#But so far its looking to be in the victim's favor

[chrisoftheeclipse]

I'm gonna be separating myself from anything reguarding Ghost BC for the time being seeing the accusations that just came out about Swiss/Jutty.

I'm still unsure if it's true or not, but in cases of s/a accusations I'm very often a "believe the victim unless proven otherwise" person seeing how SERIOUS s/a allegations are. And so far it is seeming to be in the victim's favor, so I don't feel comfortable associating with the band at this time until we recieve anything proving Swiss innocent (or vice versa as long as Tobias takes action), or news of Tobias firing Swiss.

thanks.

[mythology-void]

this post makes me want to punch my head through a wall (positive)

@prompted-wordsmith read the tags and feel free to add bc I'm losing my actual mind

Haven’t seen anyone talk about how the bulk of The Odyssey’s plot is told BY ODYSSEUS. Y’know, Odysseus the liar? Odysseus whose sob story leads Alcinous and his guests to gift him a ridiculous amount of valuable treasures? Odysseus who makes up a completely new elaborate backstory every time someone questions him whilst in his beggar disguise?

What I’m saying is that, yes, he might’ve been spewing complete shit, but that’s boring. A more interesting take is that he could’ve twisted the story to make himself look better

His crew disobeying him and staying at Ismarus for a night, allowing the Cicons to call for help? Maybe Odysseus didn’t really foresee that battle, and in reality was just as careless as the rest

Maybe the six men who were eaten by Polyphemus died not because Odysseus’s plan meant that they were stuck in his cave for a day, but because he was too hesitant or afraid to take action?

Maybe Scylla didn’t take six of his crew because they were too slow to come to a decision when they saw Charybdis. Maybe Odysseus chose to sail past Scylla’s rock, knowing they would die

I dunno, probably someone has brought this up before, but I haven’t seen anyone point it out

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[seraphdreams]

DREAMIN' — underground racing miniseries.

“being a pretty flag girl is more than waving around banners and wearing cute skirts.”

WARNINGS. this series contains an ungodly amount of smut. reader discretion is advised. topics explored are: gangbanging, drugs, gang activities, semi-dark content, weapons, dub/noncon. each fic will be tagged with its own warnings. 18+ only.

NOTE. finally putting out this series that i’ve been thinking about for a while now. i hope you all enjoy it. each fic is inspired by a song so listen to them!

— STARTING LINE UP.

PART I — NO PHOTOS.

SHIBUYA CITY CHAMPION, BAJI KEISUKE GOES HEAD TO HEAD WITH KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.

PART II — BLINDING LIGHTS.

BRAHMAN’S PRINCESS RACES AGAINST BONTEN’S MASTERMIND, MANJIROU SANO.

PART III — P POWER.

DRAKEN V. HANMA SHUJI.

PART IV — TASTE.

IZANA KUROKAWA FLIES ALL THE WAY FROM MANILA TO RACE AGAINST BEST FRIEND, KAKUCHO HITTO!

PART V — TO BE ANNOUNCED.

Bonten had somewhat of a ritual. It wasn’t anything too crazy like pentagrams or summoning the dead relatives of their victims, but something that made them, them. It was the driving force of all their operations, the sole source that kept the organization afloat. When things went awry they knew they could always count on this one thing, something minor yet major.

Money.

Money granted them connections to criminal organizations around the world. Allies established, and enemies gained. The issue here was that Bonten was bored. All the money in the world couldn’t snatch them from their odd day to day realities of being glorified hitmen, they needed excitement. Something new.

“Any ideas?” All 8 of the men sat around the large lacquered oak table with a particular noble at the forefront. He wore a black suit with a white tie that complimented the strands atop his head. His gaze was empty, as if the light had died out ages ago. There’s two standing beside him, one with a blond skunk strip and slick back hair, the other with the same style except it was platinum all around and a short beard adorned the lower half of his face.

If you didn’t know them, you’d steer clear—They looked intimidating, terrifying almost. You knew Bonten too well though; under all that hardened criminalism were just regular salarymen.

You stood next to where Koko sat. A snarky young man with low patience. It’s hard for you to get under his skin like the others do, and though he’d never admit it, he did have a thing for his little assistant. “We already do so much, I doubt taking on other projects would benefit us financially.” Koko retorts to Mikey’s query. His hands are folded under his chin, propping his head up as if he was bored of the conversation that only lasted two minutes so far.

“Look at you only thinkin’ ‘bout a quick buck. Ya never change, do ya?” It was Sanzu who spoke. Eccentric as he is, when Mikey was in the room he was loyal like a dog. He was one of the many variables that contributed to Kokonoi’s premature graying. Never have they ever gotten along.

“It’s not always about profit. We could expand territory and utilize it for something bigger like weapon trade, or women.” The eldest Haitani spoke. You favored something about him, possibly the eyes or his charismatic nature. He was a caring soul as well, he put his brother above his own life whether Rindou liked it or not. “Bouncing off Ran’s idea, what about Okinawa?” Kakucho uttered.

Usually you tuned out business talk, it wasn’t important to your job. All you were paid to do was look pretty and occasionally pass out paperwork, but the topic at hand piqued your interest. Hitto continues, “We own land in Okinawa, we could build another headquarters there, a casino maybe?”

It seemed as though Manjiro finally took his children into consideration, nodding along with the conversation. “A casino is for idiots, let’s do underground racing.” Sanzu adds. There’s silence and judgmental stares before Mikey finally allows himself to speak once more. “I like it.”

“You can’t be serious, Boss?” Takeomi asks from his spot behind. “How can we even—”

It’s Hajime who interjects this time, the wheels seemingly turning in his head. “If we combine both Hitto and his idea, we could host bets and call in racers. I’m thinking motorcycles over cars. We can’t risk importing illegal vehicles overseas.”

That was just it. The very proposal that’ll put words to action. With a seance of agreeances, Mikey turns to Rindou for finalization. “Make it happen, Haitani.” Rin nods before taking a quick glance at you and back to his leader. “A flag girl’ll be nice too, preferably a hot bimbo.”

You were too fixated on checking your fresh manicure to feel the stares of all the men burning into your frame. The clearing of Kakucho’s throat pulls you from your focus and you finally make the realization. “Hm?”

Mikey tunes his attention back to Rindou, the one notorious for his connections with about any and everyone. “Call up your best racers and fly them to Okinawa. Set up a hotel and headquarters while you’re at it. Let’s take a little business trip.”

With the meeting adjourned, the plan sets in motion.

[captainuranium543]

Thing I've noticed about the Fairy tail fandom misogyny problem (I'm about to sound like such a nerd)

Not to be the loser of the year but the easiest way to see the bad treatment of women in the ft fandom is by imagining what would happen if you swapped the genders of gray and erza.

As we all know gray has a running gag of taking off his clothes, however while people clown on him for this it's also well known and obvious that he is more than that. He has depth and character beyond just that gag. In the more recent 100 year quest he really hasn't done that much by comparison to natsu Lucy erza or even Wendy. This has been (reasonably) upsetting to some fans arguing that he deserves better. I agree with this but I need you to imagine what the reaction would be if he was a women because it would be a completely different story.

If gray was a character who didn't get a lot of development and was always taking off his clothes as a women people would not be saying he deserves better then would be absolutely dog piling this dude calling him useless and fanservice only completely ignoring all his previous development.

How do I know this? Because that is literally what happened to Lucy. Back in the 2010s people WOULD NOT GET OFF HER ASS. people were constantly calling her useless (completely ignoring the fact that she's a brand new wizard being compared to guys who've been doing this since before puberty and NO SHIT SHES NOT THAT GOOD YET. THATS WHERE THE DEVELOPMENT COMES IN). It made sense for Lucy to be weaker than the others she was brand new to this and that was literally the point of her entire story to watch her grow as a wizard and become more independent and powerful. In some instances Lucy was written to be a damsel in distress character but rather then looking at her as an obvious victim of bad writing it was treated like it was somehow her fault. Gray and Lucy are very similar characters but gray is treated far more favorably right now than Lucy ever was back in the early days.

As for erza, people cannot stop calling her a plot armor character. All I see online is none stop hating, some people even claiming it's worse than natsu. The things is, to a degree they are right erza does have plot armor, the issue is that so does literally everyone else. As much as you don't want to accept it erza fights more so it's more noticeable with her but every single fairy tail fight outside of a few will have an element of plot armor ESPECIALLY for natsu.

The issue I have isn't that people are wrong it's that they completely ignore the fact erza is literally only being treated the same way male anime characters have been since the dawn of time but now suddenly it's a problem. Being overpowered and winning by punching things harder is fine as long as you're a dude ig.

It's even worse when people argue she's a Mary Sue because she objectively isn't. She not only has so many flaws that come to mind easily, she had probably one of the strongest character arcs I've ever seen. She's gone through more character development then 99% of the cast the only problem is that it happened very early and afterward Hiro didn't really know what to do with her.

That being said, even if she had no character arc at all I STILL WOULDN'T SAY SHES A MARY SUE. BECAUSE A MARY SUE IS A CHARACTER WITH NO FLAWS. AND NOBODY IN THIS SHOW IS MORE FLAWED THEN ERZA IS. I've heard people argue that all her flaws are comedic and, ignoring the fact this is just not true she has plenty of flaws that are genuine problems she needs to grow from (ie galuna island, tower of heaven and edolas), who cares if they are comedic? Natsu is also a very flawed person and has not had to change even a fraction of the amount Erza has and does that make him a Mary Sue? No. Do I still love him? Absolutely, he's funny as hell.

This post was not made to complain about gray or natsu btw Its not that I think they're useless or Mary sues I just don't think any of these characters are at all and I think people who do think that should all explode. Anyway this is just what I think feel free to disagree but don't try to argue with me because nobody is changing my mind on this one.

[thatonebipotato]

a somewhat swap au of Scarab and Prismo. i say somewhat because its not just swapping them, i changed a lot of stuff other than just like their jobs. heehoo ok enjoy :]

text descriptions and more information under cut ^^!

Prismo -

his [physical] body is "frozen" in time

a bit more calloused over his years of working, but still considered very chill

he usually talks people down so he doesn't have the fight them

the crystal weapon is around his neck

it shoots out like a flashlight

the auras/souls of his victims get trapped in jars

pupils go starry when he does this

So here, Prismo is a god auditor! He's still very down to earth, but after years of fighting and monitoring and capturing, he's a bit worn down. That being said, he's still generally considered to be everybody's pal! The crystal he uses can't store the people he gets, so he has to carry around the jars. Because of this, he can usually only detain like two people at once, maybe three if he pushes it.

Prismo has some resentment about not being Wishmaster, but not the way that Scarab would! He just thinks he could do a better job, but he respects Wishmaster Scarab and just kinda lets it slide. He and Scarab are actually pretty close, and if he's injured or just very bored he'll go bother the cosmic bug.

Things he can do that aren't mentioned are that he can walk on walls/defy gravity, make duplicates of himself, and teleport. Duplicating himself and teleporting takes a looot of energy out of him, and considering that he is perpetually tired, he really doesn't use those abilities a lot.

Scarab -

this form resembles his physical body, but is still just a projection

he can touch stuff, but can't feel anything and can't be hurt/damaged

he's a bit more relaxed, but is still quite strict/rule oriented

the wings of his mask can open up, but usually don't

he is very big :)

the time room is less of a room and more like a never-ending labyrinth of paths

only the truly determined will obtain a wish

Scarab as the Wishmaster is a lot more relaxed than in canon, but due to his nature he is still a bit strict about rules and such. He will explain how exactly a wish will work to those who reach their goal, and if they choose to ignore that, they don't get a second chance. He usually won't go further into detail about the rules, either. This is where Prismo's slight distaste comes from, because he thinks that if he were in Scarab's place he would be nicer about it. That's about as far as that goes, though.

The main entrance that everyone is allowed through(the labyrinth) is infinite, but there is space around it(like a pocket dimension inside of a pocket dimension). Getting into the outside space will lead to the rest of the Time Room, but only Scarab has access to that. He spends most of his time floating in the abyss of the main area. There is no set path to find him, and he will instead come to whoever enters, if they're determined enough.

Scarab does not let people wander freely through the Time Room, so most of the other cosmic entities tend to avoid him because he isn't very fun. Prismo doesn't, though. Unlike anyone else who may enter, if Prismo simply calls out for Scarab, he will arrive almost immediately. Though Scarab has a 3D form, he is still confined to the Time Room, and does not find joy in watching the universes(he only does it if he's reeeallly bored, or if it's necessary). And since he blocks off the rest of the room to anyone else, he never gets any visitors, only mortals looking for his favor.

He doesn't mind the isolation at all, but he does enjoy the company that Prismo offers him. He doesn't mind being secluded, but he gets lonely sometimes. Prismo has many tales of his adventures being an auditor, and Scarab has begun keeping notes on all of them. He looks forward to Prismo's next visit always.

