#☆ the protector scavenges

[dog-kin]

May i have a mangle id pakk? Itz okie dokie if not~!

-🍥🦴

hi there !! thank you for the ask ♡ i suppose you mean the mangle from fnaf2 , so lmk if i'm incorrect ! hopefully you like it ~ !

🎀🦴﹒☆ mangle (fnaf2) id pack for 🍥🦴 anon ! ☆﹒🦴🎀

♡🦊﹕ NAMES ; kitt , skipper , valentine , rose(anne) , dollie , toysette , digitelle , glitchette , striker , adorette , glory , lovesick , vixen , pixel

⟡💗﹕ PRONOUNS ; ra / radio﹑ err / errors﹑ toy / toys﹑ tech / techs﹑ wire / wires﹑ ro / robots﹑ lunge / lunges﹑ jump / jumpscares﹑ des / destroyed﹑ party / partys﹑ broken / brokens﹑ party / parties﹑ dis / distorts﹑ hide / hiding﹑ active / actives﹑ glitch / glitches﹑ 📂 / 📂s﹑ 💝 / 💝s﹑ 📻 / 📻s﹑ 💗 / 💗s﹑ 🤍 / 🤍s﹑ 🦊 / 🦊s﹑ 🔧 / 🔧s﹑ 💄 / 💄s﹑ 🎀 / 🎀s﹑ 🎶 / 🎶s﹑ 💌 / 💌s﹑ <3 / <3s﹑ :3 / :3s﹑ ♡ / ♡s﹑ ☆ / ☆s﹑ sh♡ / h♡r﹑ h♡ / h♡m﹑ th♡y / th♡m

♡🔧﹕ TITLES ; the taken apart animatronic , the animatronic whom climbs walls , the animatronic whom is ( mangled / destroyed ) , the ( one / prns ) whom has a ( distorted / unintelligible ) voice , the ( kid's / children's / younglins ) favorite , the unrepairable animatronic , the ( one / animatronic ) whom hides in the pizzaplex

⟡🐾﹕LABELS ; mangleplushic ﹑ manglecieve﹑ lovegender﹑ robotcreation﹑ roboticoric﹑ happydizzyic﹑ fnafambic﹑ cherishfated﹑ fnafascic﹑ fnafminigamic﹑ fnafnostalgic﹑ celeposteric﹑ fnafhoardic﹑ fnafplushyic﹑ fnafhyperfixic﹑ pinkshirofoxic﹑ foxstar﹑ animarionique

[mssalo]

debt

Joel saved you - since that day, you’ve stuck to him, unable to survive on your own. But another mistake pushes him over the edge—this time, his patience snaps. Now, he wants you to pay him back for every time he’s saved you, using your body as the price.

After all, you owe him, and he’s come to collect.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Dark themes, dubious consent/non-consensual themes, explicit sexual content (penetrative sex, oral sex - female receiving), graphic violence, psychological manipulation, dark Joel (possessive, dominant), 5k.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

You had been traveling with Joel for what felt like an eternity.

Time had lost all meaning in this world; days bled into nights, and weeks into months, marked only by the changing light in the sky and the constant push to keep moving, to survive.

Everything blurred into one long, desperate journey, and the only constant was Joel. You and Joel had fallen into an unspoken rhythm—walking, scavenging, finding shelter when the sun dipped below the horizon. He was your protector, the reason you were still alive. You wouldn’t have made it this far without him. In fact, you wouldn’t have lasted a week.

Joel was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was older, rougher, with edges worn sharp by years of survival. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, his words were clipped and to the point, always with the hint of a warning behind them.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but fill the silences, rambling on nervously, hoping to break the tension that seemed to follow you both like a shadow. You knew you weren’t the smartest, or the strongest. You weren’t a fighter, and your instincts weren’t sharp like his. But Joel had kept you alive despite all of that, and for reasons you didn’t quite understand, he hadn’t left you behind.

That’s why you stuck close to him—because, deep down, you knew that without him, you were as good as dead.

It had all started when Joel saved you for the first time. You hadn’t been prepared for the kind of dangers that came with living outside the walls, beyond the safety of any remaining settlements. You were clueless, naïve—wandering off into the wilderness with nothing more than a backpack and a vague hope of finding food. You hadn’t thought it through. You never did. The moment you left, you were as good as lost.

You didn’t even hear them coming, the raiders. They crept out of nowhere, brutal and fast. By the time you realized what was happening, it was too late. You were surrounded, their eyes filled with malice as they circled you like predators closing in on prey. You were frozen, paralyzed with fear, your mind spinning as you tried to come up with some way out. But there was no way out. They were going to take everything from you—your supplies, your life—and you could feel their intentions burning into your skin, the dark edge of something even worse.

And then Joel appeared.

He moved through them like a shadow, silent and efficient. You barely had time to register what was happening before one of the men fell to the ground, Joel’s knife buried deep in his chest.

The others turned on him, but it didn’t matter. Joel was faster, stronger, and brutal in a way that made your stomach turn. You watched in shock as he killed them all, one after another, without hesitation, without mercy. He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver—his face a mask of cold focus as he wiped the blood from his knife.

When the last of the raiders fell, Joel looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. You had been trembling, still too stunned to speak, too scared to move. You were supposed to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the man standing in front of you.

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice low and rough, as if saving you had been an inconvenience. “You’re not safe out here on your own.”

And just like that, you followed him. You didn’t even think about it. You just knew that Joel was your best chance, maybe your only chance, at survival. He was dangerous, but that danger was your shield. He was protection in its most brutal form.

Since then, you hadn’t left his side. Traveling with Joel was a balancing act—one that required you to keep up and stay out of trouble, though you often failed at both. He kept a tight pace, his long strides carrying him forward with purpose, while you struggled to match his speed, constantly lagging behind.

He never said it, but you could feel his frustration simmering beneath the surface, especially when you slowed him down.

Joel was patient, to a point. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched when you talked too much, filling the silence with nervous chatter.

He never asked for details about your past, and you had learned quickly that asking him about his wasn’t wise either. You were opposites in so many ways. Where Joel was quiet and calculating, you were naive, overly optimistic at times, always hoping things would get better.

You talked to fill the space between you, trying to ignore the constant danger that lurked just beyond the edges of your awareness.

But Joel wasn’t one for talking. He had no time for distractions, no tolerance for mistakes. His patience had limits, and you had pushed those limits more times than you could count.

You saw it in his eyes—how they darkened when you slowed him down or when you clumsily fumbled with your supplies. There was a tension between you that you didn’t fully understand, but you could feel it simmering like a storm about to break.

Sometimes, you’d catch Joel watching you. His gaze would linger longer than it should, his expression unreadable. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race—not just from fear, but from something else. Something you didn’t dare name. Joel was magnetic in a way that frightened you, in a way that made it impossible to pull away.

You knew you weren’t the smartest or the most capable, and that knowledge left you vulnerable. You tried to make up for it by being helpful, offering to do the little things—fetching water, setting up camp—but more often than not, you were in Joel’s way.

You relied on him for everything—your safety, your survival—and he knew it. But something was shifting. There was a heat between you that you didn’t fully understand, a simmering undercurrent that felt like it was building toward something inevitable.

You weren’t sure what it was, but every time you caught Joel’s eyes on you, lingering just a little too long, you felt it. The storm was coming. And you didn’t know if you were ready for it.

· · ───

It had been a long day. Hours of walking left your legs aching, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. The two of you had made it through the outskirts of a city, avoiding trouble as best you could. But trouble always seemed to find you.

You’d been scavenging through a dusty old shop, wandering farther than you should have. That’s when you heard it. The unmistakable clicking noise that sent a spike of terror through your veins.

Your body froze, breath caught in your throat as the sound drew nearer. It was the wet, choking clicker sound—a noise you’d come to know all too well.

Before you could react, it was on you—a grotesque, twisted figure lurching toward you with inhuman speed. Your body refused to move, fear locking you in place.

Then, just as the creature lunged for you, Joel’s hand yanked you back. His knife flashed, slicing clean through the clicker’s neck, and it collapsed to the ground, twitching and gurgling before going still.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You gasped, your body trembling from the adrenaline, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at Joel. 

His face was hard, jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with fury—fury directed entirely at you.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” he snapped, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

His hand was still wrapped around your arm, tight and unyielding, pulling you closer to him. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

“I—I wasn’t—” you stammered, but your voice was barely a whisper.

