#dicky writes

[somasean]

One Day. - Cove Holden

content: fluff, indirect kissing if you squint, cove being cove

an: I've got cove brainrot and haven't felt this happy to have a character like this since i first watched howl's moving castle. also, this is inspired by my sappy drafts that i let my friend sam read over and then had google randomly pick a number for.

♤♤♤♤

'Ugh, it shouldn't be this hard. You've known other for years now. Just say it already.' Your erased your current message and stared down at your phone screen, harshly illuminating your face in the extremely dim room. The phone's cursor stared just as intensely back at you, waiting for you find a message that would be the perfect balance between a slight forcefulness and playful teasing. You didn't want to scare Cove away.

Not that he'd be scared off by your advances anyway. Sure, he was timid and shy when it came to his true - romantic, or as he called it, "friends but better" - feelings. You've come to enjoy seeing his face light ablaze whenever you would do something as simple as graze your hand down his back or domestic as call him "honey." You'd never dream of making him uncomfortable or rushing him, but boy did you want him to do something other than just holding your hand.

You've known each other for a decade now. A painfully short and blissful 10 years. And in all of those years the most you've done is kiss him when you were 13. The memory crawls its way back to the front of your mind sometimes and you can't help but let out a snicker at his reaction each time.

Man. He truly was the sweetest person you've known throughout your life but he was also the most annoying sometimes.

You chewed on your bottom lip and watched the time on your phone's notification bar tick away. You had to say something soon, otherwise it would become too "socially unacceptable" to send a message. Who even decided that messages needed to be replied to in a set amount of time anyway?

Yet another message was typed out and then quickly deleted. It shouldn't be this hard. Maybe you should just type out what you mean, send it, and then prepare plans to move away to the Appalachian mountains if he reacted too badly? You could learn to live with the cold, it wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as potentially sending one of the few people you really knew away.

You closed your eyes and typed out an approximate of your message, hoping autocorrect wouldn't turn its back against you. You scanned over his previous message a multitude of times - four? maybe five times, keeping track is tough - to ensure you said everything you needed to in one message. Who thought that double texting could be considered a social death sentence?

'Cove 🦈: haha, you put chapstick on so much i swear it's rubbed off onto me. not that i mind though, youve got a lot of good smelling ones

hey, wait!

you should let me borrow one sometime! i'll always carry it on me as well in case you ever forget yours.'

To Cove, this was probably didn't register as anything other than a friendly gesture. You had the half the mind to climb into his room instead, say something along the lines of "if you wanted to kiss that much, you could just ask" and watch him as he sputters trying to recover.

You'd spare the boy the embarrassment.

This time.

"Next time, Holden." One thumb hovered over the send button and the other was latched between your teeth, the nail far too short to bite down on now anyway.

"Fuck it." You don't know what happened first. Your finger finally pressing send or your hand covering your eyes as if you were the unwilling victim of a flash photo.

Was it too late to unsend it? Maybe you could sneak into his room and delete it if he were asleep. You could learn to knit warm sweaters from alpaca wool and scavenge the Appalachian forests if you needed to.

Can you say you lost your phone? Would he even believe that? Maybe say you left it at the beach and-

A quiet chime and quick buzzing brought all of your thoughts to a halt. Your hand flew away from your face and you struggled to input your passcode. There was only one reason your phone would go off this late. Your message stared back at you.

'i swear you are going to kill me that's literally just complicated kissing

it might not be today. it might not be tomorrow. but one day, cove james holden. one day im gonna kiss you and you wont be able to do anything about it >:-('

He had seen it. The double check marks were enough indication of that, yet there wasn't a reply. Your eyes darted around your screen looking for the source of the buzzing before you saw a small email symbol staring back at you, calling the notification bar its home.

You closed your eyes tightly and pulled your blanket to your chest. What else do you need to live in such harsh climates? You could become a local legend, a myth that's used to teach kids to behave and mind their manners. At least you wouldn't be left on read in fairytales.

You almost didn't hear the tapping at your window or the creak of someone inviting themself in. The feeling of someone sitting on the edge of your bed didn't register until their hand reached out towards yours and removed your phone from your grasp.

"Taking a vacation without me?"

Cove's all too familiar laugh filled your room and for a split second yout were going to tell him to keep it down, that you were too busy sulking, before the realization hit you.

Was your message really that bad that he'd come to laugh at you in person? He was going to help you pack your bags for sure. There was no other logical reason why he'd be here.

Maybe it was a stroke of luck that the moon broke through a cloud or maybe Cove just lit up the room that much, but you could make out the faint traces of a blush forming on his fsce. It slowly spread from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears.

"Uh." He cleared his thought and gave you a small smile thst signaled that he was trying. "Aha..." One of his hands tangled itself in his overly messy hair and the other crept ever close towards you. He was avoiding your gaze and you couldn't decipher if it was between him finding a way to end all contact with you or if he wanted something else with your sleep deprived mind.

As you were about to say something, anything to break the tension, Cove's hands pulled away from their current mindless task and he balled them into a small fist. To anyone else, this was sure of been terrifying, especially with the suddenly determined look etched onto his features.

Oh the duality of man. The duality of Cove Holden actually.

"I always like how the cherry chaptsticks smell when you use them. I'd like to use one. My lips are," His hands began to flex as if he were playing with a stress ball.

Opening. Stretching out. Closing. Repeat.

Maybe Cove wasn't gonna be the reason you became a local cryptid afterall. "Chapped. And it looks so much more useful when you're the one wearing it so..."

This man was going to be the death of you though.

Your hands found their ways towards Cove in the dim room and you pulled him close. Maybe it was the fact you two were in an actual realtionship that made it much more tense, two adults alone in a dark room, or the chance to finally kiss Cove but you were sure anyone passing by would mistake your heartbeats for a something as loud as plane rutters.

"It's a good thing I'm always stocked up then." You closed the gap between you two and let your hands rest in Cove's disaster of bedhead.

Maybe not today, but one day.

One day, you're going to kiss Cove Holden as much as you want and he'd have no choice but to enjoy your affection.

