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nonobadcat · 11 months

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For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Summary:

Working at Animal Instinct, the city's premiere hostess club for those who like their girls "pawsitively" attractive, may pay the bills but it'll cost your soul. Playing the brainless bunny girl everyone expected you to be, you were prepared to waste your life selling over priced champagne and sham companionship just to afford rent. When your efforts are rewarded with the client from hell, you try to stick to your bubblegum bimbo persona. However, being called boring by some crusty incel with the social skills of a trashcan is not something your pride can let slip by. ...and finding someone who hates society's games as much as him is not something Shigaraki Tomura can let go.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Chapter 1: Dumb Bunny - 3.4k words

TW: Binge drinking, quirk based discrimination

“Omigosh he’s back again!”

Plastered against the glossy black bathroom door, Nyanko’s twisted grimace and bristling tail ill suited her glamorous styling. Rhinestone trimmed claws pawed for purchase as an annoyed shriek hissed between tight teeth. It was fortunate that lilac satin squeezed her willowy frame like a vice. The very dress that transformed her bust line from “average” to “savage” restricted her air intake, keeping her whining to a polite volume.

Twisting the golden cap of your Yves Saint Laurent lipstain back on, you dabbed at your cupid’s bow. “Crusty boy?”

“Yes!” She groaned, pinning her cat ears to her skull. “Mama-san has paired him with twelve different girls in the last month. Boy’s got a heart made of Teflon! Won’t stick to anyone!”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought this club was a kurabu? Isn’t the first pairing long term?”

“His dad is some sort of big deal so he gets special treatment, but mostly it's a mutual hate-hate thing,” Nyanko explained, wagging her finger. “He can’t find a girl he likes and all the girls beg Mama-san to let him try someone else. Even Aru didn’t want him and you know she has thick skin!”

“Quirk~ist,” you sang out, tucking your make-up back in the small, pearled handbag. “Just because she has an armadillo quirk doesn’t mean her soul is armor plated.”

Nyanko’s tabby tail swished. “Why does he keep coming back if he’s never happy?” she demanded, stomping her spike heels.

“I like those.” You nodded to the red bottoms. “The flower lace on the mesh is cute.”

“I know, right!” She twisted this way and that, showing off the shimmering details. “Abe-san got them for me last week. I think he has a foot thing but I’m not complaining.” All at once, her hair bristled. “Wait! Don’t try to change the subject! I’m in a real bind here!”

You popped your lips, smoothing down a stray lock of hair. “Oh? Why?”

“Because I’m one of the few he hasn’t chewed up yet!” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’m terrified Mama-san will pair me with that creep next!”

“Then quit your job and take Abe-san up on that mistress position. It’s not like he can last more than twenty seconds anyways so you won’t have to do much work.”

Her face fell flat. “Honey, hell’s got your name.”

You kicked off the faux marble tile and strutted over to the petite, raven-haired cutie. A single finger reached out, straightening the curl of her long bob. Patting her shoulder, you flashed her a grin and whispered in her ear. “Then it’s a good thing none of us go by our real names here, isn’t it?”

She giggled before rolling her eyes towards your new lip color. “Speaking of 'people who just want to take a poor girl away from this place', is that a gift from your one hero client?”

You nodded. “Oshida bought it for me on the paid date. Asked me if he could put some of his cum in it.”

“Guess he’s not as family friendly as his press agent makes him out to be,” she muttered.

“I told him I couldn’t use it if he did because I’d be too addicted to the taste.”

Nyanko flashed you a judgey side eye and pushed open the bathroom door. “How are you that good a liar?”

“Nyanko, what are you talking about?" You plastered on an airy smile. Each word tumbled out wrapped in sweetness. "Everyone knows that bunny girls aren’t smart enough to lie. ♡”

The words burned bitterly on your tongue.

Nyanko huffed, turning on heel. “I hate you.”

“Hate you more, sweetie,” you teased, following her down the long hall.

Pink tiles with golden veins lead the way to the reception desk. On your right, Animal Instict's main bar buzzed with flirtatious conversation, fake smiles, and exhausted salary men. One of the puppy girls, wrapped in cherry red spandex and ten centimeter black platforms, clung to her elderly client's arm like a fly on garbage.

"Is Pochi back early from her paid date?" You asked, slipping under the glossy countertop.

"Kiba-san's bunions are acting up," Nyanko whispered, cupping the side of her face. "You know, the bunions that flare up when Pochi wants a fourth helping of foie gras."

You looked the other hostess up and down. Her rosy cheeks glowed as she smoothed her glossy tail across her lap. "She's pounding the champagne again. Her heat cycle must be close."

Nyanko waved her hand. "Don't date the dog if you ain't got the bank."

"Catty of you."

She hissed.

"Ladies," a firm voice warned. "You are on the floor."

You both turned towards a sultry middle-aged woman. Clad in a cocktail dress crafted from delicate golden mesh and rhinestones, her long, peacock plumage glittered every shade from sea green to deep navy in the warm light. She fixed you with a sharp glare before snapping open a fan. Its fluttering teased at her long, fake lashes.

"Yes, Mama-san," you replied in synchrony, bowing your heads to the boss.

She narrowed her eyes, craning her long, graceful neck to inspect your makeup. When it passed muster, she snapped the fan shut. "Honey, Tano-san requested you tonight as Usagi is out with a migraine."

Wow… just going to work his way through the bunny girls, huh? Guy wasn’t even subtle about his fetish.

"Of course," you agreed, bowing again. "Thank you, Mama-san."

Mama-san turned her scrutinizing gaze towards your companion. “Nyanko—” she crooked boney finger— “come with me.”

Nyanko’s ears drooped. “Y-yes, Mama-san…”

Mama-san rapped the cat girl with the lacey fan. “Professionalism.”

Nyanko forced a pained grin before snatching up a hot towel from the stack. “O-Of course!”

You shook your head, selecting a rolled towel of your own and placed it on a silver platter. Then, smearing on an airheaded smile, you followed the leader around the large, gangly money tree. Just past its scraggly leaves, two men came into view.

On the left, dressed in a deep navy sport coat and matching pleated pants stood a solemn faced man in his late sixties. He peered into the entryway’s mirror, fussing with his thinning, silver streaked hair. The wide, rose-gold rolex watch made his wrist look fat and did horrible things for his yellow undertones. When you came into view, he jerked away from his preening. Hungry eyes traced the line of your leg from heel to hem. His thick tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth.

“Tano-san,” your boss guiding you forward. “This is Honey Bunny.”

“It's so good to meet you, Tano-san!” You added a sugar rush bounce to your step. “We hope Usa-chan should feel better soon. I hope it’ll be okay if I take care of you for her until she’s better?”

With a grunt, he took the towel, clumsily groping your fingers along the way.

Mama-san turned to the man on the right. Hiding his face behind a mop of pale blue waves, a surly looking twenty something hunched against the wall. Blazing red eyes stared out from under hairless brows. He tugged at his collar, as if the beautifully tailored Armani three-piece was strangling him. It wasn’t hard to guess how he got the moniker “crusty boy”. Patchy scale peeled from his under eye bags.

“Shigaraki-san, this is Nyanko-chan.”

Nyanko playfully scratched the air, before speaking out in a voice half an octave higher than her own. “It’s a purr-asure to Meow-chu, Shigaraki-san! I hope we can become good friends!”

He sneered at Nyanko before raking his neck with ratty, broken nails.

Your coworker smiled so hard you thought her face might tear. “Would mew like a hot towel?”

He plucked the moist terry cloth from her outstretched hand with two fingers. He half-heartedly scrubbed his hands before walking right past her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nyanko’s tail drooped as she skittered off after her guest. You pressed a coy hand to your lips to hide a grimace.

This was going to be a long night.

One hour into the evening, you would have paid Usa-chan to take her client back.

At first, you thought Tano simply fumbled his cigarettes due to some nervous condition. However, after the third one in half an hour, you caught beady eyes peering down the front of your dress as you leaned in to light them. He ordered nothing but the cheapest wine on the menu (2.6k yen per glass + the 25% service fee) and nursed his drink like an old woman. Those squirmy hands of his kept “accidentally” brushing against your tail every time he shifted in his seat. Conversation was hard fought and mostly about how much he hated his boss.

“Are you and Usa-chan related?” he asked for the fifth time that night.

You brushed your long, silky ears back. “Well, I’m a Lop and she’s a Lionhead.”

“Oh. So it’s not the same thing?”

If you smiled any harder your teeth would crack. “I know, right? They sound so similar I always get them confused.” You hoisted the green bottle up. “Here, it looks like you need a refill—”

He quickly covered the glass with his palm. “Let me touch your ears?”

Rot in the gutter, you steaming trash heap.

Hesitant humming accompanied a thoughtful head tilt. “Mama-san kinda sorta told me I’m not supposed to because it’s against club rules or something.” You clicked your tongue and beamed at him. “Makes me sad because I love having my hair brushed. Oh well, right?”

He scooted closer. “You could just ignore her.”

Wide, panicked eyes sold the frantic, high pitched squeak. “Omigosh! But it’d be bad to do that right?”

Rancid breath poured over your bare neck. “I can make being a bad bunny really fun.”

Die.

You laughed, “playfully” shoving his shoulder so hard it pushed him a solid half meter away. “Oh Tano-san! No wonder Usa-chan loves you so much. You’re so funny!”

…and wringing your floppy neck with your ugly Gucchi tie would be even funnier.

On the other side of the tufted leather booths, Nyanko seemed to fare even worse.

“So… Shigaraki-san, do you work for your paw-ther?”

“He’s my mentor, not my father.”

“Oh! That’s so neat! So he’s like a father to mew?”

One word grated through gritted teeth. “No.”

Nyanko winced at the harsh tone, her smile shaken for only a moment before she rallied. “Your mentor must be very generous to send you here so Meow-ften.”

“It’s annoying,” he groused, scratching his neck like a dog with fleas. The pungent stench of iron caught on the breeze from the air conditioning. All the women around you wrinkled their sensitive noses.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Nyanko placed one hand on the cream leather next to his thigh and leaned in. A long golden necklace slipped down her décolletage, pointing the eye towards her assets. Pouty lips forced her tongue high against her fangs, playing up an alto’s vocal fry. Delicately, she twirled her hair behind her pointed ear. Dangling diamonds glittered in the dim glow of the teardrop chandelier. Round, golden eyes peered at him from under sooty lashes. “Neh, Shigaraki-san, what kind of girl do mew like?”

The booth squeaked as he scooted away. “Someone real.”

“I’m all nyan-tural,” she purred, letting her free hand trail down her bust.

With a sharp “chcc”, he groped for his cell phone.

Nyanko cocked her head. “Oh? Nyu like video games?”

“A little,” he muttered, loading up an app. Comic book style red and yellow text exploded across the screen. Four different voices called out: “Hero Center Battle Royale!!!!”.

“Ooooh!” She clapped her hands together. “Which ones do mew like?”

“The ones where the heroes die.”

“Sounds exciting!”

“More exciting than this conversation.”

Fight on, Nyanko-chan!

While your coworker clawed for any hint of mutual interest, Tano leaned back into his seat and manspread until he was pressed against your bare thigh. “Seems like the pretty kitty is having a rough time.”

Awk-ward….

“Really?” You smiled so hard the muscles below your eyes spasmed. “It sounds like she’s having fun learning a lot about a new person to me.”

Face flushed, your patron sipped his wine. “You’re kinda a dumb bunny, aren’t you?”

Yeah… That’s what your university professors thought too. At least, until your grades put you second in your class by only three points. Maybe if they stopped staring at your ears long enough, they would have seen the brain between them.

“Nyanko-chan loves to meet new people,” you chirped back, sitting on quivering hands to avoid throttling your meal ticket.

Tano thumbed his chin. “Wonder if she’s so persistent because she’s gonna go into heat.”

Ew… can you just not?!

"That must be a pain, going into heat.” Beady eyes flashed to you. "You do too, right?"

Gross. Disengage! Disengage!

You tapped your chin. "Huh… I dunno. Maybe bunnies are different or something."

…cause a three second Google search couldn't have told his horny self that?! Seriously…

Faking a sweet smile you reached for his glass. “Heat or no heat, I think that connecting with others is a reward in and of itself."

And if Tano could connect the dots he would have the decency to GO HOME if he wasn’t going to drink.

He pulled his cup away. "I don't need a refill."

You set the bottle down. "Oh! My bad! I just really wanted to take care of you. You worked really hard after all. You deserve a little rest."

He leaned back into his seat and smiled to himself. "Yeah. Guess I do."

Ugh… Just drunk enough to be a self-centered douchebag, but not enough to get you a sales bonus. This sucked.

He cracked open one eye and glanced at you. "But seriously, aren’t you even a little worried about her or are you just too stupid that to read the room?”

You leaned into your palm, using the thick of your hand to stifle the snarl. “Finding the right fit for every guest can be hard but everyone here loves the challenge.” One ear flopped across your eye. You inhaled, letting the rise of your ribs strain the bust of your gown. “I’m just so glad we have such good chemistry.”

His greasy grin made you nauseated. Greedy eyes drank up your coworker’s long tail and tufted ears. He licked his lips. “Should I offer to save her then? Having two of you around sounds like fun.”

….and entirely defeated the point of coming to the type of classy club where you are supposed to have an intimate, one-on-one conversation with your hostess. Not to mention, you’d have to split the tip. Then again, that assumed this cheapskate didn’t skip it all together.

You bit your cheek until the taste of iron pricked your tongue. Painted lips slipped into a puffy pout. You turned your head, letting tears pool at your lash line. Ducking low to play up the shadows between your cleavage, you pinched his sleeve between two fingers like a schoolgirl tugging on her crush.

“Ah… I suppose it’s true that Tano-san is so cool he could have two women at once.”

His breath caught in his wrinkled throat.

With a forlorn smile, you glanced down at the connection between you before dropping his sleeve like it shocked you. Your voice pitched high as you hurried out a breathless apology. “Oh! Sorry!” Nervous fingers prodded together as you hid behind one ear. “When I am around a man like you, I-I sometimes just get these instincts...”

He gulped.

Time to go in for the kill.

Your eyes danced away from his. “It’s been such a long time since I felt this way, I forgot that it happens. It’s hard, but I’ll try to control myself better.”

Tano reached for your hand, but you pulled it away to bop it into your fist. “Oh! Speaking of instincts, Usa-chan told me once that you negotiated a lot of big contracts for your company. How did you get so good at your job?”

He leaned back into the booth, puffing out his chest. Wrapping one arm over the back of the chair, he crooked his finger at you. “Come a little closer and I’ll be happy to share.”

Ugh… You needed a drink.

“Oh my gosh, Honey-chan he was just the worst!”

Nyanko’s whiskers tickled the side of your neck as she buried her face in your shoulder. You sighed, wrapping your arm around her. The smell of fried food and beer wafted in the summer air. Plump moths collided with the streetlight three paces away. Two wobbly salary men waved. The one wearing a tie on his forehead blew a wet kiss. Your party of three wiggled your fingers and giggled like shy school girls. As soon as they were out of sight, the smiles dropped like corpses on a battlefield.

You patted Nyanko’s shoulder. “There, there. You did what you could.”

She sniffled, fanning her flushed face. You passed her a tissue. She dabbed at her make-up. Flecks of mascara peeled onto pale paper. Another sob wracked her body. “WHAT DOES HE WANT!?” she wailed.

“Seriously,” Pochi scratched her dangling ears. “Mama-san gave him to me last week. He told me ‘your skills need a level up’. What does that even mean?!” She swished her silky black tail. “Let’s see his mummy lips pull three champagne towers in one night!”

“Three? Were you in heat?”

She sneered wide enough to flash her canines. “I faked it.”

You laughed. “Hot, but scary Pochi-sama.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Nyanko’s limp body. “Blame Little Miss Crafty Kitten there. For 30,000 yen, she gave me a run down on my tells and I did my make-up and perfume to mimic them. Worth every penny.”

Nyanko’s blank eyes stared at nothing. “I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess.”

You gave her a long side eye. “You charged 30,000 yen for that?”

A shaking hand rose into the air. She clenched her thumb and index finger into a ring.

“And I’m the one going to hell?” you teased, handing her off to Pochi. “Here. I forgot something at the club. You two get going before the last train leaves. I’m close enough to walk.”

“Whatever,” Pochi groaned, hugging the crying cat to her chest. “Come on Nyanko. You had too much to drink.”

With a gentle wave, you watched them as they staggered down the sidewalk leaving only Nyanko's miserable whining in their wake. When the last sob slipped into silence, the false feelings melted from your expression. Every hair on your neck bristled. A hard heel thumped on the pavement. Fists clenched to your side, you dashed off into the nearest alleyway. Wrenching off your expensive pumps, you set them on the ground out of reach. Your vision swam blood red, you zeroed in on the filthy dumpster. All at once, a frustrated shriek tore through the night air.

"SCREW YOOOOOUUUUU!”

You slammed your heel down into the dumpster, leaving a dent in the rust.

"SCREW YOU! SCREW THIS JOB! SCREW EVERYTHING!”

Blow after blow rained down on the innocent trash receptacle.

"DUMB BUNNY MY COTTON FLUFFY TAIL! I HAVE MORE BRAIN CELLS IN MY MANICURE THAN YOU HAVE IN YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE!

Twisted metal groaned under the weight of your fury. Memories of fresh-from-college job interviews flashed through your mind.

"I don't know that you're a good fit for our culture." "You seem really nice but we're only looking for serious candidates." "Oh…. I have another position you can interview for, sweetie."

Judgey stares and smarmy grins seared your brain. Lava hot rage bubbled through your veins as you kicked the dumpster five centimeters off its axis.

"I'D THREATEN TO RAZE THIS WHOLE SOCIETY BUT NONE OF YOU IDIOTS ARE EVEN SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RAZE AND RAISE!"

Panting and raspy, you heaved for air in the middle of the pavement. With a final huff you tossed your hair, hiked up your purse, and strutted away.

At the end of the alley, bloodshot scarlet eyes were watching your entire tantrum. Just below them, a ghostly white smile glinted in the flickering amber light.

Next Chapter Expected: June 30th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Taglist: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shig-a-shig-ah @castershellwrites @smilinghowever @krystalwithakay @iris-goddess @ss-syche @mortallysparklyfun @meameows @magnificentclodpiezonk @betterfettered @utena-akashiya @ventdavi154 @st4rrust @imaginedheroine @the-lady-writes-what @shiggysimp69 @toughbook @naughteehee

#shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #yandere bnha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #female reader

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wormswurld · 3 months

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saltburn characters as beyoncé songs! 🌟

this is dedicated to all my bey fans that just so happen to loveee saltburn lolz also i am listening to beyonce as im writing this so i just found it fitting,, lyrics will be added to give u a feel of the songs and the characters vibes,, hope you enjoy!! ✨

🦌 oliver

- deja vu: "baby, seems like everywhere i go i see you, from your eyes, your smile it's like i breathe you, helplessly i reminisce don't want to compare nobody to you"

- love drought: "all the loving i've been giving goes unnoticed it's just floating in the air, lookie there are you aware you're my lifeline, are you tryna kill me if i wasn't me, would you still feel me?"

- all up in your mind: "tell mama, that I do it for you the rider, always want you, i'll be groupie for you it may hurt at first 'cause i'ma make you work put me first is what you need, i know you're gonna love me (i'll make you mine, mine, mine)"

🪽felix

- drunk in love: "i get filthy when that liquor get into me i've been thinkin', i've been thinkin' why can't i keep my fingers off it? baby, i want you, now, now"

- ego: "some call it arrogant i call it confident you decide when you find out what I'm working with"

- pure/honey: "it should cost a billion to look that good but she make it look easy 'cause she got it you can find the one when the tempo's good four, three, i'm too fuckin' busy"

🧚‍♀️ venetia

- alien superstar: "i'm too classy for this world forever I'm that girl feed you diamonds and pearls ooh, baby i'm too classy to be touched i pay them all in dust i'm stingy with my love (unique)"

- flawless: "i know when you were little girls you dreamt of being in my world don't forget it, don't forget it respect that, bow down, bitches"

- sweet dreams: "tattoo your name across my heart so it will remain not even death can make us part what kind of dream is this?"

