#Best Trekking Trails in the World

[alpacaexpeditions]

Unveiling the Best Trekking Trails in the World 

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[mysterioushimachal]

Valley of Flowers National Park: A UNESCO Heritage Gem in Uttarakhand

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[bt-writing]

Mr. Crawling x Reader

A/N: chat i wrote my first NSFW. i have absolutely ADORED playing Homicipher this last week or so and i had to write something good for my man🙏🙏 this piece is based off of Ending 17 where he saves you from Mr. Stitch, i hope you enjoy!! (also, yes, the monster tongue is minecraft enchantment table lololol). AFAB reader, NSFW ending available on my ao3 linked at the end.

Word Count: 7.2k

Needy with Worry

***

Nearly every wall in this god-forsaken realm seemed to drip with the same mysterious, wet substance. It pooled within the valleys of the steel floor plates that lined the walkways and cultivated mold along the cove joints in offshoot rooms. No surface inside this liminal hell-hole was spared from the viscous liquid's presence. It was a sensory nightmare to look at, let alone touch. You wondered how Mr. Crawling dealt with his clothes trailing through it constantly without begging The Bride for a change.

The floor-bound specter in question blissfully followed behind you as you traversed the monster world's boundless hallways, oblivious to any discomfort that his soiled yukata might bring him.

"Your clothes," you pointed down at the man's black garment. "Water ruin. You dislike?" You tried, conveying your concern as best as you could in monster tongue.

"No ruin. Clothes good. A lot of water ruin time," Mr. Crawling replied with a stretched grin. It seems he'd gotten used to the fabric having a soaked trim all the time. The thought of it alone made you long for your bed in the overworld, warmly clad in fuzzy pajamas and safe from any cold, mystery liquid sticking to your body.

You found yourself extending your hand to pat Mr. Crawling's head fondly.

"If we ever get out of here, I'll teach you what socks are," you said wistfully.

He tilted his head curiously, not fully understanding your words. You dismissed his confusion with a brief wave and continued your trek down the dimly lit pathway.

There were a lot of things you had come to miss from the human world. Things you had taken for granted, like safety and comfort and food. God, what you wouldn't give for a hot meal. For every moment you spent lost in the underworld, the duller the pangs of hunger had grown. It was just as Mr. Silvair had hypothesized. The longer you stay in this foreign place, the more your body will change. But, even if you were losing your biological need to eat, the thought of some shitty fast food right now made your mouth water.

You'd have to teach Mr. Crawling about human food, too. The only thing you'd ever seen the man eat was ears, and you were convinced there had to be better tasting things from the human world that he could try. Surely.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of things you wanted to show Mr. Crawling from the human world. He had no reason to, and yet, ever since falling into this place, the ghostly man had made it his duty to stay by your side and protect you from the various "danger persons" lurking the underworld. He taught you his language, kept you safe, kept you happy—or as happy as the given situation allotted for. You wanted to return the favor. But, instead of showing him how to survive, you wanted to show him how to enjoy. There was so much joy to be had in the overworld. Mr. Crawling wasn't meant to stay in such a dark, violent place. He was better than the monster realm. He was kind.

Once you found that goddamn elevator again, you determined that you would bring Mr. Crawling home with you.

"Exit find, together safe place go?" you asked Mr. Crawling tentatively. You weren't sure if it was even possible for him to leave the underworld, whether he wanted to or not. But, the thought of parting from the crawling entity made your heart ache more than you cared to admit.

Your heart wasn't the only thing left aching, however, as your body collided with the hard concrete floor. Mr. Crawling hovered over you, smiling like an over-excited dog. His silky, black hair kissed your blushing cheeks as it draped down from his face.

"Me together you! Together safe place! Happy, happy!" he exclaimed. You'd never seen anyone get so excited at the prospect of simply being with you, it nearly brought tears to your eyes. You swallowed the burn in your throat with a chuckle and gently pushed the man off you.

As you neared the end of the spanning hallway, a metal door caked in rust came into view.

Finally, you thought. Even if the next room proved equally as tedious as this one had, it felt like faux progress was at least being made.

Before your hand could twist its knob, cold fingers wrapped around your ankle, bringing your movements to a halt.

"Do not. Danger." Crawling's mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked towards the door. Through the tension in the air, you noticed an eerie squelching noise coming from the other side.

But, what else could you really do? Who knows how long the two of you had been walking down this hallway, and you desperately wanted not to give up and turn back. There was nowhere else to go but forwards.

You gave Mr. Crawling a look that conveyed there was regretfully no other choice. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever laid ahead.

The first thing you noticed after entering through the door was the horrible stench. The overwhelming smell of blood and iron weighed heavy in your lungs as goose bumps raced across your skin. It wasn't a smell unfamiliar to the underworld, but nowhere else had it been so concentrated. You were hardly two full steps into the room and your determination was already wavering.

Your eyes found the source of the putrid smell inhabiting the opposite corner of the tiled room. There, someone sat hunched over, eagerly digging into what could only be described as a mass of blood, guts, and flesh on the floor. The noise they made as their hands shifted around the entrails of a mutilated carcass was nauseatingly potent, inescapable, as if it were reverberating inside your skull itself.

The person stopped their rummaging to look back at you from over their shoulder. Through the blood splattered across their face, you recognized them to be the resident you'd dubbed 'Mr. Stitch'. Every encounter with Mr. Stitch thus far had proven to be unsettling; he was certainly a monster you didn't want to stumble across whilst exploring alone. The patch-work man didn't seem to share your apprehensive sentiments whatsoever and quickly sprang up to his feet.

"Hello!" Mr. Stitch greeted enthusiastically, fresh blood and unidentifiable chunks of meat dripping from his lips. "You again! Glad!"

You noticed he had gained a new article of clothing since you last saw him wallowing about in boredom. It was a fur lined jacket, the color indecipherable underneath a wet layer of blood. As your eyes fell to the corpse on the ground, your stomach dropped in grim realization. Your meeting with the other human was brief, yet, there was an undeniable comfort in knowing someone else from the overworld shared your experience in this nightmare. Now, they were torn to unrecognizable shreds before you.

"Human," was all you could manage to squeak out as terror gripped your entirety.

Mr. Stitch pulled on the edges of his new coat proudly and nodded, "Me find they. Play together. ʖᒷᔑℸ. Take this!"

You didn't need to understand his words to piece together what had happened in this room. A sense of urgency rapidly overtook your being. The exit was currently being blocked by the murder scene and its perpetrator. Was Mr. Stitch satisfied with his kill? Would he simply let you pass, just as he'd done the other times?

Your answer came as he wiped his mouth with the back of his discolored hand and stepped towards you and Mr. Crawling.

"You play together me?"

His smile was a sickening void that threatened to swallow you whole. This monster was obviously still riding the high from his recent kill, and your frightened expression must have been like dope for him.

"No play together," you softly shook your head, trying not to convey more fear than you already let on. Mr. Stitch's smile fell for a moment, disappointment washing over his face, before it returned in full force accompanied by a whisper:

"Too bad."

A scream came from your throat as bony fingers dug into your hips. Mr. Stitch lifted you over his shoulder with paranormal ease and, leaving you no time to process the turn of events, sprinted towards the exit.

"You! Don't! Don't!"

You could barely hear Mr. Crawling cry out after you. The sound of Stitch's feet pounding the pavement bounced off the walls. Your vision shook with each step. Using one hand, you used your kidnapper's shoulder to stabilize yourself, and with the other hand began to beat against his back as hard as you could. He let out a gleeful chuckle at your feeble attempt to fight back.

"Fun, fun! They come?" Mr. Stitch laughed, momentarily glancing backwards.

You looked up as well. In the distant shadows, you could make out a visibly distraught Mr. Crawling rounding the corner on his hands and knees. You were scared, but the sight of your companion hot on your captor's heels was reassuring. He'd never let you be separated from him willingly, he'd proven that many times before.

Before you could call out to Crawling, Mr. Stitch ducked into a nearby room and slammed the door behind him. The air was expelled from your lungs as he tossed you carelessly onto the floor. While Stitch fiddled with the lock, you took a moment to observe your surroundings. The room had the same solemn emptiness of a hospital's sleeping quarters. There was a single mattress that rested on a shaky bed frame. More noticeable was the large, dirty window that peered into the hallway you had just been carried down.

You heard frantic rattling coming from the locked door Mr. Stitch held shut. It persisted for a few moments before it went completely silent. An anxious knot built in your stomach as Stitch slowly backed away, confident the door would hold against Mr. Crawling's efforts on its own.

THUD. THUD THUD THUD.

Startled, your neck snapped to the window, where Mr. Crawling was rapidly beating on the pane of glass separating you from him. His pale grey lips were turned into an angry frown.

You failed to notice Mr. Stitch moving back towards you. A yelp escaped your lips as he harshly gripped your nape, picking you up off the floor and slamming your head against the window.

"Stop! Don't!"

You could barely hear Crawling's muffled plea through the ringing in your ears. The impact left you disoriented. A lopsided grin befell Stitch's messy face.

"They angry! Me take you, they angry!" he cackled in amusement, pressing a red fingertip against the glass to point and laugh at the poor man.

"Let me go, asshole," you growled out, struggling against the hand that dug into your neck.

Your aggressive tone only served to spur on the otherworldly monster. Mr. Stitch pushed his lean body flush against your back, squeezing your torso between himself and the cold glass that separated you from Mr. Crawling. The hand that held your head in place slowly brought its calloused fingers to cup your jaw. A horrible spark of vulnerability shot down your spine as your neck was exposed. At the same time, Stitch tilted your hips back and trailed his fingers across your abdomen in a taunting motion.

"Touch you, they dislike," his hot breath whispered into your ear. Even if you couldn't see his face, a cheshire grin was audible in his words. "Fun."

Mr. Stitch held your face at an odd angle. Looking down as much as you could, the sight on the other side of the glass made your heart skip a beat.

Mr. Crawling had stopped banging on the transparent barrier and instead, with large palms pressed flat against the panel, stared directly at Stitch, who was enjoying every single moment of his distress.

You gasped in discomfort. A wet tongue dragged itself from your ear lobe and down your jaw, lapping up any bead of fear-laced sweat it could find until stopping in the dip of your collarbone. The feeling of the monster's slimy tongue against your skin was vile; any effort to escape his touch was met with a harsh shove against the window.

"G-ah!" you cried out in pain.

Stitch's sharp teeth dug into the crook of your neck violently. Thick ripples of blood poured out from the canine indents below your throat. Your neck throbbed with hot pain. This bastard had actually bit you.

With an excited ferocity, that hungry tongue was right back against your flesh, his choppy pink hair tickling your jawline as he drank from the wound he created.

"Want consume human," he purred in desire.

Your stomach dropped, and before he could bite down again, an ear-piercing crack! came from the entrance of the room. Lost in his feeding frenzy against your neck, neither of you noticed Mr. Crawling had resumed his assault against the door—which, this time was so powerful it had splintered the door nearly in two.

"ᓭ⍑╎ℸ !" Stitch yelled in surprise. He clearly had gotten so lost in the taste of your blood that he'd forgotten to pay attention to your very angry guardian.

Cr-ack! A wooden plank flew off the door.

And back over Mr. Stitch's shoulder you went. With long strides, he bounded out of the room through the door that wasn't half wood chips and sprinted down a musty, brick-lined hallway.

The adrenaline rush was audible in his half-gasp, half-laughs as he turned down another corner in the dimly lit corridor. Stitch slowed his pace and looked back expectantly to see if the black-clad resident was still coming. He actually wanted Mr. Crawling to keep chasing him.

Coarse shuffling could be heard in the darkness. Both you and Mr. Stitch were stuck in place at the sight of Mr. Crawling, who was no longer crawling, but standing so tall he had to tilt his head so as to not hit the ceiling. His giant figure swayed slightly as he took a few slow steps towards you.

"You don't."

There was a silent fury in his smile that made even you scared, though you knew the man would never direct his anger at you. When you first met Mr. Crawling, it was true that he frightened you. The way he crawled along the ground was a bit uncanny, and the bloody stains where eyes should be was something you'd find straight out of a horror movie—hell, that went for this entire place—but the way he stood before you now was a different kind of terrifying. His presence alone felt inescapable and threatening-

That's it. He's trying to intimidate Mr. Stitch by standing upright.