#our life: beginnings & always #fanfic #cove holden x you #cove holden x reader #fluff #indirect kissing #how do you tag things help #dicky writes #text post #one day

[belovedgrayson]

One of the dearest headcanons to me involves 9-year-old Dick getting appendicitis and needing to get his appendix removed urgently, Bruce rushes him to the hospital and is worried sick as they wheel his boy into surgery. Dickie wakes up after surgery loopy and drugged out of his mind, takes one look at Bruce and starts to giggle. Then he points at Bruce's face and begins to (very adorably) say stuff like you're bruceman! and broosh and brucester and Bruce has to try so hard not to smile back because he doesn't want Dick to start laughing hysterically and pop his stitches. So he just places a hand over Dick's and hums placatingly. He may not be smiling but his heart has just grown three sizes.

#just you wait I'm gonna write this and it's gonna be beautiful #9-year-old Dickie is so important to me #i would commit heinous crimes for soft bruce #your honor that's his baby #bruce and dick

[lilgoblinbitch]

Gossip 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: i based this fic on this post here! i might make a part 2 because i have some ideas in the back of my head of how i think this story could end up going eventually, but idk if i will write it yet. we'll see! also i made up the two random alexandrians in this story :)

summary: rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk).

wc: 1.5k

“Spencer does not like me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You scoffed, taking another sip of the pinot. This was your second glass, and your head was starting to buzz.

Two Alexandrian women became well acquainted with you, offering you a bottle of wine and some dinner after your first week in Alexandria. You decided “why the hell not.” You never really had great friends before the apocalypse and the only ones you had were the group you came in with, so it wouldn’t harm you to make more.

“Oh honey, did you not notice the way he was ogling you at Deanna’s party?” One of them asked — her name was Shannon. The other woman, Vivian, slightly chuckled, taking one last swig from her glass. She nodded, muttering something in agreement.

You sighed. “Even if he was checking me out, it’s not like I care anyway...”

The two women paused simultaneously, looking up at you with ‘bitch, HUH?’ written on their faces. “Y/n, Spencer is a beautiful man! He’s tall, handsome, and he’s around your age I believe,” Vivian gushed. You scowled, displeased at the comment.

You took another gulp from your glass, emptying the contents down your gullet and then setting it on the kitchen island. After licking your lips clean, you said, “Well, frankly, I don't really care if I’m being quite honest.” Your mind swirled with inebriated thoughts; you sort of had a love-hate relationship when it came to alcohol — it either made you perfectly giddy and sociable or very angsty and erratic. But that’s what it did to most people, anyway. Right now, it was making you angsty. “I have someone else on my mind.”

“Oh, my! Okay, who is it?” Shannon asked, her and Vivian both on the edge of their chairs anticipating what you were about to say — well, what they expected you to tell them, that is.

You thought for a moment; should you tell them? It seemed like they lived for that kind of gossip. But that could mean that they might spill your secret, and you weren't exactly ready for that. “I’ll tell you another time. I’m tired, gonna head to bed,” you stated, yawning as you got up from the stool you were seated on. The two women groaned in disappointment, like children who failed to convince their parents to take them to disney world.

After your friends left you strutted out of the kitchen, about to head upstairs when you heard a door open and shut. Instinctively you ran back to the kitchen to grab a knife to defend yourself from a possible intruder or walker, but before you could your body collided with something, or rather someone.

You cursed and looked up at the culprit; it was none other than Rick Grimes. “Rick, what the fuck! I could have stabbed you!” You scolded him, picking up the knife that clattered on the ground. 

“You forget we live together?” He teased, taking a step back to get a good look at you. Your eyes were glassy and eyelids heavy — a telltale sign that you were drunk. Rick had experience pulling over a few drunkards back in his day as a cop, so he knew immediately without even having to smell the alcohol oozing from your breath that you weren’t sober.

You pushed a strand of hair out of your face, swallowing the excess saliva forming in your mouth. You mentally scolded yourself for drooling over a man, but this one was just too beautiful to not gawk at. The sound of Rick clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and brought you back to reality. “No, no. I didn’t forget. I just…”

“You’re just drunk, right?” He chuckled, turning his head to look at the empty bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your lip while trying to think of a plausible excuse. 

“Look, I only had two glasses. Shannon and Vivian from a few houses down brought us a casserole and some pinot. Girls’ night. Sue me, Rick.” You slipped past him and headed to the kitchen, Rick hot on your tail. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you or Carl want any,” You said without turning around. When you got to the kitchen sink you started washing the dishes, but you frowned slightly, looking back up at Rick with worrying eyes. 

“Shit. Did I wake the kids? Is that why you’re down here?” You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands hastily on a dry towel. 

Rick shook his head. “No. Only I heard you. But you weren’t very quiet, and when I heard them leave that’s when I came down here,” he explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your heart picked up its pace. ‘How much did he hear?’ You wondered. You pursed your lips and your eyes floated around the room, quite obviously avoiding his intense stare. He made you nervous. That sheriff always made you nervous, and part of the reason was because you were so utterly attracted to him. 

Finally you brought your eyes back to his icy ones, which were studying your body. You blushed and bit your lip again — it was a nervous habit you could never seem to break. “You got a stain–” Rick pointed to the red stain on your shirt, just below your breasts, “Right there.”

You looked down at the stain, it was wine — dark red wine, at that. And you were wearing a white tank top. How convenient.

You looked back up at him, snorting in slight amusement. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?”

He let out a low chuckle, showcasing his pearly smile. God, he was pretty. “Thought you knew better than that, Y/n,” he joked, standing back up fully to make his way over to you. Okay, now your heart was really beating fast. 

When he was finally in front of you, face to face, you gulped. He smelled like the forest after a rainshower, and somehow he always did; it engulfed you like a tsunami. You berated yourself for getting so worked up over the smell of him, and just him in general. He was your leader, your friend. And he asked you to live with him and his children because he trusted you. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? ‘It’s the alcohol’, you convinced your mind, it had to be…

The silence was too loud. You had no idea what Rick was thinking right now; frankly, you never did. His poker face was always unreadable. But your tipsy brain gained a few confidence points, letting smugness wash over you.