🎠 farleigh

- diva: "everybody hated on him, then he bounced right back i be gettin' to the money, everybody mad i think I'm gettin' too much money, everybody mad"

- don't hurt yourself: "beautiful mane, i'm the lion beautiful man, i know you're lying i am not broken, i'm not crying, i'm not crying you ain't trying hard enough"

- america has a problem: "i see you watchin' (fiendin') i know you want it (schemin') i know you need it (drug lord) you want it on you? (don't i know) you need love, i need some too do you want this like it wants you?"

i love love love beyoncé’s music so i hope some of y’all see the vision w these! mwahhh 💋

#saltburn #oliver quick #lgbtqia #barry keoghan #saltburn posting #felix catton #cattonquick #felix x oliver #jacob elordi #saltburn 2023 #farleigh start #archie madekwe #alison oliver #venetia catton #beyoncé #song headcanons #song lyrics #wormswurld posts 🌟

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fanofspooky · 9 months

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365 horror movies day 302:

PEARL

“Oh, Howard. I realize how this all must sound. Honestly, there was a time I was flattered to have someone as handsome as you pine over me. You're such a good person, I know that. I made sure to always be mindful with your heart. I never wanted you to feel jealous. It's an awful feeling like a rot the way it just twists and turns at your insides. I know that aching so well. I feel it.. whenever I see others whose lives come easy because.. the truth is I'm not really a good person. I was pregnant with your baby. I never wanted to be a mother. I loathed the feeling of it growing inside me. Felt that sickness. Pulling, sucking on me like some needy animal in a barn. How could I be responsible for another life? Life terrifies me. It's harsh, and bleak, and draining. I was so relieved when it died. It was one less weight keeping me here but then the war came and you left me too. Why did you leave me, Howard? I hate feeling like this. It's so pathetic. Do people like you ever feel this way? Figure you don't... you seem so perfect all the time. Lord must have been generous to you. He never answers any of my prayers. I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me? Please just tell me so I can get better. I don't wanna end up like Mama I wanna be dancing up on the screen like the pretty girls in the pictures. I want what they have so badly... to be perfect... to be loved by as many people as possible to make up for all my time spent suffering. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and a fear washes over me 'cause what if this is it? What if this is right where I belong? I'm a failure. I'm not pretty, or naturally pleasant, or friendly. I'm not smart, or funny, or confident. I'm exactly what Mama said I was: weak. But I don't know why. What did I do? Why wasn't my family like yours? I hate what it feels like to be me and not you. I'm so scared that when you finally come home you'll see me and be frightened like everyone else is. I know what I've done. Bad things. Terrible, awful, murderous things. I regret them now, but I liked how they felt. I wish I didn't, but I did. At first, it was only animals smaller than myself. Nothing with feelings, nothing that could hurt me back. Felt good. Killing's easier than you'd think. 'Til recently; with Mama and the boy from the picture house - they were different. They were more meaningful. I hurt them so they too might know what it feels like to suffer, but poor Daddy didn't deserve that. I wish I hadn't done what I did. Mama meant well. She had a hard life. She only wanted a home to feel safe in, I can see that. I thought I hated her, but I just wanted to feel safe too. My Lord. I made such a mess of things. I don't know how much more I can take. I need to clean this up. All of it. I need to make things right before you see me again. Maybe if I could turn this farm into a home just like you wanted, things will finally be different. I can forgive. I can be who you want me to be. If you'll just stay with me. Would you do that, please? I can't be all by myself anymore. It's too hard.”

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ryuichirou · 1 month

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Replies

A lot to talk about today: there are replies about some of our previous posts, Leech parents, headcanons, antis, random stuff, and in general we are all over the place today.

Starting with the most important question though.

Anonymous asked:

Do you think Todd’s tits are big?

Yes, your honor. They are indeed of considerable size. Yes sir. Those sure are substantial.

But not the biggest ones of the cast though, Lucas is bigger 💪😔

Now that we’ve figured that out, let’s talk about antis and other things…

Anonymous asked:

On the subject of antis, I find it terribly ironic in a sad sort of way how many antis are being busted for victimizing, you know, ACTUAL, REAL LIFE children not fictional characters…

This is super ironic and honestly very disgusting, both in terms of them attacking kids online for their interests and straight-up grooming the younger antis in their own groups. Teenagers are very impressionable and easy to manipulate, so of course someone is going to take advantage of that. What makes the manipulation easier is the fact that if you pretend to be against “those filthy weirdos proshitters”, it implies that you would never hurt a kid, and it makes these people feel even more trustworthy to them... Whenever I block a bunch of antis and see a random adult in their friend group, I always get this feeling of “god I hope you are just some pathetic harmless loser”.

But even without taking this particular shitty possibility into account, participating and promoting harassment of actual real people (kids included!!) over fictional characters is always going to be one of the most disgusting manifestations of their hypocrisy.

Anonymous asked:

Hey um so this twst server I'm in apparently has antis and they found your Twitter and they started hating on your shroudcest art and I left as soon as they did

Ik it probably won't be helpful if they do decide to target you but be careful please

Well yikes lol Thank you so much for telling us and for your concern, Anon! Unfortunately, it’s not something that we never experienced before; we just figured that even if we block every person who is speaking out publically against us, there are going to be certain people who discuss our stuff on discord. After all, why would they talk about the game and its characters and make something they would actually enjoy? Now that’s just silly. When people have nothing to do or to discuss, they’re going to gossip, pearl-clutch and complain about someone out there actually creating content and being good at it.

The only thing that bothers me about this whole thing is that these people aren’t supposed to be here. This isn’t a place for minors, even if they really really really want to see some disgusting smut to giggle with their friends about. But oh well, as recent events show, even locking your account doesn’t help to keep them away.

I am glad you are out of there though; I guess your intuition was right. I hope you find people to share your stuff with.

Thank you again for your support!

Phew, with all that out of the way… let’s talk about sillier stuff!

Anonymous asked:

Hiii, I'm the Anon who asked about the Leech parents. I didn't expect to see a sketch. Even if it's just their silhouettes, i got lowkey excited, so i was wondering if you're going to finish that sketch one day or post it?

The young leech twins are so cute! they're probably chaotic, too. I also find it interesting that Papa Leech has a cane, and Mama Leech looks like she's wearing a kimono!

That being said, I think it's very interesting that Twisted Wonderland not only has a bunch of interesting characters, but so are their parents/family! Besides the Leech parents, I find Mama Rosehearts and Mrs. Ashengrotto also very interesting despite only being mentioned a few times! I genuinely like that they include a little bit of information about each characters family instead of doing the typical anime trope of "Dead parents" or "Parents are overseas", it's very refreshing.

(this is related to this post!)

Hi Anon <3 I am very happy you liked the sketch! I’m not sure if I’m going to finish this one, but I would love to draw the Leech parents properly and in colour one day. Let’s hope for the best!

Little tweels used to be little spoiled shits lol I mean they still are, but you’re right, they were very chaotic at that age too. And I’m glad you liked the kimono and the cane! The moment we started thinking about the Leeches being yakuza, I couldn’t stop picturing Mama Leech as a sly woman in a kimono, so I am actually especially excited to draw her properly one day. I am not sure if Papa Leech even needs a cane, but it makes him look more impressive I guess… similarly to Azul lol, but maybe he does need to use a cane, maybe he isn’t as good at using his human legs, maybe he used to be better at it but it’s more difficult for him now.

I also absolutely agree with you. I am so glad that we have so many different type of families and parents in Twst. I feel like every character has a story to tell about how they were raised, and it always affects their personalities, motivations, and values. Even just comparing Mama Rosehearts and Mama Ashengrotto is very interesting, I would honestly love to learn more about every single Twst parent or sibling lol

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Based off this, what are some things you think could get Riddle flustered or excited over his partners?

Hmmm, let’s see!

Floyd – probably whenever he is being more or less serious and focused?? If he just sits there, writing something down, thinking about the test and stuff. Granted, Riddle only experienced a sight like this once, but the butterflies in his stomach he felt that day were unforgettable.

Trey – whenever he handles the dough or cooks in general, but maybe this is just Riddle being excited about the fact that he’s going to eat a cake soon lol But also whenever Trey tries to discipline someone. He likes it when he gets a bit strict with others.

Chenya – this one is easy, whenever he winks at Riddle. Whenever he does it, Riddle gets very flustered. It’s been years and he still can’t get over it and get used to it.

Ace – this one is also rare, but when he does something… handsome and confident and not annoying at the same time? When he shows him a magic trick, hides all the cards somehow and goes “ta-daa” with a smug smile. Nevermind, this one is still annoying LOL but if he took a coin out of behind of Riddle’s ear, Riddle would probably blush a little.

Anonymous asked:

Bows before you. Today I bring with me Ortho/Malleus propaganda 🥰

1. Consider that Ortho has the ability to just absolutely flabbergast Malleus. Leave him totally speechless with his technology powers. Malleus has not a single clue how this little guy works

2. Consider Rollo... if Malleus was thinking he was a top and got met with DISAPPOINTMENT. Now imagine the opposite... If he's convinced that Ortho is probably a bottom, and is in for a very pleasant surprise!!

3. Not only does Ortho have the ability to flabbergast Malleus, but ALSO Malleus shoots out lightning when he gets frustrated, and Ortho is afraid of lightning.... I just think that's a little hot. And very interesting <3

4. For two characters that are both super OP they are surprisingly on very equal footing, but I can imagine both of them getting that NRC mindset that they're still definitely better than each other, flirting with each other about it even ( flirting = fighting to the death for fun)

5. Consider Malleus in a muzzle. This is irrelevant to my case. Consider it anyway 🤤

6. Their longevity..... Malleus is going to live for, what, another thousand years or so? He's going to outlive everyone at NRC for sure, and we have no idea how long Ortho will live, but assuming he can manage his own repairs, he could live for... Basically however long he wants, give or take. They are sort of the only ones who can "grow old" with each other.... extremely interesting to me

That is all, thank you for your time :^)

Anon, this is VERY IMPRESSIVE, you really made me think about these two. It’s a very good ship on so many levels, and every point that you made is 👌👌👌 Come to think of it, the vignette in which Ortho helped Malleus to come up with the Halloween costume idea was very fun. They are so different with how bad Malleus is at technology and how bad Ortho is at… lightning and stuff lol

Malleus is absolutely going to be surprised to learn that Ortho is a top, but then he’s probably going to start noticing how Ortho is similar to Lilia in a lot of ways. And this is absolutely going to amuse him.

The longevity is also a good point. I think this is the only character combo that could stay forever for hundreds of years?? (Sebek, about whom I forgot, is crying in the corner somewhere...) Which is very fun, considering how much both of them would hate to say goodbye to their loved ones.

The 5th point was very sneaky lol but very much worth considering. I nod in agreement. Yes.

Anonymous asked:

do you think that in the Seven's time, instead of by the sevens they said oh my Toboso or by Toboso! and stuff

That would be a funny 4th wall breaking lol Is Toboso the God of this universe? I mean technically she is. The great cult of Toboso.

By the way, is “the Sevens” the thing that only the EN version has? I might be wrong, but I think it wasn’t really in the original game. Which would make sense, it’s not like the Great Seven are a deity or something…

Anonymous asked:

My moe fall is my shoe flying in one direction, my weave flying in another, and then I backflip out a window.

Anon!! This is incredibly adorable, but you should really be careful! 😱 Such acrobatics!

Anonymous asked:

Passionately, animalistically, and roundly is how I eat my cereal

The only correct way to do it….

#replies #headcanons

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therapy-ghost · 2 years

Note

Hello there! I am super excited to do this so thank you!! Anyways here's my info and I apologize if this is super long.....I kinda rant sometimes haha....

Zodiac signs: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality type: Entp

Pronouns: She/her

So lets see here a little bit about my appearance.....I am very petite and I won't lie i'm about 5'3.....maybe 5'4 on a good day. I also have thick brown hair that goes down to lower mid back and if you are ever around me you'll hear me get frustrated with my hair and i'll say something like "I AM GOING TO CUT OFF ALL OF MY HAIR, I SWEAR!" but for now I am keeping it how it is lmao. I also have brown eyes and lots of freckles on my face, my freckles are one of my most liked features about myself lol. Lastly for my style.....I have none. I like Adidas so I'll wear Adidas jackets and sports leggings and besides that I just wear normal t-shirts and what not lol. Although flannels....absolutely lovely. I love flannels and combat boots....

My personality can be a bit rocky at first. Sometimes I just won't like someone for no reason, I can't explain why but I just won't like them idk. But overall i'm an extrovert, I just dislike people sometimes lmao but nonetheless my social skills are fine and I make new friends ridiculously easy. I do have a resting bitch face though so it does make people nervous when first meeting me but I promise I am not that bad.

When you really get down to who I actually am I am a big asshole who just happens to be a big goofball as well. I am extremely sarcastic, almost to a fault and I will sometimes rag on people in a teasing way. I also do dumb stuff like climbing and falling out of trees, tripping over air, falling up the stairs, etc. Also being reckless doesn't help either. But I have a very strong "I don't care" attitude and I am very blunt and brash when I get angry or in general sometimes, I also struggle with emotions like I hate talking about feelings so I suck at that stuff. I also can not talk about my feelings like at all, i'll kinda hold it in all in and talking being vulnerable or talking about emotions make me anxious and super uncomfortable.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting. I also have lots of intrusive thoughts lol so sometimes i'll just be sitting there quietly and I'll just start laughing like a weirdo......i'm a big dork honestly. I also do that weird thing where i'm sitting down and I'll just be bouncing my leg....idk why I do it....I just do....and I also run my fingers through my hair a lot, thats why its always messy. Sometimes when i'm bored I space out and i'll chew on my lip or the side of gum...I need to stop I know but its hard to....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 10 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 90's rock or any like grunge or alt, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lincoln Park, Pearl jam, Deftones but i'm pretty open to anything. I also started taking martial arts so hehe that's kinda cool...I can do cool body locks and I know a lot of good pressure points to use against someone.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider....like seriously I will move to the moon if one touches me.

Ok lets screw shit up

For Resident evil 8, i match you up with:

Karl Heisenberg(Part 2)

I know ive done him before, and im doing him again

bad jokes back and forth, bet you taught him 'deez nuts' 'joe mama' and 'ligma' and you cant stop him.

Everyone in the house hates the two of you, but not to a point where their trying to break you two up, they just need no jokes.

he has now, in total, pulled 12 'deez nuts' jokes on Alcine alone.

he's also scared of spiders, so it will most likely be either one of the monsters, or you two have a rock-paper-scissors battle, he loses 95% of the times.

Accent duo.

For Marvel, i match you up with:

Bruce Baners

i dont know why, but i feel like a pillow/blanket pile is a must durring movies

both bruce and hulk love you and feel the need to have some sort of view on you.

big guy hardly shows up around you though cause you alway keep Bruce leveled.

he, 100%, likes audioslave and pearljam and he loves it even more when he listens to it with you.

And for Creepypasta, i match you up with:

Hoodie

just like bruce, pillow/blanket pile.

he will make fun of you accent sometimes.

you both will go out in the rain and he will record you.

you eat cheese cake durring the movies.

His fave horror movies are most likely black christmas, scream, and texas chainsaw massacre.

i see him as the type to randomly follow you like a puppy, either to make sure you arent doing dumb shit or just to be with you.

i hope you liked them, i read over your info, and it said you were petite, 5'3'' maybe 5'4'', and im like, am i that small, i understand that my little brother is almost taller then me and i have the smallest feet in my family but wow.

anyways, bye

#Match up exchange #Resident evil village match up #Creepypasta match up #marvel match up

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aladaylessecondblog · 5 months

Text

Summary: Haj-deek speaks to her mother's ashes, and looks over the things left behind for her. She sets out, and a chance meeting on the road has her worried her journey is over before it has even started.

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

Haj-Deek

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

Four dreams came and went--once Haj-deek had had them all, they repeated every now and then. Sometimes in order, sometimes out of order, but always she could expect to have one several times a week.

Tonight it was the third dream. There had been an attempt to keep the dream to the harbor scene so often favored, but this would not be denied.

She stood in some dark place while he, Dagoth Ur, stood beside her. He talked, but she couldn't understand anything he said, like she was listening from the other side of a door. Then, after a little while, he touched her shoulder--and a chill went down her spine.

But no matter how she struggled, there was no chance to move. Her eyes could look up--and look she did, eager to see any trace of his face that might slip from behind the mask. But no such slip happened.

He kept talking, and she felt a strange certainty that he was attempting to sway her. Maybe he was trying to put a spell on her somehow?

That was where it faded. As always, she could not recall its ending.

(She said nothing to the Argonians. They were worried enough about her as it was.)

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

Her mother's bones and ashes had been placed inside what had been referred to as her "treasure box." It was a small wooden chest with faux gold corners that were slowly turning green. Old and battered, but clearly well cared for.

Many times had Haj-deek opened it and looked at the contents, even spoken to them. And many times had she felt nothing.

There was nothing to feel except emptiness. She could lay however many flowers or gifts or offerings she wanted--there was never a feeling of being watched. There was never a ghostly presence, a whisper in her ear...nothing that other Dunmer mentioned when visiting their own family tombs.

Does my mama hate me? She won't answer.

No, of course not. Your mother loved you very much, else she would not have brought you here.

Then why won't she talk to me? The other Dun-mer tell me if your ancestors won't talk to you something's wrong.

They didn't know. So she had tried to put nice things in the chest as offerings--dried flowers, pretty seashells, colorful scraps of fabric, three pearls, when she had found some in oysters. Still there was nothing.

After Azura had first spoken to her, she'd asked the reason for this, hoping for an answer. Was it because her mother had been an incarnate, and now SHE was so the soul was in use...or some reasoning like that?

Your mother is gone, child. But do not fear. I am here for you, and I am watchful.

There was no way to learn more of her mother beyond what the journal and the Argonians could tell her. Hopeful, kind to slaves, desperate to save the lost...that was the impression she got from what she knew. Not the terrible traitor Azura tried to say she was.

(But when she thought things like that, the only thing she could feel from Azura was anger.)

She wanted to know more. What her mother was like in person, not just what she could gather from ink on the journal's page. She'd read it through too many times to count by this point, and had bookmarks on several of its pages.

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

Haj-deek was kneeling in front of the box, and looking over the ashes, bones, flowers, and pearls inside it.

"I start today," she said quietly, "But I don't know what to do...I'm going to make for the north, to see the Urshilaku. Azura said it would be best to consult with Nibani Maesa first, to be tested against the prophecies...but I already KNOW who I am. Why should I try to get proof from someone who will only doubt me?"

She took in a deep, shaky breath.

"I wish you could tell me what to do. Give me some kind of wisdom. But...but you can't. I wish I knew the right course."

She could practically hear Azura's reply, despite the silence. Grow strong, get Wraithguard, put an end to the Tribunal and Dagoth Ur. Fulfill the prophecy you were made for.

It sounded like something a strict mother would say. At least, the kind she had read about in novels...she had seen some mothers about the town, but never seen much of what they were supposed to be like. In general what she saw of mothers was cold politeness and their hands as they told their children it was time to go home.

Haj-deek looked into the bags she'd finally been given. Not everything of her mother's was something she felt she would use--a suit of heavy armor, which she had no inclination to wear. An iron longsword, with an Imperial crest on it. A couple pair of heavy armored gauntlets.

There were some things she felt more in line with how she was finding she preferred to fight.

An odd looking chitin dagger that she cut her finger on by accident. She felt a sensation of fatigue for a few seconds, but it passed soon enough. Maybe it was poisoned or enchanted to reduce stamina somehow?

The second bag now.

A pair of fur gloves (or was it gauntlets?) which she quickly slipped on. A weathered pair of heavy leather boots, which she pulled on over her shoes.

A ring, which she slipped onto her right hand--in small engraving she saw "detect" on it. She cast the spell--

Instantly, she was aware of an enchantment on the black pants she was wearing. It imbued a chameleon spell. The shirt, too, came with one, but this one was for sneaking. Another ring in the bag held a spell to improve lockpicking and...luck? That made no sense. But if luck were really something that could be affected by a spell, she could certainly use it. She took off the ring with the detect enchantment spell, and slipped on the other one.

The last item in the bag was a neatly folded scarlet fabric Haj-deek at first took to be a towel or an unworked bolt. She unfolded it carefully, and gave a look over.

It was a robe of red silk. As she opened it she saw a line of something stitched into the neckline in gold thread--on closer inspection, she realized it was the beetle symbol of House Dagoth. As she leaned in to examine it she caught the faint scent of cinnamon.

As she shook it out, something fell to the floor. It was a length of some red fabric, though not the same kind as the robe itself. Like a strip of ribbon, almost, but it was too worn to be that. It smelled heavily of dust and ash and a little of sweat--

You have the hands of a performer, Voryn. What I would give to hear you play an organ...

