinary.

From Small Gods:

And one of [the brain's] functions is to make the miraculous seem ordinary and turn the unusual into the usual.

Because if this was not the case, then human beings, faced with the daily wondrousness of everything, would go around wearing big stupid grins […] And no one would do much work.

Gods don't like people not doing much work. People who aren't busy all the time might start to think.

Part of the brain exists to stop this happening. It is very efficient. It can make people experience boredom in the middle of marvels.

[more going on in the above than just the subject of the post, but I'm narrowing the focus here]

From Hogfather:

THERE IS A PLACE WHERE TWO GALAXIES HAVE BEEN COLLIDING FOR A MILLION YEARS, said Death, apropos of nothing. DON'T TRY TO TELL ME THAT'S RIGHT.

"Yes, but people don't think about that," said Susan. Somewhere there was a bed …

CORRECT. STARS EXPLODE, WORLDS COLLIDE, THERE'S HARDLY ANYWHERE IN THE UNIVERSE WHERE HUMANS CAN LIVE WITHOUT BEING FROZEN OR FRIED, AND YET YOU BELIEVE THAT A … A BED IS A NORMAL THING. IT IS THE MOST AMAZING TALENT.

And a quote from Terry Pratchett himself, inverting ordinary/extraordinary (the whole video is great, by the way):

Within the story of evolution is a story far more interesting than any in the Bible. It teaches us amazing things: that stars are not important - there is nothing interesting about stars. Street lamps are very important, because they're so rare. As far as we know there's only a few million of them in the universe. And they were built by monkeys! Who came up with philosophy, and gods.

He also mentioned here that his impression after reading the Old Testament was: "If this is all true, then we are in the hands of a madman!" Off topic again, but relevant to some of what went into Good Omens I think.

Not sure if I've proved anything here, and that wasn't the goal, but it was fun to find some quotes for my brain to play around with!

#long post #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens book #Discworld meta #Discworld #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #hogfather #small gods #p

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meteor752 · 6 months

Text

Episode 6 and 7 thoughts

This will now be a regular thing

Also im writing this as I go

Episode 6

So Izzy thought Ed was Roach. Huh. Does he and Roach talk regularly? <- Coming from a Rizzy shipper

“Do weeeee?” Fang I love you

Oh my god, Frenchie and Jim coming to Ed and Stede like they’re kids asking if their cousins can sleep over

The crew going shoppiiiiiiiiing!!!

Frenchie’s lil dancey dance added many years to my life

Ed being nice and giving kids mon- oh never mind, oh that’s a knife okay. Ed never have kids please

“Don’t pirate kids” well listen okay I don’t have HBO Max it’s the only way I can watch this show

MY QUEEN

Wee John you’re so beautiful and amazing and we don’t deserve you

Jim’s lil mustache, like yeah me too <- Non-Binary person

Stede looks so happy about seeing Wee John!! He’s so proud of his son!

Izzy is gorgeous. I’m actually so happy to see him explore more sides of himself, and to find things he can indulge in. This whole season has really just been Izzy’s big therapy arc

His hair makes him look a bit like Cinderella’s evil stepmother though

Oh he can sing too! Izzy!!! <- A person who did not like Izzy in season one

Wee John X Izzy? Roach X Fang?

YO THE

POLYCULE DANCING?!

Ed protecting Stede….just, immediately putting him behind himself…I just…

I rewatched that clip five times

“Because I only hang out with cool pirates” Stede’s face!!! He’s just like Oh Snapppp

Despite it all, Stede and Ed are still the cutest couple that has ever graced the TV screen. Like hell yeah, make fun of people together!

Ed keeps being protective…..okay I need a moment…

Roach you’re a lunatic and I love you

“Whatever this is it’s just gonna turn me on” Izzy you’re a shining star

Also I just now noticed that Black Pete and Lucius aren’t there. I’m guessing they eloped somewhere and are currently taking care of their adopted cat

Nope okay, literally the second I unpaused there they are. That’s the worst timing

Hell yeah my dudes, I hope you broke whatever bed you used

“I’m just doing it for the lolz” Yeah that’s sounds like something someone from the 1700s would say

I know this is a pirate ship but why do they just have so many knives and swords laying about

Who is this fanged torture queen, and how do I acquire her number?