That's about all I have to say about them and their lore, at least as a base to build off of later, so uhhh here's they're color pallets :]

On the left is just how they both look, and the right is just missing the gradient for Scarab so it's easier to see(they don't look super great, but im just laying out the colors)

[cheralith]

what happens in gunsmoke... — 「 knives (nai) x reader 」

content warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns used (i think), reader wears makeup, one-sided jealousy, suggestive but not nsfw material, a really poor attempt at hints of comedy, explicit alcohol consumption

contains ; college!au, modern!au, reader and nai have known each other since childhood, some wolfwood x reader, "nai" is used instead of knives and is used as a nickname

word count ; 7.0k

notes ; heavily inspired by @demxnscous's magnificent college!au involving hundred spoons himself! highly, highly recommend reading all the blurbs involving it if you want to see nai being a foolishly and obliviously in love and some other comical headcanons!

“I’ll pay you five bucks to come with us.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

Vash pouts and his eyes droop at Nai’s nth refusal to go with his brother and his friends to the new nightclub that had just opened on the corner of uptown that’s been all the hype nowadays across campus. Vash has heard about the throwback hits the DJ plays, the flashing lights that shine just right, the unique drinks that were offered there—he’d be insane not to go on a relieving Friday night after a week of midterms and essays. It wasn't unusual of the spiky-haired Saverem to go socialize and go all out with his closest friends as a way to relax and relieve some tension.

The story is the opposite for the other Saverem, however. Nai prefers to stay inside and be mellowed out with his usual oversized hooded snuggie and some warm tea, perhaps even binging a new show. Isolation wasn’t foreign to him either, and if anything, it’s what he would want on a Friday evening instead of being around sweaty, booze-scented college kids amidst a darkened club with flashing lights. Why would he bother with all-too-loud, outdated music with much too intimate lyrics when he could be savoring melodic Fauré’s barcarolles, instead? The answer seems too obvious.

“You can’t even buy a shot for that much in most clubs in the area,” Nai scoffs, taking off his grandpa-styled rectangular reading glasses and staring dully at him, not phased at Vash’s pleading puppy eyes. “You’re either gonna amp up the cash or come up with another dumb bribe to get me going to that madhouse with you and your little friends.” 

Vash whines, slinking his tall self onto the couch. “You know I don’t have much to spare on me, Nai…”

“And yet instead of using that money to buy yourself a new jacket,” Nai eyes Vash’s worn-out crimson jacket their mom made for them when they were children that hangs by a thin thread on the coat rack; Nai feels as if that jacket has seen better days and even impressed it made it this far in its life. “You choose to spend it on a one-time trip at a stuffy nightclub, instead.”

“It’s not about the money, though!” he retaliates, sitting up. “It’s about the memories and friends we make on the way!” he singsongs.

Nai grimaces at Vash’s cheekiness. 

“I’m not going. That’s final,” he says sternly, shoving his glasses on his face again and resuming his book.

A thick, uncomfortable silence fills the Saverem residence, only broken by the ticking of the clock and Nai’s occasional page turning. Vash breathes out a stubborn huff—he thinks his older brother has been locked up in the house too much for his own nowadays, even refusing to go out for a casual dine-in at nearby restaurants. Some people even ask about Nai’s whereabouts, to which Vash can only shrug and give the same reply: “Didn’t feel like coming.” given with a soft and dismal half-smile.

Vash studies Nai from the corner of his eye. He’s tried money, he’s tried bribing him with free food, he’s tried exchanging favors like doing his homework for him, but all have failed miserably and have fallen victim to Nai’s disturbed looks that just scream, “NO.”

So he pauses and thinks deeply for a moment. What’s something that could possibly change Nai’s mind about finally leaving their apartment that could also simultaneously let him let loose for a change, give those stiff nerves a chance to unravel and be free for a change? 

His mind flutters from option to option, all of them dying in the same instance they’re taken up inside his head… until…

Perhaps it wouldn’t be something that convinces him, but someone. Vash’s eyes slyly go to stare at Nai directly, a large grin on his face that uneases Nai ever so slightly because he knows something mischievous is brewing behind that smile. 

“What…?” he mutters, breaking eye contact. 

“You know,” Vash murmurs as he sits up, stretching, “There’s a bunch of guys that we know that are going, so you don’t have to go out of your way to meet new people.”

Nai raises a brow. He’s not too impressed at Vash’s last-minute attempt to try and get him on his feet. He doesn’t even like the majority of Vash’s companions. “So?”

Vash begins to stalk off to his bedroom to start getting ready to go to the club, anticipating Wolfwood's car that’ll pick him up in an hour or so. “Meaning Nico is coming, Meryl is coming, Milly is coming, Livio, Legato, Elendira… they’re all tagging along with us,” Vash says with a twirl of his hand, feeling Nai’s eyes dagger into his back. 

“Oh, and I also forgot…” Right before he closes his door, however, Vash glances back at his brother, stating the one thing that he knows for a fact will get Nai up and going. 

“(Y/N) will be there, too.”

Nai can already feel sick. He can feel the bass of a song thunder from the parking lot as he drearily exits Wolfwood’s car, staring up at the flashy neon sign that screams “GUNSMOKE” in bright green text. There’s a vast array of people lined up outside, all tittering with excitement at the fresh nightclub that’s finally replaced the dingy bar, Jeneora Rock, that most people go to for a casual night out. But the bar had much too many rules to abide by because of its nonsensical history with the nearby college students, limiting what could and couldn’t be done inside. Now with little to no restriction in the new nightclub, who knows what could happen?

The unknown is what Nai fears the most, really.

He doesn’t even remember why he decided to go here on a whim, he thinks to himself as his feet carry him to the back of the line while Vash and Wolfwood talk noisily amongst each other, sulking behind them. He stares at himself in the semi-reflective surface of the window as the line moves up inch by inch, thinking he might’ve overdone himself. Nai thinks there’s too much gel in his hair, thinks that the cologne he spritzed on was too much, thinks that the Vash’s short-sleeved button-up he borrowed is too bold and a little tight, even, just barely squeezing around the biceps that blue geometric sleeve tattoos wrap around. His fingers begin to fiddle with the opened V of it, attempting to clasp in more buttons to hide his chest, but Wolfwood smacks his hand away from them. 

“Let ‘em breathe, man,” Wolfwood states, gesturing to his own exposed pectorals that almost rival in size to Nai’s. “You worked hard for them—don’t think I haven’t seen ya at the gym. Y’always hide them with those loose ass sweaters, so show those girls off for once.” He allusively cups one of them in his hands, raising his brows.

“I think I’ll decide that for myself, thanks,” a blushing Nai snaps at him and manages to close up a button that hides a sly inch of his chest, though frustration follows suit when it pops open again thanks to their prominence. His jaw tightens. He’s already in for a rough night.

It doesn’t take Nai long to regret his decision to tag along with his brother from the first step he takes into the nightclub, already overwhelmed by the thick air of sweaty bodies and dazzling lights that sparkle all across the dance floor. He especially doesn’t like the gleaming, large sign that reads, “What happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke.” straight across a wall that seems to be eyeing him with mischief.

The music is significantly better than most clubs and bars have to offer, but the volume and bass is still too plentiful for his liking. Nai is only halfway across the nightclub, he thinks that he could probably make a run for it when Vash’s back is turned and just walk home… maybe hitch an Uber if he’s feeling lucky. 

His second guesses, however, all manage to dissipate when he spots the one thing that managed to lure him into this hellhole in the first place.

Arctic blue eyes grow hazy when they land on a familiar figure adorned in a red top with a heart-shaped chest cutout in the middle, a pair of curve-hugging, white corduroy bell bottoms and a crescent moon buckle belt to match. Nai swallows thickly as he watches you listen intently to Meryl’s story about the latest professor-student scandal, his chest growing a little tight at the sound of your soft giggle even through the thunderous music—he’d be stupid to think it’s Vash’s shirt. It grows fuzzy by the second the more he stares at you, you still not noticing the three newest additions to the nearly full semicircle table. He picks out the smaller details of your appearance from his spot—the moon-shaped earrings match with the hardware of your belt buckle, he notices, as well as the glitter that sprinkles across your eyelids that’s framed by a razor-sharp eyeliner that rounds your eyes just right. Your lips, too, look so full with that shade of dark red lip gloss that stretches into a grin. Were they always that plump? Did they always have the bitten look to them? Why were they—

“You’re staring too much.”

Nai’s vision suddenly clears up the hazy background of the nightclub and his hearing sharpens to the music again with Vash’s voice sending chills up his spine. Vash’s lips splay a smirk that basically says he’s won in this little game of tug-of-war—for today at least. Wolfwood, too, doesn’t take long to imitate his best friend.

“There you guys are!” Milly’s voice echoes. They all go to whip their heads around and face her, a hand gesturing to them to come over to their table. “Hurry! Come!”

Another rock-hard swallow inches itself down Nai’s throat when your gaze lands on him, and he swears your eyes had grown a little larger at the sight of his attire that was very much not like his usual wear—but it’s hard to see with the darkness of the club, he can’t get his hopes up so quickly. Vash and Wolfwood greet everyone with equal fervor, Nai quietly following behind them. 

There’s an empty spot that sits right to the left of you, your eyes meet Nai’s and a silent exchange between you and him talk through stares and blinks. It’s a hesitant exchange of “No one’s sitting here right?” from his side, but he can’t exactly decipher if you’re exemplifying “It’s yours for the taking.” or “You can sit here… if you want.” Two messages with contrasting tones, Nai can’t let himself fall victim to a possible miscommunication.

But from the way you scooch closer to Milly, who’s the only other person next to you, Nai decides you’re letting him gracefully take what belongs to him…

… that is until a certain ravenette moves ever so slightly swifter than him and plops himself right next to you.

“Ah, shit,” Wolfwood expresses, manspreading his legs so there’s little to no room on the rest of the bench. “Sorry man, were ya about to sit here? My bad, but today was leg day at the gym. Hope ya can understand.” An impish smirk toys on Wolfwood’s lips as they dangle a cigarette almost mockingly. He gestures to the more gracious space on the other side of the table, where Vash pats down a spot for Nai to sit, Wolfwood’s antics going unnoticed by him.

You take the cigarette out of his mouth, your fingertips just barely feathering over Wolfwood’s lips. “Not here, mister. There’s a strict no-smoking policy here.”

Nai can only grimace and sit stiffly next to his brother, his eyes never leaving Wolfwood’s playfully wicked ones. 

With hardened icy orbs, he closely examines the sight across from him as you and Wolfwood exchange words, catching up for the evening and laughing nonchalantly, something Nai was never to particularly do as easily as him, something he was never able to get the hang of. A few drinks that the people had ordered earlier come by, and the veins in his eyes nearly pop when Wolfwood reaches over and sips your mango and dragonfruit cocktail from the same straw your lips had touched. 

“Hey!” you exclaim. “At least ask permission first, Nico.”

Nico.

That nickname that you affectionately give Wolfwood sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Nai’s ears, or like a fork on a ceramic plate. He twinges, his neck cracking menacingly from the reaction.

Wolfwood smacks his lips, fully examining the flavor before complimenting it. “Y’got good taste in liquor, sweetheart. Gimme some more.” 

“Absolutely not,” you huff. “This cost me too much, go get your own.”

Wolfwood’s arm suddenly lazily plops itself across your shoulders, pulling you (and the drink) into him closer. “Now, don’t be like that. Do some charity work for this old man. C’mon, didn’t mama ever tell ya to share?”

Nai’s eyes narrow behind the cocktail menu as he watches you blithely attempt to wriggle out of Wolfwood’s grasp, both of you exchanging inaudible laughs with each other. You sigh and cave in to his stubbornness and Nai miserably watches as you indirectly kiss Wolfwood through the shared straw that switches between your lips and his, you being completely oblivious to the gesture.

He looks over to the doors. The exit sign looks deliriously tempting right now.

For Nai, the night is quiet, something that isn’t a stranger to him when he’s around a group of people that he isn’t used to. For everyone else, however, it’s rowdy and boisterous and exciting. Adrenaline and alcohol is the only thing that everyone knows of. A song would come by and people would be racing to the dancefloor, flooding it with slurred-out lyrics and stimulating dance moves. Various glass and food trays have splattered themselves over the table, and Nai himself can feel a hefty buzz from the alcohol he’s consumed beginning to kick in.

His vision has finally adjusted to the darkness and he can see you much more clearly now. You’re envisioned in his sights just chattering aimlessly with Meryl, you three being the only ones seated still at the table as everyone else dances their night away—it’s then that Nai realizes that you haven’t gone out to the dancefloor like he has, yet, seeing as how you lacked the sweat and exhaustion everyone else was ornate in. 

It’s also then that Nai realizes he still hasn’t said a single word to you tonight—the one person that he managed to fix his appearance for.

He’d never admit that though, he thinks to himself as he downs another shot, he’d rather slit his own throat than willingly admit he attempted to fix up his appearance for your sake. Tongue hissing through his teeth at the sting of it, he blinks slowly at you when Meryl finally escorts herself out to go back to the dancefloor.

“You’re not gonna join them?” Nai finally begins, the hesitation in him hours beforehand suddenly dissipating as the alcohol reaches his system.

From your own reaction, it seemed as if you didn’t expect Nai to talk to you first, especially in such a social setting. Your mouth opens, but no words exit your lips for a few seconds before you softly smile and shake your head, “They have yet to play a song I actually want to dance to,” you murmur with your gaze turning affectionately to your friends. 