An image appeared in her mind with the words. Those clawed hands she remembered, with their nails now trimmed close. And then a voice appeared too.

Perhaps once victory is secured, you can teach me.

A stab of sorrow followed quickly.

Haj-Deek took a deep breath, and folded the robe back up, then placed it back into the bag. Not knowing what else to do with the fabric, she used it to help tie her hair into a loose bun.

She had said her goodbyes to everyone already, but Onasha came as she finished packing.

"You are ready?"

"As ready as I can be, I guess." Haj-deek sighed. "If I could stay here, I would, but...I don't think Azura would..."

"Indeed not." Onasha gave a grim smile. "I have taught you as best I can to sneak, to hide, to keep to the shadows when it would best serve you. But even they will not hide you from her sight."

There seemed too much to say in the moment. Or too much she might have said.

"What do you suggest? Im-Kilaya and An-Deesei, and...I just don't know what to do."

"There is a long road between here and the place where you must decide. But you are ku-vastei, made to set things in motion. If anyone can shift what is pre-ordained, it is you."

I'm barely not a kid. How am I supposed to--?

She put on the boiled netch leather helm and with only a little shakiness forced herself to step over the threshold.

Ebonheart was as busy as ever, and it left an ache in her chest to step outside the city. For a minute she wished Khev had visited today instead of yesterday, but then again--he would have been someone else to say goodbye to...and this hurt enough as it was.

A slight echoing call sounded off overhead. She looked up, and smiled.

(It seemed Sunchaser was always aware of where she was.)

As she walked, the most dear and familiar sights and sounds slowly disappeared behind her. Sailors calling to each other as they loaded or unloaded their ships, the stern yell of the captains heard over top of them. The occasional bell, the sound of the rushing waves.

The smell of fish.

Gone.

The cantons of Vivec were nearly always within sight, but now she was getting a better view of them. As she walked she saw a massive banner hanging from the side of one--Hlaalu Canton, she thought, remembering that there were three in the city for three of the Houses. An ordinator stood guard nearby, and seemed to perk up on sight of her.

"You, there, state your name and business."

"I--" Haj-deek froze in place and couldn't find words for a moment. But after looking down at the map she came up with something. "My name is Haj-deek, and I, ah--am going to Balmora to look for work. I'd go to Vivec City but it's too big for me."

There was a pause and then, "Haj-deek, you say?"

The quizzical tone sent a chill down her spine--and a second time, too, when the Ordinator spoke again.

"I had been told to keep an eye out for you. Lord Vivec wishes to speak with you, as soon as possible."

By the Hist, this journey is over before it even started!

But maybe if she convinced him she didn't want to act against him, that might save her. She could talk her way into and out of a lot of things, and with the ring on (under the gloves, of course) she seemed to be even better at it. Maybe.

Maybe.

Or maybe you'll talk a bunch of nonsense and get him angry. If he knows who you are, there might not be a lot you CAN do.

The ordinator gestured, and seeing no other choice, she stepped toward the Hlaalu Canton.

#fanfiction #severed destiny #dagoth ur dad #nerevarine #dagoth ur #morrowind #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #vivec

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seriiialkiller · 6 months

Text

PEARLS MONOLOGUE.

Howard... I hate you so much for leaving me here, sometimes I hope you die. I'm sorry. I feel awful admitting that, but it's the truth. I was curious about other men. I'm sure you don't want to hear about a stranger satisfying your wife, and I swear it was only once. It was a mistake. It wasn't him that I wanted. I know that now. And I wish things could just go back to the way they were before, but I don't see how they could, not after the things I've done.

I was even pregnant with your baby. I never wanted to be a mother. I loathed the feeling of it growing inside me. It felt like sickness. Pulling and sucking on me like some needy animal in a barn. How could I be responsible for another life? Life terrifies me. It's harsh, and bleak, and draining. I was so relieved when it died. It was one less weight keeping me trapped here, but then the war came and you left me, too. Why did you leave me, Howard? I hate feeling like this. So pathetic. Do people like you ever feel this way? I figure you don't. You seem so perfect all the time. Lord must've been generous to you.

He never answers any of my prayers. I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me? Please, just tell me so maybe I can get better. I don't want to end up like Mama. I want to be dancing up on the screen like the pretty gals in the pictures. I want what they have so badly, to be perfect, to be loved from as many people as possible to make up for all my time spent suffering. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and the fear washes over me, 'cause what if this is it? What if this is right where I belong? I'm a failure. I'm not pretty or naturally pleasant, or friendly. I'm not smart, or funny, or confident. I'm exactly what Mama said I was, weak. I don't know why. What did I do? Why wasn't my family like yours?

I hate what it feels like to be me and not you. I'm so scared that when you finally come home, you'll see me and be frightened like everyone else is. I know what I've done, the bad things, terrible, awful, murderous things. I regret them now, but I liked how they felt. I wish I didn't, but I did. At first, it was only animals smaller than myself. Nothing with feelings. Nothing that could hurt me back. It felt good. Killing's easier than you think, till recently with Mama and the boy from the picture house. They were different. They were more meaningful. I hurt them so they too might know what it feels like to suffer, but poor Daddy didn't deserve that. I wish I hadn't done what I did. Mama meant well. She had a hard life. She only wanted a home to feel safe in. I can see that

I thought I hated her, but I just want to feel safe, too. Lord... I made such a mess of things. I don't know how much more I can take. I need to clean this up. All of it. I need to make things right before you see me again. Maybe if I can turn this farm into a home for us like you wanted, things will finally be different. I can forgive. I can be who you want me to be if you'll just stay with me. Would you do that, please? I can't be all by myself anymore. It's too hard. We can love each other. I'll do that for you if you really meant all that "till death do us part." It'd be enough, just you and me here on this farm. All I really want is to be loved. I'm having such a hard time without it lately.

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rubysunnday · 3 years

Text

driver’s licence

Dear Gentle Reader, tonight is a grand occasion. It is a rare feat for Lady Danbury to throw a ball for the ton but it is even rarer for the Duke and Duchess of Hastings to be able to attend, what with their ever-growing brood.

Tonight, however, Dear Reader, these two things are happening in concession. Not only are our beloved Duke and Duchess of Hastings returning to us, but the eldest Bridgerton daughter, Y/N Bridgerton for those who struggle to remember the numerous children’s names, has been seen promenading with Lord Barclay in Hyde Park.

Perhaps tonight will be Miss Bridgerton’s lucky night and will fulfil the Dowager Viscountess’s wishes of seeing all of her children married. The Viscount Bridgerton has recently been married to, formerly, Miss Kate Sharma - a marriage that seems to be a perfect love match.

Could the 1814 season see two Bridgerton children married in a matter of weeks?

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 4th June 1814

If she was being entirely honest with herself - something Y/N rarely did because most of the time it meant that her mother had been right and it meant admitting that she’d been right - she wasn’t expecting to be married off anytime soon.

Unlike Eloise, Y/N wasn’t entirely opposed to marriage. She wasn’t going to marry just for the sake of it, however. Whoever it ended up being had to be perfect and had to be someone she would happily spend the rest of her life with.

Y/N had two excellent examples of marriage to live up to. Daphne and Simon and Anthony and Kate - both love matches and both couples completely and utterly obsessed with their spouses.

Lord Barclay had been nice to her. He’d danced with her, promenaded with her and had bought her - and her sister’s and mother - flowers. He was relatively knew to his lordship, his father had passed away the previous year and left his estate and title to his first son.

Lord Barclay - Matthew, he’d told her to call him Matthew - had a younger brother who was nearer Y/N’s age but she hadn’t seen him anywhere in London. If the ton’s rumours were to be taken as gospel, he’d fled to America to get away from his father and his older brother.

But Y/N didn’t care about him. She liked Lord Barclay and after almost two years out in society and no sign of any marriage offers... well, her mother had always wanted to see all of her children married.

And if he asked her to marry him - which she suspected would be coming soon - she wouldn’t say no.

But there was a niggling voice in the back of her head (one that sounded suspiciously like her mother and her brother, Colin) that kept asking if she was happy or if she was just settling.

Colin’s displeasure and hatred of Lord Barclay was evident. He wasn’t admitting why he hated the man but every time his name was brought up or he came over to offer Y/N a dance, Colin would step forward protectively and pull Y/N away - unless another member of the family was around.

Colin was part of the reason why Y/N was having doubts about agreeing to marriage. He’d confided in her one night about how he didn’t want her to just settle and wanted her to be happy.

But Lady Danbury’s ball was going to be the night she finally decided. Y/N could feel that something was going to happen that night. She was excited to see Matthew again and to, maybe, become his fiancee.

It’d been a wonderful day. Daphne had joined Y/N, Eloise and their brothers for a ride through Hyde Park. They’d had picnic and then returned home to prepare for the ball that night.

Y/N had chosen one of her favourite new dresses to wear - Matthew had suggested the fabric when he’d accompanied her to the modiste to pick up some new dresses.

She was excited to see him at the ball and talk to him. He’d been a bit distant, lately, but Y/N put it down to stress about his lordship. But there was still something niggling her in the back of her mind. And it wasn’t Colin, who was yelling up the stairs for her to hurry up.

The dress was a beautiful lilac with silver flowers and pearls. She had her maid curl and pin her hair up with a circlet of flowers around it and wore the earrings Daphne had given her for her birthday a few months ago.

“You look beautiful, dearest,” Violet said, standing behind Y/N.

Y/N smiled at her mother in the mirror and brought a hand to the necklace around her neck. It’d been a present from Matthew a few days ago. “It does suit the dress.”

Violet paused, looking as if she was contemplating saying something. “Y/N... are you sure about Lord Barclay?”

Y/N looked around at her mother and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happy with him? You’re not just settling?” Y/N paused. She’d been so certain and now, with her mother voicing the doubts she’d been having since... well, since Monday’s Whistledown had come out and since Colin had spoken to her.

Monday’s Whistledown had mentioned Matthew and had said he’d been seen with a mysterious young woman who most certainly was not Y/N. But she’d just put it down to her being his sister. But now she wasn’t so sure. She loved Matthew, she truly did. But... it was nothing like the love Anthony and Kate had for one another or what Daphne and Simon shared.

“I...” Y/N hesitated, looking down at her shoes. “I don’t want to lie to you, Mama,” she whispered, looking up at her mother, “but I don’t know. Monday’s Whistledown has made me doubt some things. I love him, I do but... well, I doubt it would ever be anything like Anthony or Daphne both have.”

Violet sighed softly and walked over to her daughter, embracing her tightly. Y/N hid her face against her mother’s side, suddenly overcome with emotions and wrapped her arms around her waist, relishing in the comfort and reassuring she was giving.

But as Y/N walked down the stairs of Bridgerton House, her dress trailing out behind her slightly, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Her two brother’s - waiting in the hallway for her - stared in awe at her.

There was something so special about a woman in love. She glowed and sparkled as if she was a star on Earth itself. She held herself in higher regard and felt like a queen. Everything seemed a little bit more okay and a little bit happier.

Even if the doubt was beginning to seep in about whether she did truly love him.

Y/N took Colin’s arm and let him lead her to the carriage. The night was young and the air was warm. She’d never been so excited for a ball before. Kate was coming too - her first ball as Lady Bridgerton.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Y/N tried to ignore the niggling feeling in her stomach. She wasn’t going to let it ruin her night. Even if she hadn’t heard from Matthew since Monday. And even if Colin’s mere presence was making it worse.

She tried not to make it obvious that she was looking for Matthew as they walked in to the room. But he was nowhere to be seen, despite promising he would be there.

The majority of the night was spent on the edge of the ballroom, watching Anthony whirl Kate around the room in newly wedded bliss. Y/N danced with Simon and Benedict and chatted with Penelope and Eloise - who’d been forced to attend and was making sure everyone in a five mile radius was aware of that fact - and pretended not to be worried.

But she was worried. Had she been so caught up with being in love that she’d missed the red signs that screamed at her to stop and re-consider.

Anthony had noticed his sister’s increasing distress and had stopped dancing with his wife, walking over to his sister and standing next to her, shoulders touching.

“He’ll come, Y/N/N,” Anthony said, noting his sister look around the room yet again.

Y/N nodded, not really paying much attention to him. She’d seen the pitying stares from the mothers of the ton and was beginning to dread what Whistledown was going to say tomorrow.

Kate finished talking with someone and walked over to them, standing next to her husband. She looked at Y/N and then nudged Anthony’s side. “Do something,” she whispered, glancing at her sister - in - law in concern.

Anthony sighed. “I don’t know what I can do, Kate.” He glanced back at Y/N. “If he does turn up, however, don’t hold me back.”

“If anything you’ll have to hold me back,” Kate replied.

Five minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

Then another five.

Benedict joined them in what was quickly becoming knowing as ‘Bridgerton corner’. He glanced at Y/N, then at Anthony. Anthony shook his head, warning him not to say anything. Benedict simply sat down next to his sister and causally flung his arm over the chair, pretending to subconsciously drum his fingers on her shoulder when he was actually trying to comfort her.

Colin came over with Eloise and Violet and soon every Bridgerton in attendance at Lady Danbury’s ball was standing in the corner, waiting.

Another ten minutes passed.

Y/N stood up and grabbed a glass of Lemonade from the table. She took a sip of the sour liquid and tried not make a face at the tangy taste in her mouth.

Not liking the flavour of it she handed it off to Colin - her brother ate and drank almost anything put in front of him. Colin silently took it and shifted closer to Y/N, knowing his gut feeling about Lord Barclay had, unfortunately, been right.

Violet looked over at Y/N and sighed. “This isn’t going well,” she said quietly, leaning closer to Anthony and Kate.

“No, it isn’t,” Anthony replied, glowering at any one who dared approach them in their corner.

“Oh, he’s here!” Y/N exclaimed, perking up as she spotted Matthew as he walked in the main door. “I’ll be back.”

Y/N began heading over to Matthew, weaving her way through the numerous dancers and chatting guests.

“Matthew!” She called, approaching him by the door to the garden. “Where have you been? Come on, I put you down on my dance card.”

She held out her gloved hand to him to take but frowned when he turned and gave her a frown.

Matthew shifted on his feet, an uncomfortable expression appearing on his face. “Ah, Miss Bridgerton.”

Y/N paused, dropping her hand. “Miss Bridgerton? Matthew, what is going on?”

Matthew sighed, looking as if it physically pained him to have to explain. “I don’t want to see you anymore, Miss Bridgerton. I have found another woman - one my family approves of -”

“Your family doesn’t approve of me?” Y/N asked slowly, struggling to comprehend what was happening. “What -”

“I apologise for any inconvenience caused this evening,” Matthew said, bowing. “I wish you well, Miss Bridgerton.”

“Matthew -”

Y/N reached out to grab his hand but he brushed past her, walking across the room and disappearing off into the corridor, leaving Y/N standing alone in the corner, her brain trying to catch up with what had just happened.

Anthony slowly approached, having watched the entire conversation. He’d heard what Lord Barclay had said and had seen the way he stared at his sister - as if she was nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Y/N/N?” Anthony asked quietly, putting a hand on her arm. “What happened?”

“He... he’s found someone else,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Someone his family approves of. I - what...”

Y/N trailed off, stunned and in shock. Anthony sighed, clenching his hand in anger. He glanced up at his mother, who was hovering worriedly nearby, and shook his head once.

Y/N couldn’t form the words to speak. She just stood there, Anthony's hand on her arm being the one thing keeping her grounded.

The room was beginning to whisper and point at Y/N, all wondering what had happened. Anthony noticed a few beginning to wonder over and grabbed Y/N’s hand, gently tugging her forward and to the centre of the room.

Whilst a dance was the last thing either of them wanted - it was the only way to get away from the prying eyes and the endless questions and pitying stared of the Ton.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked quietly, guiding her hands to the correct position and helping her take one step forward.

Y/N, not wanting to be seen crying in the ballroom, forced a smile onto her face and lifted her head up high, breathing in deeply despite the lump in her throat and the stinging in her eyes and the urge she felt to curl up into a ball and sob. “Of course.”

Red lights, stop signs I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Every time Anthony spun her way, Y/N allowed her facade to crack for just a second. It hurt. Her chest felt tight and every breath was constricted. Everything hurt.

He’d discarded her to the side like she was a piece of rubbish and as if she was nothing. He’d played with her and showered her with gifts and love and compliments and it’d all been a lie.

Matthew had lied. He’d lied.

The words rang around her head like a mantra and it was beginning to consume her. Anthony spun her out and back into him but she almost fell to the floor, her knees beginning to weaken as her body and mind caught up.

Anthony caught her and held her up, looking down at her blank, emotionless face as she tried not to crack.

Y/N focused on each step - the way her feet rose to the tip toes and then back down to her heel as she stepped back and forth, side to side, up and down. She focused on Anthony’s hand in hers, the warmth of his palm, the familiar, comforting scent of his aftershave.

Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

The lights blurred past, the numerous people dancing around her becoming one solid merge of colour.

She couldn’t breathe. Her stays felt tight and uncomfortable - even though she knew they weren’t. The necklace she was wearing felt like it was choking her - cutting off the air she need.

Her dress was too tight, too long, her gloves too thick and too heavy.

Sidewalks we crossed I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Y/N didn’t remember much of the dancing - she wasn’t even sure how she was moving one foot in front of the other. Anthony was watching her with concern in his eyes and was leading her and guiding her every step of the way.

The music was too loud. The candles were too bright. Everything was an overwhelming blur of orange, red, blue and yellow. Her eyes stung as finally, her mind and body came to the same conclusion.

It was over. He was gone and she was free and her entire future was non-existent and she was alone and unmarried and free.

Over all the noise God, I'm so blue, know we're through But I still fuckin' love you, babe

The song ended and before the last notes had even faded away, Y/N was pushing away from Anthony and past her mother and Colin and out the door, running down the corridor away from everyone.

Her shoes echoed loudly on the tiles and she skidded around the corner into the room that had been set aside for the women. Y/n slammed the door shut behind her and panted and sobbed, clutching the edge of the sink tightly.

She looked in the mirror, her breaths harsh and ragged, and clawed at the necklace Y/N ran down a corridor and into the room that had been set aside for women who need to freshen up or fix their dresses.

She slammed the door shut behind her and hurried over to the washroom, clawing at the necklace around her neck desperate for air and desperate for it to be out of sight.

I know we weren't perfect But I've never felt this way for no one

The clasp eventually gave way and Y/N flung the necklace to the side, taking in ragged, harsh breaths as she sobbed and clutched the sink to keep standing.

Her heart hurt. Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. She couldn’t breathe, couldn't think, could barely see her reflection in the mirror.

She slowly sank to her knees, leaning against the edge of the sink as she curled up and sobbed and sobbed and hyperventilated and sobbed.

It was over. She was free and he was gone.

And I just can't imagine How you could be so okay now that I'm gone.

The door to the side room opened and Violet burst in. She took one look at her daughter - eyes red, skin blotchy, neck scratched from trying to take off her necklace - and ran over to her daughter, falling to her knees beside her and taking her in her arms.

Y/N clung to her mother tightly as if she were her lifeline in the stormy dark sea she was drowning in. She buried her face in her shoulder and cried and cried.

Anthony stood in the doorway to the room, Colin next to him, and felt his own heart break as he watched his sister fall apart on the floor.

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton!sister #bridgerton!sibling #platonic imagine #sibling!reader

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sif-the-tsunami · 3 years

Text

When you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart.

Warnings: Yes, all of them. No smut all angst. and no promise of a happy ending. gallows humor, pregnancy loss, infidelity, self medication, spicy language.

Summary: Sy is a cheating bastard and his wife has had enough.

Pairing: Syverson, now a Colonel and his long suffering wife Josephine. (marriage is great guys, I promise.)

Just over 3,300 words.

This might not have been what you were expecting @oddsnendsfanfics

My mother was a genuine Southern debutante, I grew up with pictures of her on the walls with her gorgeous smile and pretty pearl necklaces. Blonde hair and green eyed, she was the most beautiful little slice of American apple pie. Her daddy was the ‘Old Money’ type, and she was his finest accomplishment, she looked, behaved, spoke perfectly. Never once have I heard that woman raise her voice to a man. Hell, I never heard her pass gas in front of anyone for that matter. She is the picture of privilege, she went from her daddy’s house to her sorority house to her husband’s house. Some how, even though she smokes a pack a day, she still looks like she could pass for being forty instead of almost sixty. The last time we saw each other, my friends told me they didn’t know I had an older sister.