“Shut up,” Joel barked, cutting you off. His grip tightened painfully, his face inches from yours, his voice seething with anger. “You don’t listen. You never fuckin’ listen.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, his words cutting deep. You knew he was right.

You’d messed up—again. You’d wandered off like he told you not to, and it had almost cost you everything.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but Joel wasn’t having it.

“Sorry ain’t good enough,” he muttered darkly, his voice a low, menacing growl.

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fury that made your heart race. “Do you even understand how close you were to dyin’?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for the first time, you saw it clearly—the tension that had been building between you for weeks, months. It wasn’t just anger.

There was something darker, something raw and primal in the way Joel looked at you now. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight, and his eyes… His eyes were filled with something dangerous.

“You wanna keep playin’ games?” Joel’s voice dropped lower, almost a growl, as he stepped closer, his grip on your arm pulling you toward him until your bodies were nearly touching. “You think I’ll just keep savin’ you every damn time?”

“Joel, I—” you began, but his hand shot up, gripping your chin roughly, forcing you to look into his dark, burning eyes.

“Shut up,” he snarled, his voice tight with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to speak right now. I’m talkin’.”

The world around you seemed to narrow, the only thing you could focus on was Joel—the heat of his body, the tension radiating off him, the way his breath brushed against your skin.

You felt your pulse race, fear and something else tangling together in your chest.

He didn’t let go as he dragged you out of the store, his hand still tight around your wrist, practically pulling you through the darkened streets.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the air had turned cool, but the heat from Joel’s anger burned hot between you. He moved fast, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and you stumbled to keep up with his brutal pace.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, he led you into the trees. The abandoned streets gave way to a dense forest, and hidden within the thick canopy of trees was a small, dilapidated cottage.

It was old and crumbling, but it was shelter. Joel didn’t hesitate as he shoved open the door, dragging you inside with him.

The moment the door slammed shut, the air between you shifted. The tension thickened, suffocating and inescapable. Joel let go of your arm, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back, and when you turned to face him, his expression had darkened even more.

His eyes were wild now, filled with something you didn’t recognize—something that made your stomach twist in knots. He stepped toward you, slow and deliberate, his presence looming and suffocating.

“You think this is a fuckin’ joke?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I keep you alive, I protect you, and you don’t even listen.”

You swallowed hard, backing up instinctively, but Joel followed, his body closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm again, yanking you toward him until your chest collided with his. The force of it made you gasp, but you didn’t pull away.

“Do you understand what it’s like for me?” he hissed, his breath hot against your ear, his grip unrelenting. “Every goddamn day, I’m watching over you, makin’ sure you don’t get yourself killed. And for what?”

His fingers dug into your skin, but it wasn’t the pain that made your heart race—it was the raw intensity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were both a burden and something he couldn’t let go of.

His breathing was ragged, and his body was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re mine to protect,” Joel muttered darkly, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. 

“And you don’t get to fuck around like this is a game. You don’t get to make mistakes.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, and before you could react, he pulled you closer, his hand sliding up your arm, gripping your waist.

His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a jolt of something through you—something that made your heart race even faster. His gaze was intense, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the tension radiating off him like a heatwave.

Joel’s grip on you was firm, his hand pressing against your waist, keeping you pinned close to him. 

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body tight with barely-contained anger and something else—something darker, more possessive. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched as he stared down at you, his fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to hold himself back.

But he wasn’t holding back anymore.

“You have no idea, do you?” Joel muttered, his voice rough and low as his eyes raked over you. “ Walkin’ around, gettin’ too close, thinkin’ I’m just gonna keep savin’ your ass without takin’ anything in return.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sunk in.

You’d always known Joel was different, but this… this was something else entirely. His eyes were burning with an intensity you hadn’t seen before, and the way he looked at you, the way he held you, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t fuckin’ hold back no more,” Joel growled, his hand sliding up your side, rough and possessive as his fingers traced your skin under your shirt. “Every time I save you, every damn time, you get closer. You think I don’t notice?”

You blinked up at him, your pulse racing. “I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Joel snapped, his hand moving to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You’ve been pushin’ me. You’ve been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, actin’ all innocent, like you don’t know what you’re doin’.” His thumb brushed over your lips, rough and demanding.

“You owe me, darlin’. You owe me for every time I’ve kept you alive.”

Your breath came in shaky gasps, your body trembling under his touch as you stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“You’re mine now - my responsibility,” Joel growled, his voice low and rough as his hand slipped lower, his fingers trailing down your body with deliberate intent.

“You understand that? You owe me, and it’s time you start payin’ me back.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning as Joel’s words sank in. The way he spoke, the way his body pressed against yours, left no room for doubt. Joel wasn’t asking anymore.

He was taking, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers tightened around your waist, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

“You’re too fuckin’ pretty and sweet to keep walkin’ around like you don’t know what you do to me. You need to learn, and I’m gonna teach you.”

His words sent a jolt through you, your heart racing as his hands moved over your body. 

You could feel the heat of him, the raw power in the way he held you, and it made your head spin. You didn’t know what to do—didn’t know if you should fight him or let him take what he wanted. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you like you were his, made it impossible to resist.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” Joel growled, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low rasp. “I’ve been watchin’ you, waitin’, but I ain’t waitin’ anymore. You’re mine now, and you’re gonna thank me the way I deserve.”

Your breath hitched as his hand moved lower, his grip tightening as he held you against him, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re gonna give me what I want, and you’re gonna like it.”

His words hung in the air, thick with tension and promise, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Joel’s hand slid down to your hips, fingers gripping you tightly.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. “Every time I save you, I think about what I could do to you. What I want to take from you.”

You swallowed hard, the way he spoke igniting something deep within you. “Joel, I—” but he silenced you with a fierce kiss, his mouth capturing yours with a possessiveness that made your head spin.

You melted against him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, the raw intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses.

“You feel my cock, baby?” he growled, pressing his hard bulge against you, his hands roaming over your skin, exploring every curve and contour.

“That’s what you do to me. You think I can just keep saving your ass without gettin’ something in return? I need something to stay motivated.”

His fingers found the waistband of your pants again, tugging them down your legs with a firm yank. You gasped, a rush of air escaping your lips as he tossed them aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him.

“You owe me for every damn time,” he said, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you, bare and trembling. “And I’m gonna collect.”

He knelt before you, his gaze locked onto your slick folds - all spread open with your little clit twitching - and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

“Finally gettin’ to see this sweet little pussy up close,” he growled, his voice low and dripping with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Before you could utter a word, his mouth was on you, devouring you with a fervor that made your body jerk in response.

His tongue slid over your folds with slow, deliberate strokes, dragging across your wetness, tasting you as if he had been starved for this moment. 

The pressure of his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently at first, before increasing his intensity, pulling a helpless gasp from your lips.

"Shh," he murmured against you, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "Just take it. This is what you’re here for. This is my payment."

His tongue began to circle your clit, his movements slow and purposeful, as if savoring every second. The wet heat of his mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and the rough texture of his tongue made your legs tremble uncontrollably.

His lips closed around your swollen bud again, sucking harder now, each pull dragging you deeper into the haze of pleasure he was building within you.

“Look at you,” he muttered darkly, his voice a growl vibrating against your core. “This little cunt… soaking for me. My good little girl - can’t think for herself, hm?”

His fingers joined the rhythm, sliding through your wet folds, teasing your entrance but never giving you exactly what you craved.

He kept you on edge, his fingers barely entering, only to pull back, his tongue working in perfect sync as he sucked harder on your clit, then flicked it mercilessly. You could feel the pressure building inside you, every nerve alight with need, but he was in no rush. He wanted to enjoy this, to savor the control he had over you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to speak. “This is my pussy. Look at how wet you are for me. I’m the only one who gets to do this to you, the only one who’s gonna make you fall apart like this.”

Without warning, he sucked your clit hard, his teeth grazing over it ever so slightly, biting your sweet pulsing clit - making your body jolt with a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping.

The bite was just enough to send a shock through you, but before you could fully react, his tongue was back, flicking fast over your sensitive bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and full of dark possessiveness. “This little pussy is mine to use whenever I want. You’re gonna take it and keep quiet.”