“So what’d you even pay your money for here?” Nai snorts. “Just to drink and eat? Do that at Jeneora Rock, then,” he mutters.

You narrow your gaze at him suspiciously through the frame of your drink, sipping on it ardently. “That’s rich coming from you, hm?” you test, raising a brow. “If anything, I should be saying that to you, Mr. Shut-In.”

A scoff brushes through his lips. “I was dragged here by a certain someone, if you haven’t realized yet. I’m not here voluntarily. Why would I be?” 

“It’s still quite odd to me, though,” you chuckle. “You’re quite the stubborn one, how ever did Vash manage to drag you out of your man-cave that you call your room? Truly is a mystery.”

Your tongue is just as sharp as ever—just how Nai likes it. Loves it, even. Maybe it’s because you’re the only person that returns his energy back with equal zeal, or maybe he just merely laps up any bit of attention you give him. He’d rather be tortured than admit it, but there’s that certain sting that he lavishes in at your insults. It’s the same sting that mimics itself in the alcohol he consumes ever so slowly… perilous, but addicting. Dare he say it’s the internal masochistic tendencies he lets out once in a while that makes him tempted to lure them more out of you.

Opportunity arises and he replaces Milly’s spot on the curved bench. It’s his turn to let a breathy laugh escape him, not sure whether it’s because of amusement from your words or because he’s amused at his own out-of-the-ordinary behavior tonight. “Figure that out by yourself,” he replies coolly, his fingers fiddling with the shot glass. “Since you’re so smart.”

“Oh?” you raise a brow, a faux gasp escaping you. “Was that a compliment from the one and only Nai Saverem? Should I be graced with such honor?”

He sneers lightly with a roll of his eyes following shortly. “Savor it while you can, because I’m not handing any more out.”

You feign a light pout with your lips, and Nai swears that the small head tilt you give him will lead to his demise. A swift glance at them reveals that even in the dimness, there’s a hypnotizing gloss left upon them, but Nai can’t tell if it’s because of the shared saliva between you and a specific smoker or if it’s just from all the alcohol left on your lips. Do they taste like the mango dragonfruit cocktail from earlier, he wonders, or do they now taste of a mixture of—

He blinks and returns his eyes to yours, a curious glaze still running over them. A poor attempt at distraction for himself is made by pouring two shots for you and him. 

“Oh, boo,” you sigh as you gracefully take one of the shots given by him before clinking your glass together with his. “What a waste.”

A blonde eyebrow raises itself up as you and him down your shots together. “Waste of what?”

You smack your lips from the sting of the shot. “Waste of time getting ready,” you shrug as you examine your painted fingernails. Your eyes suddenly fleet to his from a side view, and Nai swears that there’s the lift of a disappointed smile creeping on your face. “I got dolled up for no reason, then.”

And it’s there where his nerves go haywire for a split second. Nai is about to shoot back with something along the lines of wanting you to elaborate, wanting to know what the hell you meant by that, but he’s cut off at the sudden boom of the bass and beginning lyrics that makes your head whip to the dance floor. A celebratory shout rings through the nightclub at the song, per usual, with the additions of some whistles and woops from your friends. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), this is your song!” Vash shouts, motioning his hand to join you with everyone else. Everyone else chimes in with their attempts to woo you in with them. 

A short burst of laughter leaves your vodka-stained lips before you lick them, shrugging your shoulders again in fake-doubt. Panic shoots through Nai oh so suddenly. His plans to gain some alone time with you are ruined by the song that booms through the speakers. Quickly, he pours two shots into the two spare shot glasses and shoves one of them to your hand to attempt to distract you. He’s about to protest against you joining them, but a certain black-haired bastard cuts through one again.

“Promiscuous girl… wherever you are~” Wolfwood sings roughly, approaching you with his hand out rather princely. “C’mon, now, you heard ‘em. Time for ya to shine.”

“Dunno, the floor looks pretty packed…” a soft tease creeps through your tone. You share a glance with Nai and you’re a little taken aback by the irritation that he doesn’t try to hide anymore towards Wolfwood’s consistent cockblocking given how furrowed his brows are.

And it clicks to you suddenly—as to why Nai, the man who appears outside of campus once in a blue moon—was here in the first place. Why he wanted to sit next to you, why his eyes were consistently on you throughout the night, why he even came to an event like this. It drips with a one-sided acknowledgement, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips once more just before you down your handed shot for an extra confidence boost and take Wolfwood’s calloused hand. You might as well toy with him now that he’s here.

“Fuck it. Let’s go, Nico.”

Nai twitches again at the nickname.

“These for us?” Wolfwood snatches the spare shot Nai poured for himself on the table. “Thanks!” With him downing Nai’s shot meant for himself, Wolfwood shoves the shot glass back into Nai’s hand and escorts you to the dancefloor with his hand on the small of your back. 

But not without throwing a smirk over his shoulder to Nai.

Nai’s blood is about to boil to demonic temperatures whilst he watches a rare side of you expose right in front of him. He thinks the sight should be reserved just for him; hips swaying, head thrown back to relish the rhythm, lips syncing to the lyrics. But no, you’re there for all eyes to see and admire, especially a specific flirt’s.

Wolfwood trades the lyrics on and off with you, taking the role of the male voice in the song as his hands run down from your waist to your hips. Your back touches his front chest, lip bitten as he whispers the lyrics into your ear. His ringed fingers teasingly drum themselves on your curves, and there’s a desire embedded in them to go just ever so slightly lower on your body. A flash of red races through Nai’s vision when Wolfwood gently pulls your body towards him, unaware of a pair of eyes that carefully watch his reaction at the intimacy you and Wolfwood share.

“I want you on my team…” Wolfwood mutters hotly into your ear. His teeth get tempted by the shell of your ear that almost asks to be pierced by his sharpened canines, and he draws them slowly closer to it to mark his territory, a tongue running over them hungrily.

But you spin around and push him away teasingly, leaving the stubbled man tempted. 

“So does everybody else,” you chant with a cheeky smile before you fend off to dance with the others.

Nai is almost proud from the way you just about make yourself out of reach for Wolfwood. He watches as Wolfwood pokes his tongue in his cheek from what seems to be… frustration, perhaps? A flush of amusement goes by as quick as it comes in Nai’s head. The ravenette man merely shakes his head with a chuckle before resuming his antics with the others, but Nai notices how his tawny eyes don’t exactly leave you when you indulge with the others—much like his own sky blue ones.

The song ends with a riotous cheer through the dancefloor that haunts Nai’s ears. Now the only one isolated at the table, he can only watch from a distance as you smile widely and thank everyone for dancing with you. His heart lifts from its place in a pit at the sight of your footsteps beginning to come back to the table—to come back to him, but you’re yanked back by Milly and Vash when another familiar song seeps through the speakers. Wolfwood, however, manages to return you to him as a Pitbull song bellows from all sides, and his grip on you seems more stubborn, more resistant this time. Your chests are dangerously close to each other and the mere centimeters of distance between you two makes Nai’s jaw grit with aggravation. 

Wolfwood mouths to you some suggestive lyrics that make you raise a brow and grin at him. Nai hates, despises, even when he shortly follows up with his fingers close the distance between your bodies and whispers promiscuously, “And baby, I'ma make you feel so good, tonight,” into your ear.

With a gasp, a shy shiver runs up your spine at his breath so close on your skin. Nai’s grip on the shot glass is so dangerously tight, the glass threatens to self-destruct in his to-be-bleeding palm if it doesn’t loosen up any time soon. But it doesn’t seem like his grip is going to weaken and if anything, it strengthens in power when Wolfwood’s teeth go to finally bite the shell of your ear tauntingly, whetted canines glinting with deviltry back to Nai.

Nai is seeing red—angry red—like a bull to a scarlet cape. A single crack crevices itself in the shot glass. He slams it down on the table at the peak of his torment and stands up.

“Nico!” you exclaim with a strained throat at his gesture when he pulls away. You nervously laugh and create a space between you and Wolfwood, who merely replies with a chuckle and a bounce of his shoulders at your embarrassed reaction. “That was—!”

Amusement diffuses across his features, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just playin’ with ya, darlin’.”

“Mind if I come through.” 

Nai’s deadpanned voice interrupts, and it’s toned more as a declaration more than a suggestion. It hasn’t even been a minute, yet he already acknowledges the attention that’s beginning to bring a certain spotlight on him. But it isn’t just his voice that makes heads turn, it’s Nai’s presence itself that makes people all around a little stunned. And Nai knows it, he can feel the stares of not only Vash’s friends, but people all over wondering who the mysterious platinum blonde was on the dance floor whose aura just oozes a certain enigma. 

“Nai?” Vash is the first to question what on earth the Knives Saverem is doing on a dance floor, amidst a crowd that isn’t designated for his liking. “You gonna dance your heart now for once? Don’t be shy now, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Nai huffs as a response to Vash’s delight. His impassiveness doesn’t waver his twin’s smile, though. “I’m not here to dance or sing or whatever.”

Wolfwood goes to give him a wily look, already knowing the answer to his upcoming question. “Then whatcha here for, big guy?”

You flinch at the way Nai cracks his neck to look at you, his brows furrowing in dismay and it truly doesn’t take long for Vash and everyone else who gazes upon Nai in wonder to realize why the reserved and solitary older twin is here. 

Because he’s here for you. 

Ignoring the way the tightness in his pants form when he subtly wonders upon your lustrous face from the perspire and heat from the body heats (he’s trying unnecessarily hard to avoid looking at your chest window that is glazed with crystalline sweat), he grabs your wrist and only yanks you from the crowd and a smirking Wolfwood, your complaints and pleas falling deaf on his ears.

“Nai?!” you yelp as he leads you down a skinny hallway made up of scarce couples eating each others’ faces off. “What are you d—hey! Answer me!”

Nai hisses you to shut up after a lengthy, boiling silence, to which you sullenly obey to your own wits end. The hallway seems endless, almost, if it weren’t for the emergency exit flashing in the furious red that had filtered across Nai’s vision for a brief moment earlier. 

Now it’s clear to him his true motivation for coming to this inferno of liquor and lust between strangers. The thought of you possibly meddling with someone unknown makes his chest cringe with a flicker of resentment, your body being pressed up against someone nameless is just an upcoming recipe for his own disaster. A gross taste on his tongue suddenly forms when he imagines you entwined with someone’s limbs hotly in the middle of a crowd with intentful eyes that could possibly land on you and your being.

A single bathroom lies at the near end of the hallway and Nai angrily raps his knuckles on it before bursting in when no reply echoes from the other side after only a mere second.

Wolfwood’s younger brother, Livio, stills idly in front of the toilet, and stares directly at you and Nai. While you knew he wasn’t a man of many words, an odd utterance escapes his lips obviously indicating confusion. 

Nai groans and juts his thumb behind him. “Get out.”

“But—”

“Get out, brat.”

Livio stands significantly taller than Nai, despite both men being over a hefty six feet, but Nai’s gaze toward him shoots nothing less than daggers and it’s enough to make the nearly seven-foot man scurry away from the bathroom like a frightened field mouse.

You scoff at him, pitying poor Livio as Nai slams and locks the bathroom door shut. “You could’ve waited for a few minutes for him to do his business.”

“What the hell was that?” Nai spits venomously as he ignores your previous statement. For any person, that icy glare that he currently spots at you would make anyone fall to their knees and do his every bidding. But for you, it stirs up a sudden excitement in your stomach.

“What was what?” you question innocently, eyes fiending a fake confusion.

Nai goes to let out a brief, amused laugh that has traces of spite embedded into it. It’s a mocking sort of laugh—one that powers over your faux ignorance. 

“Don’t play coy with me,” he mutters as he drags a watch-embedded hand across his face, the silver of it glinting at you with temptation. His mind replays the intimacy shared between you and Wolfwood, how there was no gap to bridge between you and him and how his teeth had pierced a piece of him onto you. Malice flickers through his face when the imagery becomes too vivid. “What the fuck was that with you and him?”

“Who? Oh, Nico?”

Disgust fills Nai’s mouth.

“Don’t call him that around me,” Nai states sternly. His body begins to mirror how Wolfwood’s body was acting towards you on the dancefloor, except in the bathroom, you’re all for him to take in. No other bodies, no suffocating heat, no overlight head—just another neon light glowing brightly in the darkness with just enough illumination to bask only you and Nai in a chilled, misty purple fog. “You know that I hate that name.”

“It doesn’t bother you when Vash or Livio says it,” you retaliate with a suspicious look glaring in your eyes. “So why am I the odd one out, huh?”

“Because—” Nai’s voice falls short. He grits his teeth in agitation and to seal the true reason as to why he hates it when your voice specifically calls Wolfwood that stupid name. “‘Cause… ‘cause we’re no longer ten years old, so it’s about time you stop calling him by that childish nickname.”

You let out an obnoxious laugh, obviously poorly humored at Nai’s reasoning. Him and you know that you’ve called Wolfwood “Nico” for ages, that the nickname is older than a decade and giving it up would be out of the blue and uncharacteristic of you.