Mama married a gentleman who had the good sense to enlist in the military to help support the lifestyle she demanded he provide for her. He was never around much but he gave her a nice house with a lovely front yard, and two little perfect children. He was another one of the old Southern types, I don’t think he ever outright said “I love you, Josephine,” or “I’m proud of you, girl.” Looking back, I don’t think anyone ever did that for him either, so he probably didn’t know how to tell that to me or my brother Theodore. I’m almost sure that he and Mama loved each other once upon a time. Daddy worked hard, he broke his body serving his country, and when he couldn’t do that anymore he broke his own heart trying to please Mama. She must have been disappointed in how her life turned out. She might have had dreams once, when she was younger. I’m pretty sure the last of them were crushed when Daddy died balls deep in the woman who used to perm my Mama’s hair.

Mama played the grieving widow perfectly, not a single person knew that they had been miserable for years. She has worn black out in public ever since. I think the only thing that has really changed is that she has started day drinking now because she’s lonely. I don’t blame her really. She pushed us really hard to be as perfect outwardly as she is, so it is safe to say that she is really disappointed in your truly.

You might be wondering why this all matters, dear reader. However, I find that it is important for you to know this when I tell you I’m remembering this sitting here in the county sheriff’s office, waiting on my Mama to come pick me up because my probably soon to be ex-husband and I got into screaming match, and I may have drunkenly thrown my bottle of tequila at my probably soon to be ex-husband’s head. The details are a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Josephine Syverson, your mother is here to pick you up.” The Sheriff’s deputy starts in his slow drawl, “Now don’t you go pickin’ no fights with your husband. You’re lucky he ain’t pressing charges. Go sleep it off now, Ma’am. I’m sure you two kids will work it out.”

I wait until he can’t see my face to roll my eyes. And low and behold, there she is, my Mama drove four hours to come and pick me up. She’s in a black vintage driving coat, and her hair is covered by a dark gray satin bonnet. It doesn’t matter that it is half past midnight, she is still the beauty queen she has always been. I drank enough Jose Cuervo tonight that my head is still swimming, but I walk with the grace and dignity she taught me.

“Oh my Lord, Josie, what have you done to yourself?” She asks. “Thank you, officers, I’ll get her back on track.”

We make our way out to the car and Mama unlocks the door for me. I slide in and as soon as my butt hits the leather of her seats, I start crying all over again. She gives me the packet of tissues she keeps in her purse then hands a little make-up bag.

“So, what was is this time, Josie, I swear to Lord Jesus that if he laid a hand on you, your brother and I will bury him in the back yard.” She says turning on her Cadillac. “Get cleaned up, you are coming home with me. Maybe James will be smart enough to figure out where you went.”

“Mama?” Who was this woman? She never talks like this.

“Come on, your mama isn’t as dumb as she looks. Although he evidently is.” She lights up a cigarette and offers me one.

“I quit when we started trying… Even after… well… everything, I didn’t start back up.”

She pats my leg. I unzip the bag to find makeup wipes, mascara, face powder and some brick red lipstick. We might not get along all the time but she is a damn life saver. I have black rivers of my own eyeliner and mascara from earlier today streaking my face. I clean myself up as much as I can and then reapply some make-up. “There, now that you are looking better, tell me what happened...”

“Where do you want me to start? I swear this started after his first deployment.”

“Okay, Josie, start there.”

James Syverson is an Army Ranger, I met him after he finished officers school. Because of the nature of military special forces, they deploy more often than most jobs in the military. I understand that they are under a lot of pressure during these deployments and because he is in a position in leadership I opted to give him as much room as he needed. The other officer’s wives informed me that I needed to recalibrate my expectations of what could happen. They warned me that what happens on deployment shouldn’t be held against him when he gets home. And I didn’t, until a girl barely old enough to visit a bar came up to my door asking for my husband with a hand on her belly. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I just looked up Syverson in the phone book, and I didn’t know he was married.”

“Is it his?”

“Ma’am?”

“I can see that you are pregnant. Is. It. His?”

“I… I don’t know…” She said quietly.

“He is still over there. Do not come here again unless you are requesting a paternity test.” And I slammed the door shut. She did come back for the test results when he came home. Turned out that the baby wasn’t his. Small favors, right?

I never faulted the women who fell in love with him. I knew how special he could make them feel, its how I fell in love with him in the first place. After everything he’s put me through it almost doesn’t matter when it is just the two of us. All I have ever wanted was for it to be just the two of us again, but I don’t know think I can wait for him to retire.

“How many times do you think he’s done it?”

“At least once a deployment. The most recent one saw us at the movies last night. He was holding my hand like nothing had ever happened. When he was coming back from the concession stand, a little redhead stopped him and asked who he was here with. When she saw me, she looked like she saw a ghost. He came back up, handed me my pop, kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around me. He said ‘I promise you, it is not what it looks like.’ but the bitch and her friend kept looking over their shoulders to peek at us. I saw her texting someone and then his phone vibrated, but he didn’t look at his phone until I wasn’t with him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She lit up again. “And you’ve just been sitting on this, the entire time?”

“Yeah, I learned from the best, Mama. I didn’t want to let you down. You taught me to never let them see me cry.”

“Oh, my baby girl...”

The rest of the night at the movies, I kept it to myself, I’ve had enough. The boiling, seething hatred I was feeling for both of them. I hate that they are always younger than me. I hate that it always makes me like I’m not enough. When I woke up this morning had a beer in the shower. I always save the last one for him, so taking the last one was a big “fuck you” to him. He tried to climb in with me until he saw me drinking in the shower.

“Woman, what are you doing?” He asked. Like he wasn’t the one who introduced me to the idea of a shower beer.

“I’m going to keep drinking ‘til my heart stops hurting, Sy. I don’t know what else to do. But whatever it is that we keep doing, I can’t keep it up anymore. Get out.” I have never denied him, no matter what he wanted. And up until this morning, I had been an amazing wife to him. In the fifteen years of marriage, he has only had to do his own laundry when he was away from home. And even then, he probable conned someone into doing it for him. I have lost almost every friend I have made from relocating so often. I have started and stopped working on my Master’s degree more times than I can count. And now here I am, mid-thirties with none of my own goals accomplished to show for all of the work I have done over the years. If I had opened my mouth, even once, about his indiscretions, he never would have made it to Colonel. Not once have I complained.

After I dried my body off, I walked into the kitchen, naked as the day I was born and grabbed my trusty kitchen sheers. I needed a change. He paused the game he was playing long enough to watch me walk past him with my scissors and the bottle of margaritas.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning. Being a little dramatic, aren’t we? We going to church today?”

“Why, James? You’ve been yelling ‘Oh my god,’ between some whore’s legs fairly regularly, I’m sure he knows you are a big fan.” I walked away before he could reply, locking the door behind me to our bedroom. He pounded on the door a few times but got the hint that I was not in the mood to be talked to when I turned up Chris LeDoux as loud as I could play it. Then I went to go give myself bangs.

When the music fades, the house is silent. No video games, no football, nothing. I continue to drink from my bottle and the world becomes a little more tolerable. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. Sy teases me all the time about how cheap of a date I am.

“Josephine!” He snaps at me in his soldier voice and I drop the margaritas.

“Jesus fuck, Sy, why you gotta scare me like that.”

“Oh, you are the one getting scared, woman, I have never seen you act like this before.”

“That’s because you ain’t here every time one of your indiscretions comes knocking on the door of my house. Never once have I expected sainthood from you, James, I learned better after your first deployment,” he won’t look me in the eye, either he’s ashamed of what he’s been doing or he is going to punch a whole in the wall tonight. “You would have seen this if you had been around after my daddy died. This is your wife, Syverson, she goes a little crazy from time to time.

“You know how hard I tried to come home for that, that is not fair Josephine.”

“I’m sure you did try. I wish you would try a little harder when it comes to picking out these dumb sluts who think that you are just going to run away from home as soon as you come back from the sandbox. I have received notes on my car windshield telling me that you were going to leave me for them. How you loved them and you were just suffering with me. That I’m hateful, and spiteful, and they could treat you so much better then I ever could. What have you been telling these girls, James, for them to think I am some kind of monster? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What did I do to you to make you hate me this much?”

“I had no idea that they were doing that. I don’t hate you, baby. You have been a better wife than I probably could have ever deserved. Is that what you want to hear? I know I’m a rotten bastard. How long have you been holding this in, Josie?” His face darkens, I can see all the rage boiling up in him too.

“Don’t you call me that name, you son of a bitch.” I spit at him.

“How long?”

“Since Cassandra came up holding her belly, waiting to tell you that she made you a daddy. Too bad it wasn’t the first time, or I actually might have been worried that you’d leave. I hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet before she tried to take you.” I snarled back at him. And he face drops. Twelve years ago, we tried. I was seven months pregnant when I lost our son. Sy’s squad was wiped out after a night of heavy combat. He barely made it out alive himself. I got a phone call about his injuries and I must have made a deal with the devil himself. I would put up with the womanizing, the long distance, the heartache, just please have him come up to me. I would give anything to save him, I had thought. An hour after I got the call that he had woken up and was safely on a ship in the Mediterranean sea, I started to go into early labor.

“Oh, fuck me. That long?” He whispers. He rubs his face, the stubble was getting long, unless he was out in the field, he kept himself within regulations. He reached out to hold me but I shrug off his touch. He walked away from me, thinking that maybe he might let me calm down and we would go back to being a picture perfect couple again. He could just do whatever he wanted and I will grin and bare it.

I cleaned up the mess I made then went back to the bedroom to put on something on me other than shame. We gave each other space until the evening came around. He came in to ask if I had any plans for dinner. Wrong question, buddy. I walked to the kitchen in my tight black yoga pants and a tank top, went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed my favorite bottle of tequila and took three long gulps.

“That’s my plan, worry about yourself.”

“You haven’t had any real food today, you need to eat something.”

“Eat my ass, Colonel.” With that he pins me to the wall, the room spins around me and I start thrashing against him. He’s got probably 100lbs on me and more combative training than I can remember, so as you can well imagine this is going super great for me. I stop long enough to see the tears forming in his eyes. “Was there ever anything special between us, did you keep any part of yourself just for me?”

“Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. I never even implied that I had any feelings towards them. They knew from the beginning it was simply recreational. Jo, you know you are my best friend.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me? Why am I not enough, Sy? Why do they keep getting you at your best, and I have to put all of your broken pieces back together again when you finally do come home.” Remember every time he woke up screaming the names of his fallen friends. When we have to leave BBQ’s early on the 4th of July because the fireworks remind him of mortar shells.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. It has never been anything other than stress relief with them.” The first tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you, Pussycat, now please lets get some food in you. Are you going to be good?”

“Haven’t I always been good. Been good, but not good enough.” I whine and slide down the wall once his hands are off of me. Good lord, where the hell is my dignity.

He lets me go gently and leaves to make me a peanut butter sandwich. While his back is turned, I grab the bottle one more time and take another long swig. This is where the rest of my night is very fuzzy until I came to in the back of the squad car.

He evidently tried to take the bottle from me, I threw it at him, it went wide and smashed against the wall. He took me to the ground, just tried to keep me from hurting either of us and I screamed at him every vile thing I could think of until the sheriff showed up. They tried to take him in, seeing that I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I told them I tried to hurt him, so they handcuffed me and took me in. Before they drove off, James brought a sweater and my purse out for me. I watched a couple of nosy housewives standing at the end of their drive ways. I’m pretty sure I flipped them the bird and they looked at me with disgust.

Now I’m sitting here, in Mama’s Cadillac, licking my wounds.

“Why in the name of God have you not told me about any of this?” Mama asks, this is now her sixth cigarette. I think she’s trying not to turn the car around.

“I thought you would have told me to get over myself and save face.” I say as we pull to her house.

“No, baby girl, I wouldn’t have. No one, especially not my daughter, deserves to be treated like that. Ooo I never liked the boy. Your daddy used to say that cowboy was all hat and no cattle. Let’s get some sleep, Princess. We will go get your stuff in the morning.”

I make my way to my childhood bedroom and collapse down on the bed. Before I close my eyes for the night, I finally check my phone. He had been blowing up my text messages.

I realize that I have never apologized to you about my short comings. But I swear to you, I will get out of the army if you want me to. We can move anywhere you want to, we can start over, just the two of us. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry that you kept this all from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you. These where from six hours ago.

I don’t know when you will get your phone back, I love you. This was from before my mom collected me.

They told me you have been released from custody but didn’t say to who. Who ever picked you up asked them not to tell me. Are you safe?

I love you. Please. Let me know where you are, I’ll come get you. I hope that you are just ignoring me because you are asleep.

I reply to him with a simple Mama picked me up. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.

No ‘I love you’ from me tonight although it killed me not to tell him. Tomorrow, I will figure out if what we have can be saved. But that is tomorrow Josie’s problem.

#captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #henry cavill

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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in support of Texas relief, @doilycoffin donated $100, and requested Liam & Cordell Walker. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

One of Liam's earliest memories is the time Cordell dropped him on his head. Not actually accurate at all to the way it went but that's how it's told in the family mythology. He was really little, three maybe or four—for some reason that part's indeterminate—and Cordell was climbing the stable and playing adventurer, or maybe just showing off and the adventurer part was a good excuse. Liam was following Cordell around like he always did and he tried to climb up, too, on the fence that kept in the horses when they were let out for their run, and Cordell told him no and that he was too little but Liam was determined to try. Cordell climbed back down and tried to steady him where he'd made it up to the top rung of the fence, and Liam lost his balance anyway, and fell straight backwards and landed headfirst on the dirt. There was a little rock and then a lot of blood, and then stitches, and Mama fussing and their dad ripping Cordi a new one—Liam doesn't even remember that it hurt—but the part that sticks it as a memory is how they all rode together in the truck back and forth from the doctor and Cordell held his hand in the backseat and he was crying, the whole way home, a silent seeping kind of crying that made his face a shiny mess. Liam thinks about that weirdly often. Cordi looking out the window and crying.

When the story gets retold for new friends, or the kids, or Cordell's buddies from the Rangers come around for coffee and Mama's pecan pie, they tell it that Cordell's so clumsy he dropped his baby brother on his head. Liam sort of hates it, every time. Cordell laughs and does the aw shucks routine he's so good at, relaxed with his beer and shrugging embarrassed apology. When Liam was about to head off to college, his eighteenth birthday dinner, Daddy told the story again as a kind of miracle survival, and Liam got up from the table real fast and went out onto the porch, annoyed for some reason beyond measure. It was Cordi who got up and came after him and said, a little cautious, "What's up, Stinker?" and Liam said to him, mad, "Why don't you ever tell people it was me? I was the one climbing up after you. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Cordell just blinked at him. "What does it matter?" he said. "You were the baby and I was a dumbass kid. So what?" He hooked his arm around Liam's neck and he smelled like sweat and Old Spice and that laundry detergent Emily bought that wasn't anything like the one they used at home. Liam pushed at his side but didn't try hard to get away. Not that it would've worked. "It's how we figured out how hard that head was, right? Come on. Mama's gonna wonder if you didn't like the brisket."

Liam let himself be dragged back into the house, and Cordi pushed him down into his chair right between him and Emily, and Emily smiled at him easy, and passed him the potatoes. "One month 'til the dorms," she said, very quiet so no one else could hear under Cordell telling some awful lie about Liam having gas, and Liam laughed, surprised, and it just happened that it was the same time everyone else laughed so that was okay. He always liked Emily. Cordell punched his thigh lightly on his other side, and gave him a warmer more real smile, and Liam dropped it, and he didn't complain about the story again.

Seven years between them. Liam always wondered if he was an accident, even if Mama said that with Cordell going to school she was ready to have another baby around the house. Cordell was always the one who was getting into trouble. Rambunctious, loud, falling headfirst into things and getting dragged out covered in mud. Liam learned from his example what not to do. Do not: run along the bleachers at the football stadium and vault the handrails until your foot gets caught and you fall and snap your wrist clean in two. Do not: get caught drinking beer with your high school girlfriend behind the horsebarn, and make Daddy give the most mortifying sex talk in the world afterward. Do not: make friends with the most delinquent-ass kid in the whole hill country and wind up explaining every other week why, really, he wasn't that bad, give him a chance—

Somehow even then he was the golden child. Not the best grades, not the most obedient. That wasn't what their dad cared about. Cordell was good on a horse, good on his feet. Respectful when it mattered and devil-may-care when it didn't. In high school he was the quarterback, of course he was, and Liam was right there in the stands with their parents every Friday night, cheering his lungs out. Weirdly boastful with his fourth-grade friends: his older brother was the star of the football team. His older brother could ride a bull for ten seconds and get off hardly winded. Bookish, kind of short, he needed the borrowed glory of Cordell's success to be proud of. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it got him pushed over on the soccer field while some bigger boy went, gawd, William, who cares?

Liam never got in trouble. Never broke a bone. After bringing Cordell back from the hospital with a fresh new cast on his ankle and a dopey slightly-drugged smile on his face, Mama settled him in bed with Liam's help and turned off the light and then, in the kitchen, sighed and said, "Liam, you are a real relief to the mind, do you know that?" He was proud of that, too, in that moment. It wasn't until later that it nagged at him. A therapist asked him, much later in a sleek Manhattan office that smelled faintly of sage, "Do you think your predilection for being contrarian results from that time?" He went home annoyed with her, and was more annoyed when he told Bret the story and Bret didn't even turn around from the carbonara he was making and said, "Babe, you're the most contrary person I know."

He wasn't. He didn't—think he was. He… was, he realized, after a week of sitting with it, and a week after that it made sense. He didn't pick fights, and he didn't make waves. His rebellion was quiet. His hard head, forcing him to make his own space in the world. Not able to live up to Cordell and knowing instinctively that it would be awful even to try—and so taking the opposite turn, every time. It was better than being compared, even if he knew there was no chance but to be compared.

He studied hard. He read, all the time. He liked math and literature equally and did equally well in both. He hated P.E. but he did what he could there, too, and he learned to ride even if he didn't actually love horses the way the rest of the family did, and when Daddy asked if he wanted to join up with the little league baseball Liam asked to play soccer, instead, and Daddy frowned but Mama said, "Why not, I've seen enough boys drop foul balls for a lifetime." So, soccer, and most of his games were during the day or on Saturday mornings, but Cordi came to a lot of them anyway, and when Liam's team won Cordi would jump down onto the field and grab him up by the waist and crow David Beckham, right here! Little David Beckham for sale! Liam would struggle and then he'd be slung headfirst over Cordell's shoulder like a potato sack and his face would get so red from laughing that it hurt.

On September 12, 2001, Mama and Daddy were gone from the house when Liam got home from school and he was glad for it. That was a Wednesday. He was in sixth grade. The teachers weren't even trying to hold normal lessons and everyone was talking about what had happened the day before. Melissa Kettering was out that day and the rumor was that her dad had been on a business trip in New York. Liam had raised his hand and asked the social studies teacher if there was going to be a war, like there was after Pearl Harbor, and she sat down on her desk and shook her head and didn't answer.

He was trying to read his book for English when the phone rang. Cordell, calling from his apartment in town. Hey, buddy, he said, over the line, and Liam sat down on the floor by the phone table and closed his eyes, unaccountably almost about to cry. Is Daddy there? Liam told him he was home alone. Lucky, Cordi said, you can totally throw a rager, and Liam didn't laugh, and neither did Cordell, even though he always laughed at his own stupid jokes. Hey, um. I shouldn't—I don't know if I should tell you this but I've gotta tell someone, and Em's in class, and I just have to—I did something, and I need to—

He interrupted himself and Liam could hear him breathing over the line. He didn't want Cordell to say anything. If he didn't say anything then Liam could pretend that he was going to tell a story about some party they'd gone to at Emily's sorority, or that Hoyt had come back into town and they'd seen a show at ACL, or that he was gonna come stay that weekend, and maybe he and Liam would go riding. Anything but what he was about to say. Liam could hear it, in his head. He could hear it like it had already been said and it was echoing, now, inside, like a verse from a song he'd always, always remember.

Cordell graduated from the Marine boot camp on a Saturday in the middle of December. Liam went along even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual ceremony and Daddy complained about the cost of the plane tickets until Mama told him to shut up. Liam sat between them on the flight and it was the first time he was ever in the air. Over the top of Mama's crossword book he watched the clouds go by over New Mexico, Arizona, with complete wonder. San Diego, then, different to Austin—palm trees, and the air so wet, and even the parking lot at their hotel smelling like warm flowers.