"They stand! They angry!" cheered your tormenter.

Stitch was significantly smaller than Mr. Crawling, but much more agile. Crawling had told you before that he preferred not to walk. Maybe it's because he's not good at walking? His steps were slow and steady, but he was probably putting all his effort into the small movement. You couldn't really imagine the man running.

On the other hand, Mr. Stitch had turned tail and hauled you down the hallway and into a new room once again.

"Under sheet, go."

On the back end of the room was a long, white curtain that he pulled shut, concealing the two of you at a glance. Your heartbeat drummed softly in your ears, anticipating Mr. Crawling to burst into the room like your knight in shining armor and save you from the man who was itching to eat you alive. But Mr. Crawling never came.

"He not want?" Mr. Stitch pondered, looking back and forth between the slit in the curtain and your anxious face beside him. He finally settled on watching you. "Me take you, he dislike. Why?" he asked curiously.

His blue eye stared intensely into your own, as if they held the answer as to why Mr. Crawling wanted you back so desperately. You shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, which only caused him move in closer, like a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Mr. Stitch's hips hovered above your own, his hands straddling your sides. You leaned your head back as far as you could manage in a pathetic attempt to distance yourself from him, but the compromising position on the floor made it difficult to do so. A devious smile stretched over his face.

"They like you?"

A soft blush painted your cheeks. Mr. Crawling had said many times before that he 'like you' and 'want together you,' but you had never really interpreted it as anything but innocent, the same way a dog would enjoy your company and want to stay by your side. At least, that was what you had kept telling yourself, that Mr. Crawling craved your companionship and not you in particular. Lately however, you weren't entirely sure. Several times had the man gone out of his way to protect you, always making sure to ask 'are you okay?' and 'hurt exist?' in the aftermath of danger. And, as much as you hated to admit it, his concern for you gave you butterflies. The way his cold hands would run through your hair to comfort you, or how he would cover your body with his much larger one to shield you from the more dangerous residents of the underworld, it always left you with a warm, tingly feeling. You chewed your lip softly.

"They like me," you affirmed. Stitch's eyes lit up with this information, filling you with dread.

"I see. They like you. They dislike you gone," he brought his hand to trace dangerously along your throat. You clenched your teeth. "You die, they dislike. They upset, they angry!"

Woosh.

"S-stop!"

Cr-unch.

You sat in shock. You had fully expected Mr. Stitch's hand to wrap around your throat and slowly squeeze the life out of you. Instead, weight was quickly thrown off your body when a grey hand shot through the curtain and pulled him away. A splatter of blood followed his cry for mercy and tainted the virgin white curtains separating you from what was most likely Mr. Stitch's obliterated corpse.

Your breath caught in your throat as that same hand gripped the stained sheet and pulled it open.

Mr. Crawling!

His hands were warm and wet as they cupped your face gently, but you didn't care one bit. It felt so good to be back in his arms.

"Are you okay? You hurt?" he asked, inspecting every inch of your face meticulously. One hand left your cheek and delicately hovered over the bloody bite mark above your collarbone. It still hurt quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline was working to mask most of the pain.

"Please don't worry. Me good," you spoke just above a whisper, returning his gesture and cupping his face in your shaky hands.

Mr. Crawling let a deep sigh slip past his frowning lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, resting his head on your non-injured shoulder.

"They take you. Me surprised," he held you tighter, "they hurt you, me angry."

He really knew how to make your heart flutter without even meaning to.

"I'm okay, really. Don't worry," you knew he couldn't understand what you were saying, but you were too exhausted to care at the moment. "Thank you," you said, wrapping your arms around him.

"Me protect you. You don't go again. Together."

You could tell the whole affair had really shaken the sweet man up quite a bit. He hated to be apart from you. He probably felt helpless watching Stitch hurt you and not being able to stop it. You stroked his hair in a sympathetic motion.

"There, there. Me nice resident go. They heal me," you reassured. After some time, your body typically healed pretty quickly on its own in the monster world, but you figured going to see Mr. Silvair about your injury couldn't hurt, and maybe it would put Mr. Crawling at ease, too.

He sat still for a second before slowly nodding his head against your shoulder. You smiled to yourself at his childlike behavior. It felt nice to hold each other like this.

Did... did you like Mr. Crawling?

You sat still, taking in the way his nose dug into your collarbone, his soft breaths tickling your skin as he exhaled. He fit so naturally against you. His huge palms rested against the curves and dips of your back in a way that made you feel small, but safe. Your face felt warm.

Shit.

. . . .

It didn't take long for the two of you to find your way back to Mr. Silvair's territory.

Mr. Chopped greeted you with his usual chipper 'hello!' but quickly squinted his eyes, hiding from the sight of blood running down your neck with a 'blood! scared, scared'!

Hearing the commotion that Mr. Chopped was causing, Mr. Silvair peeked his head out of his room with his ever-present eerie smile. You gave him a sheepish wave and pointed to your wound.

"Me hurt. You fix? Heal?" you asked.

The lanky, silver haired man nodded, happy with any opportunity to 'fix,' as he loved to do.

"Me fix. There, wait," he said, pointing a thin finger towards the bed against the wall, and disappeared back into his private room.

You sat down just as Silvair ordered, and Mr. Crawling took his place dutifully besides you. You had a feeling he'd be more clingy than usual for some time. Which was a scary thought; he was pretty needy to begin with. But truthfully, you didn't mind his desire for attention. You enjoyed feeling needed by someone.

A few minutes later, Mr. Silvair emerged with a tray of tools and got to work mending your laceration. You grimaced in pain as he poured a cool liquid over it—some sort of disinfecting agent, you assumed.

Mr. Crawling, noticing your discomfort, grabbed your forearm and held it tightly.

"Are you okay? Want stop?" He asked with concern.

"Me good. They help," you reassured. Though, you knew from experience that the rest of the process wouldn't exactly be pain free. Mr. Silvair had tended to your injuries many times before. Truthfully, you were lucky he was one of the good residents. Between teaching you the monster tongue when you first came to the underworld and healing your body anytime you found yourself hurt, Mr. Silvair was a pretty dependable entity to have on your side.

Mr. Crawling lowered himself back down begrudgingly while Silvair continued his ministrations. After a few stitches, ointment, and some bandages, you were all fixed up and approved to go. After thanking him and waving Mr. Chopped goodbye, you and Crawling made your way back to the room you had unofficially deemed as yours.

The second your head made contact with the stiff mattress, the full weight of your exhaustion hit you in full. It had been a long day, and now that all of the adrenaline from earlier had left your body, you could feel yourself crashing.

You heard rustling next to the bed and glanced down. Mr. Crawling sat watchfully, ready to defend you from any resident that dared disturb your sleep. You smiled and patted his head gratefully, feeling safe under his guard. And with that, you let sleep take over.

. . . .

ao3 for NSFW ending ;)

[karmaecoadventure]

The Everest Base Camp trekking trail is the most scenic walking trail which is on everyone's bucket list 😁😁

[rose-gold-bullet]

[𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰] - Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

Summary: You get injured while fighting a demon and Giyuu helps to bring you back to health.

warnings: none aside from the injury the reader endures and maybe a gross amount of fluff

"It hurts."

"I know." Giyuu spoke softer than usual in an attempt to calm you down as he took off his haori to create a makeshift bandage.

You struggled to maintain your breathing technique as you bled out on the forest floor. The pain you felt in your dominant arm was horrid, but it was nothing compared to shame you felt as you were sloppily nursed back to stability by your companion for the mission you were assigned. You were a member of the Hashira after all; how could you let yourself be torn down in battle by such a low level Kizuki? You were able to land the final blow, but not without substantial damage to your own body.

If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you knew exactly what impeded your typically flawless movements; you were distracted by him. The same man frantically wrapping his haori around your wound in a subpar attempt to stop the blood loss.

You couldn't help it; as cliche as it sounds, you felt like his eyes were designed to get lost in.

"Can you stand?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"I hope so. Can you help me up?" Your response was shaky and barely loud enough to be heard.

He slowly stood and pulled you up with him. You tried as hard as you could to steady yourself once he let go, but all the motivation in the world couldn't stop your legs from buckling. You gasped as you shut your eyes and waited for the harsh impact with the cold ground.

Unsurprisingly, such impact never came.

"Thanks." You muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you were being carried bridal style through the forest and soon onto a dirt road.

'As if I couldn't appear any more pathetic...' your brain assaulted itself with more negative assumptions than ever before, and you dug your face into Giyuu's chest to hide the upset expression you could feel plaguing your usually neutral features.

The walk to the Butterfly Estate was a bit of a long one, but it was necessary for a Pillar to receive the best care for mangled limbs.

Much of the said trek was made in silence.

After some time, you shifted your body so you could watch your surroundings. If it weren't for the trail of blood you were leaving with every step the visibly concerned man took, it'd be a perfect night.

"Giyuu, isn't it lovely out tonight?" You finally spoke.

"You're sounding dangerously similar to Shinobu. I have more important things to worry about, as do you."

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. You could tell your own injury was making you a bit delirious.

"You needn't be so serious. We both know I'll recover," you took a ragged breath, "I know you're a Pillar, but we're both allowed to enjoy life sometimes." You explained. As expected, there was no response.

You looked up at the night sky before taking another shaky breath, "You remind me of the moon."

"What?"

"Though, it's not nearly as handsome as you are." You spilled. You were too exhausted to care about whatever his response may be, and too inattentive to notice the slight blush that crept onto his face.

"I'll be sure to have the caretakers at the estate check for a concussion."

Once again, silence filled the open dirt road you were now following.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. I should know to make myself more useful."

"You were more tha-"

"I think I'm going to fall asleep. Is that alright?" You intentionally cut him off as you knew you weren't strong enough for that sort of conversation. You glanced up at his face and waited for a reply.

He hesitantly nodded, "I'll wake you up if your breathing gets to slow. Dying isn't an opt-" Once again, He was cut off. This time, by the gentle snores escaping your lips. He sighed, exasperated, but was glad you were at least safe for now. With that peace of mind, he allowed the guilt he was struggling to carry lessen in weight ever so slightly.

'As if I couldn't appear any more useless.' He thought as he replayed the moment you cried out in pain over and over in his mind, wincing at every opportunity where he had the power to change the course of the fight but couldn't think fast enough in the moment.

---

You awoke in a bed you recognized almost immediately. You were one of the more frequent visitors at the Butterfly Estate, not because you were weaker but because it wasn't unheard of for you to throw yourself in front of enemy attacks aimed at others (most often protecting Giyuu).

"Oh good, you're awake! We'll let Mr. Tomioka know immediately." Three girls stood at the foot of your bed with a polite smile pasted on their faces.

"Wait- What are my injuries?"

"A severe laceration in your (dominant) arm as well as a fractured humerus and 2 broken ribs. Don't worry, Aoi took the necessary measures and you should make a complete recovery in around 3 weeks."

"Why would you let Giyuu know I woke up?"

"He's always the most concerned, miss! This time, he tried to sit in your room as you slept so he'd be there when you came to." One girl spoke up and they laughed in unison after. With that, they placed water and what you assumed to be pain medicine on your nightstand and left the room.

You laid completely still for a few minutes longer, piecing together the events before you blacked out. You felt your face heat up as you recalled the short exchange you had with Giyuu as he carried you to safety, and silently prayed he forgot about it.

Your thoughts were cut short by rapid footsteps increasing in volume from down the hall. Seconds later, there was a quiet knock at your door.

"Come in." Your voice was still weak, but it was a massive improvement in comparison to the night of the injury. The door slid open to reveal your evidently dejected friend. "Why are you still upset? The residents said I'd make a full recovery and the mission was successf-"

"I'm sorry." It was Giyuu's turn to speak over you. He hesitantly walked towards your bed and kneeled beside it. "I could have stopped this from happening. I could have saved you so much pain."