“If that’s the case,” you mutter as Nai cages you in between the cold bathroom wall and his body, your gazes challenging each other. It takes you an incredible amount of strength to avoid inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne that you’ve savored in before and will savor again and again, and also to avoid questioning the sudden get-up that reveals his skin like never before to others, but seems all too familiar to you. “Then does that mean I should start calling Milly ‘Millicent?’ Should I start calling Vash ‘Valentinez?’ Or perhaps… since nicknames are so childish to you… should I start calling you ‘Knives’ again?” you eye him with darkened eyes, searching for any illicit reaction.

Nai fights the urge to grimace at the strangeness of his real name falling from your lips by pressing his palms deeper into the grout of the tiled bathroom. Anyone that wasn’t you or Vash were only permitted to call him by his true name, that his own nickname given by Vash as children was reserved for people that knew him from a young age—one of them being you. “That… that isn’t what I meant.”

“But you don’t mind, right?” you press. “You want me to call Nico by his proper name? Fine. Then I’ll do it with you too, Knives.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek, rolling his neck out to ease the exhaustion given to him by tonight and you before he brings it back to face you properly. Now instead of his usual frown that’s grimaced with annoyance, there’s now a smirk toying on his own lips; and it’s one that mirrors your own to your own hesitation.

“Funny you say that,” he murmurs, gently pushing one of his legs between yours and nestling his knee between them. He scans your face and satisfaction laces itself in his being as you stiffen as his gesture, letting out a small exclamation. “Because I don’t really think that name sounds too nice when you'll scream it in bed, just like how you did the other night.”

Your eyes widen at his husked tone, taken aback. Another yelp passes through your lips as Nai lifts his knee teasingly higher and the slight force of it makes you grasp onto his exposed, tattooed arm for proper balance. “Wait… Nai—”

“Oh, dear, I thought my name was Knives, though?” he taunts and puts an end to your cockiness. “Mmh, I guess it doesn’t sound too bad. I suppose I like the sound of ‘Oh, god, Knives, fuck me harder!’” He slurs, mimicking your voice. Your mouth goes agape at his poor imitation of your own breathy moans he’s heard you echo time after time. “Or perhaps ‘Knives, I’m sooo close… don’t st—”

It’s your turn to hiss at him to shut up and silence his lips with your own palm despite no one being around you. A bolt of fear runs through your nerves at the sight of Nai’s eyes entwined with a hushed craving that only you know can suffice it. Your brows knit together and Nai’s smirk peeks through the side of your hand, making your eye twitch at his arrogance that’s infected you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whisper hotly.

Nai takes your hand away from his lips, a firm grasp around your wrist. “What? All I’m doing is just repeating what you said… what was it? Not even two nights ago?”

You bare your teeth in an attempt to hide the rising heat which begins to creep up your skin at the mention of you and Nai’s somewhat disorderly relationship with each other. 

It confuses the both of you—you’re not exactly friends-with-benefits, but you and him tiptoe along the border of what a possible relationship could be like and it’s you and him alive by the day. The only way you and Nai cope with the big pot of feelings boiling in as one in a cauldron is nonsense is through a physical intimacy shared with each other, one that tells the other that no one else gets to have you and him except each other—at least for that tumultuous night tangled in each other’s limbs because neither party wants to share their feelings first. It’s a current deciphering between whether you and Nai assume it’s a weakness to admit your heart, or you merely don’t want to ruin what you have with each other because the potential of it breaking down into nothing scares you both.

You don’t really know how much more you can take, though, prancing around a solidification of a potential label. It’s like toying around with a jack-in-the-box. The crank goes around and around time and time again for endless laps, but there eventually comes that breakthrough where something from the unknown finally bursts open and reveals itself. It could be ugly, it could be beautiful. 

But both you and Nai don’t want to know and would rather drown in ignorance. It is bliss, after all—both metaphorically and physically.

“You wanna play it that way? Alright. Then tell me, what led to all of this?” You gesture to the current position you were entrapped in—Nai confining you with his body and arms, breaths just barely exchanging with another, and a certain aura lingering around in the dim bathroom where the music just barely booms through the walls. “What? Don’t tell me you were jealous of him?” you dare not to say Wolfwood’s nickname directly in front of the very man that loathes him entirely tonight. Your answer comes in the form of Nai’s eye twitching with a poorly-hidden covetousness. “Hm. So you were.”

“I wasn’t, stop jumping to conclusions,” he mutters immediately. Nai can’t tell whether his consciousness is being blurred by the intake of alcohol he’s consumed in the past few hours or if it was the lascivious images of you dancing to your heart’s desire on the flashing dancefloor that managed to hypnotize him.

“Oh, but you totally were,” you titter with a taunt. “C’mon, don’t think I didn’t pick up on the fact that you wanted Nico’s spot next to me when you came in, that you saw him bite my ear—” you see Nai’s eyes flicker on the same ear where a soft mark positions itself on the cusp of it made by yours truly. “—and it being the sole reason why you came to me.” You lift your head up.“Don’t think I didn’t know why you came here, to a nightclub out of all things, either, especially in this outfit,” you whisper.

Nai feels your hands touch his chest, fingers ever so gently running down his exposed skin. They unbutton a singular, tempting button to expose the beginning crevices of his abdominals before your hand latches onto his belt and pulls him towards you by the yank of it. You fight the urge to grin when he grunts and lazily sling your arms on your shoulders to bring him closer to you. 

“... I’m not stupid, Nai.”

He doesn’t pull back when you run your fingers through the locks of his white blonde hair, the same shade of blonde that frames his glassy stare that prods through yours. He knows you aren’t an idiot like most people, that you’re able to read them like a book all too easily, him not being excluded in that. So he gives in—sighs softly and presses his forehead to your own, now being able to smell the faint perfume you usually wear mixed in with some hints of booze. It’s a gesture of intimacy he’s only revealed to you, and he’ll only ever reveal to you.

“So, now what?” he cedes. “Stop torturing me and tell me what you want. What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” 

Eyes lifting from his exposed chest to his that stare you down with a familiar hunger, you mumble to him, “Do you want me?”

You move his hands from the wall to your hips, the same place where Wolfwood’s hands touched moments earlier. It’s almost like you want him to replace Wolfwood’s touch entirely, as if there was a space there only Nai’s hands can fulfill, now. His fingers brazen with anticipation, he drums them the same way Wolfwood did, but to his own beat… to his own rhythm… to his own song.

 Nai stays physically silent, with his only reply being his hands gripping your hips tighter as a confirmation of sorts.

You take his hands squeezing your curves ever so lightly as a yes.

“Then have me.” 

And with that, Nai doesn’t waste any time locking his lips with yours, doing the very thing he wanted to do tonight with the one person he desired with. All flavors of fruit are on your tongue, with his own tasting every inch of you as far as it can reach. A radiant atmosphere of lust and yearn permeates in the bathroom. The bass of the music is the only thing keeping you and him steady together as one connected being, albeit if it wasn’t there, you and him would’ve collided with all surfaces a long time ago due to the haze of desire burning within you both.

You don’t know what’s to come after this. You’ll never know as long as this torturous cycle of a fire of passion blazes in flames on a routinely basis continues because you’re not sure what to feed it next. Nai isn’t sure, either, both persons being ignorant to what has to keep the fire going for more than just a singular, libidinous night amidst each other's bodies. It nips at him and you, the way you’d share such intimacy one night, only for the morning after to go back to what you would consider “normal”, of you and him sharing bickers and taunts instead of blissful sighs and soft whispers of each other’s name, desires of want going hushed between the sheets.

A soft plea of his name echoes through the air before you’re silenced by a deepened kiss that makes you grasp onto his shoulders for dear life because you know that everything will just grow in strength the more seconds pass by. Him and you can only hope what’s to come in the lone bathroom you share with each other on such a fateful night in a fateful nightclub.

After all, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke, doesn’t it?

(a/n): situationships amirite

hi hi! i'm really surprised at myself for cranking out a fic this long in the span of only two days. for reference, "if the shoe fits" took me probably a week and a half to write or so, but i'm gonna take a wild guess and assume i wrote this to use as a distraction from my many essays due soon—yikes! that's okay, as long as i'm writing, still! i actually went to a nightclub that was the prime inspiration for this fic the other day, but i spent my time daydreaming (or nightdreaming? eveningdreaming?) about what knives would do in such a setting instead of being a normal person and drinking and clubbing. the mango dragonfruit cocktail is an actual margarita i drank during then, and though it was pretty delicious, it didn't have wolfwood spit on the straw unfortunately :/

anyways, thank you again to dem for her wonderful trigun college au (please go read it, im on my knees atp), and you for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are never unnoticed and always appreciated <;3!

[chaifootsteps]

just me or is the whole 'saying this is like fanfic is homophobia' framing kind of frustrating? like just to list out the tropes that have come up so far in HH/HB:

female character is written as an evil shrew who gets in the way of the m/m pairing

relationship that starts with rape/dubcon rewritten into true love (this one is probably more common in bad BL manga but I'm willing to bet there's some overlap)

character is the child of a mob family

portrayals of rape/sexual assault treated as titillating / used for drama

portrayals of domestic violence/abuse used mainly to get viewers to feel sorry for a character instead of making them sympathetic on their own terms

abusers/rapists being all powerful monsters solely to torture the victim as much as possible

characters are either Good or Bad and writing is heavy handed about driving this point home

writers has one character they stan and baby above all others and not only the writing but the world bends around them as they eat up more and more screentime while the actual main characters are shoved to the side

writer has one character they hate and they hate other people liking them so they derail them in the most obvious way possible

writer has one pairing they despise and go out of their way to make them seem familial to shame the fans who ship it

writer has intended pairings in mind but they just kinda happen regardless of how much work has been put in to give them real chemistry

the plotlines jump all over the place with no consideration given to the differing stakes each create or audience fatigue when too much is introduced at once/too many hanging threads are left, similar to what happens in unplanned serialized fiction. consistency and worldbuilding errors abound. conversations/events that seem like they should change the status quo kinda don't but there's so little way to tell which one is which that audiences cannot gauge the stakes and either stop being invested or just take the show as it comes since there's no point anticipating anything being done with a lot of its characters & plot points

too many characters, often some of whom don't serve much purpose but the writer is way too attached to to ever cut out (looking at you, Andrealphus & Vassago)

characters are rewritten on the fly. due to the lack of planning their arcs start and stop or get quietly dropped when the writer tires of them

pervasive attitude of misogyny - female characters are underwritten, bitches, dumb or accessories to the men. The world revolves around the (usually white) m/m pairing/s

the main premise is dropped in favor of shipping drama or character shilling

etc.

There's probably more but those are the big ones - like s1 wasn't perfect but s2 really does feel like it became fanfic of itself. I understand Viv being frustrated if it seems like a broad dismissive brush instead of specific critiques, but there's a couple of problems here:

when people give specific critiques she either misrepresents their points to frame them as bad faith (tacitly encouraging her fans to do the same), complains people keep making the same point or writes defensive threads about how people just don't get it because, for example, the show totally demonstrates Millie has qualities other than Wife and Violent

when people say something 'feels like fanfic' as far as I've seen they aren't immediately using it as shorthand for 'it has LGBT characters'. usually when they expand on their points what they're getting at is a lack of planning and a lack of experience or competency in the writer that gives the whole thing impression of being done by an amateur who's either young or still learning their craft, or both

it's the same lack of experienced hands that resulted in the opening of Hazbin being so amateurish and lacking the sense of having actual episodes until other staff writers were brought in to clean up the mess

like yeah I don't like the implication that 'fanfic=automatically bad' since I've read some good stuff myself and maybe people could be more specific; but usually this critique is coming from people who actually like fanfic, who've read a lot of it and who recognize the tropes from the worst fanfics out there in Viv's work

Viv's little "Um, actually, fanfic is good and queer and so if you use it as an insult towards my shows, you're homophobic" snit is one of the more rancid things she's said. When you lay it all out like this, it really does go to show how her stories embody all the worst, most harmful tropes bad fanfic -- and bad writing in general -- has to offer.

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me

Meant to post this before Halloween except it got reaaaally long so I split it up. 🙈 It works as a standalone, though. I'll put the other parts up at some point hehe.

Actual!Angel and Devil!Ren AU (yoinked from da discord bot once again) One visit to earth turns into eternity. 1.4k words + GN reader

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

With pearly white wings and a halo of gold, you were a disciple in heaven’s endless library. Duty bound to organize records and histories of paradise and its worlds below. Though you’d never looked within those records, just being in their presence gave you curiosity about your god’s creations all the same.

Once every hundred or so years in your infinite lifespan, you sought to venture into the human realm before returning to your celestial duty. It was an odd request to your peers. None were as interested in mortals as you so each visit was a lonely affair. You never stayed more than an hour or two, merely observing how they had changed from a favored seat in the clouds above, lest someone spotted you. It was only meant to be a short trip as always. This time something felt different.

In the quaint seaside town you were fond of visiting, you'd sensed a devil and dared to investigate. Of course, you'd never met one, so you had no idea what that uneasy feeling even was until your feet touched the ground for the very first time.

The devil seemed to be asleep in a field of blossoms, butterflies fluttering about. Spring was always in full bloom when you descended to earth. Pastel pink hair blended with the flowers, only making the black horns atop his head and the symbols scrawled along his arms stand out even more.