Stede remains best employer, while Aziraphale is the best landlord. Can these two people just run the world please and thank you

Hell Cat Maggie is my soulmate

I feel like there needs to be a pirate workers union

The crew of the revenge is the best found family of all time

Stede Bonnet can rival Steven Universe in reforming villains, like he’s just such a genuinely nice dude

“Alright gang! Let’s talk profit sharing”

Oh protective Stede, alright let’s go mate defend your mans

Okay but why is Stede kinda 👀 in this scene

Oh Stede, love…

OH THEY FAWHKING

That French? Izzy speaks french?

I want to see that man get dicked down

I guess the revenge now has a pet goat

Episode 7

Okay Ed is a soft boy again, aight

NO NOT THE LEATHER JACKET

The anime toast in mouth thing. He’s officially been baby girl for a long while, but we’re really solidifying it

OH THEY FUCKED

Isn’t there an anime where a mob boss becomes a house wife? Yeah that’s Ed

Oh we’re telling him about the mermaid fantasy, okay

Izzy what the fuck, you’re amazing

“He’s jealous” my darling

The polycule is going strong, and I love the absolute lack of jealousy. This is the best representation I have ever had

Oh they’re going on a date! That’s so sweet actually

It’s really sweet that they’re talking about their time apart

Stede’s famous now? Good for him!

I need to stop falling in love with every pirate lady In this show. That being said, I hope we see more of the fangirl lady

I’m reinforcing my claim that Stede and Ed are cuter than anything that has ever been on screen

OH MY GOD SWEDE

The Söt Och Saftig, my love. Also this far in and this is the first time the character “The Swede” actually says something in Swedish

Scammer Frenchie is back in business, love that

Jim and Archie trying to get their boyfriend set up is very sweet actually

The character development of Izzy going from wanting Ed to remain “Blackbeard” to him saying if being a softie makes him happy then he should do that, like I get it now, I know why you all love this man

OH MY FUCKING GOD STEDE

Can’t believe Stede is an official Slut now

Open communication? Like genuine conversation about their relationship, and the pace they’re taking it? Ed being honest that he’s not ready for the steps they’re taking in their relationship?

What is this argument

I live for Lucius and Black Pete’s nicknames for each other

“I’ve only known you for a few hours Bonnet, but I’d fucking die for ya” Same random dude. Same

Izzy🥹

Zheng and Olu are really cute actually

Oh my god the polycule will end my fucking life

DONT BRING ED INTO THIS ZHENG

“That was really mean” YOU TELL HER STEAK KNIFE

Protective Jim my beloved

Oh my god

Roach and Fang friendship?

Roach is the queen of self care

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 1 year

Text

Spell your last name, please.

What -- Daryl's back at the Green's farm after falling down the ridge twice, hallucinating you and Merle, then making it home only to get grazed on his head by a bullet. In this chapter, he wakes up after losing consciousness. S02E05 Chupacabra

Who -- slow burn Daryl x Reader

When -- ten minutes after Daryl gets grazed by that bullet courtesy of Andrea following Invisible, tugging strings, Part 2. <- Read this chapter first!

Perspective -- 3rd person Daryl

Reader's pronouns? -- neutral again, slowpokes, they/them

TWs -- a few cusses in Daryl's perspective

How long will it take me? -- 7-10 minutes

Specific chapters to refresh your memories with -- How's your head? Part 2, Invisible tugging strings, Parts 1 -> and 2 <-

The title of this chapter is weird -- I know, y'all XD. It's in reference to a common (medical) trauma question to check cognition

Where's your Masterlist? -- official one here, chronological one here.

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

for better context, reread Invisible, tugging strings, Part 2 here. It's got the word-for-word part of S02E05 Chupacabra with Merle before Daryl makes his way home and sees an angel you.

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

Hm? Where in the—where is he and what’s warm stuff he just swallowed? Who the hell's this holding hi—

A bunch of voices start saying stuff, and all he sees is brightness and the outline of faces.

But there’s one, familiar voice closest to his ear that soothes, “Shh, sweetheart, you’re safe. Close your eyes awhile, it’s bright in here.”

...oh shit, is this heaven? It's real? I made it?

“Oh man, sorry,” the voice chuckles. “You’re just so hurt, pet names are floppin’ out of my mouth. Which is what some of your tea just did, too. Here, I’m gonna give you the straw. You’re in the Greene’s house.”