“Whatcha thinking about, Grimes?” You shifted your weight to one leg and batted your lashes at the man in front of you. He only grinned, then glanced away momentarily only to stare back into your eyes. 

“Y’know, I overheard the conversation,” Rick started, his chest steadily moving up and down as he breathed. One of his hands gripped the counter while the other was glued to his hip. Your eyes trailed up and down his tanned veiny arms, taking in his manliness.

“Mhm. And?” You kept your composure, not wanting to let Rick taunt you; you knew you talked pretty loud when you were tipsy or drunk but it’s not like you said anything negative about him or anyone.

“You girls like to gossip, huh?”

“Well, yeah. We’re women,” you joked, cracking a smile and trying to ease the tension a bit. “What are you trying to get at?” Rick never bothered to indulge in any girl gossip you, Rosita, and Maggie used to partake in, so why was he so invested now?

Little did you know, he was always invested in literally anything you had to say.

Rick licked his lips and exhaled through his nose. “Heard you talking about liking someone. Is it anyone I know?”

He smirked when he noticed how red you turned. Your face would have matched the stain on your shirt if it was a few shades darker. “I– I don’t…” Of course now was the time to choke on your words, right when you were using every fiber of your being to keep your poise in check. But goddamnit, Rick just had to be a sly and cocky bastard.

“I don’t remember even saying anything about that, Rick.”

His smirk never faded. You wanted to slap it off his face, then kiss the hell out of him. 

He tilted his head to the side a bit, furrowing his brows as if to challenge your statement. “Really?”

You nodded and crossed your arms right over the stain. ‘Deny, deny, deny,’ You repeated in your head.

But he didn’t buy your bullshit. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he’d scare you away. Your breath hitched in your throat and subsequently dropped your arms to your sides, separating your lips to say something. However, nothing came out.

“Well, I think I know your secret, Y/n. Answer seems pretty clear to me.” His voice almost came out as a growl from how low and raspy it was. Goosebumps awakened all across the surface of your body. You were tongue tied. 

“I’m the one on your mind, aren’t I?”

#might make part 2 a smut #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x fem!reader #rick grimes x female reader #twd rick #rick grimes oneshot #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #twd imagine #twd x reader #andrew lincoln #twd alexandria #ricky dicky doo da grimes #twd season 5 #twd season 6 #briefly proofread #goblin writes #rick grimes smut

[grimesgirll]

you look forward to your car rides with rick.

you love your group too but sometimes a long car ride helps you unwind and recharge when your social battery is low and you just need to stare out the window at some grassy hills. besides, most days rick let you choose the soundtrack for your drive so you could DJ.

the only cds you'd had when you met up with the group were your signed cds that you couldn't part with: your parents' favorite foreigner album and taylor swift's sophomore album. after playing those albums front to back and hearing "double vision" one too many times enough to nearly ruin the song for you - and rick too probably - you set out to find some new tunes. you and daryl came back from a record store with a crate of old cds - it was a shame that you couldn't preserve the records but you had yet to run into a working record player that was worth your time. nonetheless, you found fleetwood mac albums, soft rock compilations, and music to mellow your trips.

you were itching to see him today. you’d been preoccupied mass producing buckwheat cereal and it was never a good time with him. you lavished the opportunity to spend time alone with the perpetually preoccupied rick grimes.

rick is waiting for you when you climb into the car. hickory curls frame his face which is sunburnt from all the time spent outside finishing up the harvest.

“hey,” you greet, pulling the car shut and shifting into your seat.

“hey there.” the sheriff farmer replies gruffly, hands already tensed and gripping the steering wheel.

you don’t need to ask what’s wrong because you already know: carl.

you love the boy but he wasn’t playing the part of the pacifist farm boy rick wanted him to. you don’t blame either of them. rick was right to rein carl in after he fired on that boy from woodbury as he surrendered.

that shook you up a bit too, but you remembered that carl was young and after weeks of planting, it won’t hurt to let the boy kill a walker or two on fence duty. there’s at least no reason for rick to give him shit about it.

rick’s so pent up though. it could be not just carl but the young infant going through the four month sleep regression.

settling judith for the night seemed to be a never ending battle, every battle a losing battle. you’d managed to take the little girl off of rick’s hands so he could sleep but she rarely went down for you either anymore. the baby that was once happy to fall asleep in your arms before bed was now fighting bedtime with everything she had.

your leader was saddled with stress. you can see it in the white of his knuckles against the steering wheel and how he doesn’t say anything before starting the car and pulling out of the prison, the gate being pulled behind your car by glenn and daryl.

almost forgetting to put in the new cd in your lap, your eyes are glued to the steering wheel. navigating whatever you have with rick is treacherous when just the sight of his taut hands has your breath picking up.

the two of you had no opportunity to get away lately. it’s not like you’re going to pester rick or jump him in the fields.

you’d already heard a, “later, sweetheart” earlier this week and it made you want to curl up into a ball.

waving the cd so rick can see, you ask if he likes the eagles. he shrugs. not much of a response.

“i’m gonna pop this in,” you inform him and lean over slightly to eject the cd currently residing in the media console - one of daryl’s buffalo springfield cds - to slide in an eagles’ greatest hits album.

he doesn’t pay much attention, just keeps his attention on the road and his knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel.

the sound of a guitar transitions you into the first song, which you think is aptly named. “take it easy” is exactly what rick should do but the song doesn’t seem to lighten his mood.

you two sit in silence. this isn’t unusual for you guys. sometimes you go quiet on parts of the drive.

rick breaks the silence.

“you like older stuff?”

i like older, rugged, handsome ex-cops with hands that can-

“i like all kinds of stuff.”

the older man laughs. “just wouldn’t have pegged you for an eagles girl.”

“it’s dad rock. don’t you like it?” you ask, catching his blue eyed gaze.

he slouches his shoulders. “they’re not bad. i would’ve liked if you put on that fleetwood mac cd a bit more.”

you grin. “i’ll remember to put their greatest hits cd on next.”

what you should be doing is reaching back to grab the cd booklet from the backseat but you’re fixated on rick. he’s driving, hyper focused on being aware of his surroundings again so he doesn’t notice the path your eyes take from his hands on the wheel to his pants. he doesn’t see your eyes cloud with thoughts of you two.