You approached with caution and curiosity. Though they were meant to be your sworn enemy, heaven's few rumors about devils already appeared untrue. The fauna and flora around him weren't withered and rotting, but full of life. He didn't smell of burning flesh, nor was he covered head to toe in the blood of his victims. If anything, his form seemed almost angelic.

He opened his eyes as you came closer, and their sky blue color welcomed you further. "Ah, could I be dreaming? Or has an angel come to rescind my eternal punishment?" he spoke wryly. 

"Nay, devil. I want no trouble from you," you said in response, caught off guard by his casual, relaxed greeting. You took a few fearful steps away when he rose to lean back on his hands.

"Hmm... You have some holy divination or blessing to bestow upon this land, I assume. I've no intention of interfering." He smiled up at you, and those angelic features seemed even more prominent. Were it not for the pointed tail swishing with vigor behind him, you'd think this devil was one of your own.

"There's no mission I've been given," you explained with a shake of your head, "I'm only here to observe my god's world for a few moments, out of my own curiosity."

"Fascinating. I've never known angels to take interest in mortal affairs before their passing. Then, if no duty calls for thee—" he stopped to pluck a white bud that hadn't quite fully bloomed from the sea around him. "Might you grace me with your divine visage for one moment longer, little angel? I've called earth my home for millennia—and damnation is dreadfully boring. I could help with those curiosities, if you so desire." He held the bud out to you as an offering.

Though his words sounded sincere, you felt unsure. “...Do you take me to be so naive? I know your kind favor trickery.”

“I only offer my companionship,” he gave an innocent shrug. That heavenly smile was still fixed on you.

Your eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his face. Eventually, you took the flower from him. You could sense no ill intent on their part, so it wouldn't hurt to stay a little while. Nonetheless, you’d do your best to stay on guard.

~

The sun dipped lower in the sky as you lost track of time. Ren, you learned, knew far more of humans than you ever imagined. Your interest in them grew with each story he told of the world. At his urging, you'd gone to the beach to wander up close among them. It was a bit of a struggle to prepare—you'd never been told that your wings could retract or your halo could be hidden. But he coached you through it, not so much as flinching at the sting of divine power when you accidentally hit his arm with a wing on the first try. For a devil, he was oddly knowledgeable of things beyond his damned realm.

“You said your visits were always over in the late morning. So you haven’t seen this time of day, have you?” he asked as you both walked along the shore, waves glittering in gentle reds and pinks you’d never known the sun to make.

“I haven’t seen this terrain either.” Even with the occasional pausing stares of young children and animals—the only beings who could see your true form, as they were without sin—you were thrilled at the new experiences you were having. Your footsteps painted the sand rather unevenly compared to his. It was impossible to get used to the sinking feeling, nor the coarse sand getting into your sandals. You laughed at the sensation. “Heaven is all clouds and gardens. Here… it’s so different. The sun shines differently. But it’s still just as beautiful.”

He took your hand in his to keep you steady, pulling you towards the water’s edge. They were all too comfortable with the action, but you didn't spare it a thought. The guard you were meant to keep up had been thrown aside long ago. “I’m honored to show you such new experiences. And I only hope to give you more.” Ren’s face was bathed in a heavenly glow as he guided you into the water. 

It was a stark contrast. The once warm sand turned to a bracing cold, almost slimy texture as the water slowly rose up to your waist. You raised your other hand up high to avoid it, still clutching the late blooming bud he’d picked for you.

The pink-haired devil brought you to a stop and nodded out at the setting sun with an unreadable look, “I’m sure you won’t be able to take your eyes away from it. I couldn’t, my first time seeing the sun disappear.” At his suggestion you turned your head to watch, barely aware of the way their tail wrapped around your hips to keep you close.

It was captivating as the sun began to fall further beyond the horizon, the hues of the day gradually shifting both in the sky and sea before your eyes. Golds, reds, pinks, and purples all chased after the light, leaving behind a blue as cold as the water felt. In what seemed like an instant, it was over too soon—not a trace left of the glorious sun that never set back in the heavens you called home. Strangely enough, your body tensed with heavy feelings. As if you were saying goodbye to a part of you. You stood staring out at the graying ocean for a long while, until the cold water lapping against your skin felt no different from the air.

“How was it?” he gently broke the silence. You felt his hand move to rest over your own, cradling the flower still between your fingers. The heat of his touch guided you to meet his gaze.

“Breathtaking, I think,” you whispered with a frown as you looked up at him. “And a bit sad? All that warmth disappeared—I’m not sure how to feel.”

“Breathtaking as the sun is, you’ll find on earth that some flowers show their true beauty without its watchful eye, my little angel,” he said to reassure you. The bud in your shared grasp opened slowly at his words, its tapered white petals unfurling to reveal pale lavender edges as the sky darkened further. His fingers traced behind your ear before he tucked the flower among the strands of your hair, seeming to admire it. “You’d never have known if you’d only stayed those few moments.”

You searched his eyes as his hand lingered at your cheek. Just as when you first met, there was no malice in their voice. A devil who appreciated your god’s work felt unheard of. From Ren's intense gaze he looked as if he revered them. He must've been a kindred soul—or the equivalent of a soul in demons. You wanted to know more about him as well, not just mortals. 

Their fangs gleamed in the faint moonlight when you quietly asked, “What else can you show me?”

[incomingalbatross]

So Your Fave is OOC: A Brief Guide to the Condition

(Note: this list is intended for cases of OOC Protagonists specifically. Please contact the publishers at Faves Diagnosis Ltd. for information on other character types.)

Infantilization Also known as woobification in the classic manuals, this variety has plagued faves for decades, and is particularly insidious among intellectuals, younger protagonists (relative to the rest of the cast), and those perceived as having repressed inner lives. Do you know your fave as a stubborn, determined character with a temper and a brain and some personality flaws? Have all of those traits disappeared in favor of endless tears, martyr syndrome, and a general air of helpless pureness and fragility? We may be looking at infantilization.

Villains are Cool A condition particularly widespread in faves native to moral, plot-heavy, or thematically-complex stories. If your fave is a person deeply dedicated to the heroic side in their canon, but you suddenly find them rejecting that side outright as inherently corrupt and instead celebrating the antiheroes or even villains as misunderstood victims, this may be the diagnosis you've been looking for. May coexist with Author's Mouthpiece (see below), but this is a difficult and risky diagnosis.

Author's Mouthpiece There is ongoing debate in the diagnostic community as to whether this should be defined as a single condition, though tending to be comorbid with other varieties, or whether it should be established as an umbrella category which encompasses several more specific conditions. In this pamphlet, we define it by itself first, before describing related conditions. This condition directly replaces your fave's opinions and beliefs with those of their current writer's, with varying but often severe results.

Secretly Judging You This afflicts faves with the secret power, unrevealed in canon, of having been right about everything all along—and bitter about it. Likely to appear in bashfic and fics labeled "fix-its." Is your fave suddenly condemning people, concepts, or ideals to which they are canonically loyal? Are they taking pains to explain why every flawed or questionable action they took in canon was actually correct, while revealing their scorn and contempt for the flaws of their friends (or even claiming they never really were friends)? They may have been afflicted with this unpleasant condition, often considered a variant of, or comorbid with, Author's Mouthpiece.

Has Read the Canon A variety particularly widespread in fix-its and AUs, which gifts the protagonist with a magical ability to know exactly what the right decisions are at any point in their canon, even when they have no in-universe basis for their choices. Another symptom includes mentioning canon plot points as hypotheticals and then sneering at them as being absurd. It cannot be proved that these protagonists were given a summary of their original canon before beginning to live out their AU, but evidence strongly suggests that. Also considered an offshoot of Author's Mouthpiece, although there is some debate as to just how far the overlap goes.

Snarky McQuip An attitude change, sometimes manifesting as general scorn for the other characters and/or story (see also: Secretly Judging You), and sometimes as an air of flippancy and emotional distance from the events of their own canon. Has been identified as a symptom of Has Read the Canon, with which it often coincides, but the argument that it is a tonal manifestation of Author's Mouthpiece (reflecting the author's emotional distance) has been found more convincing in recent years. May also be an outside contagion from the MCU and related environments, mutated bathos from Whedon canons, or the proliferation of dissatisfied fan cultures.

They Would not Have the Emotional Intelligence to Say That A more superficial change than many listed here. In which a characters' feelings and beliefs may remain unchanged, but they suddenly acquire the ability to state them in direct and impersonal language. If their mental blocks have disappeared, they suddenly have the vocabulary of a therapy book, and all personal idiosyncrasies have been flattened out of their approach to communication, you may be looking at this condition. Again, it is less deep-seated than most! However, we understand it can still be deeply disconcerting to encounter in your fave unexpectedly.

[yanderes-galore]

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderes-galore/745112857566380032/heres-a-terrifying-thought-for-the-unknown?source=share

I saw The Unkown post you did and it got me in a chokehold so can I ask for a one-shot or a concept, just whatever with that idea? So what if The Unknown has a survivor Darling that they think by some twisted logic they'll be able to win their favor by wearing one of their fellow survivor's skin? Even worse if it's a survivor they're close to...

I've done a couple Unknown one shots already, so here's a concept that allow me to ramble about the horror.

Idea from here

Yandere! The Unknown pretending to be someone it's not

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Skinning, Manipulation, Dubious fate, Disturbing descriptions, Dubious intentions.

The Unknown is (ironically) known for its twisted mimicry.

It tries to be something it isn't to lure in prey.

Then it removes them from this world without a trace.

It's bad enough to be hunted by such a beast.

That fate is bestowed upon the people who look too far into stories they shouldn't.

It comes when called... That's a way to describe it.

If you are actively looking for it, actively trying to learn about it...

It will find you.

You are, unfortunately, hunted for a different reason.

Although its true intentions are just as unknown as the rest of it.

Its mimicry is never that good.

Upon closer inspection it's easy to tell it's something inhuman.

Yet it tries so hard to pretend it is.

Like a mantis blending in with a flower.

When it comes to you, The Unknown no doubt wants to gain your trust.

It wants you to come closer... close enough where it can pounce.

To do this, I don't doubt it stalks you.

Of course it stalks you.

It's like it's researching you as you research it.

It follows wherever you go from the shadows, eagerly waiting for when to strike.

Considering it looks like it wears the skin of its victims...

It isn't hard to imagine it stealing the skin of loved ones to make you more curious.

It watches carefully, noting every little quirk and interest you have.

Although, the only interests its looking for is how you interact with people.

What hair color, what eye color, what are your preferences in human companionship?

This behavior is different compared to how it acts towards most prey.

Although, it's not like you can source that.

No one knows its intentions or what other victims saw before they were attacked.

Either way, The Unknown looks for who you prefer to be around.

Even more so if you already have a crush or friends you trust.

I'd feel bad for them because they weren't looking for this creature.

You were.

Yet somehow they get roped into this since the creature seems particularly fond of you.

This scenario could occur before going to the Entity's Realm or after.

I imagine if this was in the realm, then it would steal the skin of some alternate version of a Survivor you prefer.

Since Haddie seems to confirm the existence of alternate universes.

Either way, I can definitely see The Unknown stealing the skin of someone you're close with.

Once it catches them, it works in tearing off their skin like some disturbing flesh coat.

In the creature's twisted mind, it thinks this is the way of winning you over.

Before it even takes their skin, it chases them and listens to their voice.

That way, it can become them.

However... It's more like a twisted imitation.

It's still gnarly and monstrous, black ichor still seeps from its face and body.

It will never be perfect.

Even as it uses the voice of the one you're close to.

It's not them.

While in the creature's twisted mind it thinks you won't care.

You're not fooled.

When you hear cries for help, innocently you look for the source.

Just when you think you see someone that seems to be your companion... Something's off.

When you're lured in by the sounds of your friend/crush crying for help... you don't find them.

You find it.

You've never screamed louder.

Its plan to make you trust it is flawed... just like itself.

In an attempt to draw you closer, it only makes you run away.

But... that's okay.

It loves a good game of chase.

It just wishes you'd accept its new appearance.

They were close to you... It wants to be close to you...

Unfortunately this plan has failed.

It was never going to work in the first place.

Which just means the beast has to hunt you down the traditional way... all while pretending to be your friend...

By the time it catches up to you... Your fate is sealed... Whatever it may be.

[cavejebus]

my adam playlist is about 20 songs now, so im gonna post it even though it is still a WORK IN PROGRESS!!!! ill add onto it when i wanna ofc, but i just wanna share a lil bit of my visionnn <3 expect a lot of linkin park lmao

some songs might not show up on the tumblr preview so i highly recommend going to the actual playlist if you have spotify!!

and batuta din moldova is there too cuz why not

below is a few categories and explanations for most songs!!!

