#“is THE Human Rights Watch a good source? 🥰🥰🥰”

[succulent-pott]

Never forget how I literally cooked, chewed, and SWALLOWED the guy presenting the greek-centric side of the civil war so badly (just by mentioning the dictatorship and ethnosupremacist ideologies that persist) that they LEFT THE CLASS. I got full marks for the whole project.

[alicenpai]

recent manga diary

- okay starting to read love bullet now.. the art honestly looks incredible im totally digging the art style 👁👁

- speaking of yuri im also reading erio and the electric doll. this is the new manga ive read the most of recently. it's a bit like kino's journey, mixed with yokohama kaidashi kikou, and pluto (naoki urasawa, and by extension, astro boy too). it tells of a post-war world in which androids destroyed a large chunk of humanity. because of that, people have taken to regressing to a pre-electricity world - into the world of steam. two girls walk away from their idyllic, albeit isolated life by the coast, in search of finding other humans and travel the world together. it has some really interesting world building and discusses some morally grey topics regarding humanity, war, and artificial intelligence.

- you might know the artist as the one who did a lot of work for final fantasy 14. the art is beautiful, with delicate linework, and a prominent steampunk aesthetic.

- going back to the yuri part - the main cast consists of a young teen and an android. the human girl has the power to create electricity, and so she charges her android by kissing her. they can charge via touching hands, but no they have to kiss. very cute.. i hyped it up but LMAO i don't know if i can recommend it for romance per se, as it's more platonic right now, but it's still a very charming read!

- i think this series would look so gorgeous if it came to life in an anime adaptation.. manifesting a steampunk anime in 2k25

- also started to read kageki shoujo, it's really fun so far!! those are my only thoughts on it for now. i haven't read a shoujo in so long i think.. might have to watch the anime adaptation as well, as i heard the animation is quite good.

- i also wanted to get into requiem of the rose king for the longest time, the brooding, gothic aesthetic totally looks up my alley, and the medieval politics looks interesting too. the pacing is a bit choppy, but idk if that's due to the poor fan translation, will have to source it from the library if i can..

- still catching up to medalist and shadows house, haven't read witch hat atelier in a while.

- caught up to skip and loafer 🥰 i wrote about it in some older diary entries, but it's literally so good. i really need to draw some skip loaf sometime..

- almost done the extra stories from emma.. and that's all folks!!

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | survive

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 4.7k

warnings: 18+! not for minors! please please please read the warnings and skip this one if you're uncomfortable with the subject matter.

episode eight reimagining with the same hard-hitting themes: blood, violence, cannibalism, sexual assault, killing, abduction, vomit. reader takes the place of ellie. angst. hurt/comfort. no happy ending as requested because i wasn't sure that could exist in these circumstances, but there is now a part two where joel takes care of reader and the fic ends on a lighter note.

prompt: Hi! Would love to request something for Joel Miller 🥰 Angst but with a happy ending, after seeing episode 8 I thought maybe reader is with Joel and Ellie, but this time Ellie stays back to keep an eye on Joel so reader gets kidnapped and is the one Joel basically comes back from the dead to save? hahshxdjfbf I just imagine them reuniting and UGH 🥹❤️ Feel free to ignore this if inspiration doesn’t strike!

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

You’re terrified of losing Joel. So terrified that instead of watching him shiver and sweat on an old, bloodied mattress as his infection spreads, you opt to go out and hunt. It isn’t solely selfish. You need food, and Ellie needs to rest. At least this way you’re doing something productive rather than waiting for a miracle. 

Still, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything but the knot in your stomach, the one that keeps asking “what if?” What if Joel doesn’t make it? How will you survive past that grief for long enough to keep Ellie safe? How will you go back to Jackson and tell Tommy that his brother is gone?

You’re lost in those thoughts when you hear the crunching of snow, and you try to shake them away, readying Joel’s shotgun as you search for the source. 

A deer. It’s so beautiful that for a second, you forget that it’s supposed to be your next meal. You’d forgotten beauty still existed in a world so broken, forgotten that nature can still be kind. 

But humans can’t. Not if you want to survive; not if you want Joel to survive. 

You take a deep breath. Adjust your posture. Shoot. 

The bullet doesn’t hit where you want it to; where you know you should have been aiming if only you weren’t so distracted. The deer darts away. Whispering a curse, you follow the trail of blood —

And find more than you bargained for. Two men wait with the dying deer at their feet. They look… clean. Comfortable. Not people struggling to find food or clothing. You raise your gun again immediately, and theirs point back at you. 

“Put your guns down,” you order, trying to sound braver than you feel. You did alright before Joel came into your life, but it’s been a while since you’ve been alone and it’s hard to summon the strength that used to come so easy. 

“You first,” the darker-haired man says, narrowing his gaze. 

The fairer man glances warily before slowly lowering his. Good. At least one of them is smart. 

“Not going to happen. On the ground. Kick it away.” You shift on your feet, gripping your gun tightly and readying your finger on the trigger. You don’t enjoy killing people, but you will if you have to. If it means getting back to Joel and Ellie. 

“James,” the unarmed man says, calm authority firm in his voice. The one in charge, then. “Do as she says.” He holds up his hands in surrender as his friend, James, finally puts his gun away. “We mean no trouble. We’d just like to talk.”

“So talk,” you bite out, making no move to lower your own gun. 

“Alright.” His breath is visible in the cool air, nose pink and runny. “My name is David. This is James. We’re from a town just south of here.”

“Good for you. Maybe you should go back now.”

An amused smirk twitches at his mouth. “Thing is, we have a lot of mouths to feed down there, and this deer… it would keep us going for a week. Maybe two.”

“Shame it isn’t yours,” you say.

A short sigh escapes him. “Right. It is a shame. But if I could offer you warm shelter and good food, a welcoming community, why couldn’t we share?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not interested in negotiating.”

“With all due respect, ma’am… as far as I can tell, you’re all alone in these woods. There’s no reason why you have to be.”

It’s clear the other man, James, isn’t in on David’s kind offer. His mouth is pursed in a thin line, jaw grinding as though he’s holding back from saying something. Welcoming community, my ass. 

Still, an idea strikes. You need something else more than you need the deer, and if this town has supplies… “You have medicine in this town of yours?”

David hesitates before dipping his head. “We do.”

“Antibiotics?”

“Yes…”

Hope swells in you for the first time since Joel was injured. 

“If you put the gun down, we’d be much more open to discussing what it is you need,” he continues. “Please?”

Gulping, you slowly lower your gun — but you keep it in your hand just in case, stomach still filled with unease. Not every settlement will be like Jackson, and there’s something… off about these two. 

“If you get me that medicine, you can have the deer.”

“We can do you one better. We have a nurse down in the village who can help you with your injury. If you just come with us…”

“No,” you say. “You’ll bring the medicine here, to me.”

Another strange smile. “You’ll be much more likely to survive the winter if you let us help you.”

Impatient, you raise your gun again. “Bring it or stop wasting my damn time.”

David lifts his hands again. “Okay. Alright. James, go and fetch what the lady needs.” 

“David—” James begins to protest, but is quickly cut off. 

“Go on now.” 

Reluctantly, he does, and then it’s just the two of you. 

“I know a place you can get warm,” he offers. “It’s just through the trees. An old greenhouse. No need to wait out here in the cold.”

It makes your gut twist, how he seems to be determined to get you moving, to take you out of these woods. And there’s a glint in his eye, something untrustworthy there — even his right-hand man seemed to see it. Nobody follows orders like that with pure reasons. He’s… scared, or at least threatened. 

“I’m fine just here.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“I’m the one holding a gun, which means I’ll be the one asking questions. How many people are there in this town of yours?”

“Forty. Like I said, there’s room for one more. Perhaps it was God’s will, us meeting today.”

Oh, good, you think. He’s a God botherer. You didn’t particularly subscribe to religion before the world turned to shit, and you sure as hell have better things to do than pray now. 

“Unless you’re not alone.” His voice seems to lower as though he knows something, and you stiffen instinctively. “Is the injury yours?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He no longer seems to be staring down the barrel of your gun, but right into you. “Because a few of our men had some trouble a few days ago. A man, a woman, and a young girl. Man was thought to be badly injured, you see. If he lived… well, I’d imagine that kinda wound would be susceptible to a nasty infection.”