Mama gave him fifty dollars before they left for the graduation. They were bringing Cordell back, after, because they got one night with him before they had to give him back to the military. "Order a pizza," she said, "at 4:30 exactly, and we should get back at the same time the pizza comes so we can all eat together." Liam watched American Pie on the hotel tv while he waited, something he would never have been allowed at home. He made the call when he was supposed to, and when the girl on the phone asked him what toppings his mind went completely blank because he was never allowed to make that decision. Cordi liked ham and pineapple and none of the rest of them did. Liam ordered it with extra pineapple.

When a knock came on the hotel room door Liam jumped up to open it, cash in hand. The one holding the pizzas was Cordell, grinning at him with Mama and Daddy standing behind. "Pizza delivery," Cordell said, and Liam crashed into him for a hug so hard that Cordi almost dropped the boxes and said whoa, Stinker, soft and laughing.

His hair was cut off, an inch on top and shorter on the sides, so he looked like those pictures of their grandpa when he was in Korea. He was skinny, too, which Liam didn't get, because he thought boot camp was all about building up muscles. "Mostly running," Cordi said. He was tired, dark circles under his eyes. He was stretched out on one bed with his strange starched blue pants and the awful khaki shirt that made him look washed-out pale even if he'd been running around San Diego for thirteen weeks, and Mama was sat next to him squeezing his arm like he'd evaporate if she looked away for a minute, and even Daddy was hovering. Proud but worried. Liam sat by Cordell's boots and tugged on the laces, wanting to ask more questions but not daring to.

Cordi fell asleep before six o'clock. Daddy turned on the television real quiet to the news. More stuff about the invasion. Liam hoped it'd be all over by the time Cordi got there. Mama boxed up the remaining pizza, shaking her head. "Don't know why you picked pineapple, kiddo," she said, and Liam shrugged, sitting at the table, watching Cordell's face, turned away a little on the pillow. Liam wanted to shake him awake but of course he didn't. For his whole life, after, he gets a little sick to his stomach when he smells pineapple.

While Cordell was in Afghanistan Mama and Daddy had Emily over to the house a lot. She was sweet. Respectful of Mama, calling her ma'am half the time, and charming to their dad even though Liam knew that she and Daddy probably disagreed on more than things than not. She liked that Liam played soccer and asked if he ever watched the Premiere League. Liam didn't even know what that was. She helped Mama cook supper and went out and took pictures of the horses which made Daddy smile, and one time when Liam went outside after dinner to read she was there crying, on the porch, quiet with her hand over her mouth, and Liam hung back and didn't know what to say. "Sorry," she said, dashing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She licked her lips and nodded at his book, sniffing. "That's a good one. You should read the sequel, too." He did, and told her about it, and she smiled like a sunrise, the way she always did, and he felt like—he didn't even know, what he felt like.

Liam was the best man at their wedding. He felt and looked ridiculous. Fifteen in a tux and he didn't know how to tie a bow-tie, but Cordi didn't either, so Daddy had to do it for both of them, grumbling the whole time that they should've learned this by now. "Not a lot of bowties in Kandahar, Daddy," Cordell said, winking at Liam, and Liam—blushed. Ridiculous, and embarrassing, the way the whole affair and the lead-up had felt, but Cordell didn't seem to care or notice, so—there was Liam, blushing in a bowtie.

Cordell had only been back for a year and somehow things were off. He was serving the rest of his contract out in the reserves but he wasn't finishing up his degree like he'd told Mama he would. He'd entered the training program for the state troopers and was set up to be a highway cop, of all things. He'd rented a house in Austin with Emily and they lived together the whole year before the wedding—an argument with Daddy about that one, which Liam listened to from the hallway with his heart pounding—and they weren't even going to be married in the church because Emily didn't want a wedding mass and, Liam suspected, Cordell didn't either. Daddy lost that argument, too.

The wedding was tiny. Liam the best man, Geri the maid of honor. Emily's aunt that raised her on one side and Daddy and Mama on the other, and a handful of Cordell and Emily's friends making up the numbers in the little rented hall. Afterward they had a bigger barbecue out at the ranch and in front of the crowd Emily fed Cordell a dainty forkful of the lemon cake and Cordell responded by dotting a tiny bit of frosting on her nose and kissing it off, and Mama's best friend Sue-Ellen sighed and said to Mama, where Liam could hear, "Well, Abilene, maybe they're atheists but I daresay you raised that boy right every other way," and Mama said something dry back but Liam was watching how Cordell cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and he thought, yeah. Yeah, Cordell was just about perfect, wasn't he.

"High school in the fall, right?" Emily's aunt said, later. "Emily says you play soccer. Going to try out for the team?"

Cordell and Emily were dancing, swaying in the grass, the bonfire leaping up behind them. His hand still on her cheek. "I'm quitting soccer," Liam said, without even realizing he was going to. "I'm going to try out for wrestling, instead."

He figured out he was gay relatively early. His friends at school got hold of a Playboy in fifth grade and didn't really know what to do with it beyond blustering. This was before anyone but nerds was on the internet, and Liam was a nerd but did a decent job of hiding it. Scott beckoned Liam over while they were waiting for the buses and showed him the top of the magazine, the bold logo and the girl with her boobs pushing up out of her bra—the group of them snickering, saying how hot she was—and that they were going to look at it at Scott's house later if Liam wanted to come over—and Liam said, "No, my mom's making me go to the store with her." The lie came out effortlessly.

They did have a computer at home, and dial-up internet it had been very, very hard to argue Daddy into. He hardly knew how to find anything but he did some careful searches while Daddy was out with the horses and Mama was cooking, singing bad over the stove like she tended to. Made Liam's face hot to see some of what he was seeing. Hoyt came over, once, while Cordi was away in the war, and he helped Liam and Mama dig out a bunch of tomatoes that hadn't grown in right, and afterward they sat on the porch drinking lemonade while Mama asked Hoyt all about the oil field he said he'd been working in and Liam watched how Hoyt's legs sprawled out on the porch, how his jeans hugged up against his calf muscle and how the sweat had made his white shirt nearly transparent, and he had to sit very careful on the bench with his knees drawn up to hide the effect it had on him.

When Cordell came home from Afghanistan they threw a huge party. Everyone came, Daddy's friends and Mama's, and Emily and their friends from college, and even Hoyt, magicked up out of somewhere (for the promise of free beer, Daddy said), and then Liam, the youngest person there, watching from the corner of the porch as always. Cordi was very tan and finally bulky with muscle and his hair had grown out, just a little, from that military buzz, and he barely detached himself from Emily the whole time, his arm always around her shoulders or hers around his waist, and when they did step apart his eyes followed her and she watched him right back, smiling at the most random times. Liam was fourteen and a little more aware of the world and he wondered abruptly if they'd had sex yet. Cordi had only been home one day and he'd slept at the ranch and not at Emily's apartment. How would they have found the time?

He was chewing his thumbnail over it when a sweaty weight crashed down on his shoulders, arms trapping his in. Hoyt. "Hey there, Stinker," Hoyt said, and Liam shrugged fretfully and said, "Don't call me that," and Hoyt laughed at him but stood up and ruffled Liam's hair completely backwards instead.

"Still pretty shrimpy," he said. He was grinning, like he had some big secret. "You planning on growing up anytime soon, champ?"

"Don't you have a sketchy job to get to?" Liam said, annoyed. He tried to fix his hair and gave it up as a lost cause the second Hoyt's grin got bigger. Asshole.

Hoyt sipped his beer. Twenty-one—he was allowed, although Liam had noticed that Mama was being a little free with handing out drinks to Emily's college friends. "Glad big bro's home, I bet," Hoyt said.

Liam didn't dignify that with a response. Hoyt laughed, under his breath, and held out the beer for Liam to take, which he did because he didn't know what else to do. "Go on," Hoyt said, nodding at it. "I won't tell your mama. Not fair that everyone else gets to celebrate while little Liam's sober. And boring."

"I'm not boring," Liam said, although he knew he was because half the kids at school clearly thought so. He took a sip of the beer, anyway, not knowing if Hoyt would snatch it away. Nasty, and he made a face that made Hoyt hoot, and then he took a bigger gulp, determined at least to get something out of it.

"There he goes," Hoyt said, weirdly delighted, and he clapped Liam on the shoulder the same way he would Cordi when they were in high school, and the bit of warm in Liam's belly went lower. "That's a welcome home."

Liam kept the beer, curled against his chest. He felt dumb holding it and also weirdly adult. "He's not even here," he said. Sort of scoffing. "Doesn't matter."

Hoyt curled his arm around Liam's shoulders again and ignored how he went stiff, and nodded out at the party. Music playing from a radio Daddy had set up on a truck-bed. Emily and Cordell, dancing in the firelight. Same as it would be for the wedding reception a year from then, although of course Liam didn't know that at the time. "Aw, he's here," Hoyt said. He squeezed Liam's shoulders. He smelled strange, like—skunk, and Mama's compost bin. It was gross but also kind of appealing and Liam shifted, hoping his dumb body wouldn't react. "He's just with his girl, and who could blame him. No call for getting jealous."

He wasn't jealous. Not—exactly. That night after Mama and Daddy went to bed the party kept on, and Liam went to his room and watched from the dark window, the bonfire still going and all the college kids still going, too. When he finally fell asleep he had a strange, blurry dream about Hoyt—building a bonfire together, and Hoyt smiling at him and being a jackass and then touching his face, the same way Cordell touched Emily's face, and then Hoyt touching his stomach, low—and then the dream shifted, the weird way dreams shift, and it was Cordell, touching his stomach, and smiling at him, and leaning in close—with his hair longer like it was before he enlisted—but wearing for some reason the dumb khaki shirt of his uniform—and then Cordell's hand—

When he woke up he was soaked and it was bright morning. He washed his underwear out in the sink, feeling like his head was screwed on to someone else's body, and then he hid the underwear in the hamper, and showered, and tried not to think about it. He had that dream or one like it on and off for years, until he finally lost his virginity to Michael in college and it went away. He never told his therapist about it, or Bret, or anyone. He could rationalize it but he couldn't ever acknowledge it out loud because of what it—felt like, to think about it. To make it real in a place that wasn't just his stupid, crazy, dreaming head.

He had the dream again the night before he came out to his parents. January 2nd, trying out his new year's resolution of honesty. He figured in a ruthless sort of way that if his parents kicked him out or hated him or tried to change him then at least he had early acceptance at UT for the fall and a full scholarship and it was just eight months where his life would be completely over.

Cordell was at home on the ranch and Liam figured that's what triggered it. A couple days of vacation, since he'd worked over Christmas, and he and Emily and baby Stella had stayed up for ringing in the new year, and everyone had taken turns kissing Stella's forehead when midnight struck. Liam had been allowed a glass of champagne, Mama not even fussing about it since it was a holiday and the house was full—so he had two glasses—and when he went to bed he could still hear Cordell laughing from the front room, telling Daddy some story about a bust on the highway, something about stolen Santa suits, something light.

He dreamed they were swimming, up at the lake, and Cordell was naked. Laughing, that same too-loud booming laugh, but just because he was happy and not like he was making fun. Being kind to Liam. Holding him from behind with his arms around Liam's chest, their legs slipping together in the water. Liam could imagine what it would be like for a man to do something to him, he'd seen porn by that point, and he'd seen Cordell naked too because of the vagaries of living in an old house without a lock on the bathroom door, but somehow there was still a disconnect in his head. He was turned on beyond belief but nothing—happened, just the vagueness of Cordell behind him. His big hands.

Mama took Emily and the baby in to town, that day, for shopping. Daddy said they'd just bought half of Macy's and Mama shushed him so Daddy was up at the barn, checking over the new foal. Liam sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched birds come to the new feeder Mama had got from Emily and he tried to rehearse it, in his head. What to say. He'd seen it in movies but it didn't feel possible to come out of his mouth.

Cordell sat by him, on the bench swing. "Since when do you drink coffee?" he said. Then, less casual: "Is that my mug?"

"Yes," Liam said, and didn't protest when Cordell took it out of his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He had a hard time talking to Cordi after he had one of those dreams and so it was a relief that most of the time Cordell wasn't around, that he was in town at the house he shared with his wife. With his wife, Liam reminded himself, as though that could help. Another thing to make Liam different. Wrestling instead of football, reading books instead of riding, and now—this, on top of everything.

"Whatever's going on," Cordell said. Liam blinked, came back to the world. The cold, and the swing barely rocking from how Cordi had set his boot on the porch and pushed, and Cordell looking at him very steadily. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Liam swallowed. "Even if it's—" Bad is what came to his mouth and he shook his head. He prayed about this, he resolved. It's not bad. "Weird?"

"If it weren't weird you probably wouldn't be being so weird about it," Cordi said, frank, and Liam shoved his shoulder. The dream dissipated just like that. How could he possibly be crushing on his brother when his brother is this much of a jerk. Cordell swayed, grinning, letting Liam push him even if Cordell outweighed him then by fifty pounds, but then he set his hand on the back of Liam's neck, more serious. "Whatever it is. We can figure it out."

Liam licked his lips, and nodded. He knew then that was going to tell Cordell the one secret, if not the whole of it, before they left the porch that morning, and Cordi would—back him up, with Mama and Daddy, even if he didn't get it. "Give me back the coffee," he said, and Cordell raised his eyebrows but passed it back, so Liam could take a gulp. The caffeine probably wouldn't help but maybe it wouldn't hurt, and it felt nice to hold the mug. "Promise you won't freak," Liam said then, even if he was—mostly, ninety percent, pretty sure—and Cordell said, immediately, "I promise," and Liam believed him. That was the thing, with Cordell, in those days. It was easy to believe him.

It's Mama who calls, when Emily dies. Liam's already in bed because he's got court in the morning and Bret shoves at his shoulder, says, "Oh my god answer it and then change your ringtone, I hate that song," and Liam's still fuzzy from sleep and doesn't quite process that there's no good reason Mama would be calling him after nine o'clock in Texas because she always thought that was bad manners, it had been drilled into him all his life, and he says, mumbly, still waking up, "Hey, Mama," and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before she says, Honey, I'm sorry, but I have real bad news.

He flies out the next day. Bret tries to dissuade him. "There's nothing you can do right now," he says, as though that's the point. JFK to Austin-Bergstrom is four and a half hours and he spends the whole time with his chest this weird achy knot. It doesn't feel real but it is. He texted Mama his flight plan and she says that Daddy will pick him up at the airport, and when he gets into the truck Daddy shakes his head and says, "Good to see you, son," but without any truth to it. Liam doesn't take it personally.

Cordell's not at the ranch when they get there but the kids are. "Hi, Uncle Liam," Stella says, remarkably clear, until he hugs her, and then she curls his hands into his shirt and cries silently, her shoulders shaking. August doesn't get up from the couch, sitting there with one arm crossed over his chest and the other over his mouth, and he looks—Liam's always shocked by it—so exactly like his mother. Stella's a copy of her grandmother, to the point that Mama set her prom picture side by side with Stella's first dance photo and the only real difference was the dress—but Auggie always took after Emily, from coloring to temperament to those long straight eyebrows, that mouth that curves up into a wide, easy smile. Not smiling now, and not for a while, and when Stella pulls away and wipes her eyes Liam sits down next to Auggie and sets his hand on the back of his neck and Auggie just folds over, quiet, like whatever was holding him up just isn't there anymore.

"Where is he?" Liam asks Mama, in the kitchen later. The sun's going down. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

Mama's eyes are red-rimmed. "Where do you think?" she says.

Liam takes the truck. Lady Bird Lake is officially closed at night but of course that makes no difference. He parks and walks, up to the lookout, and Cordell doesn't hear him coming. He's sitting on the steps to the gazebo, his elbows braced on his knees. The light hitting his hair. Long again. Liam doesn't know how he's always skirting regs and getting away with it, except of course Cordi gets away with everything. Golden child.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. "Cordi," he says, and Cordell looks up in complete surprise. Liam smiles at him, as much as he can, and comes and sits on the step. He tries to think of what to say and can't come up with anything.

"Aren't you in court tomorrow?" Cordell says, after they sit there for thirty seconds. His voice sounds thick and distant.

Liam shakes his head. "Today," he says, and Cordell nods and huffs and says, "Right," and then looks down at his hands again. They're twisted together, his thumb rubbing hard and repeatedly at the mount of his other palm. Liam reaches over and puts his hand over the knot of Cordell's fingers and Cordell's jaw flexes but he lets Liam do it. "I'm sorry," Liam says.

"Everyone is," Cordell says, halfway bitter. Liam squeezes his hands and Cordell makes a rough low noise, some sound Liam has never heard him make. "Jesus. They won't let me go in to work."

"Of course they won't," Liam says, and Cordell pulls his hands away, pushes them into his hair. "Cordi, they have to—they're going to be looking for who did it and it has to be by the books so it'll stick. They're not going to risk screwing it up."

"I just want to—" Cordell cuts himself off but Liam can imagine what goes there. He touches Cordell's back instead and the muscle flinches. Set to fly off the handle any second. Fight or flight, but Cordell never used to run from anything and Liam can't imagine he's going to start now.

He stands up. "Wrestle me," he says.

Cordell looks up. "What?"

Genuine surprise. At least it's not misery. "Come on," Liam says. "See if you can pin me." These jeans are nice, were a gift from Bret, but he'll sacrifice them. He holds out a hand and Cordell lets himself be pulled upright, and it's a shock like it always is when Liam's been too long away, how much taller Cordi still is. Liam always was the shrimp. He pushes Cordell's chest, lightly, and Cordell slaps his hands away. "Cordi," Liam says, coaxing, and pulls at Cordell's wrist. "Let me take your mind off it."

Stupid thing to say and he knows it as soon as he says it. Cordell gives him an ugly look and shoves him for real. "Take my mind off it?" he says, while Liam's staggering backwards. Liam sets his boots in the dirt and braces, and when Cordell pushes him again Liam grapples, and they are wrestling, then. It's sloppy, bad holds, both of them in too-slick boots for this ground. Liam manages to swing Cordell around and get his back on the ground but Cordi's always been stronger and shoves him off, and then they're just—flat-out scrambling, Liam's hand sinking into a patch of mud and both of them breathing hard, Cordell twisting out of his grip and getting an arm over his chest, tight, before Liam eels over and flips them—gets Cordell on his back on the dirt—his leg over Cordell's—and then Cordi drops his head back against the ground and taps out, panting.

"You been practicing?" Cordell says. His eyes are closed.

Liam sits up, says, "Class at my gym." Cordi nods and Liam gets off him, kneels next to him in the dirt. The gazebo's bright and the skyline's pretty, on the other side of the lake. Liam looks at that instead of at his brother, so he won't have to see the tears seeping down Cordell's temples, wetting his hair.

"It's not okay," Liam says. He sets a hand on Cordell's chest. At the DA's office in Manhattan he's comforted widows, widowers, orphans. Some of them seeking justice but most of them knowing it won't really be found. Cordell, he thinks, is one of the latter type, but Liam tries out the lines he's learned anyway. "It's not okay and it's not fair. I can't pretend I know what you're going through but I'm sorry." He swallows, his throat trying to close without his say-so. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Cordi."

"Yeah," Cordell says, rough, and grips Liam's wrist. When Liam looks down Cordell's eyes are still closed. They stay there for a while, by the lake, long past when it's uncomfortable.

When they finally get up, Liam's knees creak like an old man's but Cordell doesn't make the joke he should. He leaves Cordell's truck and drives them both back into town, and gets drive-through Whataburger that Cordell picks at instead of eating, and says, "Do you want to go back to the ranch?" and isn't surprised when Cordell shakes his head, no. They get a hotel instead, two queens and a respectable mini-bar, and Liam calls Mama from next to the ice machine in the hall and says that he's got Cordell, and they're fine, and they'll be back in the morning. She clearly wants to object but doesn't know how and Liam hangs up before she can figure it out.

He gets back, with the ice. Cordell's sitting on the end of the bed watching the news like it's the Superbowl. "I was thinking about the funeral," Cordell says, when the door closes behind Liam. "I have to plan the funeral and I don't even have her body."

Liam sets the bucket on the bar and sits on the other bed. "We'll help," Liam says. Cordell's cheek sucks in on one side. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

"Yeah," Cordell says, remote, and Liam looks at him. Weird hollowness in his stomach and he realizes only after a second why: it's the first time, all his life, that he can remember Cordell lying to him.