ANGSTY SHIT

songs I thought either the lyrics or vibe had something to do with his angst... usually has to do with his background, during the trap, after the trap (whether he survived or not), or just headcanons :P

1. paper cuts - nirvana

"my whole existence is for your amusement", "why do they not try to escape?"

i THINK this song is about this dude who is like, in a really shitty kidnapping situation.... or something idk don't quote me on that :P it gives off the vibe of how it must've felt being in the bathroom all alone :( waiting for his boyfriend to save him :(

2. pictures of me - elliot smith

"you'll be the victim of your own dirty tricks", "i'm not surprised at all and really, why should i be?", "so sick and tired of all these pictures of me")

i like the whole pictures tie in.. the song isn't rlly about this, but some lyrics seem like how he would feel about being in a trap. like "I'm not surprised jigsaw chose me for this, my life is shit!!" ofc that would be if he knew who jigsaw was beforehand....... self deprecating shit yknow

3. given up - linkin park

"stuck in my head again//feels like i'll never leave this place//there's no escape", "thought i was focused, but I'm scared//i'm not prepared", "i hyperventilate//looking for help somehow, somewhere//and no one cares"

OK so first quote from this that I chose is like, how he sees his life as some useless "live to die" type thing, then the next quotes are how he realizes that he REALLY doesn't wanna die at the end of the trap. despite his whole "my life is shit I hate my job yadda yadda" talk, he still begs for his life once it's really in danger!!!

4. black heart - stone temple pilots w/ chester benningtion

"rescue me//(If you don't mind)"

lawrence......rescue this bitch....... ok but this song is mostly vibes, it can have angsty vibes :P

5. go with the flow - queens of the stone age

"she said, "i'll throw myself away//they're just photos after all", "i can't make you hang around//i can't wash you off my skin"

MORE PHOTO STUFF!!!!!! love it when it all ties in......... for the second quote its kind of a chainshipping thing... i cant make you hang around, adam goin "don't leave me!!!!" and i cant wash you off my skin, lawrence left his frickin bloody handprint on adams face.... oughh

6. and one - linkin park

"left all alone//far from my home//no one to hear me, to heal my ill heart", "it's too late to love me now//you don't even know me"

this song just generally gives angsty adam vibes, but the second quote is TOTALLY CHAINSHIPPING..... like they literally just met but already have such a connection since they went thru all that SHIT. but uh its too late for them to live a happy normal life together cuz lawrence never came back womp womp!! i can see adam sitting there waiting like "he don't even know me why tf would he come backk"

VIBES/STUFF HE'D LIKE

whether its based off of whatever tf he was listening to in his headphones that one time, or just based off of the time... i think his music taste would generally be pretty vast, while still staying around nu metal and alternative rock

1. one step closer, papercut, don't stay - linkin park

its 2001, hybrid theory has been release and is already fairly popular, i'd assume :P plus I think he'd favor linkin park since they've got a lot of complexity, as opposed to some mindless nu metal around that time

2. guns (are for pussies), down - 311

AGAIN with the rap x rock wtf!!!! he also like, cares about politics and probably trash talks all those gun loving dummies

3. brain stew - green day

who tf doesnt like this song... but it is about rotting in your room and he probably does that often <3

4. break stuff - limp bizkit

DO I HAVE TO SAY WHY I PUT THIS ONE???? ITS BREAK STUFF LIMP BIZKIT COME ON!!!!

5. the fear (flipped) - the shins

honestly have no idea why, but its giving adam!!! dunno what the song is about, but i glanced at the lyrics mentioned a bong and i was like "haha adam smokes weed"

6. tired of sex - weezer

he would like pinkerton, but i kinda only like this song off of it :P i don't listen to much weezer

7. blister in the sun, kiss off - violent femmes

i kinda just wanted to add in the acoustic sounding shit, but i do think adam would listen to violent femmes!! and you should too!!!

8. break it to me - muse

have y'all noticed that he kinda lied a lot during the trap? sure he isn't a good liar, but he seems like he's cool with lying for whatever reason... i just kinda picked this one cuz i needed to add some muse and the song kinda says shit about lying and stuff idk!!

CHAINSHIPPING SHIT

other than the angsty chainshipping in the "angsty shit" category, these just have cutesy lil lawrence x adam stuff <3 sorry to SHOVE chainshipping down your throat but whatever love is love

1. add it up - violent femmes

not specifying which lyric even though there IS one, i'm just embarrassed to say <3 but uh the only thing stopping them from making out sloppy style on top of john kramer was their chains :P

again, i WILL be adding more to this :3 but here's just my thoughts for now. im TOTES not just projecting my music taste onto adam hahahahhhhahahhahahhhaaa he's just so ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry if none of this makes sense!!!

[allwormdiet]

Interlude 7

Hi Miss Militia, sorry your superpower is just being a living weapon

No dancing around on this one, huh, just straight into the meat of it

Is Kovan our first dead kid/teen in this story? I feel like the child violence is steadily increasing over time. Vista, the ABB conscripts, Dinah, now this.

Also this shit is brutal

Fuck.

Sometimes you just have that sudden, instinctual understanding that something bad is nearby. Not usually something so devastating as a pit trap or landmine, but just that moment of the hindbrain screaming at you that something's not right.

Hey fucker, you sure showed up early, huh

So. Fucked up geometric crystalline entity that exists in multiple overlapping states or realities at once. Piece of it comes off and impacts her, bada bing bada boom she has powers and, conveniently, no recollection of the vision.

Ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who know better, cosmic horror has entered the chat, and it's giving out free goodies to unsuspecting participants

Crystal Superpower Cthulhu legitimately looked at this child and was like "oh I know how to turn the circumstances of your trauma into a superpower! I'm just going to give you Gun."

This feels a lot more on the nose than it's been for everyone else so far, but what do I know

Yeah here we go

"Good news, you never have to sleep again. Bad news, your brain will be on at all times and when you try to shut it off you will remember the worst day of your life in fucking IMAX quality"

Also feels very appropriately sinister that nobody can remember Crystal Superpower Cthulhu except in dreams of their trigger event, if you can even call it a dream.

Wow! Even more reason to doubt the Wards program, huh? They just dropped this kid into that life without her say-so and that cooked her for however long it took to graduate, at which point she obviously became a lifelong member.

Miss Militia is fully in it, huh? That's the kind of indoctrination you straight up can't pry yourself out of unless you have a damn good reason to suspect that's what's up, and it sounds like she never got that reason.

Yeah of course she's a dutiful little daughter and student and soldier. What else has she got? Not even the other kids from her hometown. Fuck me. Isolate and steep in the propaganda.

Oh no. Oh no she believes the American Dream exists. Oh Hana I'm so sorry, they just made that up to sell houses in the suburbs.

...Fuck, that's just it, isn't it. Hana was a victim of the grinding machinery of empire, and that was the pressure cooker situation that made her trigger. And now she's a component of a different, larger empire, grinding more of its targets into the same fuel that she almost became, but she doesn't even see it.

She didn't have a chance.

Speaking of chances. Hana, do you want to live in a world where God favors Kaiser as much as he favors you? Like that's just the problem of evil times a hundred.

Oh hey you two

Colin you have got to be careful what you wish for, man, you live in a world where superpowers are built off of fucking monkey's paw logic

Pity.

Haha uh oh

This is the first time we've heard Case 53 used, yeah? Same as Newter and Gregor? Hmm.

Now this is kind of an interesting conversation, having to figure out what the hell to do about what junior members you can or else have to give away

Okay so they know Shadow Stalker is trouble

...How much do they know beyond that, and how have they been dealing with her? Because I don't think it's working, and at least one person is just straight up not doing their job

I'd love to feel sorry for Armsmaster in this moment, but my dude is in desperate need of some fucking humility, and honestly I'm not sure he was ever meant to be in a leadership position. He just doesn't have the temperament for it.

So, first off, insane that the Endbringers are keyed in enough to human civilization to know what hurts most for them to target

Second off: Coil you stupid fucker your gun jumping on the Empire accelerated the entire city into apocalypse! Arrogant bastard wants to run Brockton Bay so bad that he just tripped and dropped his little city diorama all into a trash can full of rotting fish. Fucking jackass.

The Endbringers can bring media response into consideration for their attacks?? What the fuck kind of operation are these kaiju running?

Oh god fucking dammit.

Armsmaster is going to try and get his glory by killing an Endbringer.

Current Thoughts

Somebody needs to tell these people the genre of story that they're in for real. This isn't gritty sci-fi, this isn't something about the power of faith, this is about an alien intelligence using Earth and humanity for purposes that are, at best, utterly ambivalent to the ongoing existence of either of those things.

Also I feel a lot worse for Miss Militia but it seems like she hasn't reflected on like, any of her baggage beyond the most surface level stuff of "boy I'm sure fucking glad I'm not in that village anymore"

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 19}

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader

Summary: Recovery isn't linear and neither is mending mental fences that have been slowly deteriorating for two decades. On the cusp of something life changing, Joel's growing anxiety fuels your own and the tentative bridge you've constructed with the man begins to fall.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, description of injuries, description of anxiety, symptoms of anxiety, tense situations, argumentative language, foul language, disrespectful language and insinuations, trauma, depictions of past trauma, ptsd

A/N: first chapter of the new year! my city has been shut down for nearly a week due to winter storms and about 8 inches of show that is slowly turning into ice. so it was good mood setting for this chapter! slowly getting back into things, really hoping to get out of my head soon and off of medical leave to get back to posting on a more regular basis, i love y'all and miss sharing things. tried to maintain the tag list but tumblr was fighting me on half the links, im so sorry if anyone who wanted to get tagged didn’t!

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath, watching the screeching figures rush by after the figure of Joel leading them away from you. Ellie had tripped, causing rubble to tumble over cracked asphalt and alert them of the fact that people were within the city limits and exploring through the remains of what was once a decent metropolis. Your arm stung a little from where you were still healing, the injury of your broken arm two months old now. But you were able to use it, no longer confined to a sling. Your lungs still a little sore from the plunge you had taken into a frozen lake one month ago now.

Traveling had been hard, the harsh winter not letting up but seemingly getting worse with every day. Ellie found more of herself, falling back on snark and puns in a way that helped to bridge the gap that had begun to form between you and the man currently risking his life to give you both a chance to hide and seek shelter in the torment of the snowstorm raging on.

“Bookstore or library? City looks too small for one, but everyone used to have a library at least, right, Bean?” Ellie’s voice was barely audible behind you, her gun rattling slightly as her hands shook despite the gloves and heavy layers scrounged up along the way to Wyoming.

“Yes, Gremlin. We just have to find a map or something about the area.”

“What happened to yours?”

“Gave it to Joel.” You stood from your crouched position, knees popping audibly. You peered around the corner of a crumbling building, your longer hair fanning out from beneath your beanie. The curls getting ratty with the harsh reality of backpacking around the desolate land of what was once civilization. Ellie’s wasn’t much better, tangled in a ponytail that you were sure would hold its shape even if you cut the band from around it. Similarly, Joel’s steel locks had begun to curl around the back of his neck and around his ears, a darling curl falling over his forehead when he glanced down or seldom relaxed his watching gaze on everything.

“What…what’s been going on, Bean, please tell me.”

“Ellie, it’s not…nothing happened. I really don’t know, but you have nothing to worry about, we’re both going to keep doing our best to look after you.”

You both quietly moved through the city streets, ducking behind cars when any noise was too close, or the shuffle of the Infected echoed off crumbling buildings. Cody was a decent sized city, not quite a metropolis but was spread out over a good dozen square miles. Big enough to get lost in, big enough to fall victim to with how overrun it was. There were so many Infected, the Clickers and Runners hiding within the interior of buildings that were trying to withstand the test of time. But far too many for comfort, Ellie was close on your heels as you lead her toward where you suspected the library would be.

The whole, slow way your thoughts were focused on the task at hand, instincts taking over. The niggling feeling in the back of your mind concerned with the way Joel had been pulling from you recently. The spikes of anxiety you could read from him, feeling as if you were experiencing them firsthand. Which you had been as well, the journey through the harshening winter something that was testing you all in ways that you hadn’t expected to be so difficult.

‘Gasping for air, your entire body tensed as unconsciousness was ripped from you like a blanket by an exasperated mother the morning of a school day. Hands were wrapped around you, rigid but comforting and holding you still as you began to rouse.

“It’s okay, just breath, you’re okay.” A deep, baritone voice tried to sooth you, syrupy sweet and soft close to your ear. You vaguely recognized it, mind scrambled.

Words failed you, getting stuck in your chattering teeth as you shivered so hard it felt like convulsions.

“Took a dip in the lake, not the best decision you’ve made, but we got you on the mend.” The voice continued to talk softly to you, comforting you the same way that the arms around you were.

Shifting, you realized Joel was curled around you, making you the little spoon as he tried to get you warmed back up. His chest bare just like your back and the hush of the hair that he adorned noticeable as your senses slowly came back to you. Your hair was damp, so it must not have been too long ago when he pulled you from the water. You tried to ask but your teeth clattered against each other too loudly.

“Sweatin’ from head to toe, despite the chill settled in your bones, darlin’, had to strip down to try and get your body heat up. I assured Ellie it would be okay with you, made sure to change you into dry underwear beforehand. Didn’t want her thinking I was doing anything…bad.”

“G-good call, on-only way.” You stuttered out, feeling the thickness of his thighs pressed up against your own. It seemed that every blanket between the three of you and what had been in the cabin were draped over both of your forms. The fire crackling close as you lay on the floor in front of it.