He knows. He always knew. The raiders you crossed paths with, the ones who hurt Joel… 

You no longer feel like the one holding the gun. You feel like the deer bleeding on the snow between you. Prey. Still, you set your chin. “I don’t know what you mean. I travel alone.”

“See, I believe you, but the thing is… my friend, James… he’s not so certain. I’d imagine that once he comes back with that medicine, he’ll be rounding up a few men to go hunting for these people. If what you’re saying is true, I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the middle of that. That’s why it’s much safer you just come with me now, see?” 

Your upper lip curls into a warning snarl, finger twitching on the gun’s trigger. But if you kill him, you won’t get Joel’s medicine. You’ll lose him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

“Hmm.” He debates this. “There’s a third option.”

“Not interested.”

“I think you are,” he pushes. “I think you’re one of them, and I think you’re trying to help your man. Very noble, but strange. You don’t seem a good match. You’re so… young, so calm, and from what I hear, he’s dangerous. Ruthless, even. A cold-blooded killer. Maybe if you come into town with me now, we can arrange for that medicine to be delivered without my brigade charging in and doing some damage. There’s a place for you. Your daughter, too. You don’t need to be tied to him anymore.”

You want to scoff, or else laugh in his face. Does he believe you’re that simple, that stupid? Does he believe you’re a fucking damsel in need of saving?

Anger simmers in you at the thought. “I think it’s about time you shut up.” You point the barrel at his head now, right between his brows.

He doesn’t balk, doesn’t tremble, doesn’t so much as blink, and you’re beginning to understand. He’s the type of man who uses religion to veil whatever monster lies beneath. He isn’t some small-town do-gooder, though he might believe it. 

You dread to think what he might be capable of. 

“I think it’s about time you drop your weapon.” The voice doesn’t belong to David. It comes from behind along with the feeling of cold metal against the back of your skull. You risk a glance over your shoulder to see the man from before, James. You should have heard him creep up, should have seen, but you were so focused on the one in front of you.

Your heart thunders as you realise you might not get out of it this time. 

“We only want you to come with us,” David says, eyes round with feigned innocence. “That’s all. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“The gun to my head says otherwise. What would God say about this?” you retort, dripping venom because it’s all you have left. 

A strange sadness crosses David’s face. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before you can pull the trigger, something heavy slams into your skull, and then darkness swallows you whole. 

***

You wake in a cage, the taste of blood on your tongue and your wrists bound by rope. David is on the other side of the bars in what looks to be a kitchen, utensils hanging on the wall. Great butchers’ knives and cleavers wink at you in the watery daylight. You go cold with fear, crawling to the furthest corner of the cage. 

“Let me go,” you say. “Let me go!” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own good,” he says. “You were corrupted, but I can help you see the light again.”

“Why are you doing this?” You’re choking on a sob, thoughts of Joel and Ellie running through your mind. What if they found them? Joel is in and out of consciousness and Ellie can’t fight on her own. 

David curls his fingers around the bars. “It’s God’s will. I was meant to meet you today. This is where you’re supposed to be.”

“In a fucking cage?” you spit, voice echoing around the kitchen. You pull at the rope until your skin splits, crying out when you realise this is it. There’s no way out. You’re trapped, and you have no idea what this man truly wants with you. 

“This is merely a precaution,” he says. “I was wrong about you before. You are dangerous too. You have a dark heart, just like me. If you would just surrender, you could be part of this community.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, clamping down on a plea. You doubt it will do any good. Still, tears roll down your cheeks. “Fuck you,” you whisper. 

“You don’t understand yet. You will.” David takes a step back, and somehow the prospect of him leaving you here causes your stomach to turn to water. 

“Don’t do this,” you say. But he walks away with a glint in his eye that promises he will be back, and you’re left alone. 

Dizziness rattles through you as you pull yourself onto your feet, testing the sturdiness of the bars in hopes you’ll find a weak spot. But it’s padlocked closed and the screws are in tightly —

Something catches your eye, pale and fleshy on the kitchen tiles. 

An ear. 

In the kitchen. 

You vomit without warning as it all comes together. You wonder if the community even knows that their leader feeds them people. Wonder who was last in this cage and how long it took for them to become a meal. 

You scramble against the ropes again and pray — not to whatever fucked up God David worships, but someone — that you find a way out. 

***

“Joel!” Ellie shakes him frantically and finally he comes to. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his face drawn and pale, but he finally ate something earlier and she’s been keeping him hydrated as he drifts in and out of sleep.

Now, he frowns and hums in question.

“Y/N isn’t back. She didn’t come back, and now people are here.”

The sound of shuffling outside is only growing louder, and she keeps her voice to a whisper as fear grips her. It’s not like you to go more than two hours without checking in, even if you haven’t caught anything for dinner yet. That four hours have passed means something is wrong, and Ellie doesn’t know what to do, how to find you. She needs Joel. She needs you. 

“What?” Joel struggles to sit up, the mattress groaning under his weight as he clutches his injured stomach. But he’s alert, awake, and that’s better than he’s been in days. 

“She isn’t back,” Ellie says again, voice trembling now. “Someone’s here, Joel. They know about us.” 

Understanding clears through the fog in his eyes slowly, and he looks up as he hears the floorboards creak above. “Shit,” he curses, dragging himself slowly to his knees. Ellie watches, pulling out her own gun. “Hide somewhere. Let me deal with it.”

He’s in no fit state to deal with anything, but when Ellie protests, he shushes her and orders her to do as he says, so she does. And as he readies himself for a fight he can’t win, panic rushes through him. You’re not back. Somebody is here. 

He’s failed again, or at least is about to, and this time it’s you he’s afraid to lose. 

He summons that anger when the silhouette slowly stalks down the stairs. Summons it a lot more when he’s throwing an arm around the idiot’s neck to squeeze the life out of him. 

***

Joel has forgotten his injury. He’s forgotten anything but you; the thought of you alone, in danger, afraid. His fingers curl into fists at his side, and when the attacker finally rouses, he orders Ellie to leave the room. He doesn’t want her to see what comes next; who he becomes when he’s trying to protect the people he loves. 

Nausea twists through him, but it mingles with anticipation. Some sick excitement. He’s good at being violent. Better at being vengeful. 

“Where is she?” he asks, voice just steady enough to be assertive. 

The attacker mumbles something, and Joel’s patience quickly dwindles. 

“Who are you?” he asks, louder now. 

The attacker shakes his head. Doesn’t want to play. 

Joel brandishes his knife. 

The attacker’s eyes widen in fear as he presses the point into his finger, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach. “You want to do this the hard way?”

“I'm not telling you anything.”

Joel tilts his head and clenches his jaw. Then in one swift motion, he’s gripping the arms of the chair the attacker is tied to, quivering with anger as he towers over him. “Last chance.”

The attacker purses his lips, and Joel steps back, watching him sink in relief — relishing in that false sense of security. Then he throws the first punch, the impact of fist to jaw singing through his bones. He shakes out his hand, punches again. Blood splatters, but he goes again twice more just for good measure, growing weaker with every blow. He stops when he realises that, knowing he needs to conserve his energy to get to you. 

“Where the fuck is she?” he bellows.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” 

He plunges the knife into the attackers knee, the sound of bone crunching and flesh squelching as blood dribbles down his jeans and the attacker cries out. That’s when he begins to beg. That’s when Joel knows he’ll tell him anything. 

“Alright!” he’s whimpering. “Alright, please!” 

“Tell me where she is or I swear to god, I’ll pop you’re fucking kneecap off.” Joel drives the blade deeper, thirsty now. Desperate. He can’t do this without you. He needs you safe. If he finds out you’re hurt…

“With David!” he blubbers. “She’s with David in town!” 

“What tooooown?” (oh, you thought I wouldn’t?)

“Silver Lake!” 

“Who the fuck is David and what does he want with her?” 

“He…” the man chokes on his own sobs again, and Joel tugs on the knife, earning a piercing scream. “I don’t know what he wants, okay? He’s the leader! He… he took to her, I don’t know!” 