The Rodeo Kings operation is supposed to be quick. Three months, is the estimate: to get in, to learn the operation, to get out. They need an agent who can be convincingly skilled as a traveling rider, who knows a ranch operation, who can act. There's a depressingly short list and one name at the top of it. Everyone thinks it's a bad idea except for Graves, and Cordell.

"It'll give me something to think about that's not this," Cordell says, when Liam's trying to talk him out of it. They're on the back patio of his and Emily's house in town. The kids are still staying out at the ranch. It's two weeks after the funeral and they haven't gone back to school. Cordell hasn't shaved in a few days and the sound as he scratches his jaw is loud. There's no music playing from the kitchen window, like there used to be. The plants out here are already dying. Liam wants to grip Cordell's shoulders, get in his face and yell, but doesn't dare to. He gets a deep sigh, instead, and Cordell flipping a poker chip between his fingers like a restless card shark, and then a smile, fake as fake. "Anyway, who do you know who can ride a bull better than me?"

"No one," Liam says, and Cordell nods, like damn straight, and in the morning Liam goes in to the Travis County DA and announces he'd like to transfer offices, due to a family emergency that's going to keep him here in Texas, and it's only afterward when some calls are made and the paperwork's signed that he calls Bret, back in Manhattan, and leaves a voicemail that he's going to be staying a lot longer than he thought.

It isn't three months. As the operation drags on, Liam sweet-talks his way into being one of the assistant attorneys on the case and he tries to alleviate how Graves is getting more and more suspicious. Cordell's old partner James gets promoted to captain, six months in, and he vouches for Cordell, too, not that it seems to matter either way. Cordell's the one who's embedded with the rodeo and he'll either finish the job or he won't. They don't have another agent to send in, not without compromising the work that's been done so far, and nothing else will do but to wait.

The kids ask Liam for updates every week when he comes for dinner at the ranch. "I can't tell you everything," he says, like he does every time, and Daddy's quiet at the head of the table, and Mama quieter on the opposite side. Cordell has a rendezvous every Monday when the rodeo takes the day off with a burner cell phone and an agent waiting impatiently for his call, and his reports are terse: still trying to get them to trust me. They're suspicious of newcomers. The ring seems really tight and I can't figure out an opening. Give me time. He's allowed to call Liam the same day and Liam answers every unknown number on Mondays, giving hope to spam callers nationwide. Cordell usually sounds tired but he still calls and they have a dumb, simple conversation—about how the Rangers beat the Angels, how he's breaking in some new boots and has a blister the size of Indiana, how he's craving, inexplicably, sushi. "Sushi?" Liam asks, trying to imagine when Cordell ever tried it, and Cordi says, with rare humor, "Hey, I'm not a big fancy New York lawyer but I've had my share of raw fish," and when Liam hands the phone over to the kids they lean over the speakerphone and talk over the top of each other about a class project Stella did, and a history paper Auggie got an A+ on, and Liam watches with his hand over his mouth for the moment when Cordell has to interrupt and say, tired-sounding still, "Sorry, guys, I have to go," and the goodbyes have to be quick, and then that's it, for another week.

The first time Liam sees him when he's Duke it's a shock to the system. Seven months in and the reporting agent says that Walker missed his check-in. Walker—that's what they all call him, even when Liam's in the room with them. There's a small frenzy in the operation office. Graves calls for Cordell's head, predictably at this point. James, trying again to calm her down, but looking a little like he agrees. Liam leaves the office unnoticed and walks outside to feel cold air on his face and feel less—how he feels—and there's a text, on his phone, from an unknown number. The Alibi, Driskill ST, thirty minutes. Come alone.

Ridiculously illicit. Liam takes off his suit-jacket and tie and ruffles his hair into something unprofessional and goes. It's hard to park—Monday night football—and inside is the opposite of his scene but he finds a seat at the bar. A girl in a too-tight orange t-shirt gives him a once-over and he smiles tightly, ignores her, drinks a watery beer, and almost exactly on the thirty-minute mark someone sits down next to him and it's—not his brother.

Duke Culpepper was the fake name they picked. Originally from Texas but had some misdemeanors that made Texas unfriendly so he'd been hiding out in Tucson for a few years, working the rodeo there. Not dangerous but willing to get up to something that was, and he looks the part. He smells like sweat and horse manure and hay and some shitty, awful aftershave, and there's a bruise on his jaw like someone suckerpunched him, and he doesn't look at Liam but smiles sweet at the bartender and says, with a fake low drawl, "Darlin', I wouldn't mind a shot of bourbon, when you have a chance."

Jesus, Liam thinks. The bartender has an expression like Cordell slid a hand down the front of her jeans and made her the happiest woman alive—the shot takes about ten seconds to arrive, when Liam's been waiting for a second beer for five minutes. Cordell knocks it back in one motion and says, "Again, and—" and he turns, like he noticed Liam for the first time, "another round for my friend, here. We're celebratin'."

She blinks, notices Liam's empty glass. While the next round's being prepared Liam raises his eyebrows and plays his part. "What are we celebrating?"

"Got a new job," Cordell says—but no—it's Duke, who's saying it, Duke who's drawling lazy and has his hat cocked at an off-angle and who's got a bandana tied around his wrist which for some goddamn reason is working the whole, hot-ass look.

"Congrats," the bartender says, and Duke grins wide and winks at her and downs the second shot, letting out a little whoop. "Another?"

"Better make it a double this time, sweetheart," Duke says, and Liam puts his hand on the warm lean stretch of thigh knocking against his under the bar and squeezes, very lightly, a warning, and sees Cordell's eyes tighten just slightly, and sees how his shoulders round out, like he's ready to get in a fight. Cordell takes a deep breath and toasts the bartender, but turns to look at Liam, face a grinning glad mask. "Got a new girl, too. Real pretty."

The bartender's disappointment would be funny, any other time. "Your lucky day, then, huh?" Liam says. Cordell's knee presses hard into his under the bar. "Girl got a name?"

"Miss Twyla Jean," Cordell says, almost crooning it, and Liam raises his eyebrows—he thought they had embarrassing Texas names—and then Cordell downs the double-shot, grimacing at the sting, and then says, much quieter so that only Liam can hear: "All it took was me making it eleven seconds on a bull and she took me straight to bed."

Liam takes a deep breath. Cordell's jaw flexes, in the silence, and he puts the empty shot glass on the bar. "Thanks for celebrating with me," he says, and slides off the barstool, backwards. He grips Liam's shoulder so hard that it actually hurts. "Gotta get back. Job won't do itself."

"Godspeed," Liam says, toasting with his beer, and Cordell gives him a tight smile and tugs his cap and walks out of the bar, taking with him the smell of the stables and his too-tight jeans and this sensation under Liam's gut that's murky and dangerous, unsettled. His shoulder hurts. It's only after he's written down Twyla Jean's name and texted it to James, and gone home to the apartment where Bret's still bitching about the décor, and taken a shower, and pressed his forehead against the cold tile, that he realizes that Cordell was wearing a fucking Texas Rangers cap. The absolute bastard.

The night he hears from Cordell again he has a fight with Bret. The same fight, worked over the same way. Bret hates Texas. He hates being away from his friends. He hates the politics and the food and how Liam's always with his family. He doesn't want to go to family dinner at the ranch because he's sure Liam's dad hates him. "He doesn't hate you," Liam says, for the fifth time, but to be honest he's not sure. Daddy never seems to like Bret that much, either. Cordi's never met him and Liam wonders, like he's wondered many times, if they'd get along, at all. Wonders if that'd be a dealbreaker and then wonders, washing dishes while Bret watches MSNBC in chilly silence, if the fact that he's wondering if it would be a dealbreaker makes it a dealbreaker, after all.

The text comes as a relief. Annunziata's. He dresses down more carefully than the first time. It's a weird spot, on the outskirts of town where it feels less like Austin than like a suburb. Karaoke and Italian food and mostly-fake cowboys slapping their knees to the absolutely horrific song being sung—very suburb. And there, at a table right by what passes for a stage: Cordell. But, no: Duke, Duke Culpepper, with his arm slung around the shoulders of Twyla Jean and his lips on her ear, grinning, wild. It catches Liam's breath like it did the first time. Duke, confident in his body and happy and having a good time, easy. Hot. Jesus, Liam doesn't get how it's so hot.

He waits in the backroom and watches Cordell shoves his face into the water. It's disturbing how panicked he is, once he's Cordell again and not Duke. "You have to," he's saying—babbling—"You have to tell them, they're going to kill people, you can't let them go through with it—" but of course that's not either of their decision and Liam can't help. It's awful, an awful awful feeling. His big brother looking to him for an answer he can't give. Cordell pushes his hair back from his face and puts his hat back on and looks miserable but he goes back, he sits right back down with that girl and lets her slide her hand down his thigh up the inseam of his jeans and Liam watches from the corner of the bar, where he won't be seen, drinking a beer he doesn't want, seeing his brother be someone who's not his brother. Maybe someone his brother could have been. They're going to sleep together, tonight. Liam knows it. They've been fucking for three months. Is it easy, he wonders. It shouldn't be, for Cordell, but maybe for Duke it is.

He goes home to Bret and wakes him up, and apologizes for the earlier fight, and kisses him, and gets Bret on his belly, and fucks him that way, a little hard, kissing the back of his neck, making Bret gasp and flinch and groan, delighted. "Where did that come from," Bret says, lazy and satisfied, and when he falls asleep Liam takes a shower and then only then calls James, from the hall outside their apartment door, leaning with his forehead against the wall. The bank location has been obvious since Cordell reported about Twyla Jean; the only thing that wasn't certain was the time. It'll be fine, James says, firm, and hangs up on Liam to coordinate with the rest of the team now that Agent Walker has finally come back in from the cold, and Liam stands there with his eyes closed in the hall and thinks, yes. Yes, it'll be fine.

After the bank—after the clean-up—Graves debriefs Cordell for a long time. It borders on unlawful interrogation at a certain point but Liam doesn't dare intervene when she's this furious—he can't risk being taken off the case. It takes James making a call to her supervisor at the field office, who then calls her and pulls her out of the room, for Cordell to be given a reprieve, and Liam goes in to the conference room and finds Cordell still in the stupid black hoodie stained with Crystal West's blood, his head in his hands, breathing with his mouth open like he can't get enough air.

"Cordi," Liam says, and Cordell shakes his head. Liam licks his lips and checks the hall. No one's guarding them—they wouldn't, because Walker's one of their own—and he says, "Get up." Cordell looks up at him, finally. "Come on, quick before she gets back. Come with me."

Cordell follows him. Down the hall, left to go through the atrium instead of the bullpen, then through the glass doors to the hall to, at last, the men's room, and Cordell stands in the middle of the tile blinking until Liam nods at the sinks and says, "Do it."

He's sloppier about it, this time. His hair hangs dripping in front of his face. He pushes it off his forehead and looks up at himself, in the mirror, panting a little. Water drips off his nose.

Liam brings him paper towels and he dries his face. "You should take that off," Liam says, and Cordell looks down at his clothes like he has no idea what he's wearing and only just realized, and tears off the hoodie in an awkward tangle. Underneath his t-shirt is black so Liam can't tell if it's stained. The big silver cross swings from his neck.

"What happened," Cordell says. A croak.

"Graves didn't tell you?" Liam says, and then bites his tongue. Obviously not. "Clint and Crystal are both dead. Clint at the bank. Crystal crashed the car. They think she passed out. Blood loss." Cordell nods, tight, looking away. These are his friends, Liam reminds himself. These are the people he knew, the only people he really talked to, for almost a year. "Two more people died at the bank. Twyla wasn't there and we don't have information to tie her to the job. I don't know where Jaxon is but we have people looking. They're still trying to recover the stolen money."

"Graves did tell me that much," Cordell says, and turns around, leaning his ass against the sink. It's slowly draining, behind him. "I think she wants to arrest me since she can't arrest them."

"I think so, too," Liam says, and Cordell smiles a little. He looks like he hasn't slept all year. "You did your job. It's over."

"It's not over," Cordell says, immediately. He drags his hand through his hair. "Graves made that clear. The money's still missing and Twyla and Jax are in the wind."

"And Duke's being sent to jail," Liam says. "So his part in the Rodeo Kings gang is over."

Cordell wipes his fingers over his mouth. He's still wearing that bandana around his wrist. Liam wants to take it off of him. Throw it away, burn it. "Duke Culpepper, common criminal," Cordell says, drawling it a little.

"Never liked him anyway," Liam says, and Cordell smiles, dropping his head. Liam touches his shoulder, grips his neck. "Hey. Means you get to come home. The kids will be over the moon."

"Yeah," Cordell says. He brackets a loose hand around Liam's wrist and nods. "Yeah. Can't wait."

His smile faded, as soon as Liam said it. Liam thinks about that, for that whole night, and for the whole next day, after, when James tells him that Cordell put in for one week's leave. "You talked to him?" Liam says, and James shakes his head, says, "He called Connie. I think he still doesn't even know I'm the captain."

He tells Mama and Daddy that Cordell will be home next Wednesday. Stella's frowning, not eating her dinner. "I saw that bank robbery on the news," she says. Auggie's big-eyed, watching, next to her. "Was that Dad's big case?"

"It was," Liam says, and Auggie's eyes get bigger. "But there's a debriefing period. We need to make sure his undercover identity doesn't have any loose ends that'll tie him back to his real one."

Daddy's eyes narrow and Mama's quiet. Liam got pretty good at lying, over the years, but he never was quite able to fool them.

He calls Cordell the next day. "Tell me where you are," he says, and Cordell doesn't answer for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out over the cell line. Liam considers it a victory that he even answered the phone.

He has a room at the Fairmont, on the fifteenth floor. Liam knocks and it's a minute before the door opens. Cordell's in bare feet, jeans, an ACL t-shirt. Liam follows him in and the room is—nicer than Liam's current apartment, that's for sure. King bed, outstanding view. "Wow," Liam says, and Cordell says, "Better than the Super 8 in Kermit," sort of sarcastic, and then sits down on the bed like he can't stand up anymore.

Liam doesn't sit. He doesn't think he's really invited, even if Cordell let him in the door. "I told them next Wednesday," he said. "Mom and Dad, and the kids. A week. Do you think that'll be enough time?"

"Honestly?" Cordell says, and doesn't elaborate.

There's a table, with four chairs, like a dining area. On it a box, like one of the evidence boxes from the office. Liam walks over and tips back the lid and: there's Duke Culpepper. The striped shirt he wore when Liam met him at Annunziata's. That was—god, only three days ago. A plastic bottle of aftershave. The cross necklace. The gun. Liam picks it up and checks the revolving chamber—that one bullet, still ready. It makes him nauseous just like it did the first time.

"I know you're probably not okay," Liam says. Understatement, he thinks, of the century. He closes the box and pushes it away, toward the center of the table. When he turns around Cordell's holding the beer in one hand and playing with a poker chip, in the other. "I know you're going to need some time. But when you're done, we need you back. The kids, and Mom and Dad. And me."

"C'mon, you don't need anybody, Stinker," Cordell says, with the barest thread of levity. "You climb right up to the top of the barn all by yourself, when no one's around to stop you."

Liam pauses, confused by the subject change. Surprised, then. "You were there for that?" he says, and Cordell shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting.

When Liam was eleven, and Cordell was at college, and the world hadn't yet turned over on its head. It was early August and his school hadn't started, and Daddy and Mama had gone over to the feed store to pick up a truckload for the horses. He was bored, and tired of reading, and he'd gone out to the barn and looked up at it and thought about how Cordell had done it, at his age or maybe even younger, and if Cordell could then Liam could, too, if he set his mind to it. It wasn't even all that hard, once he was looking careful for the places to set his feet. He sat down on the top of the barn and looked out over the ranch—and further, over the where the road into the ranch pushed out into the hills, down toward the town. He wondered how far he could really see, to the horizon.

"Swung by to pick up my football stuff," Cordell says, now. "Em parked on the other side of the house and I didn't think anyone was home, until I looked out the back. You were up there just—taller than anything." He shrugs. "See? Didn't need my help after all."

"I wouldn't have climbed it if you hadn't dropped me on my head," Liam says, and Cordell snorts, shakes his head. Liam bites the inside of his cheek and crouches, and Cordell's forced to look at him or be ridiculous and so Cordell looks at him. Liam reaches out and gets his hand, the hand with the poker chip, and squeezes it, and Cordell swallows and squeezes back. The edges of the plastic bite into Liam's hand. "Come back," he says.

Cordell takes a deep breath. "I will," he says. "I promise, Liam."

Liam stands up and hugs him, around the shoulders, and walks out of the room. He takes the elevator back to the lobby and steps out into the sunshine, and takes a deep breath, and calls Bret to arrange lunch. Cordell's promises. Fifty-fifty, anymore, that it ends up being true. Liam decides to believe him. He's hardheaded. He might as well be hardheaded and optimistic about it.

#ffcc #walker #walker texas ranger #walker fic #my writing #if anyone ever needed an in-depth character study of liam #...here it is

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

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Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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spideyanakin · 4 years

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Clouded Seas

Will Turner x Reader

Synopsis; Davy Jones was more then happy to hear that Jack Sparrow wasn’t captain of the Black Pearl. So happy he decided to take you in.

Requested by; @carolxnaaa // Will — prior to the events of The Curse of The Black Pearl — was engaged to Y/N, Elizabeth’s handmaiden and best friend. When Elizabeth is taken by Captain Barbossa, so was Y/N. Before arriving to Isla de Muerta, Y/N impels Elizabeth to watch over Will and ultimately marry him, as her dying wish; proceeding to Barbossa marooning her at sea. Y/N survives and then becomes enslaved by Darvy Jones. Following the event of Dead Man’s Chest, Will boards The Flying Dutchman, reuniting with Y/N and eventually, fleeing together.

🧚🏻‍♀️Masterlist🧚🏻‍♀️

"I know you always loved him. Please do this as my final wish. I need to make sure he’s safe." You felt the tears starting coming up as you were pushed to the plank by Barbossa.

You gulped as you watched the shipwreck Barbossa was marooning you at.

The wind was making the water was dance, making sheeps of foam form at the top. The wind was blowing in your hair, making salty water drops come up to your face. You gulped as you watched the night sky that was filled with clouds hoping that it would distract you from the cold of the water below.

“C’mon girl don’t be shy.” Barbossa pointed with his sword as he made you take a few steps towards the border of the plank.

“Take care of him.” You turned around to face a shocked Elizabeth before turning back towards the end of the plank, Barbossa still pointing the blade on your back.

You held your breath and closed your eyes before taking a step into the air between the ship and the sea. You felt the air slightly lift the skirt of your dress right before you hit the harsh water. Waves crashing on you making it hard to come back for air. After a while of trying to come back up, you finally took a large breath hoping it would be enough, soon feeling a slight drizzle of rain starting to fall on your face.

You shivered as you watched the shipwreck that was laying peacefully among a few rocks, ghosts already hunting it as Davy was too late for some souls.

“Why not just leave her on an island!” Elizabeth screamed as she tried to get off a pirate’s grip.

“Because the navy is searching for us. I need to make sure that we don't let a trail behind.” Barbossa raised his eyebrows before retrieving himself towards his office.

Elizabeth watched as the Pearl got further and further from you. You watched as you trembled your way towards the shipwreck, a shiver passing through Elizabeth's body at the thought of swimming in those seas.

The Pearl sailed far from where they had left you when you managed finally managed to climb onto the broken ship. Hanging onto a barrel for rest. You shivered your way towards the middle of the boat slipping and instantly hitting the ground.

You let out a cry of help and pain before a sob escaped your lips, leaving you feeling helpless.

“Who are you?” A man trembled as he took a step towards you handing you his shaking hand to help you up.

“Im... Y/n” you sniffed out as you stood up and held onto the rope of a broken mast. “A pirate marooned me here.” You replied as you twisted the fabric of your gown removing about a liter of water from the fabric.

“You- you shouldn’t stay here. He- Hes coming.” He trembled as he spoke and a strike of confusion hit your perfect face.

“Who’s he?” as if on cue a few pirates appeared onto the ship.

You let out a gasp as you tried to identify them. One had a shark head and others Seashells as a replacement, none of them looking human, but sea mutants.

“Get in line.” They pushed everyone and even you to their knees, in a straight line. You watched as you saw the 5 men who had 'survived' the crash. They were all too weak to fight, each one of them dancing on the edge of death. All being powerless to stop their shivering.

Soon enough a Pirate, so strong and powerful you could feel from miles away that he was the captain, walked onto the broken decks and approached the first person in line.