His fingers slid inside you then, filling you with a firm, confident thrust. He moved them in and out slowly, deliberately, matching the rhythm of his tongue as it continued its assault on your clit. The combined sensation of his fingers stretching you and his mouth working your swollen bud had your body trembling, the tension building impossibly high.

He sucked hard again, his lips sealing around your clit, tongue swirling over it as he thrust his fingers deeper. His possessive growls vibrated against your skin, adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. He bit down gently once more, his teeth grazing your sensitive clit, and the shock of it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Take it,” he commanded, his voice rough, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not letting up until I’ve gotten everything.”

Your body was on fire, the relentless teasing and flicking of his tongue pushing you higher, the pressure in your core coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers.

You were close—so close—but he wasn’t going to let you have it easily. He pulled back for a moment, admiring the way you writhed, utterly helpless against the pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re not gonna forget this,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours with a dark intensity. “Every time you take a step, you’re gonna remember who this fuckin’ pussy belongs to.”

Then, without warning, his mouth was back on you, sucking hard, his fingers moving faster, more demanding.

He thrust them deeper inside you, curling them just right as his tongue flicked over your clit again and again, the relentless pressure pushing you right to the edge.

Your body tensed, every muscle tight as the wave built inside you, ready to break. “Cum for me, little girl,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with dominance. “Cum for me, and don’t you dare hold back.”

And with one last powerful flick of his tongue, you shattered, the wave crashing over you as your body convulsed under the intensity of your orgasm.

The pleasure hit you in crashing waves, your body trembling uncontrollably as he continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your release. His fingers didn’t stop, thrusting slowly as your walls clenched around him, your cries filling the room as he took everything from you.

He pulled back, his lips glistening with your wetness as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with dark satisfaction. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice still rough. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine.”

As you were there, breathless, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, he leaned down again, his lips grazing over your inner thigh - his voice low and possessive. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He loomed over you, every inch of him radiating raw, unrestrained control. His hands slid over your thighs, spreading you wide beneath him as his gaze locked on your slick folds, his eyes filled with possessive hunger. 

He moved up - his cock pressed against you, thick and hard, teasing your entrance but not giving you what you so desperately craved.

His control over you was absolute, and he loved every second of it.

“My sweet little girl,” he growled, his voice low and full of dark intent. His fingers traced along your wetness, teasing your sensitive skin, the heat of him pressing harder against your entrance, but still not pushing inside. 

“You don’t even know how much you need me, do you? You think you can take care of yourself? No, baby. I do that for you. I keep you safe, I protect you, and you’ll give me what I deserve in return.”

He thrust forward suddenly, filling you with one hard stroke, making you gasp as he stretched you to the limit.

His cock pulsed inside you, thick and unrelenting, and your body tightened around him instinctively. “That’s it,” he growled, his hips grinding against yours. “You feel that? That’s me taking what’s mine.”

His pace was slow at first, each thrust deliberate, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him as he began to move faster, driving into you with more force. “This pussy belongs to me, and I’ll keep you safe, baby. You’ll never have to worry about anything… as long as you let me take care of you like this. As long as you give me this tight cunt to fuck.”

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his hips moved against yours, his voice low and rough. His cock now pushing deeper into your gripping cunt.

“You don’t have to think, baby. I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I make the decisions now, you just let me take what I need from you. Yeah?”

Each word sent a shiver through you, the possessiveness in his tone making the heat between you burn even hotter. His cock drove into you harder now, each thrust hitting deeper, as if he was determined to claim every part of you. 

His hand slid up to your throat, gripping lightly, just enough to remind you who was in control. “You don’t need to think. You don’t need to decide. I do that for you. I keep you safe, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

His pace quickened, each thrust harder and more demanding, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

His grip tightened on your throat, his thumb pressing gently on your pulse as his hips slammed into yours with relentless force. “You like that?” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Me taking care of you? You’ll never feel pain, never be unsafe, as long as you’re mine.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he whispered against your skin.

“You couldn’t survive without me. You need me to protect you… and this is what you give me in return. This sweet fuckin’ pussy, all mine. I can feel how much she needs me, how tight she’s squeezing me.”

His thrusts became erratic, more desperate as the pleasure built between you. His cock filled you perfectly, his hands gripping you tightly as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “The only one who makes you come. You don’t need to think, baby. I do that for you.”

The pressure inside you built higher, your body tightening around him as he drove you toward the breaking point. His hands moved down your body, gripping your hips harder, pulling you against him with each powerful thrust. “You’re mine to protect, mine to fuck, mine to keep safe. And I’ll keep doing it as long as you keep giving me this pussy.”

His words were pushing you closer and closer, the raw intensity of his voice mixing with the physical sensation of him inside you.

His hips moved faster, harder, as he took you completely, the rhythm of his thrusts relentless and commanding.

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with dominance.

“I want to feel this cunt squeeze my cock. I want to feel you give me everything. That’s what you’re here for, hm? To make me feel good. To keep me happy.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body tightening around him as the wave of pleasure crashed through you. You cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm tore through you, your body trembling beneath him as he kept thrusting, driving you through every wave of release.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. “You’re perfect for me. I’m the only one who gets this, the only one who makes you feel like this.”

His body trembled as he came, his groans mixing with your gasps, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you completely.

The weight of him stayed pressed against you, his breath heavy and ragged, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed right there, still buried deep inside you, his cock warm and hard within you, as though he couldn’t bear to lose the connection between your bodies.

For a long, quiet moment, the world seemed to stop. His chest rose and fell against yours, your heartbeats gradually slowing, but his cock remained where it was, still throbbing slightly, refusing to let go. His hands moved down your sides, gentle but possessive, his touch tracing over your skin as though reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

“Imma stay inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in your ear. His lips brushed against your neck, planting soft, possessive kisses along your skin. “You feel too good, baby. I’m not ready to leave yet.”

He shifted slightly, his body still pressed firmly against yours, his cock still resting deep within you, a steady warmth radiating between your bodies.

His fingers moved slowly, lazily, slipping between your legs to where you were still slick with your combined release. His fingertips grazed your swollen clit, making your body jolt, even in the soft afterglow of what had just happened. 

“You’re still so sensitive,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration. 

He barely touched you, just enough to keep the sensation alive, his cock twitching slightly inside you as he shifted his hips ever so gently. “But you can handle it, can’t you, baby? Just let me stay right here, let me keep feeling you.”

The slow circling of his fingers, combined with the fullness of him still inside you, kept your senses buzzing, every nerve in your body still on edge. His hand moved with the lightest touch, but it was enough to keep the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

You felt the weight of his possessiveness in his every movement, his control over you still present, even in the gentleness of his touch.

He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing your cheek, his voice softer but still filled with that dark promise.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you. You just stay right here… under me, with my cock still inside you. This is where you belong. Can’t do nothin’ wrong here.”

His words made your body shiver, even as his fingers continued their lazy circling, barely touching but enough to keep you sensitive, aware of him.

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning with the intensity of the connection you shared. The control he had over you, even in this moment of softness, was undeniable, and a question formed on your lips—tentative, but needing to be asked.

“So you’ll keep me safe?” you whispered, your voice breathless, a mix of need and vulnerability. “You won’t leave me now… and ever?”

For the first time, you spoke, and the words seemed to hang in the air between you. His gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you, but the possessiveness in his eyes remained.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, slow kiss, his hand still resting on your thigh, fingers still gently teasing you.

“I’ll never leave you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm but full of that same commanding promise. “You’re mine, baby. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you from everything. You’ll never have to think for yourself again… not when I’m here to take care of you.”

His fingers slowed, his touch even lighter now, more like a reminder of the control he held over your body.

His cock was still inside you, the warmth of him filling you completely as he spoke, each word laced with dark satisfaction. “This is where you belong, with me inside you. I’m the only one who can keep you safe… the only one who gets to touch you like this.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his lips soft but possessive. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if to reassure you of the promise he was making.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he whispered, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll always protect you… as long as you keep giving me everything.”

He stayed there, his body still pressed against yours, his cock still warm inside you, the closeness between you tangible and intense. His kisses grew softer, lingering, his fingers still gently teasing at your oversensitive skin, keeping you connected, keeping you grounded in the possessive warmth of his embrace.