“pull over.”

“what?” rick questions, shooting you a skeptical look. “why?”

“i really have to go number one.”

he scoffs. “that’s why you wanna stop?” he shakes his head at you. you’re always asking him to stop on the side of the road for you to pee or find a dilapidated bathroom to go in. “next time, you gotta go before we leave.”

you nod, working overtime to conceal the early signs of victory on your lips. rick heeds your request and pulls into a rest stop parking lot, telling you to make it quick.

“be right back!” you chirp and use the bushes behind a gazebo to maintain your angle - and actually empty your bladder.

then you’re hopping back into the car and pressing the passenger side button to lock all of the doors. your hand stops rick’s when he goes to start the car, using the other to unbuckle his seatbelt. you’re in his lap by the time you’ve gotten his seat reclined by pushing down the lever.

the dark haired man is chiding your name. “what are you doin’?”

“helping you relax.”

“we gotta get on with our run.”

“i think you having fun is a bit more important.” you argue as you undo his belt. “why don’t you just relax?” you smile at him while you turn up the music slightly.

the sheriff rasps your name. “we have to stay vigilant.”

you send him a look that his him straining in his baby blue boxers. “rick, the doors are locked. we’ll hear a walker if they come up and we can drive away. just trust me and relax.”

it’s hard to argue when you’re tugging down his waistband, hands finding him and fondling him until the only sounds coming out of his mouth are pants.

opening up nice and wide, you slip him into your mouth. you smile when your tongue on the side of his length is met with a breathy moan.

one of rick’s hands are on the back of the center console and the other is pressed against the driver’s side door. between you wandering up and down his shaft with your tongue, he feels cornered. even more so when you take the opportunity to guide his hands to your hair.

it takes a few minutes but rick is no longer preoccupied with scanning the perimeter or heavy under the worry you could always sense under his skin, distracted by the curve of your ass. just leaning with his head back, basking in the soft rock playing and the woman so keen on relieving the pressure that weighed down on his reddened shoulders.

“such a good girl,” he’s gasping.

you move faster. suction your lips a little tighter. you haven’t been fooling around with rick for long but one thing is true without a doubt for him; he’s long and thick. you still haven’t mastered what must be some kind of witchcraft to fit all of him down your throat without gagging, but rick doesn’t care. as long as his dick in your mouth, he’s not complaining. especially not when you look up at him with his cock halfway down your throat.

success bubbles in your core and even with rick stuffed down your throat, you’re beaming. you’ve managed to get him to sit back and take a moment to enjoy himself - to enjoy you.

but you realize that your work is far from done when your favorite farmer cums down your throat, relishing the moment despite his still rock solid cock. he pulls your mouth off of him after you swallow, seemingly relishing the sight of you, lips in a pout in his lap.

“it’s your turn,” rick growls before fervidly dragging you to the backseat to pin your hips down and return the favor.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #twd smut #rick grimes smut #the walking dead #reader insert #still getting the hang of writing smut #not beta read #established relationship #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rick x reader #grimesgirll #blowy #prison era #mild taylor swift reference

[noooodle-snek]

Another reason for Robin

Criminal: I ain't done nothing! You have no proof!

Batman: There's a camera footage and you just hit a child

Criminal: What child!?

Robin: *waves*

Criminal: Wha- He punched me first! And you brought him out here!!

Batman: Still hit him

#i imagined dickie while writing this but it could be any of them really #bonus if it's red hood in that small period of time when he's still a minor #but really doesn't look it #dc #batman #batfam #batfamily #bat family #batfam incorrect quotes #batman incorrect quotes #robin #only in gotham

[kisses4kaia]

* 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫- 𝐫, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: rick and i were all alone on tower watch and decided to spice up the boring shift. alexandria era. (first person pov)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:cursing, smut, penetrative sex (p in v), begging, org@sm denial, semi-public sex.

𝟗𝟎𝟔 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

as i looked out the scope of my sniper past the tall, steel, walls, i felt underwhelmed. sasha was on the last shift and she wiped out all of the walkers, leaving me with absolutely nothing to do.

"bullshit," i muttered under my breath, causing rick on my left to turn to me and ask. "what's wrong?" i simply put my gun down and leaned it against the wall. "sasha killed every last walker, there's nothing for us to do."

i saw his eyes darken with a familiar lust within the blue pools of his eyes, and already knew what he was about to propose.

"yeah, y/n. there's nothing for us to do," he said, walking closer to me. i knew what he intended, but we were at work, for christ’s sake!

"what if somebody catches us?" i worriedly asked, but arousal hinted at my undertone. "well, then i guess they’ll get one hell of a show," he joked, flashing his pearly whites at me as he wrapped his toned arms around my waist, knowing i would never say no to his baby blues.

i just shook my head as if to say what the hell and smiled as i pulled him in for a kiss. i could feel his stubble scratch my cheek and it made me feel that much more aroused.

i felt him smile against my lips and i pulled away, shrugging my jacket off and kicking off my combat boots. he removed his button-up shirt and took off his boots, as well.

he was shirtless while he pulled my own shirt up and off my torso, quickly reconnecting my lips to his. his calloused yet soft hands roughly grabbed my waist, as if to claim me.

he let up on his grip as i worked at his belt buckle. "let me," he mumbled before pulling his jeans down, along with his boxers.

i reconnected my lips to his as he unclipped my bra with one hand. he groped my breasts and moaned into the kiss, beginning to move his lips down my jaw and down to my neck. i used my last bit of control to unbutton my black jean shorts and pull them down to kick off of my ankles.

i moaned particularly needily at one spot on my collarbone and he attacked it, like some kind of starving animal. "rick, i need you," i managed to speak, more like a plead.

he wasted no time and quickly turned me around and bent me over, my hand supporting my position on the wall. he rubbed his tip up and down my soaking folds and without any warning, sheathed himself fully into me.

i almost screamed, and if it wasn't for ricks hand covering my mouth, i know i would’ve. "shh, we wouldn't wanna get caught, would we now, princess?" he groaned in my ear. his words made a desperate whimper middle against his palm.

i know he noticed it because he just chuckled lowly and groaned as i clenched my walls around him. he eventually moved his hand on my mouth to my hair as used it as some kind of support. the pain pulling from my scalp made the pleasure so much more ecstatic.

he adjusted himself just slightly, but the slightness of it and the fast, rapid, past, made him hit my g-spot repeatedly. i moaned incredibly loud at this because what else could i do? i couldn't talk, and my brain couldn't properly form a coherent sentence at the state i am in.