A chill crawls down Joel’s spine and his vision blurs as he pauses. His blood-drenched fingers tremble, and he doesn’t know how to make them stop. “What do you mean, he took to her?” 

The man spits out blood. “He likes her. Wants her to join him. I don’t know, man. I don��t know. I told you everything.” 

Joel wants to tear him apart then and there, but he pulls out his map, yanking the knife from the man’s knee to put the hilt in his mouth. The attacker howls, tears streaking down his cheeks. Joel wants to tell him he’ll do a lot fucking worse if he finds you harmed. He wants to say a lot of things, but cotton fills his mouth and he needs to find you. He needs to stop wasting time. “Point it out to me.”

“It’s not a real town. It’s just a fucking community. I don’t know.”

Joel grips the man’s collar, and his voice falls deathly low. “Point it out to me or I’ll make sure your other knee matches.”

It’s enough motivation for the attacker to pinpoint a spot. His blood stains the map, highlighting a small valley between the forest and mountains. 

Joel puts the map in his back pocket and slits the man’s throat before he can beg for his life. He’s not feeling merciful today. 

***

David comes back for you an hour later. “Have you reconsidered?” 

You only glare at him, your wrists bloody and your eyes gritty from so many shed tears. To your surprise, he unlocks the cage. Despite your better instinct, you stay seated, stay calm. You won’t get out of this if you try to run now. He has the upper hand, and you’ll let him have it, hoping his arrogance, his underestimation of you, will be his downfall. 

“You must be hungry,” he says. “Come. Let me show you what I can offer.”

Shakily, you rise from the ground. “Will you at least untie me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He leads you out of your kitchen. When he’s not looking, you lean your back to the table and snatch an abandoned knife, slipping it up your sleeve. 

The front of the building is laid out like an old, cheap restaurant and bar, candles burning and booths lining the windows. 

“I’m glad you’ve calmed down,” he says. “Now we’ll get a chance to know each other properly.”

Slowly, you begin to saw at the rope with the knife as he leads you to a booth. Two plates are set at the table, a candle lit in the middle, and you think about the ear on the floor. Wonder if the meat in the stew is not animal, not your deer. You want to throw up again, but you swallow down the bile in favour of relief: the rope has snapped. You keep your hands behind your back as you shuffle in your seat, trying to avoid looking at the meal. The smell of it makes your stomach turn. 

“What do you want from me?” you ask finally. 

David places a napkin on his lap. “I’m showing you hospitality. Hospitality you haven’t earned, might I add. Where is your gratitude?”

“Where the fuck is my medicine?”

Without warning, he stands and slaps you, and you can’t control your anger as the sting prickles along your cheekbone. You throw your plate at him, the food splattering his face and staining his shirt, and then you run. 

A mistake. He hauls you back quickly, and the two of you topple to the floor as he slams your wrist down, forcing the knife away. He pins your hands and then straddles you, and you know what comes next. You know, and you shouldn’t, and this isn’t happening. 

“You need to be taught some manners,” he croons, taking your chin in his hands. “A girl like you… you need to learn how to submit. Especially when we’re married. But don’t worry.” He leans down as you squirm, whispering into your ear, “We have time for that.”

“No!” You shout, slapping him away and doing your best to wriggle away. But he’s heavy on top of you, and he’s reaching for his belt, and there’s no way out. No hope. Nothing. “Get the fuck off me, you sick bastard!” 

He slaps you again, lash twice as hard this time, and you taste blood. 

You refuse to let it end like this. You refuse to let him destroy you. You let your body go slack as he unbuckles his belt, reaching out a hand and scrambling for the knife again. It’s under a chair not far from you — you just have to wriggle a little further. 

“It’s sad that you can’t accept that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is God’s will. You and me… we’re the same, underneath. We have the same violent heart,” David is muttering, and there, your fingertips brush the hilt. Determination renewed, you extend yourself again and this time the knife falls into your hand. 

You don’t have time to think; he’s unbuttoning his jeans, and like hell are you going to spend another moment beneath him. You drive the knife straight into his neck, and his eyes bulge as he gurgles on his own blood. As he goes limp, you push him off you — and stab again, again, again, spitting every bit of revenge into your movements as his blood covers his skin and your clothes. 

“You twisted fucker!” you’re yelling, tears rolling down your face as the shock draws in, the disgust. He’d been so close to taking you. So close to making you a victim after so long spent fighting to be a survivor. “Go to fucking hell!” 

You only stop when the fear numbs and you realise he’s no longer moving. Blood soaks both his shirt and yours, and you push yourself off him. His dead, milky eyes stare at you. When you catch a candle guttering in your periphery, you grab it. Crouch with it in your hand. Light him on fire. The flames spread along his clothes, and that’s how you leave him. 

Ashes. Bloodied, dead ashes. 

***

Joel and Ellie have fought their way through a blizzard. He’s surprised he’s still upright, but he saw bodies hanging in the stable and he can’t collapse now. Not for Ellie, and not for you. This community is built on something worse than infected or fascism, and when he found your jacket, your backpack, in that same room as the corpses… 

He can’t see anything but red and white. 

Ellie stops behind him suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” He catches his breath, looking around. There’s a long building close by, but he hasn’t seen any movement yet. 

A scream rents through the air, and he knows it’s you. His heart picks up, stomach plummeting as he runs around to find the entrance. And there you are, collapsing out of the doorway. 

He says your name as he catches your wrist, and you instantly cower away, screaming. “Please, no! Please, don’t!” 

He’s never heard you beg for anything before, and his world tilts on its axis. What the fuck have they done to you?

“Baby, it’s me!” He draws you close, cupping your jaw with his palms. Your eyes are haunted, face pale, and there’s blood. So much blood. You’re still fighting him, pushing on his chest, and he stumbles back. “It’s me. Look at me. It’s me, darlin’. It’s Joel!”

Your breaths are ragged as realisation finally dawns across your features. “Joel,” you whisper. 

“It’s me,” he says again, eyes filling with tears.

Your gaze moves to Ellie, and only then do you crumple. He catches you just before you fall to your knees, straining against his injury. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby girl,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m here now. You’re okay.”

Sobs wrack through you and he wraps his arms around you, holding on so tight he worries he might hurt you. But you clutch his shoulders just as hard, fingernails digging through his coat. You shake beneath him, and his own tears drip onto his cheeks. He pulls away quickly to look you up and down. Blood streaks through your hair.

“Where are you hurt, baby? Tell me where it hurts.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Joel. I don’t…”

It’s like you’re not even here with him, and he wants to break. But he has to stay upright for you. He has to be strong for you. He shrugs his coat off quickly and puts it around you, catching sight of your reddened wrists as you adjust the collar. Those bastards tied you up. Hatred drowns him, and he looks at the building you emerged from only to find orange flames flickering in the window. It must have been you, he knows, and he can at least feel proud of you for that, but still, the thought of what they might have done...

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He pulls you to his chest, offering his other hand out for Elllie. She takes it, looking shaky as she carries both her bag and yours. 

“They were… They were eating people, Joel,” you say, voice thick and unrecognisable. “I just wanted to get medicine, and they took me. They took me. They were eating people and he was going to… He wanted…” 

“I know,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I know.”

You stop without warning. “They said they had medicine. You… We have to go back.”

“No, no, hey.” He laces his fingers through yours. “We ain’t going back there for anything.”

“The infection—” you protest.

“Look at me. I’m here. I’m okay. I just needed to rest is all. We don’t need any medicine now. We just need to get you somewhere safe.” His heart pangs. The fact you’ve been through hell and are still willing to go back to help him… sometimes he wishes you weren’t so damn selfless. He should have been the one protecting you today. It’s his fault you’re here. His fault you’re hurt. 

You scrape your hair back and then, looking at your shaky fingers, seem to finally see all the blood. “His blood is in my hair.”

He can at least be relieved it isn’t your own, but the look on your face… he’s never seen so many scars written in one expression. 

“I need to get it out. I need…”

“We’re gonna. We’re gonna help you clean up soon, okay?” He tucks your hair away, lost, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Doesn’t know how to make it all go away. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice cracks.

Your chest heaves with a stifled sob as you rub your hands and look out towards the lake. “Oh, god.”