"That's not your responsibility-"

"It is. I'm there to keep you safe just as you're there to protect me. I failed." He closed his eyes and for only a second, you saw emotion far more intense than you've ever witnessed him showing before.

It almost broke you.

"You can't blame yourself for that! You're the one who kept me alive." You quickly tried to sit up to emphasize your point but flopped back down on the bed upon realizing you had no movement of your dominant arm to support you. "... A cast?" You shook your head in annoyance upon seeing it.

He spoke up once again. "Let me aid you back to health," there was a brief pause as he tried to find the right words, "As an apology for my negligence."

Normally, you'd immediately decline. You have far too much pride for your own good and would never want Giyuu to assume you were weak regardless. But a broken arm is beyond annoying, and maybe some extra time with him outside of life threatening missions would be nice.

You thought it over for a few seconds longer, "If you insist!" you offered a smile although you were nearly certain you'd somehow regret this decision later.

Needless to say, you were right.

---

"Giyuu, let go! I need to train!"

"You need to rest. How do you expect to even lift something as heavy as a sword with a cast on?" You desperately tried to squirm out of his grip as he pinned you to the bed.

"I'll figure it out! Come on, Aoi said I could!"

"No I didn't!" You both heard her call out from the hallway in response.

It was no use. The whole world was against you. You gave up, but not without pouting and complaining for another 20 minutes before making another pitiful attempt at escaping again.

"How have you managed to make full recoveries in the past?" Annoyance dripped from the poor man's lips.

"I'm lucky!" You grinned, before shutting your eyes and going back to sleep. You missed his eyes soften as he watched your sleeping form, before standing up quietly and leaving for a little while.

'Nows my chance!' You stood up and left your room, only to be carried back by the exasperated water breather, both passive-aggressively bickering all the while.

---

"I don't need constant care, you know. It's just a broken arm..." You trailed off as you thought of a way to get him to leave for a while. You enjoyed your time with him, but it was beginning to feel like you were being babysat.

No reply.

You stood up from your bed once again, this time receiving a suspicious glare from Giyuu. "Calm down, I'm only going to get some food."

He nodded at you, but didn't leave your bedside.

"You're... free to join me, you know." You specified once you sensed he wasn't quite sure what to do in your absence. He nodded once more and began trailing behind you as you made your way to a sort of cafeteria where recovering demon slayers can find food.

The food they offered at the time was ramen, which you graciously accepted, though knew from the start it would be a battle to eat it considering your injuries. You took two bowls, found a seat, and waved Giyuu over.

"Thanks so much for making sure I'm alright," you started, "but I swear I'll be fine." You stared down at your ramen before glancing at the chopsticks beside it, then back at the bowl. Maybe you could wait to eat until Giyuu leaves so you don't have to worry about making a fool of yourself, or perhaps you could say you weren't hungry after al-

"You should eat. You haven't had anything all day aside from your medicine."

You looked at Giyuu, then back at the chopsticks. You took a determined breath, then shakily grabbed your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand.

'I can do this,' you thought as you slowly picked up some noodles. Let's just say you weren't exactly ambidextrous. In fact, it's a miracle you got your feeble hand to hold the chopsticks at all.

'I can do this, I ca-' the very few noodles you were able to grab flopped back into your bowl and you could feel the hot liquid splash back in your face. 'No. No, I definitely cannot.'

Meanwhile, your so-called caretaker was struggling to keep his calm demeanour and you caught a glimpse of his mouth twitching up. "It's rude to laugh!" You huffed, but you couldn't keep a straight face either.

After a few moments, his expression shifted back from amused to concerned. "Let me help."

"...What?"

He took the chopsticks from your hands and picked up some noodles before putting them in front of your face. "Eat."

Your face became redder than you thought was possible as some recovering demon slayers snuck peaks at the the two Hashiras apparently sharing a meal.

"I'll pass." You choked out. Giyuu feeding you was not on your plan for the day. He furrowed his brows a bit and inched the noodles closer. You would've held your ground, but the growls coming from your stomach begged you to accept the help. You closed your eyes and quickly took a bite.

"Wow, I had no idea Tomioka and (L/N) were together!"

"I wonder if they were keeping it a secret. I always knew they were in love!" You both overheard the hushed voices erupting from a few of the recovering demon slayers in the room, but neither of you wanted to correct them as you took another bite.

---

You led Giyuu out to the gardens after your rather embarrassing meal.

"I'm not letting you train." He said firmly.

You laughed, "I know. After being stuck in the manor all day, I just figured we both could use some fresh air." What you said was mostly true; yes, you needed the fresh air, but it was more so to calm you down after what happened in the cafeteria.

He nodded, and you both stood in silence as you watched the sun begin to set. Being alone with him so long only confirmed for you just how much you fell for him; it was the comfortable silence that proved it.

You began to walk around the garden, admiring the way the plants glowed under the setting sun. Giyuu grabbed your good hand as you both continued to walk and you blushed at the contact.

"Don't worry! I'm able to walk on my own at least," you laughed in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, "it wasn't my legs that were injured!"

Giyuu admired your blushing face before revealing a soft, yet genuine smile.

"I know."

Notes: -2,204 words -maybe i'll update this with a cringe warning -cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad if you want to support me there as well <3 thank you for reading!! new to tumblr so bear with me here lol

[mattscoquette]

𝑶𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you are childhood best friends turned lovers with matt. based off of mary's song by taylor swift

kissing, slight arguing, no use of y/n

2.1k words

i was seven and you were nine

i looked at you like the stars that shine

and our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love

you were in the backyard, running around on the wooden play set your dad had built for your fifth birthday. it was an early evening in mid august, the heat of the summer day finally beginning to cool down. your family invited the neighbors over for a barbecue for about the third time this week, and it was only thursday.

“matty,” you giggled, brushing the dirt off your knees from the slight tumble you took, “i said no tag backs.” your mother had put your auburn hair into braids for today, which were beginning to fall out from all of your running around. you wore a light green sundress, bringing out the slight green specks in your usual blue irises.

matt laughed back down at you, running away once more, yelling you’re it. you watched as the taller blonde boy made his way down the slide, getting his washed out overalls wet from the sprinkler water that was spraying around the yard.

you two continued to run around while your dad was cooking, admiring the way the two children interacted.

“i bet they’ll get married on day.” he told matt’s dad.

take me back when our world was one block wide

i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

later that night, matt and his family stayed past dinner to have a bonfire. matt, being the big boy he said he was, convinced his parents to let him walk up the road to the connivence store with you to retrieve things to make s’mores with. he was nine now, after all. following thirty minutes of being told to stick together and don’t talk to strangers, you and matt made the quarter of a mile trek with the thirty dollars your mom gave you two.

although the walk wasn’t that far, it still was still exhausting seemed to take days, especially to your poor seven year old self. to make the time pass, you and matt threw rocks down the sidewalk, racing each other to see who’d get there first. matt won, but only because you were tired, or so you claimed.

you two began walking again, hands swinging next to one another.

“truth or dare, matty?” you spoke, grinning over at matt, flashing your new grown up teeth that were starting to grow in.

“hmmm,” matt began, already knowing his answer. he shuffled his feet on the sidewalk, trailing behind you slightly to make you look back and laugh. “dare.”

you thought for a moment, trying to come up with a dare. there wasn’t much to do seeing as you two were walking to the store.

“kiss me” you giggled, puckering your lips out at matt. when he began to pucker his back, you ran up the road to the store shrieking.

well, i was sixteen when suddenly i wasn't that little girl you used to see

you and matt stayed friends your whole childhood. constantly at each other’s houses, having after school play dates or movie nights during the weekend. you two were inseparable. over the years, you two began to change, both physically and mentally. you shot up when you were about 12, standing a few inches taller than matt, until he came home from summer camp taller than you again. you two went through the awkward teenage phases together, finally now growing out of it.

today was your sixteenth birthday, and matt was over at your house with his family for dinner and cake. you’d always been pretty to matt, but over the last year he’s watched you grow into the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. you’d grown tall, having long slim legs that seemed to be miles high. your hair stayed the same color, unlike matt’s who’s had turned brunette over time. you started wearing makeup recently, not much, but enough to accentuate your already stunning features.

matt watched you in awe as you blew out your birthday candles, silently hoping you wished for him. after dessert, the two of you found yourselves outside sitting on the swings of the play set you two used to once roam. you looked beautiful underneath the stars, wearing a brand new blue sundress you bought last weekend. you and matt gazed at each other, both secretly wanting more than you had now.

“remember when i used to give you birthday punches?” matt laughed, peering down into his lap and swinging ever-so-slightly.

you giggled, recalling the time he’d accidentally hit you so hard you’d bruised. he cried for days afterwards, he felt so bad.

“do i get any this year?” you asked him, leaning over into him more as he sat next to you, staring back into your blue eyes.

she shook his head. “i can give you something else.”

you didn’t realize how far you two leaned in until you felt his soft lips pressed to yours.

“one”

you smiled lightly as matt pulled away, suddenly feeling them again back on your own.

“two”

this went on well past sixteen, finally letting go of so much pent up feelings towards one another, as the both of you spent the whole night exchanging kisses back and forth on your old play set. at the end of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend.

take me back to the time we had our very first fight

the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight

you and matt had been together for two years now. it was late spring, and you got accepted into your dream college. the only problem was the school was on the other side of the country. matt had stayed home after graduation, deciding he wanted to pursue a career in youtube with his brothers. you two were currently yelling back and forth about the future of your relationship.

“it’s not fair for you to leave!” matt argues, running his hands through his messy hair.

“we’ll be fine, matt,” you assured him also sounding upset, “this is my dream we’re talking about here.”

“how do you know we’ll be okay? we’ve spent our whole lives together.” the brunette boy shot back.

you began to feel tears prick your eyes, blinking to keep them at bay. he was right, you didn’t know for sure if you two would make it.

“i waited my whole life to finally be with you, i’m not losing you now.” matt shouted, his eyes becoming red with tears as well.

“you won’t lose me!” you tried to plea, full on crying now.

matt huffed, walking out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind him. you spent the whole night sobbing into your pillow, hugging a sweatshirt you had of matt’s. he’d done the same thing, waking up extra early the next morning to show up to your front door with flowers.

upon seeing your poor boy at the door with red puffy eyes clutching a bouquet of daisies, you pulled him in for the tightest hug you had in you. “i’m sorry pretty girl” he kept muttering into the side of your head, repedealty kissing you over and over again. you spent the day with him cuddling on the couch, legs intertwined with one another as you watched the movie. you were both uncertain about the future, but you had right now, and that’s what was most important.

a few years had gone and come around

we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

matt decided to go out west with you to school. he couldn’t bare the idea of not being together for four years. he got an apartment that you two shared together, finally being able to wake up next to your favorite person everyday. little mundane things showed the love you two shared. you would wake up early for class, making an extra cup of coffee you’d set out for matt while you both ate breakfast together. you two had shared drawers, often finding his t-shirts mixed into your clothes. matt would always shower while you were in the bathroom getting ready for the day. little things.

it was now the summer after your college graduation, and you and matt were home visiting your families. upon arrival, his mother had sneakily given matt her engagement ring to propose to you with. you had no idea, so when matt had dropped to one knee in front of the connivence store you bought marshmallows from all those years back, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle

our whole town came and our mamas cried

you and matt decided to get married the next summer, right in your old backyard. the once sturdy playground was now old and rotting, so your dad broke it apart and rebuilt it as the archway you and matt stood under as you exchanged your vows.

you both stood facing one another, hand in hand as you listened to the officiant list off the promises you two swore to keep until death do you part. matt looked at you beaming, tears in his eyes as he imagined the future he would share with the girl next door he fell in love with so many years ago.

“you may kiss the bride.” the man spoke as matt pulled you in. he grabbed your waist, spinning you around so he was holding you up as you leaned backwards, kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe. you both smiled as you shared the moment with your families and friends, something they had all been waiting for since you both were kids.

take me home where we met so many years before

we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

you ended up moving into matt’s old childhood home after his parents moved out of state to retire. you made it a whole project together, updating the wall colors and floorboards, making it your home. you two spent countless days and nights at the hardware store, buying and returning supplies to make sure your new home together was perfect.

you both sat in the center of the living room, the furniture covered in plastic as a fresh coat of burgundy was plastered on the walls. exhausted from the day’s work, you two ordered chinese takeout for dinner.