"oh, you like that huh?" he whispered in my ear. all i managed to utter was "f-fuck you, grimes," i don't even know why i said it, but i wanted to, so i did.

my bratty words caused his hand to come down on me, striking my ass. "what was that? you wanna repeat that for me? hm? you fucking slut," rick degraded, all while slamming into me even harder and faster if that was even possible.

the pain just multiplied my euphoria. his free hand snaked around my waist and down to my clit as he started rubbing lightning speed circles on it. "i'm g-gonna c-c-cum, oh fuck!" i moaned, waiting for permission to do so.

rick let out an evil chuckle and simply uttered, "no." i groaned at this. also at the fact his 9-inch dick was fucking me, hard. "please, p-please. i-i'm sorry, please," i begged. i needed this release.

"say my name," he ordered. "rick, d-daddy, i'm sorry. please l-let me c-cum, please." i begged, not knowing how much longer i could hold off this orgasm.

"go ahead princess, come for me." he allowed. he hardly even finished his sentence before i let out a pornographic moan and the knot in my stomach snapped. rick seemed to be nearing his release, too.

his thrusts got sloppier and i could feel his dick twitch inside of me. just in time, he pulled out and shot his load all over my back. i groaned at the warm feeling.

rick grabbed his bandana out of his jacket pocket and poured a little bit of bottled water on it and helped wipe down my back and my thighs.

after we both got dressed, he kissed me on the cheek. "i love you, doll." he smiled honestly at me. "i love you too, you big dummy." i joked back. 

𝐚/𝐧 : first oneshot evaa ! lemme know what u thought and follow my wattpad @w4lk3rss <33 don't forget 2 vote ml'ss 

#rick grimes #rick #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #andrew lincoln #the walking dead #twd smut #ricky dicky doo da grimes #the walking dead smut #smut #kaia writes rick #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

probably nobody's a perfect father

[various DC comics] // Victoria Chang // Jawbreaker // Maggie Smith // [source not found] // Dalton Day // Ada Limón

#the fruits of my poking about pinterest and getting emo about them #bruce and dickie.... that's his KID that's his baby!!! he's his DAD!!!! weeping #today on: Lu making quotes that likely were meant a very different way into something entirely platonic #Lu rambles #web weaving #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #hit post before i finished writing in tags.... RIP #hilariously i don't actually know where hardly any of these panels are from. so. there goes my sanity i guess #what little remained of it anyway...

[harvesterhexenon]

Sladick ~ (My current hyper-fixation, cause it does tick all the boxes which makes it impossible for me not to ship it…)(my shipping history has comedic potential)

Don’t look too close at my drawings cause I will shoot out your eye to make ya match Slade (joking… unless?)

#yes most of the notes in the drawing is just me gently roasting myself #dick grayson #slade wilson #sladick #dickstroke #honestly hoping this will follow in its siblings footsteps by going unnoticed #cause it’d make me laugh and genuinely think I somehow managed to be a decorative even on a social media site #also am working on writing fanfiction for sladick #one that involves Wii cause I saw a funny post and it inspired me #and some other fanfic ideas i gotta flesh out too #slade x dick #also rly why is pretty boy dickie so hard to draw? huh? america explain

[sunlitlemonade]

hold me before it gets too cold by sunlitlemonade

where i talk abt jason's suicidal ideation and trust issues

snippet:-

[“Does it hurt?”

Jason’s eyes snap open and he realises what he must look like with eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the sink hard enough to make veins stand out. He relaxes his hands and snarls, “I’m not fucking fragile.”

But of course it hurts, the fact that this is temporary. Temporary because Jason always fucks up. Temporary because a sun and a black hole cannot co-exist side to side.

Dick frowns lightly, splays a rough, warm [always so fucking warm] palm over his back and stays silent for a moment. The pause stretches on, the heaviness in it making Jason itch. Finally, he says, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside his head, “Doesn’t mean I should be rough with you.”

And something about that feels like a gut-punch. His father saw a kid, small and trusting, and did not hesitate to grab his hair and use his belt. Bru– his tutors saw a young, malleable person and never saw young hands, uncalloused, unfamiliar with the weapons of war.

Dick sees a murderer, the void of a person and wants to be gentle.]

#tw: suicidal ideation #jason todd #dick grayson #dc #batfam #writing #i write stuff #damian wayne #only tagging characters that appear in the fic pls don't get mad at me #dickie and jay

[benbamboozled]

Ngl…sometimes I miss how completely unhinged pre-Battle for the Cowl Jason Todd could be.

This is a telegram(???) that Jason sent to Dick after he spent multiple issues of Nightwing running around New York City murdering people dressed in his own(???) Nightwing suit and then turned into a tentacle monster and ate some guys. (Then he barfed the guys up and kept fighting them.)

Absolutely baffling. I love it. It’s art. It doesn’t make any sense in context, either. I miss this energy.

Source is Nightwing #122

#Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #comic panels #i am obsessed. #this was the Jason Todd I cut my teeth on. #so I will always love him #even though the writing for him was often baffling and bad. #BUT IT MAKES ME LAUGH because it’s so WEIRD. #just…what would be Jason’s thought process behind any of this??? #it’s like those bonding with baby memes. #bonding with brother #NO: dressing up as him and killing people. #Jason: wellll that was a bust. guess I’ll send Dickie a telegram to let him know I’m okay. that’s normal. #completely unhinged #not a hinge to be seen. #a sliding door of sanity. #(I miss it.)