He starts to open his eyes again as he sips down more of the warm, peachy drink through the straw. Once he’s aware of it hitting the back of his throat, he starts to slurp it down because hot damn, he’s thirsty.

Finally, he’s able lift his eyes to see the angel his friend beside him, holding a mug.

Y/N.

“It’s from the box of peach tea we found yesterday,” Y/N happily tells him.

They look miles better than they did a few hours ago. He’s relieved.

Awareness of what’s going on and what happened snaps into gear and he tries to look behind him at his side that’d been gashed open, but doing that makes his head spin.

Also he’s—got a tube in his arm?

Y/N notices his confusion. “You need fluids, dude. Maggie suggested I rub your throat to get you take the drink down while you were half-conscious. It was workin’, too, just like for a cat. You’re on your second IV bag already, the first one went in right quick.”

Not to mention, what’s left of the peach tea in the mug is empty within seconds.

“Don’t worry, there’s more of that. You weren’t out too too long,” they mumble, setting the mug down. “We already checked you over for bites, now we’re disinfectin’ your side wound. Mr. Greene and Patricia are gonna resume that, okay? Then Maggie and I are gonna clean up your head.”

The best he can do is grunt in acknowledgement. He’s tired as fuck. Mumbling and quiet conversation fills the room.

“Daryl, spell your last name, please."

Spell his—huh? “Why’d d’you need my last name?” he slurs.

“To see how loopy you are,” Y/N dryly puts it. “I’m going to ask you to tell me the number ‘thirteen’ in a few minutes, deal? Thirteen.” They then uncap a—ha, orange gatorade? That’s their favorite—and place the straw in it and direct him to, “Hold this, drink, spell your last name for me.”

“D-I, um, X-O-N.” Ouch, his voice sounds like he gargled with pebbles. Feels like it, too.

“Did you take any kind of drug this afternoon, mushrooms?”

He makes an nuh-uh type of groan in response, and mumbles, “Tossed Merle’s hard stuff this mornin’.”

He feels whoever’s cleaning his gash pause, then continue. There’s extra hushed whispering, too.

“Th-that’s, um, very good! Ohh my.” His friend clears their throat. “So I guess we’ll only clap you in irons over charges of grand theft horse,” they snort. “Now, did you get mugged, did you fall, what happened to you out there, man?”

Whoever’s cleaning out his bolt wound, they’re pouring liquid stuff and dabbing at it, and shit it is stinging like a mother-fucker, ow!

“Rough afternoon,” he groans. Then, Daryl remembers the most important thing and slurs out a rushed, “Th’doll!” while opening his eyes again and trying to sit up. Pain stops him from moving much.

“Yes!" Y/N giggles. "Straight up, everybody here could’ve kissed you when we saw you’d found it, Daryl. Can you tell us where you found it?”

This rush of heat from outta nowhere zaps his cheeks as he rests his eyes again and relaxes down onto the pillow. “Bottom of the ridge,” he tells them.

“Clever man, you said it would be the best vantage point. Now, about those injuries, what made your afternoon ‘rough’ specifically?”

“…Fell down it.”

A small noise left Y/N’s mouth.

It's the old man’s voice who asks, “Is that how you got the wound to your side, here?”

“Happened th’first time I went down. Bolt.”

“The 'first time.' Y-you fell down it more than once? That’s—” squeaks from Y/N's mouth, then some babbling. “Oh m—does he need a traction collar or, or—”

“You said ‘bolt.’ Would that be from your crossbow?” comes the old man's voice again.

“Mm.”

“It’s remarkable the injury didn’t perforate any organs, passed clean through,” he comments. “Do you have any numbness or a tingling sensation anywhere on your appendages?”

His negative groan was hopefully sufficient. He kinda wishes he had numbness, because all he feels now is sore. It’s like he got whumped by a Mack truck.

“Tap your fingers to your thumb,” the old man then orders.

He does.

“Did any of that hurt?”

Another negative groan. He tries to shake his head, too.

A woman’s voice he’s unfamiliar with hushes, “Y/N, he’s okay for now, just keep checkin’ his cognition and feeling his head. Ears and nose, too, for fluids. Maggie, sweetpea, you check his toes for movement and sensation.”

He liked the sound of the woman’s voice. It was down-home twangy and no-nonsense, in a good way.