Joel closes his eyes, wrought with regret. At his side, Ellie turns her gaze to the floor. It’s his worst fear come true. The reason he’d tried to get Tommy on board with taking Ellie the rest of the way. 

He’d failed again. Was always failing. 

All he can do is hold you close as you fall apart.

[gregorovitch-adler]

AO3 Wrapped (Writers' Edition).

Thanks for tagging me, @lisbeth-kk and @gaylilsherlock!

1. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

That I developed a genuine hyperfixation over an OT3 (Sherlock x John x Mariana). Enough that I wrote several fics (including a smutty one) about it.

I'm not even that big of a shipper in most fandoms (I tend to be a non-shipper generally), but even when I do start shipping something, it usually just involves 2 characters at a time.

Especially with the case of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

A year ago, I never would have imagined shipping either of them with anyone else apart from each other (because I'm generally not a multi-shipper).

It changed this year because the friendship among these three in the canon of the podcast Sherlock & co is just that good.

It was a very pleasant surprise to me. :))

Expanding my usual writing style from writing about strictly monogamous relationships (and that too usually just about Johnlock) to including a third character - and thus a polyam relationship in my fic writing - was a little challenging though.

A very interesting challenge, of course. ;)

2. How many WIP's do you have in your docs for next year?

Just one case fic right now. It's definitely going to increase.

3. Your favorite character to write this year?

Gustavo Fring from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul!

I know I didn't write a lot of fics about him this year, I'm just featuring him during this December fluff (fluffcember) prompts challenge, but still.

He'll always be my favourite antagonist.

If you've watched these two shows, you'll realise he's not even a villain. All significant characters (especially Walter White) have various degrees of villainy under their belts.

Something about him being such a no-nonsense kinda guy on the surface, never saying a word beyond what's necessary in the source material (especially in Breaking Bad), but all of that just being a façade to cover up his human side (i.e., his feelings for Max, his determination to avenge Max's death, his genuine respect for his employees at Los Pollos Hermanos and everything else) is extremely interesting and delightful to me.

In Tumblr-speak, I want to place Gustavo Fring under my microscope. 🤭

And then there's John Watson, of course. He's my all time favourite. But this year, I just felt the need to write about Gustavo Fring too a bit more.

Also, Irene Adler is my wife. ☺ I loved writing Mollrene ficlets in December this year.

Here's to featuring her in my stories even more.

4. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

I can't think of anyone in particular at the moment, but I did find capturing John's voice in The Veiled Lodger (my first ever Sherlock & co fanfic) a bit challenging in the beginning. Because I was only getting started with my Sherlock & co fic writing journey, and I wanted everything to be perfect.

5. What's one pairing you want to explore next year?

Gus/Max.

I'll continue to write about Sherlock x John x Mariana (and even about just Holmes/Watson), too, obviously, but yeah.

I used to be a bit hesitant about this pairing before, even though I've always loved Gus ever since I first watched Breaking Bad (in 2020).

That's because we don't see Max in canon at all, save for that one (1) flashback scene which lasts for just 5 minutes (and Max dies brutally in that one...)

So, featuring Max in a fic at all would just mean writing an OC from scratch at this point. And making an OC feel like a fleshed out character makes me feel a little nervous sometimes.

But I broke all that hesitation this year, and I hope I continue to do that next year too!

6. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Yes! I received 3 beautiful art pieces (including the one in my header image) from my friend as gifts. It was lovely. 🥰 @jamielovesjam

7. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

I did! @nowiamcoveredinyou and I wrote this fic based on ACD canon this year. We had fun.

8. What do you listen to while writing?

Nothing much, to be honest. I prefer a quiet environment.

9. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Hard to choose, but if I have to, then here you go:

Sherlock stepped forward and took John’s hands in his own.

“Watson, I’ve said this before, and I’ll repeat it now: fear is a sickness. Fear is seemingly ordinary but insidious enough to eventually put one in the shackles of one’s own imagination. Never let it get to you. I can very well face Moriarty alone. He did ask to meet me, anyway. So, this is my battle. I’ll fight it.” Sherlock visibly swallowed. “Please, go now. The lady will never find a doctor as good as you.”

From my Sherlock & co fic Dilemma. It's a modern day re-write of that one scene from The Final Problem (where Watson cannot decide whether to help the old lady or to go with Holmes to meet Moriarty with him).

I wrote it just after the Part- 1 of The Shoscombe Old Place (Sherlock & co) had aired on Spotify and YouTube (and on other platforms).

Moriarty's name had been (not so) casually dropped for the first time in the podcast when John was going through all the shoutouts.

We still don't know where they'll go with that... 👀

Enough with my rambling.

Tags: @helloliriels , @nowiamcoveredinyou , and anyone else who sees this! (No pressure).

[onedappercat]

Why Does the Ortolan Sing?

A human AU Good Omens fanfic

(View uncensored art on AO3)

Chapter 20: So Much For Stardust

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Following his mother’s death, Azira sets out to prepare his family’s bookshop for reopening. While appreciating the shop’s new sign, he hears the beckon of a siren’s song sounding from the coffee shop over the road. He succumbs to temptation to find the source of the hypnotic voice is an auburn-haired songbird. Intrigued by the singer’s beauty and haunted by his apparent loneliness, Azira is determined to introduce himself. There’s only one problem: the musician’s menacing, jealous, and possessive partner.

CW: Domestic abuse, loss of a loved one, adultery, toxic relationship, murder, blood, organized crime

Excerpt from chapter 20:

“Space is incredible, you know?” Crowley’s smile broadened as he stared up at God’s canvas. “It’s true eternity. So vast and limitless, we’re constantly finding something new. Even when Earth is long gone, the space we used to occupy will receive the light from star systems we’ve never known, never named, and the light from Earth will do the same. We’re fleeting, but space isn’t.”

“That’s beautiful…” Azira sighed. “And slightly tragic. Nothing lasts forever, I suppose.”

“Some things do.” Crowley took a deep breath of the fresh, country air. “Humans give names and stories to the stars, and I wonder who else out there, seeing the same stars from a different angle, have done the same. Like over there,” Crowley motioned to a cluster of stars Azira couldn’t differentiate from any others. “Coma Berenices. Humans looked at those stars and saw the hair of an Egyptian queen, sacrificed to Aphrodite to ensure her husband’s return from battle. Something so human. Or the Andromeda Galaxy… one of our neighbors. Named for a beauty whose parents angered the Gods, causing her to be sacrificed to a monster. The stories we assign them won’t last for eternity, but their light always reaches somewhere, even once they’re gone. And there’s an infinite number of them to do just that.”

“When you put it like that, eternity is… a hard concept to grasp.” Azira pondered for a moment. He’d had philosophical conversations with his parents, but eternity was never a topic they touched on. “I admit, my mind usually stays grounded in the stories in books; I don’t tend to consider just how insignificant that all is.”

Crowley eyed Azira at askance, then rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and smiling. “Eternity is a mountain made of diamonds.”

“A what?” Azira grinned.

“There’s a mountain made of diamonds, a hundred miles wide and a hundred miles high, and every thousand years a bird comes and sharpens its beak on the mountain.”

“The same bird?”

Crowley waved his hand dismissively. “We’re talking diamond mountains; you want to harp on the age of the bird?”

“Right,” Azira chuckled. “Carry on.”

“So this bird sharpens its beak on the mountain, scraping away a tiny piece every time. Once that mountain has completely worn away, one second of eternity has passed.”

Azira stared up at Crowley, his face framed in the falling stars and glittering diamonds of eternity, sending their light to Earth. His lips parted, a soft gasp leaving him as he took in the eternal beauty, incomparable in his mind to the fleeting beauty that was Crowley. Crowley’s soft smile and gentle eyes were gazing at him with the kind of love actors attempt to portray in movies. It was so believable, as he watched the old black-and-whites with his mother, until he witnessed it himself.

“Make love to me under the stars,” Azira whispered. “Eternally.”

Continue from chapter 20 here.

Thank you so much to everyone at @goodomensafterdark for your help and putting up with my millions of questions! 🥰

[inthememetime]

Black: because I dont know which category this would fit in 😅

There were a lot of dinosaurs that died in the jurrassic world/park series. Do you think any of them turned into ghosts?