“And remember,” he said softly, a hint of menace in his tone, “there’s no turning back now.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

[renren-006]

Keep Her Safe | Daryl Dixon x fem reader

Drabble

"aint nothin happenin to her while shes with ya...ya hear me"

Keep Her Safe: Part 2

taglist: @rosecentury

"I'll be fine," you told your overly worried husband. He glanced sideways at the group you were heading out with the scavenge. Sure he knew most of them from living in Alexandria but he didn't trust them yet. Two men and one other woman quickly glanced at Daryl before looking away and returning to seeming like they were busy.

"D, trust me"

"I do. I don't trust them" he said pointing towards the others. You laughed slightly bringing his arm down.

"I'm sure they know how much shit they would be in if I didn't come back" Daryl nodded knowing he was one of the only people in Alexandria who could make people actually run away from him. You laughed slightly at the memories of people scurrying off from talking to you whenever he approached.

"Shell be fine Daryl," Michonne told him, joining the two of you. "I trust them" Daryl grumbled out a response before toeing the ground defeated. "I'll be back in a few hours," you told him. Before you could walk off he straightened up

"Hold on," he told you before walking up to the people you would be going with.

"aint nothin' happenin' to her while she's with ya...ya hear me," he told them. They all nodded enthusiastically, knowing their main mission had switched. They were your protectors out there. Their new second job was finding supplies.

Daryl was everyone's worst nightmare, no one ever got on his bad side. When things came to you, everyone kept their respectful distance and respect. Daryl wanted nothing more than for you to be protected and respected.

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Have you played APOCALYPSE WORLD ?

By Vincent & Meguey Baker

Something’s wrong with the world and I don’t know what it is.

It used to be better, of course it did. In the golden age of legend, when there was enough to eat and enough hope, when there was one nation under god and people could lift their eyes and see beyond the horizon, beyond the day. Children were born happy and grew up rich.

Now that’s not what we’ve got. Now we’ve got this. Hardholders stand against the screaming elements and all comers, keeping safe as many as they can. Angels and savvyheads run constant battle against there’s not enough and bullets fly and everything breaks. Hocuses gather people around them, and are they protectors, saviors, visionaries, or just wishful thinkers? Choppers, gunluggers, and battlebabes carve out what they can and defend it with blood and bullets. Drivers search and scavenge, looking for that opportunity, that one perfect chance. Skinners and the maestro d’ remember beauty, or invent beauty anew, cup it in their hands and whisper come and see, and don’t worry now what it will cost you. And brainers, oh, brainers see what none of the rest of us will: the world’s psychic maelstrom, the terrible desperation and hate pressing in at the edge of all perception, it is the world now.

And you, who are you? This is what we’ve got, yes. What are you going to make of it?

Apocalypse World is the award-winning and critically acclaimed game that launched the Powered by the Apocalypse school of rpg design.

[dixonzzgirl]

personal daryl dixon headcanons : 

acts of service are his love language.

so when you’re not telling him what’s bothering you, it frustrates him because all he wants to do is make you feel better and show you that he’s always gonna be there for you. 

fuck, i love him.

he was was a huge mama’s boy when he was little.

i will die on this hill.

like whenever merle made him cry, all he wanted was to sit in her lap and hide in the crook of her neck as she rubbed his back up and down.

that’s why those kinds of hugs are his favorite. he remembers feeling so loved and safe when she held him like that. 

he loves it when you make him feel big. whenever you compare hand sizes, sit on his lap or look up at him with wide eyes, squirming underneath him in bed.

being with daryl, you are automatically under the protection of his entire family. especially carol. out of everyone (besides you) carol knows daryl best. she knows how much you truly mean to him and the lengths he’d go for you.

he loves to be in control and to be the protector, but he also loves to feel loved and protected by you as well. 

he never had anyone looking out for him his entire life .. until you.

massages from daryl .. jesus christ. after a long day of scavenging and having no luck at all, you’d pull off your boots and throw them to the side. he’d pick your feet up and sit down, pulling them into his lap to knead in his hands.

then you’d crawl behind him and start working out some of the knots and kinks at the base of his neck. his eyes would close and he’d try so hard not to whimper and groan at your touch. just sinking into it.

he loves to hear stories about your life before the apocalypse.

good and bad.

he wants to know every single thing about you. he wants to know you best.

he also wants to be the one you confide in. he wants to be the one to make it better.. or make you feel better.

home isn’t a place for him. it’s you. you’re his home. wherever you are, he feels at peace with you by side.

he is so grateful for your patience with him. 

after an argument, he expects you to ignore him or lash out because that’s what he’s used to.

but you take him by the hands or touch his stubbly cheek and let him know that everything’s alright.

you understand that he can be irrational at times, yet you (almost) never hold it against him.

however………………

when you do ignore him or lash out after an argument, he knows he’s messed up.

and he will spend forever trying to make up for it. he would die trying. 

he often worries that he’s “holding you back” or not giving everything you deserve in a partner.

you have no problem reassuring him though because he reassures you too. 

he is always letting you know that he’s there for you. maybe not verbally, but he will do little things to show his limitless loyalty to you.

he protects you, cheers you up, takes care of you… makes love to you

whatever you need, he's on it.

[diejager]

Sweetie i know it's been a long time but i really need more Brahms! König🥵🥵🥵!!!!

I KNOW! I STILL REMEMBER THE DAY MY FRIEND ASKED ME TO WRITE THE FIRST BRAHMS!KÖNIG. And I still remember how musky and broad Brahms looked like in the movie….

Brahms!König pt.3 Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, imprisonment, possessiveness, tell me if I missed any.

You could hear their voices, the confused and worried tones of your coworkers through the thick, sound-insulating walls of his little cave. He’d taken you to his home, within the walls of the dilapidated mansion, tying you to his bed and leaving you vulnerable to him and anyone who’d stumble into your restrained figure. You writhed on his bed, the sheet-covered mattress smelling musky and thick, it smelled of sweat and blood and earth, something too masculine, fitting of his stature and being. Your gag was stinky and crusted, a salty and tangy taste lingering on your tongue that told you enough of the cloth’s original use. You would’ve retched if you weren’t gagged so tightly.

Your eyes scoured his room, the dark and dingy basement lit up by a single light of his lamp, left on the small workbench beside every kind of artistic materials, glue, saws, scissors, needles, wool and string organised in their own corner of the wall. Despite the bright light, the rest of the room remained shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing across the walls like demons and monsters coming to haunt you in weakness, coming to join your captor in his fun.

You dreaded the moment he comes back, the silence of your cage a striking contrast to the bustling house you were hidden in. You feared what he’d do to you now that he had you, knowing that he was grinding up against you and rutting your thigh, panting loudly and grabbing at you like a man starved for attention —perhaps he was one. All your training and instincts failed you, stripped from any weapons and your gear, boots unlaced and toes curling in your socks, you’d been left in your undershirt and pants.

In your whimpering and fright, you almost missed the loud, telltale steps of your giant protector, walking down the narrow path to his room. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. You glanced at him, and caught him staring back at you, your sweat-coated skin and flushed skin, naked to his cool eyes. He smiled through them, roving over your panicked expression, pinched brows and tense shoulders, down the slope of your abdomen and the curve of your hips before he moved, stepping closer and closer to you with a bright and needy gleam.

The bed creaked under his weight, slumping to the side as he sat down, his calloused hands cradling your face and coaxing you to look at him when you glanced away, his thumb rubbing the bags under your eyes. He cooed soft words and praises, as if he was calming down a cornered animal, waiting to hand you treats and praises, little caresses and adoring kisses.

“Look at you, Maus,” he sighed lowly, his auburn hair curled around his porcelain mask, tickling the edge of his ears, “You’ll be good for me, ja? If you behave, I’ll untie you, let you walk around our room.”

If you wanted a chance at freedom, you’d have to play into his hand, eat and drink from his big hand until he trusted you to leave you alone for an undetermined amount of time, hunting and scavenging the area he lived in. Gulping down you fear, you gave him a hesitant nod, eyes closed to accept the life you’d live for a while.

“Gute Maus.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

INFP

Ravenclaw

Neutral Good

Pisces Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You had been watching Victor from afar for a long time. Listening to the other's about how long he had been trapped in this hell.

・It broke your heart

・And what else could you do but approach him? Try and befriend him?