Now his shoes are getting untied, which must be Maggie. That’s the short-haired chick, if he’s remembering it right?

His friend sighs. “That guardian angel of yours is having a very busy day, Dary-bear.” There are some rustling noises near his head. He opens his eyes to see them pull what looks like a very skinny flashlight from the first aid bag. “I’m going to use this penlight, now. Can, um,” they pause and look around the room.

Wait, how many people are in here?

“Teddy, please hold the drink for him?” they call behind them. “Let’s get that bottle drained.”

Sure enough, T-Dog walks over from wherever he was, crouches down, and holds the bottle by Daryl’s mouth so he can sip from the straw.

“Sorry you had to wake up to all this fussin’ and chaos, man. But, you heard ’em, drink this down.”

“Wiggle your toes, please?” the short-haired chick calls, similarly twangy like the blonde woman and Y/N.

He wiggles his toes.

“Now point, then straighten your feet and toes for her,” Y/N murmurs.

He does.

“Straighten, then relax your legs if you can.”

He can, and does.

“Any of that hurt or feel tingly?”

“No,” he grunts again.

“Next, look at my nose, please,” his friend says. They guide his left hand in theirs and position it so it makes a wall between his two eyes. “Keep your hand there and repeat the months of the year. I’m going to shine this near each eye a few times, just keep starin’ at my nose while I do.”

As he recites the months in between gulps of the gatorade, he notices by the time he says “October” that he’s been staring into their eyes and at their lips instead of their nose.

When they gently take his hand and lower it back down, he gets a rush that helps him feel more awake.

“Now let’s have the months backwards,” they instruct.

He does his best.

“Let me know if you feel anythin’ off,” the blonde older lady says to Y/N. “I’ll palpate when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am. Okay, please tell me what memory came into your head when you saw the orange sports drink,” Y/N asks him next, their hands lightly pressing around his head, almost in a massage type of way. He doesn’t know what it is or why they are doing it, or why he isn’t flinching at someone touching him, but here he is. It feels really nice—OW!—except that spot didn’t feel as nice, that hurt!

“I, um,” he croaks. For real, his voice croaked. Rough afternoon. “It’s your favorite.” He rests his eyes again and remembers how Y/N’s floppy sandals squeaked as they’d walked to the wash area together. He’d been holding their bucket. That memory helps him relax more…

“You rememb—um, y-yeah, it’s my—sorry, you remembered that?”

“Give the man credit, Y/N,” T-Dog says under his breath in a way that sounds like he’s joking.

“Theodore,” they whisper back. “He’ll think you’re serious.”

Daryl isn’t sure what that was about, his eyes are still closed and heavy.

Y/N clears their throat. “Anyway, here I thought you’d just mention that you’d given me a bottle, friend. Um, ten points if you can state the name of the generic gatorade?”

T-Dog has tapped him with the straw to get him to drink more, so he opens his eyes and manages a grunt in response while he sips, then closes them again.

“Eh, you’re right, that’d be a stretch even if you didn’t just go through the wringer. It was Sportsman’s Signature Electrolyte Rehydration Beverage,” Y/N fills him in. “Now, I’m gonna check both nostrils and both ears for stuff coming out them, just bear with me, I’m usin’ a gauze square for it, I’ll be poking it into those places. How about you remind me the name of your favorite uncle.”

“Uncle Jesse,” is his answer before Y/N even finishes saying ‘uncle.’ The tickling feeling of the gauze in his nose almost makes him sneeze, then the feel of it in his ears is just uncomfortable.

At least his eyelids and his body don’t feel as heavy as before.

He open his eyes again. Sees Y/N is scribbling something down in a notebook.

“And what number did I ask you to remember, sweetheart?” Y/N checks. “Ugh, there I go with the pet names again. Sorry, honey, ain’t nothing, please tell me what that number was?”

Number? Number, um, uh, honey…um…three…thirteen. “Thirteen.”

“High-five, perfect recall!”

He finds himself tapping his palm to theirs and almost smiling.

Whatever they’re talking about now, though, is going right over his head. He’s gonna rest his eyes again…

“GCS is a solid 14, I think? He’s oriented, it’s just takin’ him slightly longer to get his words. Long term recall was good, short term he passed, too. Seems like he’s wakin’ up. What’s your take, Miss Patricia? Do y’all even use GCS in real life?”