“when should we tell everyone about the girls?” you asked matt, taking a bite into a spring roll. a few months ago, you found out you were pregnant. at the last doctor’s visit, you two were informed you had twin girls growing inside you. you and matt were absolutely ecstatic, already beginning to prepare the nursery.

“i don’t know, i just hope they have your hair.” he smiled back at you tiredly but with love in his eyes.

after all this time, you and i

a quick six months after that, you brought two beautiful baby girls into the world, who did in fact have your hair. matt loved you three to pieces, constantly attacking you guys with bear hugs when he returned home from long days at work.

becoming a parent was easily the best thing that ever happened to you and matt. you both promised to raise and love your girls as best you could, and you two had absolutely delivered. everyone loved the twins, claiming them to be “angels sent from heaven.”

as time went on, your girls got older, until eventually they were packing up for college, going to the same school you went to. the first few months were rough, you two not being used the quiet in the once loud and booming house. the quiet reminded you of your time before you were a parent, and when it used to just be you and matt.

i'll be eighty-seven, you'll be eighty-nine

i’ ll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky

you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect life. you spent all your time with the people who loved you the most, something a tangible item could never live up to. you and matt were sat on the porch of your house, waiting for one of your daughter’s to come home from the hospital with her first baby. you looked over at your husband, meeting the blue eyes you fell for so many years ago. you think about all the time’s you’ve shared together, both good and bad. you remember the big things, like being matt’s date to his prom, and the smaller things, like his promise to constantly keep your vases filled with fresh flowers.

you think to way back when you were seven years old, playing in your backyard with matt as your dad’s joked about you two growing up and getting married. oh my my my.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ this is one of my fav taylor swift songs i hope u all enjoy reading this much as i did writing it !! matt is so mary’s song coded so i had to do this. i love u all ty for all the love i’ve been getting on my writing!

[bnuuys-writing]

Overblot Yuu! (Reader)

Hi guys! Here's the first part to that idea of Yuu overblotting! It is going to be an X Reader! Poll ends in 4 hrs but I wanted to get a head start on it! Considering I have so many votes casted in currently, I might as well make this into a series! But whoever wins first will get the first chapter! Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

-Bunny Out!

This isn't how you imagined how you'd turn out to be. This isn't you. Yet, how could you turn away from this wonderful feeling of something you were denied in this world? The coursing through your veins, the power at your fingertips, the energy swelling within you—

Magic.

———

Spring was coming up, the frosty air was slowly becoming warmer and warmer as sprouts of flowers began to appear. Grass over the courtyards were losing their morning jack frost more and more every day. Soon, finals were going to come up and summer recess would start. Everyone would go home, spend time with family, friends, loved ones.

Everyone but you.

Standing in the courtyard, eyes glazed over as you couldn't help but stare at the morning gym class soaring in the sky. Ortho, who you could tell by his jets and his broom leaving a white streak in the sky as airplanes would back in your homeland. Twirling and playing around with Epel, Deuce, Ace, and Jack, Sebek only tailed along just to reprimand them on proper technique and form of flying on a broomstick. All of your friends but you.

Taking a large inhale through your nose, slowly exhaling it as your eyes closed ever so slightly as your gaze turned from your magically soaring friends to your breath. This was unfair. Everything was unfair. Headmage Crowley still not finding your way home, all your friends will leave you here at the school just to see their friends and families again back in their homes, yet you couldn't go back to yours. All the while knowing after Malleus’ overblot, there hadn't been any sightings or starting of anyone else beginning to overblot.

Grim rested upon your shoulders, his breath coming out easy and slow as he peeked one eye out at you, a small yowl coming from his mouth as he yawned and stretched.

“Nyah, henchman, why have we stopped? It is still cold outside. Shouldn't we be heading to class?” He whined out, cuddling closer to you under your scarf to better stave himself off from the cold. To lean closer to your overwhelming body heat. You fogged over eyes slowly trailed out from the sky where you lost sight of your friends behind some clouds down to the pesky direbeast resting on your shoulder. You felt unnaturally warm in the cold weather, yet you couldn't be getting sick— Not with finals being so close by. You couldn't risk missing one lecture of a world you didn't know and having your grades tank and you fail.

“Sorry about that Grim, I was just observing our friends in the sky.” You mumbled out, the concoction of medicines coursing through your veins of all allergy relievers, cough drops in your pocket and a warm direbeast upon your neck to prevent a migraine from forming.

Grim, in turn, only seemed to frown at hearing the longing within your voice.

“If you want to go flying! You can always ask me, your magically gifted and future best sorcerer of all time!” Grim shouted out loudly into your ear on accident, causing it to begin ringing as you smiled weakly at your companion. Of course, you could always ask. There were plenty of others who were more capable of flying than Grim but you wished you could just do it on your own.

“I'll have to take you up on that offer sometime, Grim.” You hummed out, clearing your throat ever so slightly as you began to finish your trek into your first class with Grim.

Potionology.

Certainly this should've been one of the easier classes, right? Memorizing potions, pouring things into mixtures to get certain elements and components right before adding more in to get different effects, just like chemistry lab back home for you, right?! Well, when you looked at the ingredient lists, you could barely understand at least half of what the requirements were, and most of the time that was just what beaker you needed and if you needed a stirring stick. The newts, apparently there were more than just one. Direroots were hard to cut for you due to them beginning to scream if cut improperly. 

You were sure Professor Crewel was just ready to stop you from attending classes if it weren't from little nudges of your lab partner across the table helping you. Although most of your potions went wrong either due to Grim overheating it, Deuce fighting with Ace, or you just simply were unable to fully grasp the material. 

Then led onto your next class, History.

This should've been easier, right?! Its just more of memorization, pinpointing certain times and dates and their most important. Yet, that was impossible as you learned more about the different countries on the many different continents. For all the points of history had major significant events happening all at the same time. 

The Queendom of Roses beheading of the first King, all the while in the Savannah, the true king found himself home in order to take back the throne from his wicked uncle that ran the lands dry of all life.

But just before all that, some important Princess in the land of Briar faced off a large important Knight? But the City of Flowers, where you recalled meeting Rollo, was dealing with sightings of their first monster who was locked away in the infamous belltower while the city burned.

Not to mention years later, a beautiful woman who locals swore was made of seafoam was actually found out to be a mermaid, hoping to marry the Prince who was already betrothed to a young woman who was labeled the Fairest in The Land. 

Sure, they all counted back to the stories and fairytales back home but the memorization of dates, names, and which came first and after were confusing. You almost found yourself in debt to Azul in order of getting help if it weren't for Riddle stepping in first and offering his help to you when he found you almost near meltdown, head stuffed into a history book in the darkest corner of the library.

After history left your gym class.

Which consisted mostly of running laps until your legs gave out or sitting on the benches, watching your friends and Grim try to operate a broomstick. Coach Vargas didn't want you to feel left out, but to the nurse, stating how you were a liability after Grim dropped you in his large feats of grandeur, causing Deuce and Ace to crash into together in hopes of catching you, Epel grabbing your track vest at first only for the zipper to break and continue your plummet. Jack and Sebek were the ones who caught you by your feet before you could crack your head open on the grass. Ortho was quick to give you a quick scan and escort you to the nurses office after finding your blood pressure skyrocketed through the roof.

So the benches, you made sure were kept warm. And never lonely. Certainly it was never the other way. 

Which is where you reside currently, eyes fixed up at the sky as you watched Scarabia students try to make evasive maneuvers while carrying the magic-disc for a simple game of magicshift but their opponents of Pomefiore made it very difficult. Watching how they seemed to be able to soar without a single care in the world, for if they fell, they could easily catch themselves by calling back their broomstick or with some other magical maneuver.

Never were they in danger of losing their life unlike the school's residential magicless human.

After that was just getting groceries, making dinner for Grim and yourself, homework studying, then to finish off the night; your evening walk with Malleus and chatter about gargoyles. That always left you feeling at least a tiny bit better as you left after every discussion with a small ‘goodnight’ and went to bed.

Yet, it felt like the days were growing longer ever since you went to Styx. This illness you were experiencing felt like it had been slowly accumulating since Riddle's overblot. First starting with small sneezes and allergy like symptoms until now, after Malleus’ overblot, you felt like you were knocking on death's doorstep. Yet, you had to press through. One day missed felt like a whole year of trying to recover whatever material you couldn't grasp and making your grade slip even more. 

And the only reason you were allowed to stay on campus is to keep an eye on Grim. Make sure your precious roommate succeeds in school. Which means pulling your own weight in order for him to succeed and live his dreams. 

“And so, when youre looking at this equation, you have to remember to plug it into the quadratic formula, Grim.” Your voice was slow and scratchy after another long day of schooling and now here you were trying to help Grim pull his own weight. Although, your help didn't seem all too helpful in the moment as the direbeasts hopes felt like they were fading away fast within his paws.

“Nya! I don't understand human concepts of math! I want to learn magic! I want to cast magic! I want to be a sorcerer! The greatest one!” Grim yowled out loudly, a spark of fire magic sparking at the scattered papers of homework, lighting them aflame with shades of blue. 

“Grim! Dont—!” You shouted as you began to pat out the flames, not caring for the burning sensation. Yes, it hurt. Yet, what hurt more is hours of work going up in literal blue flames. “To be a great sorcerer, you have to understand the basics of being human to fit in!” You responded out, trying to sound reasonable in your reply as you were able to save some of the papers of homework. Turning towards a very irritated looking Grim who… Did… He seem bigger than before? Surely there was no way he could've grown a bit bigger sitting next to you!

Yet, his intense yowling could be heard throughout the ramshackle as his magical ink pen could be seen spurting out extra ink. You knew this sight before.

Grim was about to overblot.

“Grim! Just calm down. We can figure this out—!” You reached out to your friend once more only to get swiped away by claws. Blood began to seep down your hand as you felt something more stickier drip down your hand, casting a glance down to your weeping wound, black ink spots to be found seeping into your skin instead of flowing with the rivers of red.

“How can a magicless human like you understand my wants?!” Grim howled out, as your eyes flicked back to his form and indeed. He was growing larger, and larger, and the ink was accumulating more, and more all over his body. 

“Because if I didn't, why do you think I would even still be trying to help you pass?! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be attending this school!” You snapped back and paused. No. That wasn't what you wanted to say. That was cruel, and mean. Your eyes flicked down to the wound once more as you began to recall what you remember about human bodies.

Was it human bodies being 70% water? No, otherwise the ink would wash away in the bloodstream.

Was it that human bodies are made up of 99% empty space? No, that wouldn't make sense in this theory.

The body being a collection of matter within a continuous three dimensional space? Physics isn't helpful in this matter either. 

No, it was energy! The human body is energy! And what is most of Twisted Wonderland? Magical energy! You were breathing it in, eating it, absorbing it! Magical energy— overblots— being here in Twisted Wonderland was poisoning you! That's why you've been so sick, you've been absorbing so much energy that wasn't made to fit in your human body—

Another ear shrieking yowl broke you through your thoughts as you snapped your gaze up to Grim, a much larger Grim who was larger than the size of a horse growling at you. Blot surrounding his whole form but that didn't deter you. If you were going to lose yourself, you could lose yourself trying to save your best friend. The one that has been with you this entire time without fail.

Launching yourself at him, a yell ripping through the room as you began to claw, tear, and rip blot away from Grim. Getting yourself coated in it yourself. If you were never meant to go home, if you weren't meant to get magic poisoning, you might as well pass trying to save your best friend.

“We can get through this together Grim! Just believe me! Don't overblot, please!” Yet, your cries were unheard as another deafening roar echoed through the ramshackle as the magic around you felt like it was getting stronger. You could feel yourself getting pulled in slowly now, a sacrifice maybe? A ticking bomb of pent up magical energy storing within you, poisoning you, and now would be beneficial for Grim now. Yet, you weren't going to lose. You just couldn't.