・It wasn't easy trying to be Victor's friend, he had a lot of walls up, a lot of trauma that had never been dealt with

・And you were quite angry that other people in the town treated him so badly. Where was their compassion?

・There would be plenty of times that Victor saves your life. He knows the terrain like the back of his hand, and would always be there when there's an emergency to make sure you're safe

・Knows your favourite things and tries to scavenge them for you

・If you lived at Colony House, you would stay in a room close to Victor. Through the day basically following him and asking questions about the place

・It took Victor a while to let you in; let his walls down and allow you to see the vulnerable parts of him

・Any time someone talks rudely to him, you're straight there - putting people in their place.

・No one messes with Victor anymore. No one.

・Victor didn't know what to do at first, usually he just ran away when someone got too aggressive (or got out his gun in extreme situations)

・Talking of his gun, he's used it to protect you as well...

"You come near them and I will pull the trigger."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Protector (You) x Didn't Realise How Alone They Had Been (Victor)

Older Sister x Younger Brother Dynamic

Apprehensive at First, Now Will Kill For Them (Victor) x Unwavering Loyalty (You)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Found Family

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Hanging Tree by Rachel Zegler

[heartfullofleeches]

Scavenger Animal/Ghoul Darling. Just a hungry not so little critter who roams dumping sites of crime groups and killers for fresh meat to dig up once the coast is clear. Those who frequent the area notice disturbed earth upon revisiting and the corpses of their victims stripped of their flesh and organs. The bite marks are unlike any animal they've seen. The smart ones set up cameras while others preform stake outs to find whatever's digging up their dirty little secrets.

The threat comes to them with an offer of peace and their keys in exchange for not poisoning their victims anymore. Once the monster is revealed nobody can bare to part with them. Sure - they're a flesh eating nightmare, but we all have our faults. They're such an oddity it's almost cute in the eyes of those who watch them. Given their hunger for corpses they're quite useful with business too. More importantly they make a great lap pet and quite the cuddle bug when their new protector gets injured. They even try not to bite too hard

-

[Scavenger Reader hides from the town slasher, clutching their stomach as they shrink behind a half eaten body]

Scavenger Reader: no more poison.... tummy hurt :(

[Slasher Yan hangs their head in shame, brandishing their blade and slicing off their ring finger. They toss it to the scavenger who happy trails behind them to their truck.]

-

Scavenger Reader: Buffet night? :D

Yan Crime Boss, petting their head: Yes, sweetheart - it's buffet night. Eat as much as you want and we'll bag up the rest to take home

Scavenger Reader: Yay!

[The Crime Boss holds them close, smiling fondly as they look out the window at the building their men surround. They put out their phone]

Yan Crime Boss: Alright, no survivors. No witness. Drag the bodies to the front and have the doctor check their medical records. If they get another stomachache I will personally fry you all for them.

[rw-repurposed]

Scavenger Chieftains

They are the chieftains who served their people within Chasing Wind's facility ground. For more of their tribe lore, you can check Chasing Wind's log regarding the tribes.

Recorded Broadcast #004 - 1700.115 - Chasing Wind

Each of these chieftains is regarded highly within their tribes.

Sama-Sama is the KING of the Megakarta Kingdom. He leads his people well and wise. He is a long relative to Kami-Kami, the chieftain of the Urbaningrum Tribe.

Kami-Kami is the chieftain of Urbaningrum Tribe. Urbaningrum was the old city of CW's ancients before they moved up to Megakarta, now it's inhabited by Kami-Kami's tribe.

Kaya-Kaya is the greedy chieftain of the Old Mine Tribe. This tribe is the richest of all scavenger tribes- living within old mine vaults filled with pearls and minerals stored tightly by their elites.

Rawa-Rawa is the elusive Chieftain of the Swampland Tribe. He was a young Chieftain for a scavenger, but he leads the Swamp Tribe fairly and hunts food in the swamp alongside them- making him popular amongst the tribe.

Baja-Baja is the cruel leader of the Scavenger Pirates that dwell within the Garbage Disposal Region. These pirates are outcasts from the 10 scavenger tribes that formed into Pirates under Baja-Baja that steal resources and kidnap younglings from the other tribes to grow as their own. They are violent and hostile toward anything.

Poho-Poho is the fearless leader of the Giant Forest Tribe. The tribe lives in the dense giant forest filled with the most dangerous creatures in the facility ground. Which is why they are the most athletic and combat-trained tribe of all. Their outfits are all camouflaged and they used Grapple Worms and tamed Cyan Lizards to swing and boost from branches to branches.

Tani-Tani is the Agriculture Complex Chieftess with the choir of an angel. The Farmers (As they called themselves) Are experts in musical instruments, controlling the plants to their will using the sound of music. This is how they overcame the carnivorous plants all over the complex.

Buki-Buki is the wise chieftain of the Upstream Tribe. She led the tribe over cliffs and waterfalls of the freezing cold Upstream, where they insulated themselves with their natural fur and warm fur cloaks they shaved from the Wool Deers.

Jaga-Jaga is the Elder Monk of Mt.Everhigh Scavenger Monks. The Mountain Monks are a secretive group of Scavengers that live on the peak of Mt.Everhigh, there, they praise and pray to the Echoes. Self-immolating their limbs and wearing Echo Masks and were enlightened by the presence of Echoes. They are the only tribe that practices the religion of the ancients of the past.

Huta-Huta is the Guardian of the Sanctuary Protectors of the Green Sanctuary. The Sanctuary Protectors are a group of Scavengers that were engineered and trained to protect the Green Sanctuary by CW's admin, Stains of Shadow Over a Realm's Sorrow. The sanctuary keeps all kinds of creatures and plants that over time spread throughout the facility ground, and the Protectors must keep it balanced.

[M.I.A]

Aku-Aku is the brutal Commando of Chasing Wind's Skyvenger. He serves CW as his Commando of the Skyvenger troops patrolling the Facility Ground, Defending their outposts, and quenching any attacks from the other Scavenger tribes. The attached wings and limbs gave the Skyvenger advantages over the other Scavengers.

Character List

[sweetvoidstuff]

Whispers in the Wasteland Part 1 II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, you and Hyun Su reconnect during a scavenger run, with unspoken tensions from the past lingering. A fragile connection blossoms through shared vulnerability, leading to a quiet understanding and healing in the desolate landscape.

Part 2: In the soft dawn light, Hyun Su awakens in your post-apocalyptic hideout, discovering your caring gestures and the comforting routine you've maintained. As the outside world's harsh reality fades away, the haven of your kitchen becomes a sanctuary, a refuge from the echoes of destruction, forging a deep connection between you and Hyun Su in the midst of desolation.

Masterlist

The eerie silence of the post-apocalyptic world was shattered by the clinking of scavenged supplies as you and Hyun Su reconnected during a scavenger run. Emotions swirled in the air, thick with the weight of the past year apart. Hyun Su, unable to hide his relief, began visiting your hideout regularly after you invited him but never stayed long, his presence a familiar balm in the harsh reality of survival, always offering help with necessary items, if not for you, at least with you.

As he assisted with supply runs, the unspoken tension of your previous parting hung in the air. Hyun Su, haunted by the ghosts of his past behaviors, sought to make amends. "Why don’t you stay? It’s getting late. You can always have the couch if you want," you suggested one evening, sensing the invisible struggle within him. "I don't want to overstay my welcome," he admitted, his eyes betraying a mix of fear and longing.

Smiling sadly, you respected his self-imposed boundaries and softly replied, "Hyun Su, you're not overstaying anything. I'm glad you're here." Despite your reassurances, and with a heavy heart, he left, maintaining a cautious distance, hesitating to cross an invisible boundary.

During one visit, he brought you petrol for an old generator you'd been trying to fix for a while. As you moved, wincing and subtly favoring your right side, curiosity and concern etched across his face. Hyun Su gently probed, "Are you okay? You're moving funny."

Sighing, you revealed the truth about your healing injury – a deep cut around your left rib. Recounting the close encounter with a slow but hostile monster, you explained how you'd narrowly dodged its attack. The pang of guilt and fear in Hyun Su's eyes mirrored the emotions you had felt that night.

"I should have been there to protect you," he confessed, his voice filled with regret.

Shaking your head, you said, "Hyun Su, you can't be my protector all the time. It was my fault for not paying attention, and I'm healing fine. It’s just a little red." Despite your reassurances, he needed to make amends, even if he didn't voice it.