“Ain’t heard ‘GCS’ since workin’ third shift ER for my first job. Oh, that was years ago,” came the twangy woman’s voice. “But it’s used a whole lot. 14 means he’s doin’ pretty good now. We’ll check it again later, I’ll teach you all about RLA scoring.”

“What’s RLA stand for?”

“Rancho Los Amigos, right?” is what Daryl thinks he hears T-Dog answer, but it makes zero sense so he must’ve heard wrong. “A few buddies of mine got concussions back in the day,” T-Dog explains, but it still doesn’t make sense. He opens his eyes as if that’ll clear things up.

Lucky for him, his friend repeats “Rancho-Los-Amigos?” which really is the damn name, the woman assures them both.

Daryl tries to look back again to see his gash. He doesn’t feel as dizzy as bef—where’s his shirt?

His pulse starts to pound in his ears.

He’s got no shirt on. In front of all these people?

Cold chills and a hot waves pelt through him at the same time. If, if his shirt if off and all these people are in here, that means they saw it. His back.

“Please stop trying to twist around,” comes the voice of the old man from behind him. “The wound is clotted and I want it to remain that way before I stitch you up.”

Y/N chirps in like an oblivious damn canary before he has a chance to react or think. “Oh, Daryl, would you mind if I watched? I wanna see it done as much as I can so I can learn.”

Turns out, this was a good thing. Him not being able to react to realizing he’s got no shirt on gave him time to see that a clean towel was bunched around his stomach, as well as positioned over his back shoulder; most of him is covered.

He’s shirtless, yeah, but covered.

And he now sees that his position on the bed means that, although the door is behind him, he’s blocked by the angle and by the blonde woman with the twangy voice and the old man.

“You just paled like you seen a ghost. Brother, you feeling okay?” T-Dog whispers.

Daryl meets his eyes for a second. How is he supposed to admit to not wanting anyone to see him without his shirt without sounding like some priss?

It’s just that—he’s shit at lying and the scars he’s got are kinda obvious. He’d tried to lie to a doctor once about it, the guy saw right through it. Daryl had been over 18 by then, so none of that CPS stuff happened, but still. The look on the doctor’s face made him feel like some pitiful kid and it made him feel small and weak and like he’d done something wrong.

“Y/N, can you check his blood pressure?”

It’s pointless for Daryl to try to say it was nothing, because Y/N was beside him again and pumping up that cuff thing within half a damned minute. He ends up officially meeting the owner of the twangy, no-nonsense voice, too. Patricia.

“He’s 108 over 64, Miss Patricia. That’s good, though, not too low. Oh.” Y/N’s face drops and they pause removing the cuff. “But he is a smoker, d-do you think that means it’s-it’s too low? I-I don’t know his baseline! Honey, what’s your baseline?”

“Daryl, spell that last name again for me?” the woman asks, and way calmer than Y/N.

He spells it again. “D-I-X-O-N.”

“14 times 2 is?”

“Uh, it’s, uh 28.”

“Five squared is?”

Squared is multiplying a number by itself, so…“25.”

“Your older brother’s name was?”

‘Was?’ What does she mean ‘was?’

He perks all the way up, and with a vengeance. “His name still is Merle,” he pretty much snarls back. Merle ain’t dead.

The woman makes a one-sided smile at Y/N and T-Dog with a brow raised. “He’s definitely awake now, doin’ just fine. Hersh, I’m gonna check his skull for any issues, then let’s double check if he’s got spinal damage. Did you check his nose and ears for CSF, Y/N?”

“He’s clean.”

“Anythin’ feel off on his head?”

“Some goose eggs, especially by this area here.” Daryl feels the warmth from Y/N’s hand as it hovers over the area he’d winced at. Their fingers trail along his hair for a sec, if he didn't just imagine that... “But no wiggly bits or step-off. His pupils were good.”

“After I get a good feel for his skull and neck, Maggie and Y/N, please give his hair a quick wash before cleaning and bandaging his graze. Then which of us is gonna stitch him up, you or me, Hersh?”

“I think Mr. Dixon here would prefer fewer people in here. I’ll do it.”

Those words are music to Daryl’s ears. So many damn people fussing over nothing. Patricia is done checking his skull or whatever, now she's poking around his neck.

“How many people are in here, anyway?” he asks whoever will answer.