As you felt blot forming from yourself, sparks of something clicking with your stomach as you began to slowly fade out of consciousness. Hearing glass shatter and the panting of Grim bolting as you resided somewhere on his back. You refused to die like this. You couldn't leave him alone like this.

You know, you could always make Crowley look for your way home.

What? Where did that thought come from? You consciousness was fading more and more to darkness, unable to keep both eyes open as you felt your will giving up the fight.

Forget Crowley. You can find your own way home. Just give in. 

We will set you free, Prefect. We will send you home if you just…

Give in to the power.

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ intruders in the cabin ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ toby rogers x reader ୨୧ after your long walk through the forest, the stranger's cabin approaches but so does the dark... find part one: strangers in the woods. a/n: (1.5k words) sorry this took so long! i had so many different ideas of how this would go but i ended up liking this one best 🩷

After the long trek from within the forest, the encompassing trees merged into the dark distance. Ahead of you and Toby, who you came to know lived out here for his job, was a two story cabin. It wasn't overly large but you could tell it wouldn't be cramped inside.

You both were coming out of the forest from the right side of the house. At the front of the house was a small porch area with an old weathered metal stool. There were two dirt tracks from a vehicle winding into the forest. Toby offhandedly pointed to it as he walked up the porch stairs mentioning that that's the only way to get to an exit road.

He pulled out a silver key that was beginning to rust out of his jean pocket. His hand twitched a few times as if he had a bad hand cramp before roughly shoving the key into the lock.

Said wooden door was roughly shoved open hitting the wall behind it with a thud. The roof lights took a few seconds to come on after he flicked the light switch but he seemed to know where to go without them anyway. You hesitantly follow him into the old house.

It's not as if you had any other choice really. How else would you find your way out to the woods in the dark?

The interior was just as aged as the rest of the place. There were two brown couches one opposite the tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace, the other was on the right of the tv closing the living room off from the kitchen. There was a coffee table in between the two couches that had seen better days.

The kitchen table didn't look much better, there were four chairs although one had a bent leg and was sitting on an angle. So was one of the wooden cabinets barely hanging onto its hinges.

What else would you expect from a park ranger? Though it was a bit odd for someone your age to be doing this kind of job but then again the job market was rough so you gave the guy some slack.

He led you to couches where you sat on the nearest seat. Although it didn't look like it, the couch was more comfy than it looked. You almost melted back as you took in the rest of the room's details.

Most of the pictures and wall decor had a layer of dust on it, with thick cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling. There were worn marks from frequent use on the stairs opposite the front door, leading to the second floor of the cabin.

The creak of the fridge door opening startled you from your observations. Toby's head was peering into the fridge. "What'd you want? We've got gross pulp juice or flat cola?"

Not particularly your favourite choices in the world.

"Oh, there's some redbull cans- never mind their Bri- uh. My roommates." You were practically telepathic thanks to your customer service job but you could only just make out what he was mumbling about.

"I'll just have the juice, thank you" He hummed in agreement as he pulled out two glasses and poured you both a glass of the bulb orange juice.

He went around the other couch sitting down and leaning over to place your drink on the rackety table.

As he drank his eyes never left you, as if trying to soul search you. Under such intensive eyes you picked at the ends of your shirt, an odd habit you picked up during your time at school.

"So, do you live here alone?" Another habit of yours rose to the surface, filling the awkward silence. A habit you picked up at work.

"No, i have roommates"

He literally just mentioned it. Ugh you idiot, honestly.

"Right, you did mention that. Sorry" You quickly reached forward to grab your cup, raising it quickly to your mouth.

He laughed a bit, more like chuckled at your misfortune before muttering 'it's fine'.

"So why're you walking the trail you know before you got lost?" He emphasised the lost part as if he knew you weren't really. You gulped uncomfortably.

"I wanted to clear my head, walk with nature- that kinda thing." He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Walk with nature? What the hell does that even mean" You scoffed.

Clearly this guy hadn't read many self care books.

"You know, like to get away from what's bothering you" He shrugged nonchalantly and placed his empty cup down.

"I usually try to get away from the forest with all my problems" You somewhat snorted, also placing your half drank cup down.

A surprisingly easy quiet washed over you both. You were finally able to fully take in the fidgeting man in front of you.

He really was quite attractive. His hair had the slightest curl to it and he had the nicest eyelashes. His jawline too was perfect for his face. Not to mention his build too, he clearly had a runner's body but slightly more muscles in his arms, he- he was smirking too. He definitely saw you check him out. Opps.

"Would you like to share?" His voice jolted you out of your embrassing trance, you only just managed to not let it show.

"Share what?" He stretched his arms a bit before leaning one on the back to the couch with the other one falling back next to his legs.

"Share your problems, why you were out 'with nature'" His voice held a soft yet joking tone.

"Oh uh, it was just my boss- ex boss now"

"Oh, yeah?" He sat up a bit, more interested in what you had to spill.

"Yeah, he was a bit of a dick. Fired me which majorly sucks" He let out a 'oof' sound as he blew out air in a sigh.

"Right-o that sucks, damn you're having a worse day than me" You tried not to laugh, a tight smile the result.

"Happened yesterday actually so between us, you're having a worse day so" You dramatically shrugged and he laughed along.

"Fair enough" His voice teasingly defeated.

After a bit more back and forth talking about anything under the sun for a good while. He got up grabbing both your cups and retreating to the kitchen once more, asking if you wanted a refill.

As you were about to answer, a light shone through the gaps in the curtains. Toby was frozen in place before quickly darting over to you.

He roughly grabbed your upper arm pulling you up and into him. You whimpered an 'ow' out before he forcefully pulled you away from the couch and towards the stairs.

"What the fuck, let go of me!" Your voice spiraled the more confused you got and the longer he gripped you tight.

He merely lowly grunted in response, almost pushing you up the stairs. He got you about half-way up when the door slammed open.

Two men around the same height walked in and stopped at the view of you two. The man who walked in first had dark hair, a tan jacket over a red checkered shirt. In his hand was a black and white mask.

The other man had lighter hair, an off-yellow hoodie and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a black ski mask looking hood.

They were covered in blood except their faces. The masks however were dripping in blood, most of it falling onto the wooden floor.

A scream rang through the dimly lit cabin. It wasn't until Toby's hand violently covered your both did you realize it was coming from you.

Your now muffled cries seemed to awaken the two new men out of their distraction.

"What the fuck Toby? We were gone what three- four hours and you bring a fucking stray here?" The man with the yellow hoodie angrily ran his hand through his messy hair while the other man shook his head in disbelief before collapsing down onto the couch.

"She got lost, besides she's pretty" His stuttering heightened the more the man glared at him.

"I don't care whether she Helen of fucking Troy Toby! You know the rules"

Your attempts to get free were futile, with Toby's arm wrapped around your middle and his hand covering your mouth. Your wriggling and jolting did nothing but push you into him again and again.

He grumbled under his breath before flipping you around to face him. He held both your wrists in one hand while his other wrapped around the back of your head.

You could feel the sting on your arms and neck from his harshness. Your wide eyes watering in fear and the cold air. Your jarpled words mixed together to form a barely cohert sentence. Thoughts too scattered to comprehend the situation.

Toby's eyes were blank but his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Well, it seems like you are having a worse day than me huh?" You blinked in confusion.

You opened your mouth to respond when his hand shifted to your hair pulling at the roots. He pushed your head towards his shoulder. Then in a split second he smacked your head towards the hard, cold wall.

[starshipsofstarlord]

not yet corpses. still, we rot.

summary. you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

warnings. death, gore, violence, angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of s.a, mentions of death

notes. i changed the specification of the timeline a tiny bit, i moved the timeline of the smut into a flash back as in my head y/n and daryl would be too on guard to fuck after all that trauma. i hope you enjoy my attempt at writing your request, i’d love to know your thoughts 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The crickets sung as aspiring performers in the midst of the fire’s crackling, you were cold, tired and hungry, and all that you wanted to hear was the epiphany of silence. Each limb in your body ached sourly from the endless trekking that you had participated within, the chance to close your eyes and rest sounded spectacular.

But you refrained from succumbing to a fuelling slumber, for you would only be haunted by the reality of the situation that you had no home, and members of your found family were lost to the land that crawled with ravenous walkers… or dead.

The warmth provided from the flames was greatly appreciated by your bumpy flesh, and you stared distantly into the licking of sunset coloured mirage of the makeshift campfire. It dried the whites of your eyes to an irritating texture, however it was better than facing the truth behind the pitiful glances that the three survivors that you had structured the prison alongside donated in your direction.

You weren’t looking for sorrowful attention, you just wanted to find as many of your group as you could, selfishly Daryl more than others. The plain silver band on your finger glinted from the source of radiating and manmade light, flickering your memory back to you and Daryl tying the knot in a place that you had hoped would remain secure.

If it wasn’t for the Governor and his manipulated army, then it would have. You were glad they had their fates, or at least you assumed they all had considering the destruction that had been waged in the graveyard like grounds. There were countless lives that you had ensured were ended as you did your best to ensure that they would regret their life ruining choices.

The clouds grew agitatedly darker within the midnight sky above you, and to the dismay of your body’s survivalist needs, your shoulders shrunk from the bitter air as Rick extinguished the source of warmth. As you idly sat by, remaining in your shroud of speechless presence, Rick escorted Carl to the immobile vehicle, allowing him to sleep on the backseats for extra protection from the horrors that could possibly creep up on you in the night.

Michonne moved closer to you, placing her hand which rarely not held her executing samurai on your jacket clothed bicep, the moment was tender considering that she was doing her utmost to comfort you. “He’s out there,” she spoke with confidence, believing each word that left her mouth. “He’s a survivor, and he knows what he’s doing out there.”

“We were all survivors.” It was a statement, one that caused you great misery to say. “But in the end nobody survives, we’re all going to die one day, and some of the people out there are worse than the walkers. There’s no saying what has happened to the others… to Daryl…” You shook your head, trailing off into a weight of what one would describe as tranquility.

For you however, it was a reminder that in your future everything would be mute. The outbreak would demolish the remaining population of every single species, tainting them with transformative virus until the new and ‘improved’, infinite flock of homo sapiens lay ruin and feast to anything that breathed. The world now belonged to the dead, they were suitably adapted to the unforgiving nature of the world.

Their past minds had been erased, the concepts of a once modern life vanquished as society was. There was nought memories of waiting in endless queues in supermarkets, or eating a buttered bucket of popcorn in a movie theatre. All that corrupted the simple minds of the corpses was necessity to devour anything that they envisioned as food - your mindsets were now of similar values in that slim respect.

Just thinking of your mouth being bitterly tainted with a murderous wash of irony blood revolted you; it was something that you would never swallow, literally. Ripping into human flesh with your very teeth was a repulsive reminder that one bite, or a death without a deadly pressure to the brain, would turn you into one of those monsters. You had to remain alert, despite your body’s almost hypnotic drowsiness to fall asleep.

At least Rick and Michonne had each other, even if they did not acknowledge the true depth of their reciprocated support. You could tell that through their reunion something had changed within their dynamic, and you missed the deep likeness of companionship that you had shared with Daryl. Often times than not, you and the southern blooded archer would be among the seemingly endless forestation that surrounded the safe homestead of the prison, tracking and hunting critters that could surpass as an edible hors d'oeuvres.

There would be bashful conversations drifting between the two of you, whether that be a suave competition of whom could catch the most lustre of nut harbouring squirrels, or- well, in simpler terms, a concoction of unholy words that would prevail when he was erratically buried inside of your cunt. You’d go at it like rabbits in prosperous heat whilst present in the woods; the prison had no privilege of privacy since the residents of Woodbury had adjoined with the residing numbers.

And that was the thing you missed the absolute most, having your man close, in any which way. That cramped bunk within your sheet concealed cell was something you’d die for currently, you adored being pressed up against Daryl’s chest, listening to his tame heart beat, as you fell tentatively asleep.