The night unfolded with a delicate dance of shared vulnerability. Hyun Su was up, fetching everything you needed and making sure you didn’t move too much. It was sweet seeing him caring so much. After inquiring about the implied redness of your wound, he retrieved the hastily packed first aid kit you had scavenged together.

As he began examining and cleaning the wound, his touch was surprisingly gentle. Each movement was deliberate, almost tender. The intensity of his gaze showed not only concern but a deeper emotion. "You have to be more careful," he murmured, his fingers tracing the bandage he expertly applied. Your breath hitched, and a shiver ran down your spine at his touch.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, there was a silent understanding. Hyun Su wasn't just tending to a wound; he was silently expressing regret, seeking forgiveness. Despite the apocalyptic world surrounding you, a fragile connection was rekindling. His eyes were intense, and you couldn’t tell if you looked at him for a moment or a lifetime. The closeness was palpable, and for a fleeting second, it seemed like the unspoken tension might give way to something more. His breath hitched, and your heart raced, but then Hyun Su locked down again, pulling back, a conflicted look in his eyes as he slowly removed his hands from your ribs.

After the makeshift first aid, you and Hyun Su sat together on your sofa. The rest of your shared dinner was left forgotten on the table. Many unsaid words lingered between you, but for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

As you drifted off to sleep on Hyun Su's shoulder, he nudged you, suggesting you go to bed while he would take his leave. But all his nudging did was make you lie down. Sleepily, you clumsily mumbled, laying your head on his leg, clutching his shirt tightly, and voicing a quiet "stay." He was confused, unsure, and couldn’t quite shake his concerns away.

"You sure?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his eyes contrasting with the strength he showed during perilous scavenger runs.

"Yeah, Hyun Su. Just stay a bit longer," you whispered, and with that, he scooted a little bit down on the dingy sofa, allowing himself to enjoy your closeness and trust. In the quiet moments of the post-apocalyptic world, a subtle understanding and healing blossomed between you and Hyun Su. As he as well soon fell asleep, with you by his side, gently playing with your hair. Embracing a rekindled connection in a world that desperately craved it.

[dilfismz]

In This Together

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X reader

Summary: Daryl was your father’s best friend before the outbreak so when you were left stranded in the beginning he felt compelled to take you in. Daryl always knew that you had a little crush on him as well and he’s always teasing you about it too. However, he’d never actually act on his mutual attraction…right?

The Georgia heat was unbearable today, sweat trickling down your back as you tried to focus on sorting the cans of food you'd scavenged. The small shack in the woods offered little respite from the sun, but it was home now, shared with the man who’d taken you in when the world went to hell.

Daryl Dixon, your father's best friend. Before the outbreak, you remembered him as the gruff man who'd occasionally come by the house, always with a story to tell or some wild game to share. Now, he was more than that—your protector, your confidant, and, most confusingly, the object of a crush you couldn't shake.

"Y'gotta check the dates on those, girl. Can't be eatin' no expired crap," Daryl's voice drawled from behind you, snapping you out of your reverie.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, crossbow slung over his shoulder, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. His presence was both comforting and unnerving, his rugged looks and rough edges only adding fuel to your already smoldering feelings.

"I know, I know," you mumbled, cheeks flushing as you avoided his gaze.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Awful red there, girl. Thinkin' 'bout somethin'?"

You knew he was teasing you. He always did. He seemed to take some perverse pleasure in your shyness, in the way his jabs and taunts could make you blush furiously. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something that told you he wasn't entirely indifferent.

"Just the heat," you lied, going back to your task, fingers fumbling with the labels on the cans.

Daryl moved closer, his shadow falling over you as he crouched down. "Uh-huh," he said, clearly unconvinced. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "Heat can do funny things to a person."

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of the woods and sweat mingling in a way that made your head spin. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was a softness there, a vulnerability that you rarely saw in him.

"Daryl..." you whispered, unsure of what you wanted to say.

He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Yeah, girl?"

Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged with a tension that had been building for months. "Why do you always tease me?"

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you thought he might laugh it off, make another joke at your expense. But instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Guess I like seein' you flustered," he admitted, his voice low. "Makes me feel... somethin'."

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked away, as if struggling with his words. "Ain't been easy, y'know? This life. Losing people. Thought I could keep things simple with you. But it ain't simple, is it?"

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his voice. "No, it's not," you agreed softly.

He met your gaze again, and this time, there was no mistaking the emotion in his eyes. "Damn it, girl. I didn't wanna do this. Didn't wanna make things harder for you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You haven't, Daryl. If anything, you've made it bearable."

He chuckled, but it was a bitter sound. "Ain't sure 'bout that."

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I care about you, Daryl. More than just... more than just a friend."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, he cupped your face in his hands, his rough thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I know," he murmured. "I feel the same. Just didn't wanna mess things up."

Your heart soared at his words, a mixture of relief and happiness flooding your veins. "You won't," you promised, your voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips inches from yours. "Better not," he whispered before closing the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, as if he was afraid this moment might be snatched away.

You melted into him, all the pent-up longing and desire spilling over as you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair. The world around you faded, and for the first time since the outbreak, you felt truly alive.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, Daryl rested his forehead against yours. "Guess we're in this together now, huh?"

You smiled, a genuine, hopeful smile. "Yeah. Together."

And for once, in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, you believed it.

[pankekesito]

Rust Cohle's tattoos - A mini-essay on their possible meaning

Hi, this is probably my longest post, I may have to split it into two parts due to the length but I will try to see that everything can be compacted into one post.

DISCLAIMER!

This mini essay is done purely as a hobby by a die-hard True Detective fan, none of this is actually 100% confirmed (other than the interview part of ‘The Last Magazine’). While this is as logical and accurate a research as possible, it's just a hypothesis of what Rust Cohle's tattoos seen in the series could mean; if you don't think it's reasonable, that's fine. All opinions are valid as long as they are made on the basis of respect!

Without more to say, I hope you find this Mini Essay interesting and fun, I made it with all my love for you (and obviously because of my love for Rust); I would like to know your opinions about it, even if they are not the same as me! (I will leave a section in my profile to give you the sources used in the research in case you want to know more about the arguments to support my opinion).

An apology if something is not fully understood, English is not my first language ⸜❤︎⸝

And remember, ⥁‘Time is a flat circle’⥀

Rust Cohle has two tattoos which are a bird of unknown species on his right forearm and an unidentified symbol on his chest; right where the heart is located.

Focusing on the forearm tattoo, thanks to a short interview in “The Last Magazine” published on May 10, 2016; Josh Lord who is a renowned tattoo artist who has worked to perform various tattoos in the entertainment world along with Joji Fukunaga who directed the first season of the series mentioned that they wanted the tattoos presented in this one to have the same detailed realism that is reflected in the audiovisual product. For the case of Rust Cohle initially in Pizzolatto's original script his tattoo would consist of a pair of flaming dice. Personally I'm glad to know that this didn't happen because while they tried to give him that wild and dangerous meaning, Rust doesn't believe in the randomness of fate and every action he takes he does it consciously, carrying in him the responsibility for his actions and not granting it to fate. Josh and Fukunaga had something clear and that is that the tattoos would go from being a decorative element to a characterization, a symbolic element of the souls and the truth of the guts of the characters.

For this very reason they chose to draw on Cohle's undercover past as a member of a criminal motorcycle gang, whose emblem was originally intended to be a raven. Subsequent revisions turned the gang into the “Iron Crusaders” where very aptly the tattoos of its members refer to anvils, bones, engine parts, demons, weapons, etc. Something important to note is that the vision of the Iron Crusaders is dark, mysterious, funereal and gloomy (as all its operation within the series), the initial idea where the raven would be its emblem makes sense because in general the raven is associated with death because they are scavengers, predators and for some civilizations they embody death and the underworld.