“Mr. Greene, Patricia, Maggie, T-Dog, Rick, and me. Carol, Lori, Shane, Andrea, Dale and Glenn and Jimmy are out in the hallway,” Y/N tells him. "Carl's still in bed, of course, so Beth's with him."

…The whole group? Even the teenage kid?

What’s he supposed to, um…why the hell are they all crowding around and waiting? For him?

The old man saves his ass again. “Let’s leave dressing his head wound until after he’s stitched up. Everyone out, please.”

The name Sophia pops into the forefront of this thoughts. If they all acted fast, maybe she could be back by tomorrow morning! “I gotta talk to Rick.”

The old man's fuse is low, that’s obvious. “You’re the patient,” he responds.

“Then Y/N, you can stay, too,” is not what Daryl expects would next leap out of his mouth like a frog over hot tar, but there it goes. They wanted to learn, the old man better let them.

Weird part is, he understands that in offering that they stay, Y/N is definitely, 100% going to see the scars if they’ll be watching him get stitched…he doesn’t know, it’s just weird; he doesn’t have any kind of dread or nothing in the pit of his stomach about it. It's better when they're around.

He looks at them for a second, a bloody rag in their hand that they're back to pressing to his head. There's one, little tug to his chest in their direction, then it's gone.

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

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 8 months

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Request daryl dixon x plus!size reader) so the reader and are married they have been together since before the world went to hell maybe when they make it to Alexandra some guys hit on the reader or make comments about her weight ( I couldn't decide which one to choose so you can pick) and early just gets really pissed off and he fights the guys Maggie is worried that one of the guys is not breathing but rick tells everyone he is still breathing and that rick almost beat him to death Daryl didn't care because they shouldn't say stuff to his wife or about his wife.

.⋆｡The Dress｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Spencer and his lackeys decide that they want to be pieces of shit and your husband teaches them a lesson they’ll never forget

Warnings: fat shaming, Spencer Monroe, some angst, fighting, protective!Daryl, swearing, blood, cat-calling, implied smut

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Maggie was the one that found the sundress. It was wrinkled and smelled like dust balls but the blue of the fabric hadn’t faded and it fit you like a dream. You were hesitant at first, dresses had always been a bit of a sore spot for you in the past but you couldn’t deny just how good you looked when you finally caved and slipped it on (just to appease your best friend of course).

While tight around your bust, providing you ample support even without a bra, it flared out at your wide hips, giving you a more hourglass figure. The colour suited your skin tone perfectly and the fabric was light enough that you didn’t feel constricted. Even you found yourself hot as you looked in the bathroom mirror.

Maggie had just about lost her mind when you finally re-emerged into your bedroom and after she had convinced you to walk downstairs, you found that your husband was even more excited about it.

So on a particularly hot day in Alexandra, you decided to wear it as you went about doing your chores. You ignored the eyes that looked your way as you milled about, delivering parcels of food to different houses and collecting any clothes that needed to be fixed.

It was the whistle that finally caught your attention. A group of men were gathered outside of Deanna’s old house, Spencer led the charge. He was positively leering at you in what you assumed was supposed to be a ‘smoulder’ but really just came across like he was constipated.

You rolled your eyes and attempted to get on with your work but that’s when he spoke up. “Hey sweetheart how about you bring that ass over here and I can show you what a real man can do.” You cringed at his nasal voice. The three men behind him hooted as he smirked your way.

All-to-used to the cat calls of pathetic men, you kept walking, yet you couldn’t help but mutter under your breath. “I get a real man every morning with breakfast, fucking pig.” Evidently, you hadn’t said it quietly enough because suddenly there was an iron grip around your wrist and an angry voice in your ear.

“The fuck did you just say, fat bitch. I was gonna do you a favour by fucking you but now I wanna know something. How are you still so fat in the middle of the fucking apocalypse?” This started another round of side splitting laughter from his friends. Your hand flew to your wide hip, unconsciously searching for your knife which you had left on the hall table at home. “I know! That redneck that follows you around like a mangy dog must keep feeding you so you can be bait.”

Your mouth dropped open to retort but suddenly, there was a growl and the disgusting hand on your skin disappeared. You were startled for only a moment before you realised that your husband’s voice had replaced Spencer’s. “Shut yer fuckin mouth!”