Idea: Danny is adopted by a ghost dinosaur (carnivorous)

🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰 ily for this. 🦖

Shit, shit, shit, Danny thought to himself, doing his best to dodge the ghostly assasins, probably sent by Walker or the Observants. The assholes had blood blossoms of all things! Despite knowing this was a bad idea, he entered the first lair he saw.

They didn't follow him- either he'd lost them (doubtful), or something way more dangerous than him was in here. Maybe he could make a truce with whoever or whatever it was?

Doubtful, knowing his luck. Still, it was bad to enter a lair without consent. Far worse to wander around without it. "Hello?"

"Baby."

Danny spun around to find the source of the voice, and looked up. And up. And up into a mouthfull of teeth, each tooth longer than his hand.

He floated back to get a better look- it wasn't flashing its' aura agressively, so it was probably safe to chat. With a dinosaur. A dinosaur! "Uh. Hi?"

"Baby." It repeated, flashing its aura urgently.

"Oh! Uh. Are you looking for your baby? I can try to help." That was the logical conclusion, but animal ghosts were hard to understand at the best of times, even mamalian ones with tons of facial expressions like dogs, cats, and primates. A T-Rex?

Yeah, he was guessing here.

It bumped him with its' nose. "Baby." It repeated once more, aura this time considerably calmer.

"Ok! So where did you see your baby last?" He asked, and the massive animal lumbered off, looking back once to ensure he was following. "If Skulker caught it, we'll have some words, yeah?"

"Baby. Here. Safe?"

He blinked as they came to a stop, and darted around the large clearing, looking for any sign of a baby T-Rex. Nothing- wait! That cave was way too small for the adult to fit in. "I'll be right back, ok?"

It yawned and laid its' massive bulk on the ground at the entrance. Danny darted inside.

No baby. No eggs, no other dinos- nothing. Crap, he was definitely going to get eaten by a ghost dino. When he slipped out, one massive eye was watching him. "Um. Sorry buddy, I can't find your baby."

It stared at him, aura showing confusion, maybe amusement? "Baby here. Baby safe here. Baby stay."

He felt his brows wrinkle up. What was- wait. That was impossible, right? "Do you think I'm your baby?"

Its aura became pinker- happiness or pleasure. Huh. "Cool! Well, uh, I guess I can stick around for a few hours? If you don't mind? After that, I have to leave, though."

"Baby stay here." It said, and yawned. Danny winced- those blood-blossom-tipped arrows really did a number on him. He crawled a few feet into the cave and let himself return to human form; a few hours and he'd be good as new, ready to fight the assassins this time.

He woke to voices. "Are you sure?" Danny heard a voice hiss.

"Yes. Phantom came to this lair, I'm certain."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The first voice called. "Hiding in an empty lair will do you no good."

He resumed his ghost form and winced. Like this, still recovering, he might have a second or two of his Ghostly Wail; his left arm l, where they shot him, wasn't responding and his right was still slow, so that meant he was entirely dependent on an ability he could barely control. Crap.

"I'm going to check out the- what was that?"

He heard it. Low, heavy rumbling- if he weren't in ghost form, he probably wouldn't have heard it at all. "Nothing, probably. What were you saying?"

"Baby."

"Wha- AAAARGH!"

A massive reptilian roar echoed into the cave, and to his shock, he realized the T-Rex was using a ghostly wail. "Not hurt baby!"

"Please, we-" the ghost was cut off with a wet crunch, and he stepped out of the cave cautiously.

"Baby! Baby safe!" The T-rex sounded happy, and-

"Danny. You do not have to make stuff up to escape my wrath or whatever," Sam said with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, dude, just say you got caught by Technus or something." Tucker offered, then wilted under Sam's raised eyebrow. "I mean- be honest?"

"But I am! I bought Mama Rex with me! Just turn around."

They exchanged looks of disbelief and turned, only to look up, and up, and up. "Mama Rex, these are my friends, Sam and Tucker!"

The T-Rex roared, and too late, he realized they couldn't read auras. "Wait! Wait, she's just saying hello! How are you running so fast?"

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Watch You Sleep | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! A few people told me that Just in Case needed a part two, and I loved the idea!

Send me your comments, suggestions, and/ or submissions! 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @glxwingrxse @psychoticmason @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

Warning: violence against reader, reader injury, blood

"I never get bored of lookin' at you, cause every time, I see something new,

like the scar on your spine, you fell off a roof when you were nine. You've lived a life before me.

I don't ever wanna leave, I'll watch you sleep, and listen to you breathe. I don't ever wanna leave, I'll watch you sleep."

The seemingly permanent scowl Bucky wore day in and day out eased as he slept. It took every ounce of your strength to stave off your tears when Bucky accepted the offer to sleep in your lap. The look of sheer relief in his eyes at the thought of rest and human contact spoke volumes, telling you everything Bucky wouldn't. Even as a free man, he played the role of a soldier flawlessly- never complaining, never putting himself before anyone else. His sense of self-worth was heartbreakingly skewed, leaving him off balance and exhausted.

It seemed impossible for you to drag your eyes away from Bucky's handsome visage. He was beautiful. Your glance roamed over his sleeping form, taking in each and every small detail of his face that you never got to admire while he was awake. A thin scar sat nestled along his jaw line, almost obscured by his stubble, and you hoped it was from some kind of silly childhood shenanigans- although, the odds pointed to a darker source. His bottom lip appeared red and raw in places, evidence of his nervous habit; it was something you'd noticed ever since joining Bucky and the rest of the group. When Bucky was anxious, his vibranium hand clinked against his dog tags-but if his hands were busy, he bit at his bottom lip. He was nervous often, making the sound of his dog tags tinkling against his metal fingers an almost constant soundtrack of your days with him.

With a light touch, you let your fingers weave into his long, soft locks. A quiet hum of approval emanated from Bucky's mouth as your nails gently scratched at his scalp and played with his hair. He looked truly peaceful- something you'd never seen before.

With your right hand, you reached out and touched his chest, tracing light circles along his sternum. The sensation made him snuggle closer to you and drop his shoulders, releasing years' worth of tension. Bucky was so dangerously touch starved that something as simple as laying his head in your lap seemed to be doing more good than you'd thought possible. The sound of his deep, steady breathing quickly worked its way into your top five favorite sounds, knowing that that sound meant Bucky was getting the rest he deserved.

As your mind wandered, you unintentionally let your hand drift toward his neck. The sensation of a hand creeping toward his throat disrupted his calm and sent his eyes flying open. There was no time to react between Bucky waking and his vibranium hand gripping your wrist without mercy. He had you off the couch and in an arm bar against the wall before you could take a breath, pressing your fresh gunshot wound into the drywall and making you yelp.

"Bucky! Hey, hey- ow, it's me! It's just me!"

The pressure on your arm disappeared immediately at the sound of your voice, and you turned to find Bucky almost all the way across the room.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't... oh shit-" He made his way quickly toward you, worry furrowing his brow once again. Blood bloomed through your shirt, leaking out of the gunshot wound you'd received just a day earlier. "Fuck, um, lay down- I'll be right back".

With a pained groan, you pulled off your shirt and laid down on the couch. Only moments before, things were fucking perfect. Tranquil. Comfortable. And now you were bleeding all over the couch.

Bucky returned after only a moment and worked quickly to remove the blood soaked bandage, pressing clean gauze to the wound to stop the flow. A sharp hiss left your lips at the pressure, only adding to the guilt he felt.

"I'm really, really sorry about this," Bucky could make anything his fault if he tried hard enough; it was almost a talent. He wrongfully shouldered the blame for so many deaths that assuming guilt was a natural tendency for him after a while.

"Buck, I'm just fine- I promise," you assured him, "And this isn't your fault. It's mine. I didn't mean to scare you... my bad." A sharp pain tore through you as you attempt a casual laugh.

Your shot at levity was unsuccessful. Bucky didn’t laugh- he couldn’t. Anxiety wracked his body as he used the same hands that had attacked you to care for your wound. His teeth found his bottom lip and gnawed at it, resuming the nervous habit you’d observed so many times before.