Watch was more exhausting than it appeared, with a traipse dignifying each of your steps, you rubbed your heavy eyelids, hoping to excuse the tiredness that was overwhelming your body. In your dominant hand you used your shotgun as a walking cane, forcing yourself to return to your cell that you missed dearly. It was better than falling into a shrouding slumber in the middle of the hall; that almost sounded tempting, considering you wouldn’t have to move any further through the large prison, but you had more reason than a cot to sleep on calling your name.

And you saw it as you achingly slid past the hanging drape of a sheet that allowed some privacy in the individual cell that you always returned to and housed your random array of nicknacks that you had picked up on runs into permanently closed stores. Daryl’s body was strewn across the thin mattress, his hand laid across his face covering his depth-full eyes, as his chest rose and fell in an irregular accordance - he was still conscious, unable to doze off into plentiful rest.

Your lips tugged in an endearing smile that he couldn’t see, and you couldn’t resist from creeping closer. That was all you required, to be close to him. There were only a handful of steps remaining until you got to your desired destination, and without so much of a thought, you persevered. “Hey.” The tone that radiated from you was weak, throughout the daytime, your schedule had been filled with condemning tasks which were necessary to keep the smooth run of the prison a constant. Whilst you were doing your maintenance, there had been a not so big, yet not so small, hoard of walkers appear from over the horizon.

Michonne had joined you with handling their swift executions, but your shoulders ached from the striking violence, and the dragging of water caskets; the council, of which you were a part of, had decided to move them out of the sun so their contents would be of a hydrating temperature.

“Ya okay sunshine?” Daryl rolled around so that he was on his side, and sat up on the edge of the bed with a crouching back so that he could view your approach of him. You came to stand between his legs, enjoying the sensation of his hands running around your hips, their warmth filling you with comfort. To lull into the atmosphere which was turning sensual, your fingers coiled in his hair, running through the locks that had grown over the months.

His nose ran softly up your stomach, as he buried his face into your form, having reciprocated your yearning for his company. With a smooth drag from his strong arms, you fell delightedly into his lap, your faces meeting in a staring match as he brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Love ya, so fuckin’ much, my stunnin’ girl.” He mumbled, leading your lips to his in a slow and meaningful collision. The moment was tender, doused in every word that you were too exhausted to say aloud. You were communicating via your actions, discarding the apparel that concealed your bottom halves, giving you the opportunity to slide your cunt down on his erect cock.

You felt blissfully full, the qualms that had bent you to their will through the day slipping instantaneously away. The cupping of your palms positioned themselves on his exposed shoulders, and you ground your hips together, feeling his tip prod deep within you. Daryl shuffled back, kicking his legs out as he wrapped his arms around your frame, treating you so delicately as he fucked you from below. His lips cascaded along every inch of skin that your tank left bare, expressing his adoration for you with his lips and the little circles he drew along your hips. He could never get enough of being close to you, since the first time the two of you had shared together, he had gained more confidence with his role in the sexual situations you shared.

The breaths that huffed past your lips in attempts of being quiet were addictive to his ears, he was desperate to get an audible sound to fester out of you, but the pleasured expression that was imposed on your face was enough; he knew that he was making you feel amazing, and in these lovemaking events, that was all that mattered to him. He groaned at the thought of being somewhere private, where you could make a sound without disturbing anybody, or risking walkers stumbling upon you.

You were close, Daryl could feel it, your walls clenched uncontrollably around his length, which drove him wild, and cautiously he bucked his hips upwards a little faster, careful not to cause the bed to squeak to badly as there were people sleeping in both cells either side your own. He sat further up, his back straighter so that he could brush his teeth gently along your jaw, driving you wild as your hands drove beneath the sleeveless sides of his shirt, caressing his scarred flesh with tentativeness.

You were snapped out of your daydream in the omnipotent dark as you felt the scuffing of crinkling leaves, and before you could adjust into defensive action, there was a cold metal muzzle pressed into your muzzle, by a man with silver locks and a denim vest suited to his greedy physique. Without a doubt, these were the same men that had traipsed upon the house that you and Rick had been inhabiting whilst Michonne and Carl were strolling the streets.

They were claimers to objects they valued as things that their greed thirsted for, and you shuddered a breath as the man threatening your life steadied his grotesque arm upon your shoulder all the whilst he opened his mouth to converse impolitely. “Maybe we’ll keep this one alive, she’s a looker.” It felt as though he was bragging about the possibility to his hungry followers that you could be his property.

He recognised Rick that was for sure. You’d been a witness to the man that had taken it upon himself to cozy his fat ass on the toilet, and the way in which his throat was denied oxygen to passage through it. You and Rick had been huddled under the bed that dipped from their pocket heavy weights as you had ran to awaken him as you were certain you’d heard something before they bustled into the once home to a stranger that was no doubt long dead. And in your escape, you had put a deadly pressure on the invader’s throat… until he permanently passed out.

To exasperate your distaste for his misogynistic idea, you spat upon the ground, your nostrils flaring as you dared to spin your head back so that his gun was resting upon your forehead. If he was going to shoot, he might as well make it quick, considering you didn’t intend to be alive if they had the intentions of taking sick advantage of your body.

As you prepared to retort an insult that foully would cause further trouble for you and your friends, they momentarily became distracted but still alert as a figure slunk onto the clearing. You had to allow your vision to focus, and when it did, you were shocked in the best possible way. It was Daryl, and he was certainly alive. He seemed to be acquainted with this pack of scavengers, and you realised that the ordeal in which he had went through was the only way in which he could have survived.

He didn’t liken association with low lives that threatened those he cared about, however he hadn’t seen their full nature until now. Daryl felt at a crossroads as he took complete acknowledgment of the weapon that was frozen against your skull; he couldn’t be rash, they were a lousy, impulsive group, and he was lit with elation in every cell of his body to see that you were still breathing.

“Jus’ hold up.” His gentle footsteps were slowly approaching in a careful regard as his voice strained with caution. He couldn’t help but eye Joe up - he had a gun to your damn head! If he pulled that trigger… he wouldn’t allow that bullet to be released. You were far too great a risk to have on the line, he had to settle this, like a man. Rick was squinting up at him, determining the reason for the unsurprising reaction the claimers had given his presence.

“One of these two is the one that killed Lou so we got nothing to talk about.” The rugged, richly certain statement fled from one of the thieving men, as he had his long barrel raised, Rick being the focus on the end of his gun that had most likely been stolen in the crossfires of their apocalyptic journey. Anything was loot to them, even with their rules, they were scoundrels no doubt before the end of the world had began, and they would leave it no different. But Daryl wasn’t willingly going to allow them to either kill or claim you, your worth was insanely precious, and he wouldn’t allow all you had been through to be for nothing.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time.” Joe said from behind you, realising that finally, Daryl had proven himself despite the cautionary warnings and delivered punishments that the archer had bore witness to, but he was just to be a loss to them if he didn’t get behind the way, then he would just be an obstacle in the way. “Say your piece Daryl.” This was his final chance, but he had been given an opportunity. Joe liked to think of himself as an understanding man, there was always a reason as to why a swine didn’t want to roll in the mud; his gaze noticed that your eyes didn’t deter away from the redneck that was new to his ranks. There was an expression that he didn’t recognise upon upon your face, but he was willing to use it for his own purposes if it came to such a crossroads.

“These people…” Daryl cast his eyes momentarily at you again, as though he was pleading for you to remain still and allow him to be the peacemaker. And you subtly nodded, brows drawing together as you concentrated on the group members who had taken up space in your surroundings. “You gon let em go. These are good people.” He was attempting to find some humanity in this man who was leaning like a shadow over you, if there was any. It was the same careful traipse of dialogue that he would use with Merle when he was being inconsiderate before the outbreak, it hardly worked, his brother would laugh and call him a pussy, but Daryl had learned how to use his heart.

It was there to love, and whilst it still felt new, to be loved. These were his people, you were his person, and it was his responsibility to save you. He had tried to protect Beth, and whilst she had gotten out of that mortuary house with her life in tact despite the wave of walkers that had invaded through the front door, she still had to be alive. And so did the others, wherever in the country they were, no one was weak, each of you had your own strengths and that would get you somewhere. It had to.

“Now I-I-I think Lou would disagree with yer on that.” The grey haired man stuttered, and you weren’t sure whether it was due to the lack of respect he felt from Daryl whom he had taken in as one of his own - a stray, or if he felt inferior. You supposed it was the latter, there was a continual pattern with each man that fought for power that you had noticed after your encounters. They feared any soul opposing them, it made them appear frail and insecure, just like the Governor had been with the instances involving Andrea and Michonne. “I’ll of course have to speak for him an’ all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Guilt overflowed like a faucet in your throat; you didn’t regret killing ‘Lou’. Rick had been your supporting witness, but there were no longer court trials condemned to determine the punishments for living, instead those that thought they were in control of the passers-by that they encountered - and to them, what fit every crime was death. There was now nought reason for you to brood in your squalor, you could see Daryl’s face, and if that was the last image that you had earned before the end of your life, you were glad. Though you were stubborn to go out fighting, otherwise your entire life after the prison; the tears, the passiveness, and the little amount of blood that had spilt from you would all have been for nothing.

“You want blood, I get it.” Daryl read them, Joe had already killed one of his own men, he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to a found family of strangers. They weren’t good people, they were miscreants that had given him the choice to either join them on their sin induced travelling, or die. And he had been broken, lost and alone, there had been no other choice if he had the intent of surviving in order to drains you. With disregard, he threw his arms in a stance, disarming himself as his crossbow flew out of his hands, falling on the ground, showcasing that he had an offer that Joe would not justify with a refusal “Take it from me man. Come on.”

Your heart swelled, Daryl was putting his own life on the line so that he could save you and your friends. A glaze of emotion was cast over your eyes, as you tried to slow your heartbeat, if you panicked, none of you would get out of this. “This man and woman killed our friend. You say their good people.” It was ironic, if you weren’t so shocked you would have stifled a laugh. These people weren’t friends, there weren’t any tears for their dear Lou, no, they craved any excuse to take and take and take. The revenge they were stubborn with pursuing was only a reason to get their hands bloody, and feel powerful as they got further away from the concept of being a human. “Now that right there i-i-is a lie. It’s a lie!”

Daryl couldn’t bargain through this, they were set in stone when it came to their perception of inflicting both emotional and physical pain. With disappointed defeat, his arms flopped haplessly at his sides, as he continued to stand straight. He had to get through to them! They could budge just a little, he just had to encourage them, make them believe that letting you live was the wrong thing to do. “C’mo-” Before he could continue his pleads to be the centre of violent attention, one of the lowlife claimers wretched their foot into his stomach, causing him to wheeze uncontrollably from the harsh impact.

At the sight alone of him getting hurt, it was on instinct that you prepared to swerve into action. You had to stop this, you had to save him. Your hands scratched against the golden leaves that were all over the ground as you tried to scramble up on your feet, attempting to prevent further bruising or blood withdrawal from Daryl’s body, however a sharp pain flew through your scalp. Joe had grabbed you, maintaining you as his hostage as his fingers weaved aggressively through your hair, forcing you to jut your chin out from the painful discomfort.

“Teach him fellas.” His tone was strong as he beckoned his orders, his deep, soulless eyes twitching from the agitation that had pent up within him. “Teach him all the way.” He ensured that they were aware of what he wanted, and the rest of the claimers were gratified to comply with his protocol of brutality, shoving Daryl up against the frozen vehicle, the clash of his body against it being audible from where you knelt. They threw punch after hateful punch, and Daryl struggled to maintain his stance against them; it was two against one.

“C’mere boy.” The words were growled out through the open car door, as Carl was dragged away from the hiding space. He couldn’t escape, and the claimers were getting the best of your group, and they were in afraid to draw blood. A knife was held firmly against the boy’s throat, and your eyes bulged from the petrifying suspense. Tears slipped from Carl’s blue eyes that had witnessed far too much for his age, and Rick began to panic. Lori had lost her life when she was birthing Judith, who now was also somewhere in the unknown, probably dead. He wouldn’t fail as a father a second time and allow his remaining child to die. “You leave him be!” Rick bellowed, which only made the sick men chuckle at his despair as they held him down from writhing towards an escape to rescue his son.