But while the terrain where the Iron Crusaders unfold has a close relationship with the first and best known negative view (symbolically speaking) of ravens, its positive meaning has more to do with Rust Cohle's behavior and reason. The raven can also be a powerful animal totem, a protector and spiritual guide, a shape-shifter, a messenger and the symbol of transformation. In its benevolent symbolism, it represents giving up on the human world in search of wisdom, as well as being a cunning and intelligent animal capable of adapting and embracing change. In the Scandinavian tradition, the raven is a sacred and wise figure that brings virtues of “reflection” and “memory” while in Native American tribes, ravens are revered for their intelligence and spiritual importance. They are considered messengers of the spiritual world, possessors of universal wisdom and protectors against evil forces. It is also said that in Norse mythology there were two ravens that always accompanied the god Odin, whose names were Hugin and Munin. Hugin represented the power of thought and Munin represented memory and intuition; every time the sun rose both were sent to earth in search of information and every night at sunset they returned to Odin's palace and whispered all the news and events of which they had learned on their visit to planet earth.

A fact that may not be so relevant (and most probably I am just adding it to be interesting) is that there is a constellation called Corvus having four points in its constellation that make it to be, which is related to the raven (it is all due to a Greek myth). I like to think that this has a lot to do with Rust's tattoo because of the position of his tattoo (more properly speaking the wings) with the resemblance to the graphic references usually used for the raven of the constellation Corvus and the close relationship it has with the universe and the cosmic. Also the four points of the constellation remind me of the four stages of Rust Cohle seen during the series (1995, Crash Comeback, 2002, 2012).

Now we can't overlook the fact that the Celts held ravens in high esteem, associating them with battles and the Celtic Goddess of war and destruction (Morrigan). Ravens were seen as protectors and warriors, embodying the qualities of intelligence and strategic thinking. The raven's ability to shape-shift, attributed to Morrigan, further emphasizes its transformative nature. All of the above meanings attributed to ravens provided by various cultures, whether with a positive or negative focus curiously fit perfectly well with the ideology of our armored detective Rust Cohle. Rust is surrounded by silent anxiety, tragedy, death, chaos and pain. He himself struggles even with internal battles, his demons from the past. Yet he has a strong mentality, he uses his reason to adapt to even the most unsafe territories even if it means changing shape (like Crash). The fact that he more than likely made the decision to get the tattoo during his infiltration as Crash when he was in the narcotics department is reasonable as he was like a predator within the gang, a shape-shifting scavenger trying to get answers as he shrewdly roamed the rubble of human evil. The raven was his way of remembering his purpose and no wonder, Rust is very skilled with manual tasks. His hands allow him to do his work properly; watching them constantly do the dirty work and hide or reveal the ashes when necessary makes him evoke his intention in this world and how ephemeral it is on the earthly plane. It is not for nothing that the raven is on his forearm, showing his bones as a sign that death will always be with him until his last breath.

To focus on his last tattoo (and the most intriguing in my opinion) we must go back to Celtic culture. As we have seen throughout the series, symbols and religions (beliefs of something beyond comprehension) are always present because they touch the most sensitive parts of human beings. Their constant search for belonging and the meaning of life. In Celtic culture runes are used as signs, talismans, symbols and runic alphabets. Basically runes are a writing system that was used in Scandinavia and parts of Northern Europe from the Iron Age to the Middle Ages. Although it is not known exactly who invented runes, it is believed that they emerged sometime around the 1st century AD. Specifically “Rune” means secret. Runes are magical instruments of power, carriers of secrets and wisdom. There are several types of runes with vast meanings however in my research I found four runes which I will use to support my hypothesis about the possible meaning of Cohle's chest tattoo. First we must be certain that the tattoo on the chest of Rust does NOT exist as such in the Futhark Runes, or in any other compilation of symbolism so we can say that this symbol is a composite symbol; referring to the fact that although it is based on the Celtic runes, it has NO direct relationship, nor systematically objective. We can notice it even more thanks to the inverted cross of the tattoo (soon we will return to this point).

Talking about the possible runes used for the composition of the tattoo we have:

•Rune Thurisaz ᚦ

Meaning: Door. Reflection. New options. Magical use: Regeneration. Concentration. Override negativity. Meditation. New beginnings. When you need luck and control of any circumstance. Protection and defense. Neutralize enemies or opposition.

•Rune Raidho ᚱ

Meaning: Wheel. Travel. Communication. Help in taking risks. Self-healing. Magical use: Changes. Protection. Transformation. Justice according to good. Safe and comfortable travel.

•Rune Wunjo ᚹ

Meaning: Joy. Comfort. Harmony. Security. Tranquility. Magical use: Triumph. Motivation. Recognition. Achievement of goal. Success in travel. Luck in love or work.

•Rune Berkana ᛒ

Meaning: Growth. Awakening. Rebirth. Development of creativity. Magical use: Healing. Wholeness. Clarity. Motherhood. Self-realization. Fertility. When seeing the runes presented we can relate them with Rust Cohle because they present several descriptive concepts that define him; but to my point of view, of those presented the rune more linked (and similar to his tattoo) is the rune Raidho.

Throughout the series we can see the entire journey Cohle goes through both through the Lange case that is presented to him, as well as his growth individually. His journey in general has been dangerous, putting him in a vulnerable state but never fully achieving it, having Rust in a cathartic state of progression where although the road was arduous, it always ends with him having a safe process of introspection. This path was just like a wheel where he repeated over and over again aspects of his life that he had already lived (Time is a flat circle) but thanks to communication these repetitive aspects had a significant change. The clearest example of this is his relationship with Marty Hart; in the series they had a partnership that while solid was undeniably chaotic. Marty did not want to listen to Rust and Cohle could not stop spouting his pessimistic ideology until the issue related to Maggie happened which made them separate. It wasn't until 2012 that Rust swallowed his depressing verbiage in order to talk to Marty and he, took his time to listen to Cohle and support him in his plan. Changing their relationship and the situation through communication. Precisely to this, both were able to give the due justice that the case deserved and finally Rust was able to be a little warmer with himself, finally accepting the past that haunted him and taking the first step to self-healing.

Of course, the Raidho rune and the symbol on Rust's chest are not the same because as I mentioned earlier, Cohle's tattoo is (probably) a composite symbol but the resemblance both physically of the rune and allegorically to the detective's ideology is something worth mentioning. Rustin Cohle's first step in understanding his pain and being able to allow himself to open up honestly and vulnerably with someone as he did with Marty was to be humble about his feelings. Humility was an important factor in this, as well as dealing humanely with his penance given by the past. These two issues are ideological characteristics given in the Christian symbol of the inverted cross of St. Peter. According to tradition, Peter asked to be crucified upside down because he did not consider himself worthy of dying in the same way as his master, Jesus of Nazareth. However, in other contexts the inverted cross is often used as a symbol of atheism, humanism and occultism. This is also notoriously seen in Rust's philosophy as we know that the belief in something greater than the human being which governs the commandments of humanity seems ridiculous to him. A simple stoic belief to alleviate the rottenness of reality. That is why perhaps that rune was transformed according to Rust's philosophy (which makes sense, Josh Lord does not do work without tying up loose ends; much less from the hand of Joji Fukunaga).

While we don't have an exact answer about the meaning of the tattoos of our endearing and cold-hearted detective, I like the idea of trying to unravel the hidden meanings among the symbols that physically characterize his personality, trying to investigate as logically and clearly as possible the probable exact representations of Rust's philosophy embodied in his skin. I believe that the series is so well designed that even the smallest details count and that's why I took the time to try to dig into the secrets of what Rust's tattoos want to tell us.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this mini-essay! It was really fun to do, I think that while I'm not sure what his tattoos really mean; I was able to better understand Rust in different and meaningful ways. I hope someday we can know for sure what they mean (although part of me doesn't want to, because that would take the fun out of it). I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a like if you found it informative or entertaining, comment on what you thought, if you have any other theories of its possible meaning or reblog this mini-essay so more people interested in True Detective could see it! A kiss to whoever reads this and I hope the Yellow King never finds you! 💛

[becca4leafclover]

Yknow if we take Tubbo's charity stream today as canon and the theories of the little buddies to be correct-

The little buddies are the guardians of Egg Island and the protectors of the eggs there. They have no problem facing the island's dangers and invoke joy into the people they choose to take care of

In today's stream, SO MANY of the little buddies came to hang out with Tubbo! They protected him and followed him around as he followed the scavenger hunt they made for him. They were doing their job of protecting someone, much more than they've done with any of the other players currently here

And we'll, Chayanne gave Tubbo a certain running joke, right?