A sickening crack rang through the now silent street and you watched with morbid fascination as the man you called yours beat the ever loving shit out of the much taller man. Daryl’s blue eyes were wide with fury as he held him down by his neck as his right fist landed blow after blow to his face.

You stood frozen as his hand steadily became stained with red blood, only a distant shout from Rick broke you from your trance. “Daryl!” You pulled at his shoulder but he wouldn’t budge, too blinded by his anger. He landed another hit and you cringed as you heard Spencer’s nose shatter.

“Rick!” The sheriff was your last option and he delivered. He gave your husband one good punch to the jaw and Daryl was briefly stunned. Using that distraction, you pulled him back with all your might causing you both to roll to the dusty ground.

You threw your leg over his thin hips and grabbed his arms, pinning them to his chest as you sat down onto his thighs, effectively keeping him on the ground. You knew he could easily throw you off and lunge at the man once more but he stayed immobile beneath you, his chest heaving.

“You good?” You could hear others running up to where Spencer lay but your focus was on the man beneath you. His shoulders were still tense and his fists still clenched but his eyes weren’t as wild as they fixed themselves on you.

He grunted in reply and you breathed out in relief. “Are you gonna go after him again if I let you up?” He thought for a moment and then shook his head. You smiled before carefully getting to your feet. You offered him a hand which he quickly took, pulling himself up to stand next to you.

“I don’t think he’s breathing!” One of Spencer’s cronies whined but Rick just scoffed as he looked down at Spencer.

“He’ll be fine, just get him to the infirmary.” He dismissed, turning to you and Daryl who had slipped his hand into yours. “You almost beat that man to death.”

Daryl spun the gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Shouldn’t have talked bout my wife like that.” He brushed off. You could feel the split skin of his knuckles beneath your fingertips- a reminder of the violence he was capable of for you.

Rick sighed in defeat and turned his attention to you. “Bring him home, I’ll deal with this. Just- just watch him please.” He begged, sounding like a tired father. Your free hand clutched Daryl’s muscular forearm in a silent signal for him to walk away.

“He’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Scout’s honour.” You promised and the ex-sheriff shot you a grateful look.

“By the way- you do look good in that dress.” A growl was your only warning before you found yourself thrown over your husband’s broad shoulder and he stormed away, presumably back to your house. Your laugh carried down the street with you as you clutched onto his strong back.

“I guess I shouldn’t wear this dress out again huh?” You asked jokingly as he kicked open your front door and thundered up the stairs.

He gently threw you onto your bed and as he stripped off his vest, he spoke once more. “Only if ya know ‘m gonna fight anyone tha looks at ya.” The dress stayed on.

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shiorimakibawrites · 2 months

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Writing Update - Alley Cat (And Ideas)

I've written 3,300 words so far for Part 16 - Debrief. Matt decided he wanted to be POV for this chapter. Also staring Foggy Nelson being a good friend.

Preview Snippet:

“Nah,” Foggy said. Matt could hear the smile in his voice. “Just us avocados tonight.” “We’re not just avocados, Foggy,” Matt teased. “We’re the best avocados in this city, remember?” Foggy laughed. “Damn straight. But right now, this avocado needs a beer.”

I think its about half done. I know what happens but actually getting the words on paper has been slower than I'd like.

Part of that has been IRL stuff like helping my mom bake stuff for her club's bake sale and meetings - her health doesn't allow her to bake as much as she used to. I don't mind helping and the quick breads and cookies sold well.

But I think an equally large part might be that one of my muses' favorite methods of procrastinating is coming up with new ideas. Going to write some separate posts about these ideas but here is a little preview:

DAREDEVIL

The Broken Hearts Club (Vigilante! Reader has sex with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen on Valentine's Day. Not for the last time. It's supposed to be just sex, some comfort while both of them struggle with loss but they start catching feelings . . . Background: The Snap - Foggy and Karen were dusted, Reader lost her boyfriend to side effect of the Snap)

A Fragile Thing (Reader has just discovered that she is pregnant but before she can tell her husband Matt, he disappears along with half the universe . . . )

Sanctuary (Doctor! Reader has a rather unusual patient. John Doe is unconscious, badly hurt and half-naked and the priest who brought you to him claims to have found him like that . . . and when he wakes up, John isn't any more forthcoming than the priest . . . Diverengence: Father Lantom and Sister Maggie realize that Matt needs more medical care than they can give him. )

The Punisher

Port in a Storm (Reader meets Frank Castle when his truck breaks down during a nasty storm. Soon after finds herself in the crosshairs of an ugly conspiracy that threatens not only her life but the lives of her children).