"I hate that I disturbed you,” you muttered “You were so peaceful."

"It's okay," he said, still laser focused on your injury, "I usually only sleep for two or three hours at a time, anyway". Sometimes you almost wanted to yell at him, to order him to take care of himself, but self care didn’t come easy to him. He’d thought of himself as a weapon -an object- for far too long.

"Well, you need more rest than that, you know.”

He nodded, perfectly aware of the daily recommended amount of sleep- just unable to get it.

The flow of blood finally slowed to a measly trickle and you saw a bit of concern leave Bucky's scowling face. He carefully bandaged you up and ran to get you a new shirt, tossing the crimson-stained one in the washing machine.

You patted lightly on the cushion next to you, hoping Bucky would take your invitation, but he couldn’t. He stayed standing on exhausted legs, his fingernails still stained with your blood.

"Buck, I wish you'd go back to sleep..."

"And I wish you would've kept that knife on you..." he eyed the long, sharp blade sitting idly by on the coffee table.

"You had to know there was no way I was ever going to use that thing against you-"

"Why?"

"I wasn't gonna attack you, Buck-"

"But I attacked you..."

You stood and took his face firmly in your hands, staring unflinchingly into his deep, blue eyes. Your intensity commanded Bucky’s attention completely, making it impossible to look away.

"Hey, listen to me. You need rest- you deserve to rest, okay? And I know how you can get sometimes if you feel threatened while you're asleep, but I really, really, care about you, Buck. I wasn't going to pull a knife on you... I couldn't hurt you".

His stunned silence drove your heart into your throat, making you almost choke on it. You weren't completely sure, but it seemed like it had been quite a while since someone had said anything like that to Bucky. He nodded, unable to manage a full sentence or even a singular word. Your hands found his and pulled him back down to the couch, but he wouldn’t let himself lay down. The tension he’d released from his shoulder came back with a vengeance, stiffening his muscles into place.

The light metallic clinking sound of Bucky’s vibranium fingers playing with his dog tags filled the silence until he spoke."You're the one who should be resting. You're hurt", he said, "Seriously, I'm okay. You should go get in bed..."

Bucky could be stubborn, but he didn't know just how stubborn you could be. Turning to him with a playful grin, you gave him an ultimatum, "Well, if you're not gonna sleep than neither am I..."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms,

“Alright, alright. I have a compromise,” you said. “I will go get in my bed and go to sleep...I f you come with me.”

"You know that isn't a good idea," he said, "look what's already happened tonight."

Your hard-headed, teasing tone fell completely to your feet as you tried to put yourself in his shoes. Of course he didn't want to share a bed with you when he'd attacked you just moments ago. Pushing him to join you in your bed would just make him anxious about hurting you, keeping him awake all night.

"Okay...f ine. You don't have to come with me- I'm not gonna push you. If it makes you less anxious, then we can sleep separately. I just want you to know that I am not worried about it. At all." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and gave his hand a squeeze before heading to bed alone.

You crawled in under the covers, wishing Bucky would join you. Laying in bed without him made you feel strangely lonely, missing him as though you hadn't seen him in months.

With your phone on the charger the lamp flicked off, you got comfortable under the covers and shut your eyes. About ten minutes passed, and you finally felt yourself drifting off- when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in.," you called, turning on the lamp by your bed.

"Hey. I didn't wake you, did I?" Bucky asked, making his way hesitantly into the room. For a six foot four super soldier with more muscle than you thought possible, he looked so small as he stood there in your doorway. The unmistakable clinking sound of his metal fingers toying with his dog tags filled the room, melting your heart.

"No, no, I wasn't asleep yet. Is everything okay?"

He took a few more cautious steps into the room with downcast eyes, biting his lip a few times before speaking. "Yeah, I was just- I changed my mind. Thought I'd come sleep in here with you, if that offer's still on the table."

"Yeah, of course it is. I was actually hoping you would."

You pulled back the covers for him and motioned for him to join you, scooting over to give him enough room. He tugged off his shirt and slid in next to you, relishing in the feeling of sleeping in an actual bed for the first time in he didn't know how long.

“Thanks…” he muttered, his eyes already closing. He inched closer to you and searched for your hand beneath the covers, intertwining his fingers with yours. Once again, you listened to his steady breathing and smiled at the sound. With Bucky resting next to you, you drifted off to sleep knowing that he was okay.

[whump-cravings]

AHHHH I just got caught up with Symbiosis and it's so good! Please, pretty please, can you bless us with a continuation of the trials of our poor teefy boi?

Anon asked: Can we get the next part to "Symbiosis". I really love it so far and I also appreciate the translation you added at the end of chapter 3. Thank you! Your writing is amazing! 

Anon asked: Can we please get a continuation to Xhaqos story? I really love your writing!

y’all spoil me too much 🥺🥰 incredibly long overdue but here it is! Translation below the cut again

Symbiosis: His Human

Masterlist

1k | Original Work: Symbiosis

Content: vampire whumpee, (voluntarily) licking the floor, asshole father, language barrier

"Frxog kdyh jrwwhq ph d grj," the son muttered as he dragged himself upright, holding his wounded hand close. “Grjv grq'w qhhg wr gulqn eorrg. Dqg wkhb'uh fxwhu." He squeezed his eyes and teeth shut, tilting his head back. "Ixfn exw wkdw kxuwv."

Xhaqo curled up as best he could, watching through teary eyes as the human crawled to his cane. He cast glances to the vampire as he did so, as if Xhaqo might spring upon him like a beast.

After regaining the cane and his feet, the human walked past the curled-up vampire. Xhaqo sniffled, looking over his shoulder as the man went to the window. The scent of his blood remained strong, but drew Xhaqo from a different source—the droplets on the floor.

Oh, he was so hungry.

With only his shoulders, knees, and one good foot to propel himself, the starving vampire turned his body and inched his way to the nearest puddle. It wasn't absorbing into the wood, which Xhaqo didn't understand but was now grateful for as he tasted human blood for the first time.

It was... unlike anything else. How had he lived with deer blood for all his life? Sometimes rabbit, squirrel, fish, or even boar—but none of it compared. Sweet and bold, whole and fulfilling, human tasted right and perfect.

And... it wasn't worth the cost.

Xhaqo found himself crying again. He pressed his forehead into the ground, thinking of Cile and mama and papa. If he could never taste this again, just to be back with his family, he would gladly trade it.

And it was all he had now.

He licked at it again, miserably trying to ease his aching belly.

"Zkdw duh brx..." the son said. "Rk iru khdyhq'v vdnh."

The man's uneven gait approached and Xhaqo turned bleary eyes upward. What now? The son looked down on him with a heavy frown.

"Slwlixo wklqj, duhq'w brx?" the human sighed, then wearily eased onto a knee before the vampire. He looked down at his dripping hand, uncurling his fingers with a grimace. Then he held it out to Xhaqo, barely a fingertip's width from his mouth.

As hard as it had been the first time to pull his focus away, it seemed impossible this second time with the blood right under his nose. But Xhaqo managed to flick his gaze to the human to confirm that permission had truly been granted, and that the scent of fear had dissipated, leaving only pain and frustration.

"Li L kdyh wr whoo shrsoh L jrw d ghixqfw ydpsluh zkr rqob olfnv eorrg rii wkh iorru, L—" the human began, stopping with a gasp as Xhaqo put his lips to his human's hand, lapping up the precious red droplets. He made sure to coat the wound entirely, numbing his human's pain.

A thumb brushed his cheek, flakes of skin falling. "Vwudqjh," the son murmured. "Lw'v dv li—"

Agony suddenly shot up his leg and he slammed back into the floor to get it out from beneath himself, yelling through gritted teeth. Bone ground against itself as his broken ankle righted itself and began mending.

Xhaqo panted with his eyes screwed tight, sweat on his brow. He'd never healed from something so quickly! Was it over? He eased himself flat against the floor, cracking an eye open.

"Zhoo!" his human breathed, and Xhaqo turned his head to see the human had fallen back onto his rear.

The door flew open, the father taking in the scene with a touch of concern about him. The man straightened, expression smoothing out. "Ah. Jrrg."