[somasean]

gonna start posting my writing here so sorry in advance for the eventual spam. </3 gonna queue them a week apart or so but there's a lot. will make a masterlist once they're posted and information to request if wanted. :-)

fyi, fandoms to be posted include:

Video games like "Obey Me" and "Our Life: Beginnings and Always/Now and Forever" (mostly MCs with other MCs)

Set It Off

Markiplier/Jacksepticeye

My Hero Academia

General bandom

And other unlisted fandoms that may be included in one shots.

#text post #dicky talks #writing #havent posted like this on tumblr in ages #so forgive me if the format is weird i never knew how to work it anyway #set it off #obey me shall we date #markiplier #jacksepticeye #my hero acedamia #our life: beginnings & always #our life now and forever #dicky writes

[tarucore]

Dick Grayson who is hyper aware of the types of cases the Robins take on and the subjects they are exposed to bc he knows how difficult it was to be treated as a competent adult at 11 years old

vs

Dick Grayson who is very casual about subjects that might be inappropriate for the Robins when they are kids bc he has no frame of reference on what is appropriate bc he was exposed to those subjects at such an early age

FIGHT

#yes my headcanons are contradictory yes they are both true #I’m gonna write a scene where Dick and Robin aged Tim are hanging out with a few Titans and even though Tim is only half paying attention #Roy cuts Dick off before he makes a dark joke bc hello there’s a thirteen y/o hanging around #and Dick brushes it off like he’s a teen as Robin he’s heard worse #hell Bruce was letting Dick take down a serial rapist at that age so it doesn’t really matter #and Roy just has to sit there with the knowledge that his best friend has been so thoroughly abused #that he might not be a safe adult himself anymore #dickie bird

[potterandpromises]

I have a crack theory motivated by my incredible bias and desire to see Theo in a bigger role then he'll probably get this season.

What if Loretta is Theo's mother?

Okay, obviously the biggest problem with this is that Oliver would recognize her as Teddy's wife. However, what if he does and just... hasn't said anything? We haven't seen much of what's happened between them in the last year and, as established this episode, Oliver is a lier. On the other hand, he is also possibly face blind. Maybe he really wouldn't recognize her after all these years. Charles did not remember Ben being in Brazos. Neither of them really remembered Zoe falling off the roof. Memory was a whole theme last season with Mabel.

Things pointing towards this theory (that with a 99% likelihood isn't true):

This would be another thread tieing the story back to the Arconia.

I think it would be really really funny if Oliver also fucked Teddy’s wife.

Mothers are obviously a big theme this season. Loretta is introduced reading as a nanny who feels like a mother. She gets cast as a mother in a TV show. Outside of just this theory, I think she could have a child as yet unrevealed to the audience. And it could be interesting if she plays mothers, but actually abandoned her child.

Perhaps more likely then Theo, what if Dickie’s her son? Him and Ben could have been half brothers, or not actually brothers at all, or Dickie could be adopted. Why is he suddenly representing Loretta? I think this might be an actual possibility? I'll need to rewatch their scenes together.

#i was thinking this one out as i was writing it #dickie being loretta's son could tie together the mothers and siblings themes #i want this show to keep doing stuff with unexpected family relationships #omitb theories #only murders in the building #omitb spoilers #only murders in the building spoilers #oliver putnam #theo dimas #loretta durkin #dickie glenroy

[grimesgirll]

nights where both of your boys were home were the best.

if rick wasn’t picking up an extra patrol shift, then daryl was going on a night hunt or a herd of walkers needed to be taken care of and both of them were required to leave the comforts of your shared bedroom, on it before you could even say goodbye.

that’s why they loved taking their time with you when they could. there was nothing better than both of them coming through the door and immediately sitting to unwind with you, having a nice dinner with carl and judith, and then your boys taking you upstairs for the night. upstairs to your bedroom where it was a tossup between them bending you over the mattress or having you on your knees on the carpeted floor.

that was when they weren’t twisting thick fingers into you until you were on the verge of tears on rick’s lap. it took a lot of control for them to resist diving cockfirst into you, but when they could, they would be rewarded by the sweet sounds of your long awaited coming undone. and it was even sweeter knowing you were losing your mind on their fingers. just their digits had you bucking your hips and asking rick to lower you onto his dick already since you were already in his lap.

that typically opened the floodgates but your leader held out. “you’ll get it, darlin’,” he’d promise before repositioning you between daryl and himself to have his cock suddenly at your face’s level.

“you look so pretty like this, honey,” the sheriff crooned at you, giving you a moment to take as much of his cock into your mouth as you could before he was fucking that pretty little mouth.

daryl was there for you though; so you could enjoy the feeling of a mouth on you too.

“dare’, baby,” you were whining already.

he didn’t respond, just kept taking his time licking long, laborious stripes up and down you. even against your aching clit as you struggled to stay still. it had you gagging and moaning all over rick’s spit covered cock as daryl teased your tight hole.

rick’s hands found your hair right on schedule. the man loved your hair. the way it felt in his hands, the way it looked on you, the way you always kept it long - your preferred length. nothing felt better than digging his hands in your hair after a long day.

your pussy grew wetter with rick’s length in your mouth and daryl’s mouth treating you like an all you can eat buffet. you barely notice when daryl’s tongue and three fingers are replaced with his cock. not until you’re suddenly letting out muffled screams that have rick plunging his way too large cock down your throat.

the pattern resumes of them taking turns and pulling out of your gripping, squelching cunt because they wanna cum in your perfect mouth. alternating between holding your legs open overloading your pussy with pleasure, torturing your clit, and running their tongues over every inch of your tits.

that’s until they give you what you’d been suspecting was coming all night.

the way rick is lowering down with his back to the sheets, pulling you down flush against him. it’s obvious when daryl wedges a finger between the two of you what they’ve been carving out time and your pussy to do to you.

as he carries on, you do your best to be their good girl and not rock against daryl’s fingers too hard.

“such a pretty pussy all stuffed. you want another one?”

he didn’t ask you word by word if you wanted to be stuffed with another cock but it only took your high pitched moan and movement against rick and the redneck’s fingers to signal that it was time to get you fucked open.

“i think she needs another cock, daryl.” rick states laboredly from beneath you.