“Tell me... Do you fear death?” His words echoed onto your ears and a streak of shivers fell down your spine at the sound of his voice. You closed your eyes and tried to calm the cold that surrounded your body.

“No.” You heard the men and your gut immediately told you it was a bad reply.

“Well then.” You opened your eyes just to see him raise his hand towards his men. They slit the sailor's throat and threw him overboard, making you place a hand on your face in horror.

He approached another man that was right next to you and to your relief the man had passed onto his crew without a fuss.

“You are neither dead nor dying!” He spat out in your face which made you wince. “What do you want?"

“Captain Barbossa marooned me off his ship, Sir.” You kept your stare glued to the floor, bringing back all your cold blood trying to stay strong as you felt his stare on you.

“Captain Barbossa?” A smirk painted his face. “Tell me what is his ship.”

“The Black Pearl Sir-” You stuttered the cold suddenly hitting you.

A laugh of pure wickedness escaped his lips before he happily replied

“Well, I was about to kill you, but now that you’ve said I suddenly feel generous... Take her up."

You suddenly felt two crewmates grab your arms and the next thing you remembered was walking onto the decks of the Flying Dutchman. You tried not to slip onto the sea moss that had formed on the wet planks of wood.

You watched as Rosy Fingered Dawn set its drapes on the sky, lighting up the hearts of the cursed sailors, and sending a few tears to your eyes.

You approached the ship's border and watched the sea as it got calmer, toying with your ring that once meant happiness, but now you were bound to look at it and cry. You hadn’t made any deals with Davy, but you were still somehow prisoner to the ship, too weak to do anything but cry.

"Mr.Turner!" You heard Davy Jones scream the familiar name which made you snap your head towards who he was talking to.

You saw the man he was addressing and caught a glimpse of his face. He looked just like Will, just much older and kissed by the sea. His blue skin shinning as the rising sun hit it.

You heard a glimpse of the conversation and a shiver mixed with happiness filled you.

As the name Bootstraps fell out of Davy’s mouth it stuck to your ears, leaving you with relief that you possibly had a friend on board.

"Bootstraps?" You asked as you approached the man once Davy had left. "Bill Turner?” You wondered and he turned around to meet your tired face.

"Your the girl Davy brought up.” He wondered as he took in your appearance.

Your long hair was wet and loose, any pins you had placed washed away by the sea. You were wearing a dress that was riped and wet, weighting you down. You were shivering every now and then, Davy having nothing to warm you up on board.

“Here take this.” can we talk about how his name is Bill in mama mia and Bootraps Bill in Pirates of the Caribbean. Out of pity Bootstraps took his still wet jacket off and handed it to you. You gratefully smiled before placing around your shoulder a certain distant warmth appearing on your shoulders.

"I know your son." You added as Bill made a step forward, gripping onto the jacket.

"William?" He said with a frown and stopped in his steps turning back towards you. “How is he?” He wondered as a slight smile went up to his lips.

“He’s good.” you smiled and looked down, your eyes slowly getting glossy at the mention of your fiancé. “I hope he’ll be alright.” You added and played with a seashell that was glued to the deck.

Bootstraps looked at you, his stare shifting to your left hand where a ring was sitting.

“Ah.” He said suddenly understanding the situation. “You're close to him aren't you?” He asked and you lifted your head nodding, all words failing you. “And now that you’re here your afraid you’ll never see him again..?” He asked and you nodded.

“Well... I’ll take care of you while you're here. Im sure Will will be grateful to know that his old man is watching over his fiance.” He smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you-” Your words came out all weak as you wiped a tear from your cheek. “Wait- How did you-”

“The ring.” He pointed out. “And the look on your face when you talked about him.”

“Oh.” You nodded and placed your hand onto your left hand touching the ring with the tip of your fingers, aching for Will's touch.

Almost a year had passed and you were cleaning the decks of the Dutchman. Watched as the sun as it fell on the sparkling sea, thinking of your long lost fiance.

You were kept as Davy Jones’s prisoner. Him taking too much of a liking in you to let you go, even tho you hadn’t sworn any oaths.

“How is my dolphin doing.” the words fell out of his mouth and into your ears as you dropped a rag into a bucket of seawater.

“Your dolphin” You spit out hating the nickname he had given you. “Is doing just fine.” You wiped some water that had splashed on your face with your sleeve and fixed your pants as you stood up.

You grabbed the bucket removing the rag from it and threw the water overboard. You dropped the rag into the bucket once again and dropped the bucket on a corner of the ship.

“Well good.” You were about to leave when he gripped your hand with one of his tentacles. “Because I need you to welcome new crew members.” He spat on your face. “You know how to fight.” He handed you a sword that you knew was useless against him. “We have a shipwreck not far from here.” You replied. “I need you to stay inside the ship while we dive, then you can come back and welcome those who are willing to join our little... Crew.” He continued and you nodded as you placed the sword he handed on your side.

You walked inside the ship and into your quarters. It was a small room but it was cozier than the rest of the ship. It didn’t have any seashells glued to its walls. In fact it didn’t look like the sea had touched it at all.

You watched the small window as the ship ducked down into the ocean, filling it with cold seawater, stopping right at your door. You breathed the air that was now filled with the smell of the sea that surrounded your mini-submarine.

Before you knew it you were back up and called on deck. You nodded to Bootstraps who gave you small talk about welcoming new crew members, and you didn’t like the sound of killing people who did not fear death.

You fixed your hat as you were brought to a shipwreck. You hanged on to your sword and watched as some crewmates screamed for any survivor to go in line.

You held your head down and watched as Davy Jones steps onto the wreck. You held the first men up, as Davy Jones's assistant and placed the sword of the side of his neck as Davy was continuing his speech.

Little did you know Will Turner was standing last in line, trying to see who's face was hidden behind your hat.

Your eye drifted away and you spotted the Black Pearl in the distance. Your eye lit up in shock, but you didn’t have time to do any else as Davy Jones ordered you to kill the man you were holding.

“C’mon don’t be shy.” He looked at you and you looked at the helpless men and it suddenly brought the memories of Barbossa marooning you off.

“Just do it.” The weak man pleaded you and a strike of horror fell into your eyes.

“I can’t” You replied tears almost spilling in your eyes as your hand holding the sword was trembling. Will Turner turned his head around as he thought he heard a familiar voice. He thought he was day-dreaming as he heard the soft tone of your voice falling onto his ears.

“C’mon dolphin. I didn’t bring you here for nothing.” He added and you closed your eyes sliding your sword onto the men’s heart.

“Im sorry.” You whispered as your face got close to his ear and you rested your free arm on his shoulder. A small ‘Don’t worry the Lord has already forgiven you’ escaped his lips, filling you with a tiny ray of relief before a sob escaped your mouth.

Will Turner’s face twisted and he tried to escape two pirates holding him, catching the attention of Davy Jones.

You were too busy watching the man you had just killed getting thrown overboard to notice the familiar chocolate eyes staring at you.

Davy approached Will before commanding you to get close in case he needed to kill him.

“You are neither dead nor dying, what do you want.” You wiped your eyes and approached your captain lifting your head to meet Will’s face.

“Will.” A gasp escaped your lips and the air around you started getting harder to breathe as you felt lightheaded and about to faint at the sight of him being here. To think that all this time you thought he was long safe and married at port royal by now.

“You know him.” Davy spat out pointing towards you with his crab claw.

You nodded no and Will smirked at the smartness of your actions, before coming back to what he had to do.

“Jack Sparrow sent me to settle his debt.”

“What was that?”

“Jack Sparrow sent me to settle his debt.”

And before you knew it, Davy Jones was off to the Pearl and you watched as the men’s grip of Will slightly untightened.

“Y/n?” Will asked as he slightly stood up, but getting placed back down on his knees. “I thought you were dead.” Will continued his eyes getting glossy at your sight.

“And i-” Words failed you and soon enough Davy Jones got back to the ship, wrapping up the situation, bringing Will back to the Flying Dutchman.

You walked on the wet slippery decks of the Dutchman, keeping your head down as you saw Will talk with Davy Jones. You had been forced to fix the sail, which was what you were doing instead of reuniting with your fiance.

Once Davy was inside the ship and out of view you finished your knot and dropped what you were doing, running up to Will who already had his arms opened for you.

“What are you doing here.” You asked as you felt tears come up on the corner of your eye.

“I could ask the same.” Will placed a kiss onto your forehead and held onto you as tight as he could still thinking it was just a dream.

“I've been here for a while now.” You shivered into his arms. “Ever since Barbossa marooned me. Davy Jones saved me, Will. I owe him my life.” You sighed and Will slightly let his grip off you to see your face.

Will looked at you tears almost falling for himself. He took in your appearance and let out a tearful chuckle.

“You don’t owe him, anything love.” He placed a hand in your hair as he stared at the face he had dreamed of every night since you had been kidnapped. “In fact you made a promise to me, never to Jones.” He smiled as he stared at the ring who was still placed on the hand who was tightly gripping his arm.

“I love you, Will.” You let out a soft sob as you placed your forehead onto his. “Get me out of here.” You whispered and he nodded, wiping the tears away from your cheeks.

- Taglist -

@averyfosterthoughts @slytherinambitious @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes @criminaly-supernatural @carolxnaaa

#Will Turner x reader #will turner x you #will turner #will turner x y/n #will #William turner x reader #William turner #pirates of the caribbean #pirate of the caribbean #pirate or the caribbean #pirate #jack sparrow #davy jones #jhonnny depp #depp #orlando bloom #Orlando Bloom x reader #Orlando Bloom x y/n

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

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A Dozen Ice Cream Cones (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty wants to know what happened to the girl who offered Dante his very first strawberry sundae. But to know the rest of the story, she must erase the dozen ice cream cones from Dante's tab. (Part 2 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Flirting / Lost Friends to Lovers / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: You wished for Part 2, there it is ;-) If you want to place this part of the story in the DMC timeline, I'd say that it is shortly before DMC3. Dante is roughly eighteen (and so is Reader) and still goes by the name Tony Redgrave. Again, the Dante who is talking to Patty is definitely post DMC Anime. I decided not to give many details about him so that he could be the one of your choice. Can definitely do a part 3 if you want.

MISSION 2

Dante was about to get fleeced. He could feel it in his guts, which had somehow developed this strange ability to knot tightly in his stomach each time he was about to lose. Probably the result of so many years of bad luck in gambling. And yet, Patty’s eyebrows were weirdly furrowed as she was quietly eyeing all of the cards in her hands. She had to have a straight flush. Dante had no doubt about that. So why wasn’t she playing? “You know, Dante. I was thinking …” “Not again.” The man grumbled, wondering why she was taking her time. But Patty had learned to ignore Dante’s sudden irritations long ago, knowing they were always brief and harmless. “You didn’t stay friends, right?” Dante arched an eyebrow and stared at the girl in front of him as she was sitting still, big blue eyes fixed upon his face, patiently waiting for the answer to her unexpected question. “What are you talking about?” A sigh escaped his mouth. He knew what she was talking about. He just wanted to elude the answer. But the little blonde was not one to easily give up. “With the little girl. The one who made you first strawberry sundae. You didn’t stay friends. Why?” “What makes you think that?” Using a question to avoid an answer. Yes, could work. “Well, if you had a friend making you strawberry sundaes for free, then you would not spend an unreasonable amount of money on them. So, I’m guessing she must not be around anymore.” Patty was perceptive. Dante could give her that quality, for sure. Though right now it was more a bother than anything else. “What happened?” “She moved on with her life.” was the only thing that he felt like answering as he quietly stood up to take a beer in his fridge, certain that this was just the beginning of another long questioning. “So you never saw her again after that night in the diner?” Patty asked as she watched Dante slouch back in the couch, taking his cards back in his hand to cover whatever expression Patty was trying to spot on his face. “Yes, I did saw her again.” He finally confessed, eyes on the dog-eared Queen of Hearts he was grazing with his thumbnail. “Then tell me!” The girl begged, unable to resist the excitement growing in her body any longer. “ Why would I? Don’t you have any stupid soap opera to watch?” “ The TV’s broken… AGAIN.” She complained but he couldn’t care less. He had no money to afford buying a new one or fixing this one. Plus, there was nothing worth watching on TV so …“Come on. I’ll erase the dozen ice creams cones from your tab if you do.” Dante looked away from his cards with a sudden tiny smirk as he noticed Patty on the edge of her chair, impatiently waiting for the new part of his story to begin. “Now you speak my language, Patty.” “ You never do something for free! It’s annoying!” “Are you kidding me? I do a lot of things for free. That’s why I’m so broke and live in this hellhole.” He waved at the place with open arms before taking a gulp of his beer with a grimace. Yuck, it’s hot! And of course it was. He hadn’t paid the bills yet again. “So we have a deal, then. Now tell me.”

A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES

It was the nineties – perhaps the most awful period for anyone who had even just a small sense for fashion or music - and as the city of Red Grave was still lovingly dancing on ridiculous love ballads on Friday nights, wearing tight crop tops, colourful scrunchies and platform sneakers, Dante – now named Tony Redgrave - was trying to make his place as a young mercenary in the rough areas of the city, hanging in bars serving some drinks stronger than strawberry sundaes (though he would always order one at some point) and in clubs where women would gladly take their clothes off if asked too, mind a few bucks of course (except for Venus. Venus would always flash her breasts for free for her sweet Tony).

“Not sure I want to know that.” “ Oh yes. Forgot the story must be PG-13, sorry. Anyway …”

He was looking for jobs, something that would help him pay for a proper roof over his head and the fancy long red leather coat he had just bought (five hundred bucks but worth every single dime) and luckily for him he knew the perfect man to find him that.

His name was Enzo Ferino. A short and chubby Italian-American broker, probably the best informant in the neighbourhood, one who could smell high-paying jobs for miles around especially those Dante loved to refuse.

“Where was Morrison?” “Can I tell my story please?”

“Come on Tony! You can’t refuse that job. Not another one. Not again.” He almost threw a fist on the counter before he remembered the last time he did so. Two bullets had whizzed the top of his black curly head and he had had thanked his mama for making him so short. “Haven’t you heard the reward? Don’t you see all the zeros on that check, my friend?” Yes, there were four and enough to pay the bail and few rents of the place he wished to rent to create his own agency. But Dante didn’t want that check nor did he want that job. “If he wants to recover a stupid necklace, he can call the cops for that … or a bailiff. I don’t go after silly poker players. I have better things to do.” He took a sip of his whiskey, the third of the night, not even looking at the two men sitting next to him and begging him to take that damn job with pleading eyes. “You have nothing better to do!” Enzo shouted, throwing his hands in the hair like a living Italian cliché. “Please Sir. It’s my girlfriend’s necklace. One she offered me on our anniversary. It’s very precious to her.” The man who wished to hire him declared as he started rummaging in the pocket of his designer coat. “And you bet on it?” Dante scoffed. “Damn. What a perfect boyfriend you are. But that’s still a no.”

The man pressed a piece of paper next to Dante’s drink. A photo, a polaroid, judging by the quality of the paper, carefully placed face down like a poker card, showing that that man was most probably a pro-gambler or at least was used to card games. Another reason not to help. He would probably lose the damn necklace right after recovering it. And yet, Dante took the picture in his hand. Though he didn’t really know why he did. Certainly the curiosity to know what kind of chick that prick could have in his life or maybe the will to use the picture to taunt him about his taste in women. He imagined a prude church girl, some daddy’s girl probably as rich as him, not very pretty but fancy, wearing pearl earrings and silk headscarves matching her shiny shoes. The type of girl that swaggers in the street and roll her disdainful eyes when they see men like Dante (though they might secretly wished he would rumple their sheets).

Patty cleared her throat. “What? Every girl loves some good bad boy once in a while... And how do you even know what that means?”

He couldn’t be more wrong. And he couldn’t be more surprised. He would recognize those big (colour) eyes and that sweet smile among thousands, despite the time apart, despite the years that had turned a fearful little boy into a daredevil mercenary and an adorable little girl into a magnificent young girl. He would recognize them always because they were the first that had made in smile when he thought he would never smile again. “Her name is Y/N. She’s the sweetest girl in the world. Innocent. Pure.” Dante cringed at the man’s words, finding them rather repulsive and somewhat perverted. Something in the way they were rolling off his tongue. “Come on, Tony. You can’t say no to a sweet girl.” Enzo’s sentence was met with a glare that made him shiver but when he saw his partner stand up and empty his glass of whiskey, he somewhat relaxed. “You’re pieces of shit. Both of you.” “Does that mean you take the job?” Dante didn’t bother answer.

But he took the job. Not for Enzo. Especially not for his shitty client. And even less for the cash. For her. Just for her. To finally return the favour after so many years. Because he owed her one. Because she was possibly one of the few humans he’s always respected in his ten years wandering the nighty street of Red Grave. And because she didn’t deserve an asshole like the one she dated to lose something apparently so precious to her in a silly game of cards. An easy job for someone like him but one he despised nevertheless. He hated to deal with humans. They were sometimes worse than demons and you can’t fix problems with them by using a sword.

“Don’t tell me you won the necklace back?” “ I did. Fair and square. Well … almost. I ended up using my sword. Turned out the Mafiosi who had Y/N’s necklace were a bunch of demons who had made a few bars in downtown Red Grave their lairs.”

But once Dante had Y/N’s necklace in the palm of his hand he did something only Dante could do. He refused the reward, refused all the zeros on the check and the chance to finally buy that agency he wanted so badly. “The things you do for beautiful women.” Gunsmith Nell Goldstein had said when she had given him back his guns, all polished and fixed, after he had wrecked them on the job again. “They’re your weakness, Tony. Always leading you around by the nose … or something else.” Perhaps, but he never minded.

And as he watched Y/N approaching the door to her home out of the corner of his eye, a bunch of books under her arms, looking for her keys in her bag, Dante knew he would not regret his weakness for women or his decision to refuse the money.

She looked as sweet as he remembered, as delicate as in the picture if not more. And just as her shitty boyfriend had said, she indeed seemed rather innocent and pure. Almost fragile. Nothing like the girls he had met before, especially those he had seen undressed at Love Planet or in one of the magazines he kept in his drawers. “Goodness grac…” She almost dropped her books as she jumped, surprised and somewhat scared, and put her hand over her heart that had certainly missed quite a beat when she noticed this insanely tall stranger on her doorstep. But her sudden fear disappeared immediately when she recognized the silvery white hair covering the icy blue eyes of the man before her. “Tony?” She arched an eyebrow and he smiled with the same childish joy she had witnessed on his face years ago. And just like that, she was certain it was him. “Hello, Y/N” He offered his hand and she briefly stared at it, remembering for a small instant the time she held out her tiny hand to him the same way, the night they met. And so she grabbed it, genuinely happy to see him again and yet curious to know how he had found her and why he was back after so many years. But when she fell something cold and metallic in his hand she got her answer. “My necklace. How?” “Won it back for you.” He simply answered but that was enough for her to understand what happened. “[Boyfriend] lost it on a poker game, didn’t he?” And even though that didn’t really surprised her as she knew how much he loved gambling despite her telling him not to, it disappointed her anyway. “You shouldn’t date boys who have a streak of bad luck in gambling… Except those like me.” She looked up at Dante’s piercing blue eyes, unsettled by his flirtatious humour, thinking he accidentally let that slip but he definitely did not. Those last words, impulsive and yet somewhat well thought out, had rolled off his tongue with a scandalous smoothness and a self-confidence that had rooted her to the spot, speechless, but in a weirdly pleasant way that made her want to slap herself. “Or especially me. Depends if you like trouble.” With a smug smirk, he stared at her, deep in her eyes, almost … hungrily? She didn’t really know. All that she knew was that never a man had looked at her that way. Certainly not her boyfriend. And who knew such icy eyes could set fire to her cheeks like that? “But, judging by that place and your guy, you seem to enjoy some well-ordered life.”

Not really. Not at all. Her life was boring, plain and dull. Nothing like in the books she read. Nothing like what she had dreamed of. But exactly what her mother had wished for her. She was an adorable daughter, a top student finishing up high school, ready to leave Red Grave with her well brought up boyfriend to start a life many would envy but that she cared little about. She wanted adventure. She wanted excitement. Passion. Frivolity. Freedom. And maybe even some danger. She wanted all that and more. And as she looked at the self-assured man in front of her, she couldn’t help but believe that he had somehow managed to obtain all that. And she wanted to know how. How did that life feel? How could he live such a life? How could she have the same? And Dante noticed that small fire, that tamed lonely flame burning deep in her eyes that needed just a drop or two of gasoline to rage and shine brightly. Something he could easily provide if she let him, if that’s what she wanted.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” He nodded her goodbye and as he shifted to walk away, she opened her lips to say. “Would you like a strawberry sundae?” And she cursed herself for this, so damn loud in her head. You have a boyfriend! A voice repeated on and on, feeling the temptation in her heart and the ideas of what some people would call unfaithfulness seeping in her brain. But as she opened the door to her apartment, ready to finally kick the boredom out of her life for something else, for something more, the voice seemed to fade. Guess the Devil truly finds work for idle hands to do.