"Bhv, L'yh ehhq fdqqledolchg," Xhaqo's human said, using his cane to get off the floor. "Fdq L jhw edfn wr zkdw L zdv grlqj qrz?"

In response, the man held out the jar of blood. Xhaqo fixated on it again, his stomach just as empty as before now that his ankle had healed. He rolled over onto his knees again, using his forehead to help leverage himself back upright. His ankle still twinged, evidently not entirely mended yet.

"Wkh kxqwhuv vdlg kh'oo vwloo eh kxqjub."

Xhaqo's human pinched the bridge of his nose. "Krz riwhq grhv kh qhhg wr ihhg?"

"D slqw zhhnob." The man wiggled the jar by the cap. "Kh'v erqghg wr brx qrz, vr lw fdq eh iurp dqb dqlpdo vrxufh."

"Ilqh. Rshq lw iru ph."

With a smile, the father opened twisted off the top of the jar, releasing a scent akin to boar's blood. Xhaqo's stomach rumbled.

The son took the container, then thumped back to Xhaqo. He stopped, looking down at the vampire in annoyance, then at his father. "Frxog brx gr vrphwklqj derxw klv kdqgv?"

"L vxssrvh." The father circled behind Xhaqo.

The hair on the back of Xhaqo's neck as some kind of energy thrummed through the air before the ropes on his wrists snapped. He started, bringing his hands in front of himself, then flinched as his human shoved the jar in front of his face. Glancing up, he accepted the blood with both hands.

After tasting human blood, boar-like blood was a paltry substitute, but Xhaqo drank it all the same. It eased the remaining pangs in his ankle and stomach. He preferred to have two feedings a week, so he never felt very hungry all at once, but blood didn't keep for long outside a body; there was no sense wasting any of this.

His human started to walk away mid-feeding. Xhaqo scrambled to his feet to follow.

"Zkdw—qr," his human said as he noticed, making some brushing motion the vampire didn't understand. "Grq'w iroorz ph."

"Ydpsluhv olnh wr vwdb forvh wr wkhlu fkdujhv," the father said as he stepped past them. "Zrxogq'w eh pxfk xvh rwkhuzlvh."

Xhaqo sipped at the blood while glancing between the two of them, unsure what the fuss was this time.

The son groaned, letting out an annoyed huff. "L grq'w qhhg klp kryhulqj ryhu ph!"

"Brx'g ehwwhu jhw xvhg wr lw," the man threw over his shoulder. "Kh'v brxuv qrz."

"Could have gotten me a dog. Dogs don't need to drink blood. And they're cuter. Fuck but that hurts."

"What are you..." the son said. "Oh for fuck's sake. Pitiful thing, aren't you?" the human sighed.

"If I have to tell people I got a defunct vampire who only licks blood off the floor, I—"

"Strange," the son murmured. "It's as if—"

"Well!" his human breathed.

"Ah. Good."

"Yes, I've been cannibalized. Can I get back to what I was doing now?"

"The hunters said he'll still be hungry."

"How often does he need to feed?"

"A pint weekly. He's bonded to you now, so it can be from any animal source."

"Fine. Open it for me."

"Could you do something about his hands?"

"I suppose."

"What—no. Don't follow me."

"Vampires like to stay close to their charges. Wouldn't be much use otherwise."

"I don't need him hovering over me!"

"You'd better get used to it. He's yours now."

taglist: @emcscared-whumps @nabanna @thecyrulik @suspicious-whumping-egg @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks

[addictedtostorytelling]

What do you think Grissoms favorite thing about Sara is and vice versa? 🥰

hi, anon!

i think it's probably hard for them to pick just one favorite thing, so i’ll take a bigger swing after the “keep reading,” if you’re interested.

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grissom's favorite things about sara

grissom loves how accepting sara is of him. like he tells greg in episode 05x16 "big middle," the thing that really gets his "juices flowing" is not being judged, so that sara can know him inside and out and be aware of both his strengths and his flaws and still so unconditionally love him just means the world to him. her informed care for him makes him feel safe and like despite all of his fears and doubts about himself, he is worthwhile.

he also loves how curious sara is and how she approaches science like he does. as billy petersen has talked about, “[grissom and sara's] attraction to each other was always based on the work. [they] were always in some kind of mind meld when [they] were working. there was nobody he would rather be in the lab with or on a crime scene with than sara. she got it. she got him, and he eventually got her.” to have someone who wants to figure out his puzzles—both literal and metaphorical—at his side is the thrill of his life.

down those same lines, he also loves her intelligence. she is one of the few people he's ever met who constantly keeps him on this toes intellectually speaking, and not only is he attracted to her cleverness and genius but he is also often reverenced by it. all of her inspired, brilliant, "where did that idea even come from?" solves; the answers she comes up with when no one else can; the way she's frequently several steps ahead of everyone else; her resourcefulness; her creativity; her talent for analytical thinking—it all invigorates and enthuses him. he loves watching the way her mind works.

catherine was absolutely right in episode 07x23 “the good, the bad, & the dominatrix” when she said that he needed a woman who could challenge him, beat him at mental chess, etc.; she was just wrong about who that woman ultimately ended up being. it was sara all along.

another thing he really loves is sara's goodness. in many ways, grissom views himself as this inherently dark person with misanthropic inclinations and an unsettling likeness to many of the killers whose cases he solves, so to be loved by someone like sara—who does the right thing for its own sake; who, despite all of the horrible events that have happened in her life, still believes that justice is worth fighting for and that people are worth saving; who is so kind to others, softhearted, and forgiving; who occasionally gets hurt because she continually trusts people and believes in their better natures, even at times when it might be more prudent for her to be more closed off; who is such an unfailing source of love and support for him and the other people she cares for—is something close to a miracle in his eyes; such a transcendent and edifying thing for him. it makes him feel like he's being bathed in light and, again, gives him this sense that maybe he's not as much of a lost cause as he always assumed. it motivates him to do good and be the best version of himself. seeing sara's goodness in action also just leaves him in awe. he finds himself constantly impressed and inspired by her and how she conducts herself. as he tells heather in episode 16x02 "immortality" pt. ii, sara truly does restore his faith in the human being; she is everything good in the world to him.

then, just to list some of the "little things":

he loves her smile and laugh, which is hands-down, no question his favorite sound in the world;

he loves how tender she is with him and how she knows how to soothe him at times when he's upset;

he loves how passionate she is and how when she loves someone and/or believes in something, she'll go all out for them/it;

he loves that she wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn't hold back from taking risks, even when she's afraid;

he loves the way she touches him—just the feeling of her soft hands on his skin is all it takes to wake up his soul;

he loves how she remembers everything he says;

he loves how relentless she is and how she won't give up on anything or anyone even though her stubbornness can also drive him up the wall sometimes;

he loves that she's a survivor and that she's brave;

he loves how kind she is to others and how attentive she is to the needs of her friends and family members;

he loves her sense of humor, both the things she says to make him laugh and the things she laughs at from him;

he loves that she's a skilled auto (and boat) mechanic, plus how cute she looks in coveralls with engine grease smudged on her face;

he loves that she loves animals—and how she talks to them like they’re people—and plants and especially that she is interested in bugs and will do entomology research with him;

he loves how she sneezes because it’s adorable;

he loves that she encourages him to try new things and to have fun and to not take life too seriously;

he loves that she teases him but never in a mean way;

he loves that she's handy around the house and that most of their in-home repairs and installations have been her work;

he loves that she learned asl for him and his mom, even though doing so didn't come easily to her;

he loves when she does complex math in her head and thinks her doing so is pretty sexy;

he loves that she takes photos of everything because she loves their life together and wants to preserve their happy moments;

he loves the little things she does to show she loves him, like cutting out articles she thinks will interest him from the newspaper or scientific journals and hanging them on the fridge for him to find and bringing him coffee and tea whenever she's cold (which is much more often than when he is) and helping him feel better from migraines and having every number relevant to him from social security to academic publication count memorized to holding hands with him while they're driving places together just because they can, etc.;

he loves the way she pronounces certain words and how her eyes absolutely light up when she rhapsodizes about physics;

he loves that she cries at every vaguely sentimental movie they watch;

he loves that she is a bleeding heart who gets involved with all sorts of causes, from marine conservation to criminal justice reform initiatives;

he loves that she'll play trivia games with him ad infinitum;

he loves the way she looks at him before they kiss—like everything she sees in him is made of gold;

he loves seeing her lying naked in their bed and still can't believe that this life is his life now;

he loves the way she says his name;

he loves when she flirts with him—how he's still flustered after so many years;

he loves how special she makes him feel, listening to him, knowing him, being so gentle with his most fragile things, like there's nothing more important in the entire world to her than his well-being;

etc.