“what, you don’t wanna be crammed up inside her either?”

the sheriff laughed into your neck. “fuck her already, dare’.”

he didn’t have to ask twice you both learn as the archer nearly knocks you two up the bed. his grip on your ass has you whimpering into rick’s neck, perfect for you to hear his rapid breath while daryl drags against him.

“naughty girl, needin’ two cocks.” rick teases.

you don’t have the energy to banter. “you guys just feel so good.” you mewl when daryl slams into you. “i know you love how tight it is. i feel so full with you two.”

“do you, honey?”

“mhmm.”

“so fucking tight,” rick whispers in your ear through gritted teeth.

“you feel all nice and filled up?” daryl asks, muscles tending before driving his hips into yours.

you nod with enthusiasm. “wanna feel your cum in me next, dare.’”

“can do, baby.”

“fuck!” you and rick mutter in unison as daryl begins a new, vigorous pace.

his girthy dick continues to bully in and out of your crammed cunt. every movement he manages in and out of you has you and rick trying to keep up.

deep purple bruises litter rick’s shoulder, and you leave some more as you try to cope with daryl jamming in and out of you. rick’s fingers find your breasts and squeeze roughly. he buries his head on your own shoulder when you feel his cock pulse.

“fill me up, fill me up,” you’re begging with hips shoveling back towards daryl.

“fuck, honey!”

and rick is huffing under you.

daryl kisses you from behind through your orgasm, attacking your neck without abandon as you start to pulse around him - around the both of them.

“fuck, you’re so warm baby. so tight with two dicks in ya’.”

rick is saying something too but you’re too busy drifting off when your orgasm hits you for the umpteenth time that night. you know you have that look on your face, all fucked out with tears in your eyes. they love you like this. the goal most nights was to get you on the verge of tears from how well they were fucking you on their cocks. you couldn’t complain when they delivered.

you convulse around daryl again and feel him warm your insides, collapsing on top of you only to fuck his cum into you slowly. you mewl and writhe at the sensation fading in and out post-climax.

panting on the sheets, you can feel their cum dripping out of you. the mixture is sticky on your thighs and you’re wondering when it’ll be time to move to the shower tonight.

fucking you until you’re dazed and crying only gets them hard again. then one of them ends up back in your mouth.

you know you won’t be sleeping even after you shower with rick and daryl not being on watch tonight. can’t pass up an opportunity for them to take their time with you.

#rick grimes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #twd imagine #twd smut #rick x reader #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #threes0me #f/m/m #andrew lincoln #norman reedus #not beta read #long haired! reader #dvp #most random dvp to ever happen #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rickyl x reader #rickyl #still getting the hang of writing smut #grimesgirll #p in v sex

[lilgoblinbitch]

i'm very very indecisive lately omg...

thank you for participating ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ‎ ♡

edit: looks like the first option is winning so i’ve finished it up and i’m gonna release it! i may do more polls in the future because this actually motivated me to work on my drafts, teehee

#i love rick grimes he is so beautiful #rick grimes x reader #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rick grimes smut #the ones who live #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes x fem!reader #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes x you #twd smut #rick grimes oneshot #rick grimes angst #twd headcanons #twd fanfic #twd imagine #twd towl #towl #goblin writes #twd fanfiction

[zorilleerrant]

Bernard knows he’s muttering to himself the kind of monologue that would be annoying to watch in a movie, something incoherent with a lot of nos mixed in, something that wouldn’t be at all helpful if he actually had to communicate with Tim, but he doesn’t have to communicate with Tim, and that’s the problem. He could say whatever he wanted to right now, and Tim wouldn’t give a single fuck. He could confess his love, or break up, or tell him about fucking up the oven, or say his neighbors are spying on him, or claim Wendy wasn’t even that good of a show. He could he tell Tim he knew he was Robin and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Like, of course he knows Tim is Robin. He has to, in order to be having this breakdown with his boyfriend’s body limp in his arms, covered in blood. Bernard can’t find the source of the blood. And if he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, how is he going to be able to stop it?

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this himself, not when the hospital is so close, and so – and so what? He can dress Tim in his own clothes, peel the costume away and say he found him like this, a mugging, the kind of thing that happens when someone steps out for fresh air at three in the morning in Gotham. They’d believe him. And what is he supposed to do, stitch Tim up right here? He has a normal first aid kit, he has over the counter painkillers. But he has Tim’s clothes, and he’s used to undressing and redressing unconscious people, that’s a skill he has.

But there are scars all over, scars that stood out at first, and then made sense, and then he didn’t even notice them unless he was looking, but he’s looking now, because what is a hospital going to say about that? But the doctors must know, right, because he’s been there before, he’s gotten – fuck, he got shot and they had to do surgery and now he’s going in again? They’re going to ask about his injuries, and about his scars, and about his history, and about Bernard, and who knows whether Tim wants all that?

He wishes he’d brought this up before. Bernard could take Tim… who knows where. Bruce must know where. Several of his kids are vigilantes, and it’s not like he could be totally uninvolved in that side of Tim’s life. Or, with Bernard’s luck, he is, and he’d be fucked either way. He thinks there was a doctor. There must be one, with all the shit they go through. He didn’t think to get the name, though, not before Tim came stumbling into his apartment, passing out cold in the fucking Robin suit, and Tim doesn’t know what to fucking do.

Tim’s phone is in his hand, and the weight is familiar, the scuff marks along the side, but the screen doesn’t show anything he’s used to, icons changed and names… fuck, these are all vigilantes. There’s no ICE number like there is on Tim’s phone when it’s not in whatever this mode is, but Bernard’s seen it, he remembers. It’s Dick’s number, because he always says he thinks they wouldn’t call Bruce Wayne, no matter how dire it was.

And Dick is Nightwing, he thinks. Pretty sure. Pretty sure because the timing works out, if you look at the timeline a little too hard, the way it doesn’t for any of the rest of them. Dick is either Nightwing or Red Hood, and it’s hard to tell because they’re the same size and they do the same kind of flip that Dick does when he’s showing off, but Bernard’s pretty sure he’s Nightwing because Nightwing’s been around longer. More attached to Gotham, probably.

He wishes he could wake Tim up and ask.