All I'm saying is that with the way the little buddies were with Tubbo, the "Tubbo is an egg" theory holds a little more water LMAO

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane’s Girl

Part One | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you're forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Merle Dixon being Merle Dixon, Shane Walsh isn’t great either tbh

Word Count: 1K

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my google docs just collecting ~metaphorical~ dust. I was going to put all the parts into one very long one shot, but instead, decided against it because I really, really like what I’ve written so far and feel that some feedback can help cure the writer’s block plaguing me. Let me know what you guys think.

Extras: Playlist

Daryl Dixon didn’t think much of you and Shane when he first joined the ragtag team of survivors at the quarry, but he’s an observant man and Shane is anything but subtle.

It all started a few weeks after the world ended. Everyone was still recoiling from what they had seen and heard on their way to Atlanta, but they were trying to continue living. Shane was attempting to establish order in the makeshift camp. The women were charged with cooking, cleaning the laundry, and looking after the kids while the men were sent out to scavenge and hunt -- except for Dale, who spent most of his days working on his bucket of rust, and Shane, who has taken a liking to his newfound leadership and decided to become the watchful protector of the camp. Daryl thinks it’s a pretty backward way of thinking -- it’s the end of the world and we’re still worried about maintaining gender norms -- but who is he to argue?

It was one of the rare days Daryl wasn’t off on a hunting trip when you first piqued his interest. He was skinning the last of the squirrels he’d brought back from his latest hunting trip and Merle just had to open his mouth when you walked by.

“Hey,” Merle’s voice cut through the quiet conversations being had. Everyone’s eyes turned to him, including yours. “Why don’t you keep old Merle here company?”

Your eyes shift quickly to Daryl, who was trying to make himself look busy with the squirrel in his lap, before returning to Merle. You put your hands on your hips defiantly before answering.

“Looks like you’ve already got yourself some company, Merle.”

You motion toward Daryl while speaking. Daryl has to fight the grin that’s pulling his lips. He was expecting you to be like Lori -- quiet and submissive when the men are talking. But here you are, prepared to take on Merle Dixon all by yourself. He supposes he’s gotta respect that, even though he knows your answer is just going to rile Merle up more. Still, you’re here, standing up for yourself, which is more than he’s seen from others in the group. 

“What, you mean Daryl? C’mon sweetheart, he’s not much fun to talk to or look at.”

It’s the end of his sentence that has you turning to look toward Shane, who is once again sitting on top of the RV, a rifle in one hand and a canteen in the other. You’re hoping that Shane will look over and come to your aid. You certainly don’t need rescuing, but the support of your boyfriend would be nice right now. However, you’re met with nothing as Shane’s eyes never meet yours. You roll your eyes and turn back to Merle. 

Daryl watches you, squirrel in his hands forgotten for the moment. He can see the frustration on your face as you turn around, obviously not pleased with the fact that Shane is not paying attention to you in the slightest. However, despite your frustration, you don’t back down.

“I’d rather look at him than you any day.”

He knows you’re just saying that to get to Merle, but Daryl still ducks his head to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks due to your words. He quickly brushes the thought of there being even the slightest possibility that your eyes have wandered over to him during the past few weeks aside when Merle stands up. Daryl knows his brother and based on the look on his face, you’ve pissed Merle right off. This is bad news for everyone. 

Daryl stands as well, a hand already reaching out to stop Merle from advancing toward you. Merle swats Daryl’s hand away roughly. The action makes Daryl take an immediate step back, head ducking down again. 

“Don’t touch me!”

Merle’s raised voice seems to have finally gotten Shane’s attention.

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s going on here?”

Daryl lifts his head in time to see Shane make his way to your side. He places a hand on your shoulder as you continue your seething staring match with Merle. You’re about to brush off the encounter and tell Shane not to worry about it, when Merle opens his mouth again. 

“You better muzzle your bitch.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose. Shane launches toward Merle, yelling unintelligibly. You are quick to grab Shane off of Merle and Daryl follows your lead, pulling Merle back. Eventually, you and Daryl are able to wrangle Merle and Shane away from one another. You still have both your hands on Shane’s chest when he begins shouting again.

“You stay away from my girl. You hear me? You don't talk to her. If I see you even look at her, she won’t be able to stop me. Both of you.”

Shane’s eyes move from Merle to Daryl and the look in his eyes is ice cold, it damn near almost sends a shiver down Daryl’s spine. Daryl nods as Merle continues to struggle against him. Seemingly content with the response, Shane wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins moving you away from them. You spare Daryl a brief, apologetic glance before allowing Shane to drag you toward the RV.

Daryl pushes down the knot developing in his stomach as he watches Shane manhandle you. His hold is less protective and more possessive. It seems much less like he came to defend you from some unwanted attention and much more like he came over just to take back what’s his.

He shakes his head -- physically trying to rid himself of the thoughts ricocheting in his head. It’s not like he can do anything anyway. Shane made it crystal clear that you are off-limits -- and who is he to argue?

[icrawledoutfromtheabyss]

My interpretation of Artificer

(Spoilers for Artificer endings- both ascension and the other. Also general Artificer spoilers.) My interpretation of Artificer- feel free to disagree, this is just my opinion, and I have no problem with opposing personality headcanons.

Artificer isn't a manipulator. Artificer isn't naturally bloodthirsty. Artificer isn't naturally a killer. And Artificer never forgot what she became a killer for. I have a little sister. When I was still in elementary/beginning middle school, I was extremely defensive of her as a baby. If someone insulted her in the slightest, even as a joke, I held a grudge for at least a month- and I am a very forgiving person. I got angry at them, turned a cold shoulder, etc. I've matured now and wouldn't react the same way now if someone poked a rude comment about her, but I would die for her and protect her as strongly if there was real danger. I believe Artificer feels the same about her pups. I think I understand her- only a thousandth of a fraction of understanding; I can't fully grasp a pain I've never felt before. But I can grasp a small portion of it. She would die for her pups. But she didn't die for them. She couldn't. She couldn't save them. And if she couldn't die for them, she would kill for them. She wasn't happy when she killed the scavengers. Satisfied? Maybe. But maybe not even that. Maybe she wasn't even thinking about how extreme her actions were, or, more likely, simply didn't care. All she could feel was rage. All that was in her mind was not even a single worded thought, perhaps not even the memory of her pups dying- only the echo of a memory that was blurred by the image of sheer rage. But regardless of if she was directly thinking of her pups or not, she certainly never forgot who she was killing for. Even if she didn't see their eyes every time she stabbed a scavenger, she could feel them in the tension of her muscles. Even if she didn't call "I'm doing this for my children" as she burned a toll down, her wordless scream cried it. Even if she didn't hear her children's laughter in the back of her ears, she could hear it deep in her heart. If she got them back, maybe she would continue her blood feud. But if she had to choose between her feud and her children, she would lay every pearl in the land at the claws of her enemies to get everything back.

Even if she got them back and they betrayed her somehow, or they sided with the scavengers, she would still love them. Her ascension ending doesn't show a pile of dead scavengers- it shows her pups. The former she only chose in canon because she couldn't obtain the latter. And once she sees them, she accepts her fate, even if it's a failed fate. Acceptance. The only way she could be redeemed- something so little, everything. I'm not positive about her before. Was she toughened by surviving in the acidic Garbage Wastes? Was she a strong, masculine, street smart protector? Was she a gentle, feminine mother? Was she kind? Was she stern? Was she a fighter? Was she skittish? Did her smiles always have a dry humor to them, or did they light like the sun? Was she introverted, or happily sociable? I don't know. All I know is what she is now. An irredeemable monster- but only because her pups' death, to her cycle, is irreversible. She would give up the world for them. She would- reluctantly, but she would- give up her revenge for them, if she had to. She would never willing hurt them, emotionally or physically. She only kills for them because she couldn't die for them. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps Artificer was always somewhat evil. Perhaps she's a manipulator, a liar, a criminal. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to shed blood. Perhaps she forgot who she was fighting for long ago- perhaps she fights just to fight and kills just to kill. Perhaps she's lost herself so much, so deeply entrenched in war, that she would even hate the scavengers more than she would love her pups. But I don't think she would. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. (One final note: if you disagree with me, I'm totally chill with that! There's Rain World media where she is depicted as something of the last paragraph that I love. This is just my interpretation of her character. I'm also not defending her actions- I just think I understand how she felt while she committed them.)