“Listen it was me! It was just me!” The words shrieked from your lips, as you felt a pool of despair puddle in your eyes. This was all because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t panicked within the moment of entrapment, and you hadn’t forlorn Lou to whichever afterlife lay after the present, then the claimers would have spared you, envisioning you as stragglers that had done no harm. There was a debt to be paid; a score that Joe felt he had to settle, and it was all because of your pathological actions. If anyone had to own up and pay the cost of taking the life of their adjoined associate, it should be you.

They wanted a permanent justice of a life, and you were happy enough to allow them to take it, as long as you were deemed the victim. That said however, if there was a route away from a pledged sentence, you would take it so that your entire family, including you would be spared. You just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and then there would be no hesitation on your part. “See now that’s right.” Joe’s words saturated your spine with a discerning flavour of fright, as he pushed the threatening metal harsher against the shell of your brain.

Rick’s eyes drifted in a frantic debauch between his sobbing son, who was thrashing under the weight of the gruesome man who conveyed him as nothing more than an activity; he’d enjoy watching him die; and you, whom was rigid from head to toe. His mind tried its damndest to calculate a way to save you both, you’d become like a sister to him despite the arrogance that you’d greeted him with back at the Atlanta camp, blaming him dreadfully for Merle’s captivity on that rooftop, rather than Merle and his big, loud and agonising mouth that tended to land him in a swarm of trouble. You had always been on Daryl’s side, but now you shared a connection after the fleeting experiences that had doubtlessly backed you against a wall.

“That’s not some damn lie. Look we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” Joe reasoned with self interest and vengeance, his stone irises scouring languidly down your tense body from above, a little impressed that a woman had managed to withdraw the life of one of his boisterous comrades. His breath heaved down on you, making your skin crawl with distaste. And so he continued, making you all the more seasoned with spite. “First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then your friend next to you. Then the other girl. Then the boy. And then we shoot you and then we’ll be square.” His maniacal laugh retorted in an echo, as his words truly sunk in. There had been enough devastation, and you viewed each of those you cared for with compassion.

Carl was writhing across the golden leaves that appeared gray beneath the silver moon, leaking from his tear ducts with agonising fear. Rick was stern with his demanding pleas that did nothing but resort humour into the audience that had you at gun point. Michonne was wide eyes and prepared for any intrusion that could occur, silently realising that you would be the culprit to begin a ravenous fight. And Daryl, god Daryl was swinging his arm back as much as he was able, losing against the two men that had the delight of using him as a punching bag. You couldn’t wait any longer, no one was on their way to save you, there was no other choice but try again, planning on a physical tactic this time.

“Let them go.” You hissed dangerously thro the your teeth, flickering your eyes around one last time, managing to make eye contact with Michonne, the gun against her braided head remind you that it was now or never. Joe felt hilarity from your demand, and you repeated it in an increased volume, distracting him with the sound of your voice before you threw your head back, whacking the man behind you with a mind numbing force. The bang of a bullet stirred a hazy cast across your field of vision, spiring a high pitched scream of white noise in your ears, but it was worth it. Joe had stumbled aback, the impact having arose a newfound course of adrenaline to fluster through your pumping veins.

With the rush that jolted you into a spiralling spree of sudden action, you span around, standing upon your two feet as you threw a heavy punch to your enemy’s tired face, a concerned look transpiring upon Rick’s face, as Daryl failed with unfortunate consequences to prevail in his hand to hand combat hustle. In return, you had earned a blow to the face, the force of Joe’s fist causing you to be upon the floor once again. “Oh it’s gonna be so much worse now.” To support his promise, his foot met with your ribs, causing a holler and a pained gasp to escape you; there would no doubt be a bruise left if you survived this assault.

Another slap brandished your face with a stinging hue, as you stumbled up, staggering slightly as you did your best to focus on winning this physical battle. “Come on, get up! Come on, let’s see whatcha got.” He was teasing you, drowning you with anger from the mockery he betrothed you with, as a red line ran pleasantly from his nose. “C’mere!” He growled, prompting you for more, and to see his blood spill was a divine gift, even as he breathed disgustedly against you as he grabbed you by the waist, holding you in front of his body. “What the hell you gonna do now slut?”

There was no possibility of escaping his grip with your form alone, he was a sturdy man, albeit an evil one, but he had you in his monstrous clutch. Your brain racked with a free flow of a matching immoral high ground, and thus you thought of the walkers, and how they took life. Your noggin tossed back in a flurry of monstrosity, your teeth gnashing until they pried formlessly upon his throat, the flesh running between each porcelain tooth as you found purchase in the skin, tugging with animosity, until the torn fragment of his body was pulled away, blood spattering in a revolted spray from your mouth.

The claimer gradually fell, pausing his team from their desolate nature of commanding death as their leader met his end, laying in a lifeless pile on the ground. Michonne and Rick pursued their captor’s, sweeping their lives away in a more sophisticated fashion than you had, and Daryl gained the upper hand from your repulsive distraction. As Rick fled from where he had knelt, he sprinted to pursue Carl’s release, as you remained still, shocked with your own tactile second nature. Your face was half covered in blood, like you were a young child whom had gotten into their mother’s makeup bag, but that wasn’t the reality. You shook, astounded with trauma.

Arms coiled around you, as Daryl held your crimson chin in his hand, looking lovingly at you despite the circumstances that had lead to your freedom. “Sunshine.” The term was distinctly ironic, but the cigarette husk that adorned his throat remained full of love. Since the outbreak you had all had to complete extensive steps to remain breathing, and your breath stuttered as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your archer’s chest, but he held your head up, as he dragged the red rag from his pocket, swiping across the stain that made the rag even redder. As you looked around yourself, you saw past the massacre and felt relief.

This was home; these people, especially the one right in front of you. His hand stroked roughly against your cheek as a long, heartfelt peck was planted upon your forehead. He had found you, in this sick world that had all of you lost. You smiled at him, resting your forehead against his as you shared a harmonious breath. “I’m just happy your alive Dixie.” You tried to uplift the mood, as did Rick and Michonne, as they fussed with care over Carl. Daryl couldn’t care less for the state that you were displayed in, he pulled you closer, unable to resist your lips. You shared a kiss, it was passionate and filled with circumstantial desperation, your hands pulled at his neck as you tried to get his face closer.

You could only move on from this happening, there was no dwelling. There was no guilt bore in your chest, those that tried ripping you apart deserved a worse fate, and you had only been fair since considering the consequences they had imposed on forcing you to experience. The Governor was the same, and so would the next foolish soul that failed the lengths that you would all go through to protect each other. You felt sick from the vehemence that had concurred from your body, but you had found more pieces of your familial puzzle, and you had every intention of finding the rest.

[ylangelegy]

lvr ♾️ minghao x reader.

“take me out, and take me home. you're my, my, my lover.” # day seven of (the)8 days of minghao.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ headcanons of minghao as your boyfriend.

❥ falling in love. minghao's feelings remind you of a flower blooming. it's a slow, gradual thing. he's not immune to physical attraction, but love for him is something much deeper. he knows better than to take things solely on the surface level. love would only be possible for him with time, with both the sunshine and the rain. when it comes, he's not surprised. he will know that his feelings for you have been blossoming, have been growing, and he is never one to deny himself of pure and simple truths.

❥ confessing. minghao has never been a man of overtly grand gestures. some might see this as a con, but there's also appeal in the way he makes sure things are always clear and uncomplicated. his confession may come in the form of an afternoon in a café, over the pastries he knows you like best— or an evening under the stars, while you two are seated side by side on a park bench. he tells you as it is. i like you. no i think, no maybe. "you don't have to respond or even reciprocate," he will tell you, and he means it. "i just wanted to let you know."

❥ pet names. a part of minghao withers at the like of 'babe' and 'baby'. he's more comfortable with 'darling', if any, because there's a dozen ways he can say it. when he's trying to coax you out of bed. "darling, your five minutes are up." when he's exasperated and you're squabbling. "that's not what i said, darling." when he's struck by the way you look. "look at you, darling; you're the prettiest thing i've seen." (on occasion, minghao will use 'petal' or 'angel'. all soft, reverent names.)

❥ dating (1). dates with minghao are like you'd imagine. he's big on museums, especially the contemporary/modern ones. he enjoys walking around with you aimlessly, reading the descriptions out loud to you, and asking what you think about certain pieces. he's also a fan of nature; you can expect visits to botanical gardens, treks through sun-soaked trails.

❥ dating (2). there's also a part of minghao that revels in shopping dates. it's his not-so guilty pleasure, having the chance to visit strip malls or boutiques with you. he has a keen eye for articles of clothing that suit you the best. it's a little harder for you to help dress him, so you're likely to be on the receiving end of his slight side-eye whenever you pick out something rather questionable. he'll indulge you all the same, but he draws pretty clear lines on what matches his style. "we are not getting that," he half-begs as you insist on what he considers the world's most atrocious jacket. "i love you, but please!"

❥ apology language. fights with minghao may be few and far between, but they still happen. he can be sarcastic and sharp-tongued, after all; honest, but not sentimental. when apologizing to you, he's the type to accept responsibility and make restitution. "i was wrong," he'll start. "what can i do to make things right?" he's able to take ownership of when he screwed up, and he believes in implementing change in making amends. he expects the same energy from you, though, because minghao is not about to be in a relationship where there's no growth.

❥ the little things, a.k.a minghao is... gossip excitedly shared the moment he gets home ("you said i shouldn't tell anyone, but that doesn't count my partner"). outings with his parents, where he glows with pride at the thought of it being a 'double date'. voice messages sent whenever he's away; groggy recordings of "just got to my hotel room. i'll text once i've gotten some sleep. good night… or is it morning there?… ugh, whatever."

❥ love language to receive. despite being a man who received compliments on the daily, minghao will be the first to admit that affirmation hits different when it comes from you. he may not actively seek your validation, but you can see it in a dozen little ways. how he turns to you first when he's trying on a new outfit. how he looks for you in the crowd whenever he's performing. there's a certain tension that eases from his shoulders when you acknowledge him. he will try not to look too pleased about it; you'll find it in the twinkle in his eye, the shine of his smile.

❥ love language to give. minghao is a man who lives and breathes acts of service. you need to do your groceries? he's more than happy to tag along. you can't pick up your laundry? he'll get it for you. minghao makes sure that you always have gas in your tank, that he has pocket versions of your vanity kit in every bag of his. a line from hafiz's it happens all the time in heaven best describes minghao's credo when it comes to loving you: "my dear, how can i be more loving to you? / how can i be more kind?"

[alpacaexpeditions]

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[sexsylexi]

His body heat

Arthur morgan x reader

Summary-In the midst of a harsh winter, the gang is low on supplies, prompting Dutch to send members out to hunt. One day, Arthur Morgan offers to accompany you on a hunting trip. After hours of unsuccessful hunting, a fierce storm hits, forcing you to seek shelter in an abandoned cabin. Inside, the cold is relentless, and Arthur, seeing you shiver, wraps you in his coat and holds you close for warmth. As you nestle into his embrace, Arthur reassures you with comforting words and a gentle kiss on your head, promising to always be there for you. Safe in his arms, you find peace amidst the storm.

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

The biting chill of winter gnawed at every exposed bit of skin as the gang huddled around the meager campfire, its weak flames doing little to stave off the biting cold. Supplies were running low, and desperation began to seep into every conversation. Dutch, with his usual authoritative demeanor, had been sending out pairs of the gang to hunt and scavenge what they could. This morning, it was your turn.

You had been preparing yourself for the cold trek when Arthur approached, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Need some company?" he asked, his rugged features softened by a hint of concern.

You nodded, grateful for the company. Hunting alone in these conditions was not just difficult but dangerous. Arthur was not only an excellent hunter but also someone you trusted implicitly.

The two of you set out shortly after dawn, the ground crunching underfoot as you moved through the dense forest. The trees stood like skeletal sentinels, their branches heavy with snow. Every breath felt sharp, and the world was eerily silent, save for the occasional call of a distant bird.

Hours passed with little luck. The game was scarce, likely driven deep into hiding by the harsh weather. You tracked a few trails, but they all ended in disappointment. Arthur remained patient, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of movement.