the longer he and sara are together, the more he finds to love about her. he thinks about her all the time. never for a second doesn't feel lucky to have her. loves being loved by her.

sara's favorite things about grissom

though he doubts his own goodness, she doesn’t for a second. in fact, she believes in it more than anything. she loves how compassionate, humane, and just he is; how much he cares about the people in the cases they work and his deep capacity for empathy. she adores that he is a champion of persons who are vulnerable, that he speaks for the dead, that he honors and protects women and children, that he allies with the marginalized, etc. though of course she never likes for him to feel sad, she finds herself deeply touched whenever she sees his sorrow for someone he couldn’t save or an investigation that ended badly. while he often thinks the worst of himself, she knows he is the best—that he has this deep-seated and unfailing desire in him to help others and to right wrongs; that he is compelled by his nature to try to better the society he lives in and to show kindness to the individuals he encounters. that he can’t see in himself the virtues that seem so obvious to her honestly breaks her heart, which is why she never misses the opportunity to remind him that he is so much better than he gives himself credit for. just knowing that someone like him exists helps her have faith in the world. he’s such a good man, and the fact that he is is so important to her.

to that same end, she also loves how inherently gentle he is. as i talk about here, “to my mind, part of the reason why she is attracted to grissom is because he’s generally very soft-spoken; is a committed pacifist; he’s not domineering; and even when he’s mad at her, he doesn’t yell at her.” coming from the background she does, she only ever could have loved a man who was soft, who seldom raised his voice (and when he did, only did so in defense of others or in the expression of righteous outrage over injustices), who treated others kindly, and who didn’t misuse power at times when he held it. that grissom is so fundamentally mild and never wants to hurt anyone or cause anyone to be afraid of him makes her feel 100% safe in his presence.

then, of course, she loves his mind—how it works, as well as his raw intelligence and his education. that he is such a consummate pragmatist who considers every possibility before taking action deeply impresses her. as she talks about in reboot episode 01x04 “long pig,” there aren’t any gears that shift for him until he sees the way they operate, and in her opinion, that’s one of his best qualities; that he is so patient and methodical in his thinking is a trait she values in him, particularly as she knows she is often very impulsive herself. then of course there is his actual genius. she first fell in love with him listening to him lecture, and to this day she adores when he unveils his beautiful mind to her, philosophizing and laying out theories and dissertating on the nature of the universe. she finds it incredibly attractive when he wins the day with their cases by being sharper than anybody else. ditto for the times when he pulls some obscure reference or fact out of nowhere or is able to recall the most miniscule details. (sometimes he does so just to impress her, she knows, and it works every time.) that he’s so broadly read and a polymath who knows not only his own area of expertise but is widely learned on everything makes him endlessly interesting to her. she never tires of watching him think things through in real time. he’s the most brilliant person she knows, and she loves him for it.

another thing she loves is how he loves her. he is the only person in her life who has just consistently been there for her when she needed him and who has always believed in her, no matter what. his love, though often quiet, is patient and deep and unwavering and has been so even at times when they’ve been apart from each other. for years, she was too afraid to tell anyone her secrets for fear that if she did, they would reject her or at least that the way they regarded her would change for the worse once they knew. she always worried that she’d somehow be “too much”: too needy, too broken, too all-over-the-place, too intense, too difficult. but then she told him the truth about herself and her past and let him see her at her messiest and most vulnerable, and not only was he not repulsed or put off, but he actually stepped up even more for her thereafter; it was like his esteem of and care for her deepened once he realized how much she’d been through and came to know who she really was, including what all of her jagged edges were. what he showed to her wasn’t pity or condescension but this very genuine admiration and concern. and since then, he has just always calmly, deeply, stubbornly loved her. his love has this almost deliberate feel to it—“on purpose, on purpose i am going to care about you” and all that, you know? she always had such a hard time believing that anyone would want to stick by her once they knew about all of her flaws and hang-ups, but he has. he’s been her stalwart. and even though at times they’ve broken apart, he’s inevitably come back to her in time; he’s never fallen out of love with her. for twenty-four years now and counting, he has kept her in his heart, through thick and thin, and the fact that he has means more to her than she could ever fully express. he’s really the reason she even knows what love is—what it feels like to love and be loved—and she’ll never not feel lucky to have him in her life.

then, just to list some of the “little things”:

she loves how boyish he sometimes is—curious and playful, with that little quirk of his head and his eyes so bright and blue;

she loves his sweetheartedness and how concerned he is about her feelings, always checking on how she’s doing and being mindful of what he knows might trigger or upset her;

she loves how much he loves to learn and that he’s so committed to science;

she loves how excited he gets about his special interests: the bugs, the baseball, the chess, the roy rogers memorabilia, all of which he will speak of breathlessly (and adorably) for hours if given the chance;

she loves how respectful he is of women and how he supports the women in his life;

she loves that look he gets on his face when he’s thinking hard—the brow furrowed nearly to scowling, the serious expression where you can almost see his mind at work, all of the gears shifting into place;

she loves how effortlessly charming he can be, spouting off all of these ridiculously romantic lines out of nowhere, still making her blush even though they’ve been married now for years;

she loves his inappropriate crime scene puns;

she loves his wiliness;

she loves how endearingly shy he often is, especially when he’s laying bare his heart;

she loves that he’s a good teacher;

she not so secretly loves when he’s cocky—when he uses his smarts to take down a bully and is smug and self-righteous about it or when he pulls out his expertise and is just oozing confidence, she finds him just incredibly sexy;

she loves that he has a quote or a reference for every situation;

she loves sleeping in the same bed with him and hearing him breathing beside her;

she loves all of his little grissom quirks: the way he holds his hands out from his sides and fidgets/stims with his fingers when he’s nervous, how he always has to finish puzzles and can’t stand to leave them undone, his almost antiquated politeness talking on the phone to strangers, how he listens to opera with the volume turned all the way up as if he were a teenager blaring rock music, his bowlegged gait, how he takes inspiration from mundane household things, the way he obsesses over his projects, the way he still writes mostly using a pen and paper and longhand as if computers had never been invented, etc., etc.;     

she loves when he calls her by endearments because he’s just so earnest and sweet;

she loves watching him use asl and interact with his mother and her friends because it’s almost like there’s this whole other (bonus!) side to his personality in his deaf culture, with this kind of irreverent sense of humor and outgoingness that only really comes out when he’s signing and is always a delightful surprise;

she loves that he’s an animal and bug lover and how cute he is with dogs, in particular;

she loves the way he touches her with such care and adoration;

she loves how much he loves their team family members and what a good mentor he is to warrick, nick, and greg especially;

she loves that he buys her plants when he’s feeling fond;

she loves how honest he is;

she loves how much he makes her laugh and his sense of humor in general (which matches so well with hers);

she loves his morals and how much integrity he has, always standing by his convictions even when doing so makes him unpopular or loses him some social or political advantage;

she loves how attentive he is, both in bed and just in general;

she loves that he cooks for her and that he’s constantly throwing blankets over her to keep her warm and that he just takes care of her overall (and especially because she’d never had anybody do that for her before him);

she loves how safe she feels when he’s holding her; 

she loves teasing him and watching him get all flustered;

she loves how sentimental he is about anniversaries and birthdays;

she loves how much his love for her and desire to make her happy permeates his actions so that she only has to look at how he treats her to know how profoundly and deeply he cares for her, always;

etc.

she first fell in love with him when she was twenty-six years old, and she has only grown to love him more since then. he is the best person she has ever met, and she’s never not amazed that somehow (against all odds) she ended up with him. he is truly her one and only and her one true love, and she thinks he’s absolutely wonderful.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.