#devil may cry #dmc #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfiction #dante #dmc dante #dante x reader #a dozen ice cream cones #a tab to erase

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pepsicup · 3 years

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Chaotic Commentary: We Have Always Lived In The Castle

Welcome to my thought process when I watch movies!

The arrival of a cousin with ulterior motives threatens the claustrophobic and isolated world of two sisters and their uncle. (Oooof, bitch. I already know Sebastian is gonna look damn fine in this movie.)

Watched: April 22nd, 2021

Opening

Alrighty, right off the bat, the opening music giving me very much throwing it back at summer solstice 1531. Might fuck around and show some ankle, who knows

Um miss girl, first off all, i know damn well you aren't wearing a stark white shirt and capris shorts after labour day. And secondly, you gotta work on your self care babygirl, you are looking rough

Okay, so noted; there is clearly something off about this girl because i know when i personally rummage through family keepsakes, i don't have a hannibal look on my face

I don't know if you guys know this but your house...it needs a little 5 minute crafts, diy, extreme makeover: home edition treatment

Ohhhh baddie alert, baddie alert, baddie alert. That chick’s silhouette already got me acting up. Yes sink low to the ground girl, drop it down for me

Short monologue before being cut in half by that creepy ass stare, gotcha. I literally needed more nightmare fuel, thanks bestie

‘A change is coming, and nobody knows it’ how much more change can you get, your house is literally in shambles girl one battle at a time

First Act

Ah, here we are, title screen. Very cottagecore.

Timeskip: What did happen last tuesday, I must know...the suspense is suffocating

I’m not one to judge, but that record doesn’t sound like a life-coaching audio.

Oh heyyy there's a kitty!

Yes hun, that is a working tap, your telekinesis is redundant. Eleven from stranger things eat your heart out.

Alexandra! Babyyy Daddario! Step on my face or domesticate me into a housewife, i beg of you. The uncle tho, he isn't it.

Chill out Mary, you’re just running errands. Why is she walking in a slow-mo naruto run like that. She is giving me a schizophrenic Napoleon Dynamite vibes.

Wait...is her name Meerkat?

Oh, its Merricat...nah i like mine better lmaooo.

Her inner monologue is making cackle because it sounds like a Gabbie Hanna original piece 💀

Okay what i got from the coffee shop scene was Stella is also a grade A baddie, I want to commit double homicide on those two douches, and i want to invite miss meerkat to my lunch table because awwww. She's just different leave her alone.

Wow, the village folk really know how to talk shit huh? Well, I can eat rats like all of them for every meal of the day, plus snackie snacks. Go fuck yourselves, thoroughly.

God that family needs to smoke some weed or something. Why do I feel like the sisters are about to kiss...and the uncle sounds like he means risky business. Very bad vibes here, back to you in the studio.

Ooooh, miss daddy really knows how to roll her tongue huh? Again, very much cottagecore ‘history says they were just really good friends’ aesthetic. And so many bops in this movie, kinda feel the need to throw it back or do the renegade.

Why do I feel like this next scene is just a posh episode of gossip gorl. Sipping tea and spewing nonsense. Rum cake? No thanks, babygirl. Oh but here comes uncle wanky, whisking away Lucille with his talk of arsenic.

Yes. Speak 8 course meal to me daddy...fuck, now I’m hungry. Okay the uncle isn’t so bad I guess, very poetic and philosophical. Yes, very nice. Sucks that he was roofied and turned to a professor X cosplay for solace, though.

Timeskip: Last Thursday huh? We are in for a rollercoaster folks.

*she glares in rhubarb pie and possibly shelved jam*

OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING, I SAW THE SIDE/BACK OF HIS HEAD AND MY HEART STOPPED. He has a very nice shaped head, yes, pleasing to the eye.

Hi sirrrr, I have a pocket full of horses, trojan and some of them used. Pls let me ride you in the little red corvette. Pick me, Charles, choose me, love me.

Real talk, I feel so bad for Mary Katherine (I literally almost typed Gallagher at the end lmaooo thanks molly shannon) she is obviously struggling with something and Constance looks like she is very traumatized.

But I still think there’s something not right about Mary. Miss girl no one walks like that (thats a lie, it would probably be me after a night with Bucky barnes) and I love me a little witchy goodness. But not enough to start locking up my bedroom like it’s Area 51 and having secret rituals at my super exclusive, diy bohemian temple in the middle of the woods.

OH MY FUCKING GOD PLEASE SPARE ME FROM THE FEELING I JUST FELT IN THIS ROOM ON THIS VERY DAY IN APRIL, MAMA FUCKING MIA

when he stood up—bitch I’m gone, I’m his whore now. Sorry, I am owned by this man. Bye I was literally launched off earth for a moment there, kinda chillin’ in dead space, standby.

Okay I took a break for a moment. I’m cool, I’m collected, play button is a go. NOPE, GIRL MY MOUTH IS FOREVER OPEN, AND I DUNNO IF I WAS MY BODY TELLING ME TO KNEEL IN FRONT OF HIM OR WHAT—SOMEONE HOLD ME

Current state: I am hugging my knees and wasting away under my blankets. I paused and played and paused and played because I cant go more than 2 seconds of looking at him.

Okay, I’m all good.

All I keep saying is no...no ...NO, louder and louder every time he opens his mouth, ‘got a hug for your cousin?’ um not a cousin but yes, right bitch for that job present for attendance. Here ✋🏻

Girl I’d run like the wind, too, this kitty isn’t gonna dry itself, nyuuuooom, double time! Fall in, Rogers. Gotta keep up. 🏃🏻‍♀️

Timeskip: Last Friday night, yeah we dance on table tops and we took too many shots, I think I gave Charles a blo-oh-job, whoops—

Ah, see I knew there was something fruity about Charles, hopefully he kisses a boy in this. Would love to see that.

Uh oh, the way he just pops that fruit into his mouth...I fine, I’m totally fine. Mentally I am... the way he chews if making my oral fixation quake

‘now that’s a handsome cat’ sir if you don’t—he wonders why he is such a fucking meme, this is why Sebastian.

‘Jonassss’ which one of the brothers, tho?

Ah yes, the best of friends; Meerkat, Frankie Jonas and a middle-aged Carter Baizen. Ugh mega sad that this is the closest I will get to see Charles pet a puthycat though.

Why don’t you slap my ass like a flapjack pancake, Charles. You won’t.

OMG so quirky 🤪when you steal his shirts 🥺🤪🥰

Who the is venice, Charles? Who, who, what are you, a fucking owl? WHO’S VENICE AND WHY IS SHE YOUR FAVOURITE?! sorry i had to get that out of my system, iconic cinema shall not be overlooked.

all this commentary is fresh from my chicken breast brain by the way

All i heard out of that little inspirational, facebook-esque speech at the dinner table was was shoes. Also peep Frédéric Chopin banging in the background noise, a little Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 to keep party goin’

Charles...that is your cousin.

It isn't a PHASE, Charles. Let him be emo over his dead brother and great tragedy of losing his legs then gaining the likeness of sir patrick stewart. Therefore, he will not forget.

Oh...i’ll sit down i guess.

I COULD LITERALLY—...I could literally watch him eat for the rest of my life pls sir have murthy

Grocery boy...hmmm reminds me of a yee ole jingle i heard in my youth. What can i say, I’m a connoisseur of the classics my friends.

Sidenote: I’m getting vietnam flashbacks to singing ‘carol of the bells’ at the elementary christmas concert. I am overstimulated. And not in a good way.

Charles...do not add that newspaper clipping of your cousin to your personal spank bank, pls.

Timeskip: Last weekend, alright. What did we do; brewski’s with the boys? Hockey night in canada? one legged race? I’m dying to know...

Very nice form charles, you’ve almost dug right through the wood. A real mans-man here if we are being honest. I’ve never in whole life seen a construction crew do better than Charles Blackwood.

I could watch him do this all day.

Pearl necklace huh? Me too, girl.

‘I’m beginning to think, that my spells no longer work’ 8-year-old me, sitting in a bath full of salt and a charm bracelet of rock candy dissolving in the water after my fifth attempt to transform into a mermaid

Aw, but i would sit out there and eat a sandwich with Meerkat. Hell yeah, we can go halfsies on a BLT no problem 😢

oh...

oh no...Charles.

Here is my first sexual grievance, the way he carried that sack over his shoulder, mmm yes i have been fed most wonderful nutrients. BUT NEXT?! THE TWO FINGERS LINE AND THE FUCKING MOTION HE DID AND SAYING SHE WASN’T GOING DEEP ENOUGH PLS

what is with this man and gold...alright debutante Lance Tucker simmer down.

And the ‘hot’ thing, ‘needing a bath’? miss daddy is working it in for her cousin real hard, sweet home alabama all summer long

HEY LET'S ALL GO SWIMMING IN MY POOOL, AND BY POOL I MEAN BATHTUB, AND BY SWIMMING I MEAN SEXXXX--

Oh, so there’s this ominous whistling, nice, a blade kink, cool, and Charles serving body audi audi audi audi all the damn day. Hi sirrrrr. God i just love his chest, man. Its just so buff. He looks this good for what? And in front of his cousin...ew? um child, anyways so

the way my stomach clenched in the most uncomfortable way just shows that my body doesn't care about my comfort when it comes to thirsting and simping. He didnt have to look at her like that or fucking back her out

oh to be a chair...

esteemed audience member sac is a little tired of hearing cousin charles and cousin mary call each other cousin charles and cousin mary

Charles, eat your fruit and shut the fuck up. But also, hi sirrr.

I see you, Constance, I see you...tig ol’ bitties 👀

Timeskip: It’s Monday without the benefit of a sebastian stan, full frontal nude scene...smh

baby, just give up on the step and go fondle some plants please, i’m begging, stop at once. or, i spoke too soon?

If i have to hear sebastian say constance one more time i am going suck down all the arsenic i can find...he just says it so weird lmaoooo i hate it

Climax (make it happen, Charles 🙄)

Aw i love fruity, coffee shop, car men AU’s

that shot of him looking over his shoulder single handedly sent to into a spiral...what the fuck are you doing to me, Charles.

uh oh...one of the car men is madddd

OH OKAY WELL, WELL, FUCK ME, WELL

why dont you just come up behind her and literally growl in her ear what the fuck, Charles. I swear sebastian plays his characters just to make women go feral sometimes.

Sir! Sir! This IS A WENDY’S, SIR, THAT’S YOUR COUSIN--

NOT THE MILK CARTON

PLEASE I’M LITERALLY KILLING MYSELF LAUGHING, WHY IS HE DRINKING IT LIKE THATTTTT

that little ‘aahh’ at the end when he drank it all got me, oh my fucking jesus. Hold on i need a minute, my stomach hurts from laughing my guts out.

Oooof but the eye-contact and the expressions are computing mega well to my chicken breast brain so fanfics will be written and sin will be committed so help me lord jesus on the cross almighty, amen (sorry i’m ex-catholic, its just my go-to)

pfffft that is so iconic, Mary is literally gathering sticks in the pitch black woods while Charles basically puts down his own wood for her sister to pick up on fjgrebgnuierijiojfd, i’m dying

why does he have to pull that poetic, sensitive stud act...just give us the goods charles, slap someone i’m begging you

This is like star wars all over again, they served head-on into on-coming incest traffic

*holds up finger guns* sir, ma’am i’m gonna need you to put your hands behind your heads and get down on your knees exactly 8.92 feet apart, this is a citizen’s arrest

but, i too would like to slow dance and make plans with him. Maybe we’ll go deep in the garden with two fingers on top of the rhubarb, maybe we will commit arson, who knows...

Meerkat continues to be my every mood, she really said:

Timeskip: Oh shit, its tuesday ya’ll, grab your party hats it’s about to get funky

Charles, if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop yelling out her name i will suffocate you between my thighs, electrocute your arm until it falls limp and shoot you with a grenade launcher, don’t make me do it

And yes, am i currently squirming in my seat because of the way he is smoking the pipe and hollowing his cheeks, what about it?

Second Act

Yes baby girl! you trash that room like ozzy osbourne and tommy lee did to that motel on tour in 1982. Go, Meerkat, go!

Charles holding those sticks in both hands is the equivalent to a 1-year-old holding those little cocktail weenies, it has the same energy and i’m dying over it

Try to tell me it's not the same picture:

You can't.

Oh shit, its getting heated now. Mary’s in trouble.

Everything isn’t making sense at the same time its all coming together, i am confused, frightened, a little bit horny, but mostly just entirly overwhelmed. Mom...can you come pick me up, i’m scared.

Oh my god! knew it! i knew i knew the actor that plays the uncle, he's the creepy thin man from charlie's angels! Wowza, what a world.

Oh no...i’m flashing back to vietnam again, the fucking bells dude i’m tellin’ ya. There is so much going on, i feel everything but nothing at the same time, help...

NOOOO HER ARTSY BOHEMIAN WITCH COTTAGECORE JARS! THE OUTRAGE! SHE CANT CAST SPELLS ANYMORE, HER POWERS ARE LOST!

a CURSH! NOT A CURSH!

What in the criss angel mindfreak is going on in here on this day? Who are they? And why is the broad such a bitch...oh is she the mom? My bad. Pops seems nice though. Yes, indeed.

Awh, hiii frankie jonasss. 🥰

Oh here we go with the eating again. If i have to see him flex his jaw one more time i’m gonna go feral. And on the usual, loud and obnoxious noises like the ones he is making when he takes a bite, or chew or swallow food/a drink like the who fucking milk debacle. But he just makes it okay? Maybe its just my eating disorder bias coming into play but how can someone be sexy while eating, or smug? Like huh???

‘Why dont you like me?’ WHY DO YOU CARE CHARLES, GODDAMN IT

Is he playing the sad boi card reallyyy? You want someone to say thank you? Put yourself to good use then. I can think of a lot of ways you can use that mouth better than going on these strange mini-monolgues like some tortured writer with a kink for control...and breatheee

And she’s back with the Eleven telekinesis, sweet kat that is a meer you have running water! Pfft she is actually dressed like eleven too, like what. Oh wait did i just uncover the plot?

Breaking News: Eleven holds a whole town hostage.

Jesus with Charles eating, Mary getting the sudden urge commit arson, miss daddy looking so fucking fine that i would literally throw myself in front of a bus just to get her attention, and uncle X with his weird theatre act: my blood pressure must be through the roof

Wow hes got a temper, but poor connie, shes a hot mess lmaooo

Oh god...oh god okay this is happening, oh wow, you didn't even get through dinner first charles jesus. Listen, i never give choking up on the first date but if i had the chance...i don't want any sausages other than his, i said what i said

and it keeps going?? ummmmmm i ummmmmm, i don’t have words. I was not warned of this savagery and i don’t know if i’m going to be able to write for anyone other than Charles for a whillllleeee, hun, apologies

Good to know he also uses his super soldier senses in another universe to sense a fire deep in his loins like the dramatic king he is

Now he is driving away and laying on the horn, nice

Oh ho ho, yessssss my coffee shop baddie, my black coffee queeeeeennn Stelllaaaaa. She said, Superhero mode real quick.

ummmm uncle x with the sick mustache...thats certain death? I mean if you are into that sort of thing, have at it.

Okay still driving, people are crying over the bed burning into dust, the heavily disable man is still smoking the good stuff...got it.

Big red truck go Honk, Honk.

Oh here come all the old, white men. Lovely.

‘oh-hooo yeah, thats a fireeeee’ as far as old white men go, that was pretty fucking funny to me

Yeah its gonna be in the arms of the angels real soon if you girls dont get the fuck out????

‘We’re firemen’ and i’m a homo, you want a gingerbread cookie or something? put out the damn fire PLEASE 💀

Ummm you’re too late, i was already wet before you got that camera spray shot, dawg, oh but that poor camera guy lol

AND WEI’RE GOONA LETIT BÜRN BÜRN BÜRN BÜRN, everybody its a singalong

hi, yeah...fuck off, jim

NO YOU DUMB ASSHOLES YOU KNOCKED OVER STELLA MY COFFEE MAMA

charles, you greedy bastard i dont know if should be ashamed when i say that i would still let him top me quite violently even still

Wow this rave got out of hand really fast, i blame marilyn manson

another day, another professor X 😪🔫💀☠️🔥🔪 𝚛𝚒𝚙, 𝕗𝕝𝕪 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡

i swear to go if anything happens to either my coffee mama or baby miss daddy i will reign hellfire.

Oh so it takes a gunshot for Charles to do a 360 running man but not a jay gatsby meets canadian, hockey riot, emo rave. Gotcha. Hes a man with a code.

That’s what you get for hoeing after your cousin, constance. This is all your fault!

Ending

Timeskip: Ooohhh, yesturrrrdayyyy all my troubles seems so far away--

hunny that ain’t the moon, thats your super secret boho alter

Noooo the kitchennnn, that was my favourite room, other than the bathroom for obvious reasons, I hope the milk cartons are okay...👀

I guess meerkat isn't getting her num-nums, and charles is just going to have to live with charred fruit if he decides to come back

FRANKIE JONAS! THANK GOD!

Oohhere'ss the tea, it's about damn time! I called it! I knew ms variant mongoose was the one who did the fucky things! But i was shocked to find out that Mary was the favourite child over connie, hmm very much bad parenting

ooooh, knock knock, is it charlie-boy? oh, thats disappointing, its just that gossip chick and her husband, boooooo

Never again...never. We get it baby daddy.

oh? another knock? HAHAHAHAHA ITS THE FIRE GUY LMAOOO, what a king. He reminds me of stan lee!

What aare these people doing, they aren't goddess you give offerings to so that your crops will be plentiful, fuck off man. ANOTHER KNOCK..

and i opp-- herreeeees charlie!

‘friends’ sir you were halfway in her pantaloons, stop trying to act all innocent, the fuck. Wow hes really going for it huh?

did he just rip the chain off? Oh charles relax, its door, you don't need to moan like that.

Uhm, i love connie, so fuck you charles you twisted, manipulative burnt cornstalk of a human being. Oh yeah throw a hissy fit, that's real attractive, keep going, she’ll totally say yes.

Oh wait NO DON'T DO THAT, NO THAT'S A DOOR. And another door? NO GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BABY DADDY ALEXANDRA, SHES MINE.

YOU LITTLE BITCH BOY, GET OFF! WTF!

*standing ovation* give it up for meer-to-the-kat, bravo kid! OH NO HES DEAd, YOU CAN STOP NOW

hahahaha guess whos deep in the garden now, Charles.

Ooh and we are back to start, nice. Children, she's a seasoned murder, might wanna chill on the whole bit you got going on.

Good, smile andddd scene!

Final Thoughts

Okie Dokie, I actually liked this movie a lot.

The acting was absolutely phenomenal, especially on Alexandra’s Daddario and Taissa Farmiga’s part, the characters were so well played. They focused in on so different points of view in this story that it captured the chaos that they were living individually and as a group under one roof. It constantly kept you on edge with the strange nuances in their dialogue, unnerving pauses and the progression of the condition of each character.

It was great. The aesthetic was there, the small but necessary breaks with dark humour really kept the story flowing and most of all, the fervour. It was everywhere, in their emotions or outbursts like Charles at the dinner table and on the stairs, or the way the townspeople kept adding fuel to their own personal hell. And I must admit, it's hard to make characters like Jim the firefighter relevant, but every person that this story involves has a distinct purpose and significance to the plot.

The only negative thing I could think of was I just wish there was more, I wanted it to be longer so that the small gaps in the movie could have been powerful. Okay, what else. Yes, Charles Blackwood, despite all of...that, will make a great character for me to touch on and has a lot of interesting qualities that I will be sure to tap into. Oh! And the only reason why no one else is getting the stan award was that my coffee mama was the only character who wasn't off the rails or just a terrible waste of human life! We stan!

Hoped you enjoyed this and my questionable thought process, I’m gonna go now...bye lol

Overall Score: 8.5/10

🏆 Honorary Stan Award: Stella Ella Ola, Clap Clap Clap. Periodt.

#we have always lived in the castle #castle daddy #sac reviews

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