Instead he hits the logo and sets the phone on speaker, and at least that much of the shape of it is familiar, at least whatever system it’s operating on now is designed to be convenient to someone who was already using Wayne Tech. WayneTech. Of course. That’s how Bruce fits into all of this, and Bernard wishes he could disable the superhero mode somehow, because of course there’d have to be a way to do it, to put it back, but it probably requires Tim’s voiceprint or his eyes, and his eyes are too dilated and one is filling with blood and it’s not going to work for a scan even if Bernard could pry them open.

Bruce’s number might be on here, but it isn’t anywhere he can find, and he wishes it were, because he would be willing to call Bruce the way the hospital wouldn’t, because he knows Tim and he believes him, even when he says he isn’t Robin. He isn’t Robin when he’s with Bernard, he lets himself be Tim, so it isn’t even totally a lie. Nightwing is on speaker and Bernard is peeling off Tim’s suit and everything is covered in blood, even the new clean clothes he pulled out of his drawers and he can’t see because he’s starting to cry.

“Robin?” Nightwing says, again, for what might be the second time or the hundredth, but he’s clearly starting to get worried, and he should be, because Robin isn’t even here to answer, only Bernard, and fat lot of good that does.

“Tim’s hurt,” Bernard says, and thinks maybe he should’ve said Robin, or maybe he should’ve explained, or maybe he should say who he is, but he can’t get more than a few words out and even they sound choked, thick and full of spit and he has to clear his throat before he can say, “I’ve got him changed, but you can drive me to the hospital faster than the ambulance will get here.”

He’s guessing. Probably it’s true, because Dick has speeding tickets out the wazoo and he’s sort of known, in the tabloids, for loving reckless driving and showing off his far too expensive cars. The ones he crashes frequently, purportedly, even though Bernard notices more and more he's never seen pictures of the cars, only the injuries. So if he’s close enough, he can drive here, and then – Bernard doesn’t know what, then. All he knows is that he’s got to get Tim dressed before Dick gets here to pick him up, and then there’s a knock at the door.

He’s going to get up to get it. He plans to, at least, but by the time Bernard is standing, soaked through the entire leg in blood, both legs, both sleeves – the door is open and he has some distant memory of metal scrabbling, like Dick had a key, except Dick didn’t have a key, but he’s in here now, and worried, and carrying Tim like he weighs absolutely nothing, hurrying out to the car without even asking Bernard along.

Bernard follows. He follows quickly, because he needs to be there, and he slips into the back seat where Dick is laying out the bloody Robin, and Bernard takes Tim’s head in his lap and just holds him. They don’t talk. It’s a normal car and Dick’s in normal clothes, and it’s possible he wasn’t even patrolling at all because Nightwing patrols more at dusk than in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even ask how Bernard knows, or what Bernard knows, or anything that might keep him from hyperventilating, which he is, which he does until Tim’s out of his hands and into the doctors’ and then Dick has him by the shoulders and is saying something to him over and over again.

He’s aware, sort of, that Dick picked Tim up, gently, cradling him in both arms, smearing blood over his arms and chest, and brought him inside, and that someone came by with a stretcher before they were even in the door, and that Bernard himself was trailing after them like a lost lamb and then Dick has him by the shoulders and he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Breathe, Bernard,” Dick says, again, again and again, “Tim’s fine. He’s going to be fine. They’re going to fix him up and it’s going to be fine.” It sounds like something Dick’s said a lot before. Bernard’s not sure whether to believe it. He’s not sure whether Dick even believes it.

“He’s hurt,” Bernard says, finally. Wails, really. He’s not sure his voice is at a pitch that can still be heard by human ears, and his words are definitely too gummed up to be intelligible, but still Dick pulls him into a hug, and repeats those stupid words he’s been saying all along, that he’s probably going to continue saying forever because he doesn’t know Bernard well enough to know what comforts him, and whatever it is isn’t crying into a shirt the scent of drying blood.

There’s so much blood on both of them. Tim shouldn’t have that much blood. Or he should, but it should still be inside him, where it keeps him whole, and Bernard’s saying this out loud, and Dick keeps shushing him, and for fuck’s sake how can it possibly be helpful that someone he barely even knows has arms around him, saying reassurances he probably says to every rando on the street. Bernard needs to get ahold of himself.

Tim is Robin, and Dick is Nightwing, and Bernard knows that because he called Nightwing and Dick showed up, and now Bernard is, he doesn’t know, some sort of resource. Some sort of support like whatever Oracle is, except Bernard is human and not a robotic alien consciousness, and actual fucking Nightwing is trying to tell him everything is going to be okay. Except it’s not as believable, when he’s not wearing his suit, because everything sounds more true when a superhero says it.

He’s still a superhero. Bernard has to tell himself that, because if Nightwing isn’t here to save Tim, then who’s here to save Tim? If a superhero is here, even if he’s wasting time trying to get Bernard to stop hiccupping, then there’s hope that everything can be fixed, all the terrible things fought off, and Bernard struggling to wash Tim’s blood off his hands in the tiny sink in this little room that he doesn’t even know what it’s for. It’s not a waiting room. There are chairs, but they’re too mismatched and rickety to be there for the patients or everyone waiting on the patients to come home. Someone’s juice box is sitting there, but there’s no one next to it. Dick is wearing scrubs. Bernard is wearing scrubs, too, but he barely remembers changing into them.

He thinks they might be in an employee lounge, some kind of break room, except that doesn’t sound right because it’s so fucking small and claustrophobic, there are no windows anywhere and the lights are too dim. It’s so small that Dick is speaking softly now, trying not to scare him away, patting a raggedy couch that looks like it used to be a better color than that, and Bernard goes to sit next to him. To cry into his shoulder for real, and not just because he’s tearing up from the smell of blood. It’s softer now, warm and dry, and, because they’re sitting, Dick can tuck his chin against the top of Bernard’s head. It feels reflexively, like it’s something he does all the time to other people. To Tim, probably.

Tim’s going to be fine.

#look i said something #my writing #fanfic #batman #timber week 2023 #this is in an au where Dickie lives in the manor. why? I don't know I just like having him there