As the day wore on, the sky began to darken ominously. "We should head back," Arthur suggested, his voice low but urgent. "Looks like a storm's brewing."

Just as you turned to make your way back to camp, the wind picked up fiercely, sending a flurry of snow around you. Within minutes, the gentle snowfall turned into a blinding blizzard. The path back disappeared under a blanket of white, and visibility was reduced to a mere few feet.

"We need to find shelter," Arthur shouted over the howling wind, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, teeth chattering, as the cold began to seep through your layers of clothing. Together, you trudged through the deepening snow, searching desperately for any form of shelter. After what felt like an eternity, you stumbled upon a small, abandoned cabin nestled among the trees.

Arthur pushed the door open with a grunt, and you both hurried inside, slamming it shut against the relentless storm. The interior was dark and musty, but it provided much-needed protection from the elements.

You both set about trying to make the space more livable. Arthur found some old, dry wood in a corner and managed to get a small fire going in the fireplace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to stop the shivering that had taken hold of your body.

"Come here," Arthur said gently, patting the spot next to him by the fire. His eyes were filled with concern as he watched you shiver. "You need to get warm."

You hesitated for a moment before moving closer. The fire's warmth was a welcome relief, but it wasn't enough to banish the deep cold that had settled in your bones. Arthur noticed and, without a word, draped his heavy coat over your shoulders.

"That won't be enough," he murmured, pulling you gently into his side. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt the solid warmth of his body against yours. "Body heat's the best way to stay warm."

You nestled closer, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat was a steady, comforting rhythm in your ear. The storm raged outside, but inside the cabin, a bubble of warmth and safety began to form. Arthur's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer still, and you felt the tension begin to drain from your body.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside. Arthur's presence was a balm to your frayed nerves, his warmth seeping into you and chasing away the chill.

"You'll be alright," he whispered, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "We'll get through this. Together."

His words were a promise, and you felt a surge of gratitude and something deeper, something you hadn't fully acknowledged before. Arthur's hand moved gently, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing gesture. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips warm and reassuring.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"No need to thank me," he replied softly. "I'll always be here for you."

The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the cabin, wrapped in Arthur's arms, you felt a sense of peace and security. The world might be harsh and unforgiving, but with Arthur by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

You drifted off to sleep, cocooned in warmth and the comforting presence of the man beside you. As the fire crackled and the storm raged, you felt safe, knowing that Arthur would always be there to keep you warm.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Bruce crashed to the ground.

The bright green portal that brought him here snapped shut above him leaving him stranded in an unknown location. He had just managed to stand up when he heard someone call out to him.

"Hey!" A boy with black hair and blue eyes came running up to him, "Are you okay?"

Bruce grunted, glaring at the small creature trailing behind the child through his cowl, "I'm fine. Where am I?"

"You're in Unova, smack dab inside the Pinwheel forest." The kid said, "What an unlucky place to land."

"Unlucky how?"

Aside from giving him a disapproving look, the child was unfazed by his tone. "The Pinwheel forest got its name because its a natural maze. The monsters here are weak but you might find yourself going in circles if you're not careful."

Batman thought for a moment, "monsters?"

The child smiled and Bruce thought he looked like his other children before the boy excitedly introduced his "partner pokemon": Aron

The Aron in question made happy little noises as it approached and nuzzled its metal face into the side of Batmans boot. Cute.

"Oh, by the way, my names Danny. Do you want me to take you to town? There's a professor there that you can talk to. She might not be able to help you get back to your home world but maybe she can find someone who can."

Batman narrowed his eyes at him, "How did you know I wasn't from this world. Thats not usually the first conclution people jump to."

For the first time since Danny had met the Batman he actually squirmed a bit. "Anyway, let's get started! It's a long trek to town!"

It took them about two days to get out of the forest. Danny had thankfully lent him use of his equipment and food. It was nice having a tent to sleep it when the rain hit on the first night, even if it was a little cramped. Aron curled up between them to soak up thier body heat like a housecat.

It was also a relief that Danny could cook, though Bruce had no idea where the child was storing all of this stuff.

Danny ran off into town, saying that people were going to ask a lot of questions if a guy dressed as a bat came strolling into town and if he was going to be staying in this world for a while it was probably best to get him some normal clothes.

Bruce reluctantly agreed and after telling him his sizes the kid ran off to the store, leaving Aron behind to "protect him". Bruce hated relying on a childs generosity to get by.

Soon enough the kid came back with an all black outfit, saying something about it suiting him. Bruce left to change and came back to Danny giving Aron and his other pokemon Staryu some Oran berries.

After that they finally set off to town.

The professor was nice, if infuriatingly calm about giving literal monsters to random children. The professor even offered Bruce a pokemon egg since he was probably going to be in this world a while.

Bruce accepted the gift, wondering what he was getting himself into when Danny got excited.

The child explained that he was a treasure hunter/explorer by trade that survived by finding things he could sell in shops but he wasn't a very strong trainer and had to be careful where he went due to the presence of powerful pokemon.

Danny then asked Bruce to travel with him to be his bodyguard.

Bruce was very displeased to discover people set thier kids loose into a monster infested world around the age of ten and horrified to know the actual survival rate of this stupidity.

Bruce agreed to protect him and got registered as a pokemon trainer and was given the egg and some pokeballs. Danny offered to teach him how to catch pokemon as Bruce planted a listening device somewhere.

They set off back into the pinwheel forest to catch Bruces first pokemon and to start thier journey.

Meanwhile, Dannys excited to travel with someone who seems like a proper dad.

It couldn't hurt to pretend, right?

[hypnagogics]

going to the library with girlfriend ellie.

☆: another random, self indulgent af blurb. i love libraries, and ellie, and drabbles, and writing fluffy things for y'all. this one's definitely not my best work, but i really wanted to put a little something out anyway. there's something so healing about writing fluff.

trek, trek, you hear behind you, as you race through the endless sea of tall shelves, the musty scent of old paper filling your nose. like a machine you scan the aisles, picking up book after book excitedly. you open it, read and decide, yes, this one too! the peace of libraries has always brought you comfort, and hallucinating whilst staring at a dead tree reading has always been your favorite activity. but you’ve run out of things to read which warranted yet another trip to the greatest place on earth. unfortunately for her, you've tasked ellie to be the carrier of all the novels.

"baaaaabe, do you really need this many??" she whines and pouts, as she trails behind you and struggles to keep up.

you turn back to look at her, almost stumbling with a huge stack in her arms which is almost taller than her, it's honestly unbelievable how she hasn't toppled over yet. she frowns at you, earning a chuckle on your part. she's so cute.

"just a little more! you agreed to come with me, els, you knew what you were signing up for. and yes i do need that many, books are my life. books and you, of course."

"but my arms are gonna fall off..." she steadies herself and huffs. "fine, but let's sit down in a few minutes, 'kay?"

grinning widely and and nodding, you take a few of the books from the top to ease the weight, then you skip off happily once more to peruse the shelves, searching for something to grasp your attention, and vaguely convinced you heard ellie tsk-ing behind you. after a bit she goes to sit down on the armchairs in a little corner with a cozy lamp, slumps into the cushions with a grunt, and is relieved she can finally set down the stack she was carrying. you're too absorbed in walking around to notice, but ellie is watching you with a smile from her seat, wondering how in the world she got lucky to have such a curious minded, smart, and loving girlfriend. you meant the world to her. as you scampered around, collecting more and more books, you catch her eye and wave, and her heart just about jumps out of her chest then and there.

when returning to your tired girlfriend, she's keeping herself occupied by checking out the synopses on all the books, with genuine interest.

"i'm back!" you say in a cheery tone, cheeks warming as you add, "may have gone a bit overboard this time, sorry for making you carry it all."

"hey! no, no, i love doing this with you. honest." she smiles warmly back at you, taking half the stack you're carrying in her arms, dividing the entire haul between the two of you. the two of you begin to walk to the desk to check out, until her emerald eyes light up and she remembers, "do they carry comics here?"

"uh, i think so.."

"BE RIGHT BACK-"

she suddenly dashes off with no warning, leaving you with the sighing librarian as she has to take a look to see what they've got.

this little outing turned out better than you had expected. next stop, a hole in the wall cafe for some lunch.

☆: not sure how i feel about this one honestly, but wanted to write a little something. hope y'all still like it! oh also, does the tiny text bother y'all? lemme know and i'll use the regular one, this one's aesthetically pleasing to me, but could be annoying. ellie n her comics own my heart.

[lokirulzart]

WILD WEST AU!!!!

You ever notice that when fools do a western AU, they cheap out on the horses or ignore them entirely??? WELL NOT HERE, FOLKS. ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY HORSE CONTENT. BECAUSE I LOVE Y’ALL AND ALSO HORSES.

Frank has a snooty Appaloosa because he’s fancy, but also appaloosas are reliable trail horses, so that means he can go bug collecting without worrying much. His insect collection is the envy of all the rich collectors in the whole county.

Wally ended up with a chestnut Arabian mare, because Wally is too small for a bigger horse and I just think it’s funny. HANG ON THERE, PARDNER!! SHE’S A WILD ONE!!! Luckily, Wally is usually unaware of his own horse acting up, and the mare ends up tiring herself out just because Wally simply doesn’t even notice her… he’s too busy spacing out. But he’s one of the best Bronco Busters around thanks to her!

Hunter/trapper/fur trader Barnaby has himself a lovely Shire mare with a sweet and patient disposition. She has no trouble carrying whatever Barnaby has hunted as well as big ol’ Barnaby himself… but he still feels bad about making her work, so he only ever hunts what he needs to in order to get by.

Julie and her mustang are BOTH wild. Julie had the chance to tame her, but instead she just fed off of her spirited energy and now the two of them just tear around being crazy together, getting into trouble, rolling in the dust… Julie wouldn’t have it any other way.

What better steed for a Pony Express postal worker than a sure footed mule?! Seriously, mules are the mountain goats of the equine world. Eddie’s mule might not be as fast of a sprinter as some horses, but this animal can trek over ANY terrain, ensuring that all of the mail gets delivered on time. They have yet to miss a single delivery.

(Snake oil) Salesman Howdy Pillar has a general store in town as WELL as a covered wagon to travel around, ensuring that everyone gets the best deals on their pork ‘n’ beans, biscuits, tobacco, and tonics. You want it? Howdy’s GOT it… and his team of 3 dapple gray Connemara ponies, and one brown one, will make sure that you can get it… also the tallest character having the smallest horses makes me giggle.

Poppy doesn’t have a rideable horse yet, which is perhaps for the best. She spends a lot of time at Howdy’s general store or riding in his wagon. She is his best customer. But she has recently come by a thoroughbred foal that she is now raising from a bottle. So perhaps one day very soon Poppy will have her own tall and elegant steed to carry her around… let’s just hope he’s not too fast for her.

Sally is a performer at the local saloon by night and helps out with cleaning during the day… she knows NOTHING about horses… but one night, after all the local drunks went home, a poor American Paint got left behind. Nobody came back to claim the animal, so Sally boards him at the local ranch and visits often. She hopes one day to learn how to ride him, but it’s slow going. She is, after all, a singer and actress first.

AND THEN HOME THE SALOON!! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D FORGET HOME, DID YOU?? He has a small stable in the back and a second floor, where Wally lives! Wally gets to spend all his free time hanging out, meeting up with his friends, and drinking all the apple juice he wants! (Just don’t tell him it’s apple juice, he’ll get confused. He thinks he’s just drinking whiskey like everyone else. It’s easier this way.) Also Home is the only saloon that can kick out belligerent drunk people itself!

Also Bonus OCs, Luna O’Hare the bilingual cartographer (created by @m0stlygh0st) and Simon, my boy, the ranch hand! Luna has an Andalusian that she likes to dress up, braid it’s mane, and stick flowers in it-… as snacks for later. They’re also grazing buddies and Luna can often be found eating the horse feed because it’s so similar to rabbit food. Simon has a gelding Quarter Horse with golden retriever energy and not a single braincell to his name. Poor Simon… but at least his horse loves him.

YEEHAW!!!! 🤠