Kin

A Brand New Ending (Reader and Michael had been on-again, off-again for years but that might soon change. Provided certain members of his family stop messing things up . . . and becoming a father for the second?/third? time doesn't scare him off)

Spider-Man

Legacy (Reader is daughter of Matt Murdock. When he disappears during the Snap but many of his enemies don't, she is loathed to have all his hard work in Hell's Kitchen destroyed. Becoming a lawyer will take time but punching crime in the face? That she can start right away . . . meanwhile Peter is also trying to uphold the legacy of his own mentors . . . Divergence: Tony Stark is dusted instead of Peter)

Adrift (Reader disappeared during the Snap. When she comes back . . . her friends are all five years older now and she has brand-new sibling . . . then she meets two other lonely souls - Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Post Spider-Man: No Way Home).

UPDATE: Links to Ideas Posts for these stories have been added.

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neonblessing · 5 months

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⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

“Look, you don’t have to give me a map. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Shiv, kid, I get it. You want revenge. But-”

“I don’t want revenge,” she said. She wasn’t certain if it was a lie.

“Then what do you want?”

“Answers.” Hell, she didn’t even know the finer points of what the two of them had stolen. The house had been full of valuable art, they’d passed a poorly-hidden wall safe on the way to the owner’s office, and they ignored it all in favor of the data drive that had sat atop a messy stack of papers. Ornarch hadn’t told them what was on there, just that it would go for a hundred thousand credits at a minimum, or a million from the right buyer. Most drives its size were just something convenient to hold, with the data itself stored on a chip a few nanometers thick. Whatever was on that drive had been complex enough that the whole damn drive was dedicated to memory. A sphinx glinted darkly on its surface, mirror finish set into matte black. There was something captivating about its sheer scale and the precision of its construction. Something a little sinister, too. Then he had shown up, and the rest of the night was a blurry nightmare of burning, screaming, and blood.

Kooler pursed his lips. “And once you have those answers, what are you going to do?”

“My job. Ornarch wants me to-”

Kooler’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Isn’t your job breaking and entering? At least, I think that’s what you told me the first time we met. Forgive an old man’s memory for its failings, but I think I would have remembered hearing a teenager call themself an executioner.” He suddenly sounded very old, and very tired.

“Maybe I’ve changed. Why do you care?” It came out a little colder than she’d intended it to.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. None of my business.”

“So you won’t help me?”

“Staying neutral is how I stay alive. Everyone knows old Kooler keeps his mouth shut.”

“That’s a no?” Her heart sank. She’d known it was a long shot, but even still, Kooler was the closest thing she had to a lead.

Whatever he saw in her face gave him pause. “I… offered them ten thousand for the drive. I don’t even have half the hardware it would take to decrypt that… monster. I told them I wasn’t paying a credit more than that for a piece of software I couldn’t validate, no matter what rumors I’d heard. They took their business elsewhere. I don’t know where.”

“Rumors?”

“Have you been online since you stole it?” She hadn’t. “Half of the criminals in the Diluvian District are hunting after that sphinx drive. It’s anyone’s guess what’s on there, but Ebrelurge put a bounty out on it and then a few gang bosses joined the bidding war. As of this morning, the best offer is 1.6 million.”

Lord of birds. One point six fucking million?

He went on. “I don’t know where they went, but I know someone who might. Don’t go telling everyone I lent you a hand, but you’re- you’re a good kid. Just- hear them out when you see them. Don’t rush headlong into being a killer.”

“Yeah.”

Kooler pushed off the counter, sending his chair on a practiced arc towards a shelf of folders in one corner of the shop. He returned bearing a business card, a thin sheet of crisp white plastic stock with “Club RED – 1191-3962” embossed on it in brilliant crimson. The back side of the card was decorated with a staring eye in the same shade. “Kurtz–the owner of Club RED–knows me, and she’s got a panopt. Ask to see Odie. If it can’t help you, no one can.”

Shiv grinned. “Thanks, Kooler.”

“I’d say ‘any time,’ but really I’d rather not stick my neck out again.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to!”

The door squealed as she left.

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#9 #neon blessing #shiv #kooler

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