“You scared me, you scared the hell outta me.”

“Tried to take him out, he tackled me and we rolled onto the la-lake.” It was hard to talk, to get the words out past trembling lips. But the warmth slowly seeping back into your skin and settling there allowed you to try. It was lulling you, the warmth on both sides, all around. The jolt of awareness fading fast as your body realized how hard it was fighting to stave off the cold, aided by the warm body wrapped tight around you with a tight grip.

“I don’t think I could handle loosing another person.” He murmured into the back of your head, lips buried in your hair as you nodded back off.

I would be something that echoed in your mind.’

He had hovered, that first week after the incident, insisting that the cabin remain a home base of sorts, he had hunted, hung up what he could to try and preserve it for travel. Ellie staying behind when he went to check the traps, telling her that you needed someone to watch after you. But you knew what he was doing, he was distancing himself. He was marking the sand around him with deep lines that should not be crossed. But the thing about sand is that it shifts, it can be swept up, it can consume you, it could damn you as well as any boundaries you tried to mark into the vulnerable surface.

For the first week back traveling on foot, he set up his sleeping bag close to yours. An arm’s reach away in case you shivered too harshly or coughed too loudly. Your arm hadn’t been damaged in the fall or the following struggle back to the surface, but it had set you back on needing to redo the stitches you had just removed the day before.

Shaking your head and focusing, you turned the corner of a building made of brick. Bloody handprints painted across the pale pink of the faded bricks catching your eye as you spied the sign for the library in the distance.

“C’mom, gremlin. Almost there.” You whispered to her, catching sight of too many bodies clustered on the ground not even ten feet away. They shied away from the sun when it peeked through the dense overcast that seemed to become a permanent fixture. Some looked to be standing, or even sitting against the building. The ones that were didn’t shift when the sun shone down on them but groaned all the same. Squinting, you could just make out that they were attached to the wall by long fibers that spanned over the side of the building. Large bulbs had sprouted up among the veinlike display, some directly on the bodies overtaken by the fungus.

Spores.

It had evolved into spores.

“Ellie, pull your collar up over your mouth and nose. Now.”

Looking back toward it, you pulled the bandana you had tied around your neck up to cover your own face. Ice coated it all, though the Infected, melting slightly in the sun that was now shining down through the split in the low cloud coverage.

The crunch of glass underneath a boot had you whipping around toward the entrance you had tried to barricade. Ellie ducking beneath one of the few standing shelves further in the building you had taken your time to clear and make sure was safe. The local library of Cody the agreed upon meeting place so many days ago it felt like a lifetime ago, between different people than who were now using the strategy in the face of a too real notion you had voiced about separation.

Joel’s broad form came into view from the shadows of the entrance, looking disheveled but intact. The layers he was bundled up in making him an imposing figure. His eyes frantically scanning the inside of the building, an anxious twinge gleaming in them before they landed on your cautious form peering from behind a pillar. You couldn’t tamp down the instinct to move toward him, wrapping your arms tight around him. He couldn’t seem to resist his own instincts to bring his arms around you to return the embrace, tight hold that brought you flush against him.

Surging up, you placed a chaste kiss to his chin and then both of his cheeks, one last gentle one to his lips despite the adherence to touching he seemed to take up slowly toward you. But it didn’t feel perfunctory, it felt like a welcome home that would fall from his lips if reality were different, if you had been home before him and he finally crossed the threshold back into a space you both shared. His cold lips moved against yours, pressing back to deepen it and his tongue swiped at your bottom lip in a silent question. You were just about to part your lips for him to taste when Ellie realized the coast was clear and came out of her hiding spot.

“Gross, y’all gotta keep it PG, I’m still a child!”

Joel tensed, his blunt nails digging into the layers wrapped around your body. With a grunt, he broke the kiss and sent a mild glare over your shoulder toward the rambunctious teen. Rash, he thought and you saw It flash over his face at both of your thoughtless actions to reach out for each other. But instinct was a funny thing, threw inhibitions out the window, threw self-preservation out the window, the thin, sheer curtain of privacy out the window, forgotten for a moment.

“Oh, suddenly you’re a child, but back when you wanted stay up for a round of night watch you were old enough and responsible enough?” You quipped back with a teasing smile, detangling yourself from Joel and facing her with your hands on your hip.

“Well-“

“Hush it, go see what we can use that’s still around, but don’t go too far!” You waved your arm at her, the other on your hip as you tossed her a faux irritated look, but the smile quirking up the corner of your lip broke the stern image you were trying to make.

“Didn’t wanna hear whatever mushy crap y’all are gonna say to each other anyway!” She stuck her tongue out at you before turning on her heel and walking away further into the building.

“Joel,” You placed your hands on his chest, trying to get his attention as he watched Ellie’s form.

“I saw it, the spores. That means we’ve all be potentially infected just being in the vicinity of Cody.”

“Infection can show signs as delayed as eight hours. Joel there’s no way to know until we do or don’t show symptoms.” He took your hands in his, feeling the slight tremors in them as your mind worked a mile a minute. Eyes flashing with something that could only be determination as you locked your gaze on his. “But it looked mostly iced over, moving slow but still alive.”

“We gotta move out, too alive for comfort.” He slid his hands from you and put his gloves back on, flipping his coat collar back up to shield his neck.

“Copy that.”

“We’re going to be okay, we know Ellie is safe.”

“Copy that.”

A harsh grunt had your head turning swiftly back toward the clearing you were on the edge of. Trees lining the edges of your vision and their naked limbs reaching out as if to comfort you. But they would damn you sooner than that, exposing you to any threat even this deep into the forest where you had sought relative safety for the night. Joel’s sleeping bag cradled figure was shifting, moonlight showing the anguish he was experiencing even in sleep. A nightmare.

He had been having more and more of them, sleep restless and mumbled words falling from his fitful form most nights or when he nodded off.

“Joel.” You murmured quietly, hand hovering just over his shoulder. He didn’t startle, but woke with a deep gasp, eyes flying open.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, you were having a fit, just making sure you’re okay.”

“’m fine.” He said as he pushed up from the confines of his sleeping bag. You leaned back on your heels where you had kneeled beside him. Confusion colored your senses before you shifted into a neutral expression. He had been pulling away, the tentative kisses you shared a few days ago the first instance of comfort you both indulged in since the cabin.

“You’re fine.” Monotone agreement to appease him fell from your lips. He shoved off from his spot and you let him walk away, boots crunching in the snow that had built up since settling for the night.

“Takin’ over watch.” He said before disappearing in the thick of the trees, not a glance back toward you or a sleeping Ellie.

“I’m fine too,” You exhaled shakily, sharing in his own lie.

The blinding white landscape stretched out as far as you could see. Packed snow and ice all around for miles and miles as winter claimed the land for its own. You kept glancing over at your companions, worry settled deep in your soul. For the girl whose teeth chattered with the cold, edge of her nose pink despite the layers wrapped around her. For the man whose anxiety was beginning to show the longer the journey took and the nightmares that plagued him every night.

He looked washed out, from far more than the endless brightness of winter shining down. He was exhausted, he was worn out, he was holding the crumbling pillars of himself up with sheer determination and devotion to finding the one thing he knew in this world, his brother.

As you tried to keep your boots from slipping, the hush of snow underfoot, a structure suddenly appeared on the horizon. Smoke calmly billowing from a chimney.

The creak of the door opening had your muscles tensing, hidden behind a wooden pillar inside the warm cabin. Joel was across the space from you, gun positioned right in front of him, a calmness about him that you hoped meant no one would be dying today.

The man who had entered back into his home looked over to his wife, her eyes sliding to the left to silently give Joel’s position away. Her eyes met yours as she continued to face the door, before turning back to her husband as she calmly rocked in the chair with her hands in her pockets. Threatened but at ease, assuming you both to be decent people. To not harm her or what was hers. Your gut twisted at the faith she put in both you and Joel, seeing the desperation for appeasement and an avoidance of true violence. You wouldn’t hurt her, hurt them. Everyone seemed to sense it, only threats were dealt with violence, and she was not one.

Turning back to the door, the man gently placed his bow down atop a table and began to unzip his outermost coat.

“And the gun,” Joel approached, revealing himself full to the older couple. Voice steady but quiet, demanding.

“Who’re you?”

“Just someone passin’ through.” He strutted confidently beside the woman still rocking gently away, his voice giving away his native land, ascent thicker in the wake of another sleepless night.

“Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it outta reach.”

The man complied, with an exasperated expression at the brashness Joel was speaking with.

“Why didn’t you shoot ‘im?”

“The gun’s all the way over there.” Was her simple answer and you felt a smile pull at your lips, the display pulling at your heart. “He didn’t hurt me, by the way.”

“Yeah, I got eyes.”

A few steps further into the room brought the map and abandoned bowls from an offering of soup to the man’s attention.

“You made ‘im soup?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s cold out.” The man’s only response was a grunt as he settled into a chair across the small table from her. Joel’s head shifted to the side slightly, and you took the signal to move in front of the door.

The man’s attention turned to you, gazing at you over his shoulder.

“Well, aren’t you a quiet thing-“

“I’m lookin’ for my brother.” Joel took over the situation, his voice cutting off any further conversation between you and the couple. Letting them know that he was the one in charge, the one who would be asking the questions and controlling the conversation.

A scoff sounded harsh into the air as the old man removed his cap, his silver hair on display now in the comfort and warmth of his home.

“Well, I ain’t seen him.”

“I haven’t told you what he looks like.” Joel’s tone was hard, though you could see how tired he was, his eyes not holding any of the weight his shoulders seemed to as he deflated. Unable to keep up the rouse, unable to not let the doubt begin to slip in. The endless days out in the below freezing tundra finally wearing him down.

“He look anythin’ like you?”

“A bit.”

“Then I ain’t seen him.”

“They’ve got a girl with them.” The woman spoke up, eyes shifting up toward the second landing and giving Ellie’s hiding spot away. You could see her easily from you spot by the door, the way her brow furrowed much like Joel’s at the woman’s easy give up of her presence.

Apparently sensing how calm everything was, Ellie took that as her opportunity to reveal herself.

“Can I come down?” She called from the upstairs, causing you to close your eyes in exasperation of her lack of patience. Joel, similarly, exasperated, turned his attention from the man he kept his gun trained on and looked toward the stairs with a mile glare.

“No,” His demand turned into a calling of her name as she moved and began to make her way down the stairs with loud steps.

“Ooh-wa. A woman and a girl, family man.” The old couple shared a quiet laugh at the quickly shifting interaction. No longer tense, but something else.

“What did I just say?” Joel posed toward her as she came to stand in the space between you both, blocking the stairs from view with her small form as she brandished her own gun.

“Joel, come on, they’re like a thousand.”

“Who’s this little psycho?”

“Never mind her.” Joel shifted forward, using his free hand to push the map on the table closer to the man whose focus was shifted toward Ellie. “I need you to tell us where we are.”

“If you got a map, why you lost?” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice that he was doing nothing to hide, finding amusement despite the barrel of a rifle aimed at him and three strangers in his home.

“Must’ve missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.” Ellie snapped, trying to put on a front to imitate Joel, her voice pitched lower and hard. No sign of the girl who told puns in her as you looked over at her with a sharp flare of frustration.

“Ellie!” You reprimanded, unsure where this unwavering lack of manners came from, hoping it wasn’t her way of displaying confidence in the face of someone who had done nothing to warrant such harsh language aimed at them. Anyone else wouldn’t be so kind or forgiving. “Compose yourself.”

“Ho-ly.” The man’s eyes met yours as you nodded a silent apology at him, moving across the space and coming to stand beside Ellie with a swat to her arm. Laughter bubbled up between the couple again, getting a kick out what was happening after being isolated for so long.

“We’re somewhere here. Where exactly?” Joel tried to get the conversation back on track, an agitated look tossed over to you both as he jabbed a finger at the map. “And the answer better be the same as your wife’s.”

“Did you tell him the truth?”

“Yeah.” She rocked gently in her place, looking for all the world like this was an everyday occurrence.

“Are you tellin’ me the truth?” That same fond smile pulled at your lips at the woman’s easy compliance to the question and Ellie shifted behind you slightly as she saw it, her body relaxing in response to your own ease.

The man glanced at you and Ellie, so close together before he leaned forward and pointed out exactly where his wife had on the map. Joel shared a look with you before holstering his gun and focused on the map fully.

“Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” Exasperation and exhaustion taking over him, he pressed a hand to his forehead as he roughly sat down in the chair beside him. Looking for all the world someone who was about to give up.

“Hide? Came here before you were born, sonny.”

Ellie moved to sit beside him, a stool operating as a makeshift side table the perfect spot for her as Joel rocked in his place, emotions riling him up in a way you had yet to see. His anxiety rolling off of him in palpable waves.

“Get the hell away from everybody.”

“I didn’t want to.” The woman added, sharing a look with you, the gleam in her eye telling a story you so desperately wanted to hear.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far then you know what’s out there.” Joel’s pale glare, furrowed brow, prompted the man to speak on. “You seen Cody?”

“Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with infected.”

“Spores, too. But the weather seems to have killed that off for the time being.”

“Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation. Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.”

“So you haven’t heard the name Tommy?”

“Nope.”

“What about the Fireflies?”

“We get those in the summer.”

“Not the bugs, the people.” Ellie snapped, though there wasn’t nearly as much heat behind her words this time. Mindful of the presence you exuded as you stood beside her.

“There are firefly people?”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled from your chest, joining in on the disbelieving laughter of the older couple.

“You got any advice on the best way West?”

“Yeah.” Suddenly serious, the man’s face shifted into something unreadable. Leaning forward to get all of Joel’s attention he spoke without a hint of the jovial tone he just had. “Go East.”

You swallowed down the spike of unease that settled over you, watching as he leaned forward to draw his finger over the map.

“But you never go past the river here. Ever.”

“What’s past the river, sir?” You cut Ellie off, knowing she was about to ask the same thing. You stepped forward, angling closer to him, wanting to understand everything they new about the land but afraid to ask. Afraid of the answers they had that would sever the last string of hope, of the mission Joel had set out on.

“Death.” The woman spoke, her eyes meeting yours. “We never seen who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some Infected, some not. If your brother’s West of the river, he’s gone.”

“You’re not gonna scare us.” Ellie spoke quietly, face solemn as the atmosphere of the room shifted.

“Scared them.” The woman nodded at you and then over to Joel beside her.

A beat passed before Joel reached for the map with harsh movements, folding it in his grip and then stood. You ushered Ellie to follow him, taking a moment to reach into you pack. You placed a small bundle of bandages on the table, locking eyes with both of them before speaking.

“There is medicine wrapped up here, please, take it as a thank you for your help. I’m sorry we had to brandish our weapons at you. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“A quiet, sweet little thing, aren’t you?” The man looked you over, though there was no threat or undertones in his eyes. “Take care of them, they need it.”

‘I’m trying my best, sir.” You turned to the woman one last time, hoping that the heartbreak didn’t show on your face. You wanted them to make it, to live out the rest of their lives in peace. “Ma’am, thank you for the soup.”

And with that you walked through the door and back out into the blinding landscape.

Joel was leaning heavily against a post of their fence line, one hand supporting him while the other was pressed tightly to his chest. Ellie was hovering close to him and speaking too fast for you to make out her words.

“I said I’m fine.” She looked back at her with a weird look, trying to display some sort of control, but he was still leaning heavily against the post. Her soft acquiescence pulling you behind them with quick steps.

“It’s just the…cold air all of a sudden.” He leaned over and looked down, his breathing labored and his body taut. A gentle hand on Ellie’s shoulder had her moving forward through the fence.

“All right, uh…so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

Joel stayed still, jumping slightly when you curled a hand over his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me. It’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” His tone shifted from quiet to harsh, furrowed brow and hard eyes turning to face you. He shrugged your hand from him with a rough movement and you curled it back to your side with a frown.

“Joel-“

“I said I’m fine!” He raised his voice and you shrunk back a few steps, not sure why he was suddenly so angry. The look in his eyes one you hadn’t seen since your shared time in Boston. At a loss for words, you only nodded, hoping he didn’t continue to yell. Your foot slipped on a patch of ice hidden underneath the snow and you let your body do so, looking up the small slope to Joel as he shifted the rifle from his shoulder and gripped it in front of him before following after Ellie. “Don’t need you trying to fix me when nothin’ is wrong.”

“It’s gonna be easy.” Ellie trilled, trying to control the situation as best she could despite how tense things were. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

He didn’t look back as he caught up with her smaller form.

“The river of death. Scary.” Ellie sardonically announced as the landscape opened up, the map in Joel’s pocket as he lead the way over the terrain. She stopped and loved over the fast moving line of water that weaved it’s way through the beautiful landscape. It had been a quiet day’s travel, Joel and Ellie having small pockets of conversation as they traded places leading. You stayed behind them, trying not to warrant another flare of Joel’s bitter anger.

“Don’t start.” He sidled up next to her, taking in the view while you hovered behind a few paces, feeling like an outsider. He didn’t so much as glance back at you, before speaking. Deciding.

“It’s too close to dark. There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.”

“Good. I’m starving.” A pause. “Should’ve stolen two rabbits.”

“We can get our own rabbits.” He almost scoffed, worried about how she was thinking of stealing before trying to provide for herself. Or that he would let her starve.

“You gonna teach me how?”

“Just keep movin’.”

And with that they both began to walk again, seemingly forgetting about you trailing behind them.

As the fire crackled on, rabbit consumed, Joel was busy duct tapping his damaged boots. The sound a background noise as you gazed up at the night sky, a haze of green lights shining among the stars. It was beautiful but it did nothing to soothe the anxiety thrumming through your veins. Something was about to change, the air around you drenched in the inevitable. The hairs on the back of your neck and all along your arms prickled with every howl of the wind and shuffling sound of an animal nearby.

The whistle Joel let out had you jumping in your seat, but you didn’t bother to turn around, back to the set up of the night. You knew it was for Ellie, to garner her attention where she gazed up at the sky in the same fashion as you, but she had scaled the outcropping around the mouth of the cave.

“Come down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.”

“Bean said it was okay. As long as I was careful.”

He didn’t respond, opting to pull a flash out from his jacket’s inner pocket. Your brow furrowed as you heard the sound of it clinking against his zipper. You hadn’t seen him swipe that from the older couple’s cabin. But he hadn’t had it before.

You blanked out, thoughts humming, eyes unfocused as you stared deep into the fire. The flames taking you back to when you had burned down your own cabin, unable to stomach the thought of living out your days with the buried corpses of what was supposed to be your future.

Screams echoed in your ears, plaguing you more and more as winter continued. The snow flashing from pristine white to red with every other blink. Footsteps deep in the snow, following a man who was showing his cracks much the same way you were. You gripped your mostly healed arm tight with your right hand, nails digging into the flesh there as you had snuck it into the sleeve, gloves tucked into a pocket.

The buzz of a quiet conversation quieting had you blinking your eyes back into focus, the fire lower now.

“What about you, Bean?” You didn’t let your surprise at being addressed show, but the feeling of your nails digging deeper into your skin was an all too real reaction.

“Hmm?” Shifting up from the fire, you looked over at Ellie, her face bright in the night. Small smile on her thin lips as she looked back at you. The weight of Joel’s gaze was heavy, making your nerves twitch and you were sure he was reading you as well as you could read him when his own resolve slipped.

“What would you do?”

“What would I…do?”

“If this all wasn’t going on.” The teenager waved her hands around, stray strands of her hair peeking out from her beanie wafting up with the action.

“I want a nice little cottage, protected deep in the woods. Maybe a garden to plant coffee and cultivate it.” The answer was quick, but quiet. Honest. That’s all you wanted now, a place to hunker down and be left alone.

“Coffee beans for Bean.” She chuckled before realization dawned on her. You hadn’t mentioned either of them, saying what you wanted. She took a breath before she breathed out her hesitant question, unable to shake the feeling that everything was not as okay as it seemed. She had to have picked up on the way you and Joel had grown quieter and more agitated since leaving the cabin. “…alone?”

“Yeah, kid, alone.” Your smile was sad as you looked down at where your boots stretched out in front of you toward the crackling fire. You could feel both of their eyes heavy on you as you fell silent, closing yourself off from them once again despite the hesitantly jovial air that had begun to form around the makeshift campsite. Shifting, you stood from your spot and walked over to your pack, unbuckling the sleeping bag from the bottom of it. Laying it out, you settled into it underneath the overhang of the outcropping of rock that had been picked out for the night.

Snuggling down into it, you heard them talk softly to each other for a little while longer, comfortable silences falling every so often.

“Dream of sheep ranches on the moon.”

“With a three-room cottage.”

“Yeah, kid, with a three-room cottage.”

Steps as quiet as possible, you glanced at the map in your hands and then toward the bridge you could see in the distance. The river was still like glass, nothing but the wind breaking the surface and causing it to ripple every so often before it stilled once again. The bridge looked untouched, no visible disturbances in the snow blanketed ground around it or along the expanse of it. But it was a sign of something, of what was once. Blinking against the bright white of everything around, your vision clouded as snowflakes gathered on your lashes. The feeling of unease settled over you as you heard the call of a geese on the other bank. The only sound you had heard since taking up watch a few hours ago when sleep evaded you. It was too quiet out here.

Dread settled in like rocks in your stomach, throat constricted as the old couple’s words sounded in your mind. Turning back around, you rushed to the cave that had been used as shelter the night before.

“I’m responsible for you, okay?” Joel’s voice was audible as you neared the small camp.

“Then don’t fall asleep.” Ellie rebutted. “I was quiet, I checked my six, I looked for tracks. I found the high ground and I kept watch. Like you taught me too. Bean made sure to double check it all before she went off. What can I say, man? I’m a natural.”

He mumbled something and motioned for her to hand over the rifle, turning his attention to your approaching form. At the snap of a bush, the rifle was raised, his eyes not recognizing you through the haze of the falling snow. You quickly raised your hands up into the air and announced yourself, heart thudding.

“Where the hell did you go off to, huh? Supposed to be keeping an eye on her.” His voice was anything but relieved, holding anger and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Woah, hey, I was checking map, I think we got turned around somehow. Bridge to help up cross the river.”

“You’re supposed to stay put. No one goes off alone.”

“I’ve traveled alone before; I can handle myself.”

“You took the only map, what if you got taken down or lost or fell in the god damn river?”

“I didn’t, I was just trying-“

“Trying to get us all killed, is what you were doing. Exposing us on your little scouting mission.”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, but we are all tired. We are all feeling the same way, Joel. Do not raise your voice at me. Please.”

He took a deep breath, eye clenching shut. When he opened them back up the gun shifted to his shoulder. He nodded at you in silent agreement. Then at Ellie.

“Wake me up next time.” He admonished; tone not nearly as hostile or frustrated as a few seconds ago.

“Yes, sir.” Ellie tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with a quick of her lips.

“Copy that.” You nodded back at him, not liking the way it was getting harder and harder to communicate with him. He was taking the lead more, making routes on his own more, taking on the burden of wandering through the endless landscape in a way that was hurting him more than helping the group. That kind of responsibility taking its toll on him as the days continued on.

The bridge was larger as you stood at one end of it, facing the backdrop of large snowcapped mountains behind it. More wilderness, more unknown, more unseen threats.

You were trailing behind Ellie, the formation second nature now. Joel in front, rifle at the ready. Ellie in the middle, her hands at her sides, gun easily accessible in her pocket. You behind them both, keeping Ellie’s smaller form protected as much as possible.

Conversation flowed between them as you now walked along the river, the trees dense on the other bank, the one you were traveling along exposed. It made you uneasy, that feeling having settled into your bones from this morning. Cresting over a large hill, the sound of rushing water was suddenly loud, having been so low a hum it didn’t register until now. The snow was mostly cleared on the other side of the rather blue river, the structure of a-

“Dam.” Ellie announced, playing on the double meaning of the word easily.

“You’re no Will Livingston.”

“Yeah, yeah, but who is?”

“So that made electricity?”

“Yeah.” He looked over at her, brow already furrowed. “Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”

“Joel…the dam…it’s running.” You stepped forward, breaking into the bubble the two of them had unknowingly created.

“The water wouldn’t stop running through it, even if it was abandoned.”

“No…but that doesn’t explain the lack of snow all around it. Almost like it’s been cleared.”

“Just didn’t snow as hard in this area, nothing stuck.” He dismissed you, moving on.

Ellie was watching the movement of the river’s current, having stopped ahead of you both and you quickened your pace to catch up to Joel. Reaching out a hand to hook around his upper arm. He let you turn him, a frown on his features.

“Joel, please, this doesn’t feel right. Between the sparse snow despite the storm last night and how quiet it is, something-“

“Everythin’ is fine, you’re reading too much into it.”

“Remember when you trusted me? Heeded my instincts as well as your own?” You snapped, roughly letting go of his arm and shoving him back. “Remember when we were equals?”

“You’ve been out of it more often than not, seeing things where there isn’t anything. You double take at every turn of direction, eyes glazing over and losing focus at night when we settle. Jumping at every little sound in the night.”

“So have you, I can tell when you’re breathing heavier, overrun by anxiety.”

“I’m fine, but you aren’t. Not since the cabin.”

“I’m fine, Joel. Just like you’re fine, right?” You used his own words against him, hoping that they stung him when they landed. They did, you could see the shift behind his eyes from frustration to acceptance.

“I’m not gonna apologize, but, darlin’…you really have been out of it more than here with us. I’m just…I’m trying here, okay?”

“I’m trying too, it’s…it’s this time of year, it’s harder. But I’m trying, Joel, I swear to you I am. When did I let anyone get the drop on me when it was avoidable? When did I failed to get Ellie to safety? When have I failed to reconnect after getting separated. Please, Joel, I’m trying.”

His broad chest expanded with a deep breath; hands held out to you in a silent offering of peace.

“I’m just picking up the slack, trying to keep us all alive, I didn’t-“ His words were fast, twang thick as he tried to back track. His trauma showed in ways different than your own, something he still had to learn about you, learn to help you with. Return the favor of you allowing him to work through his own.

“We’re fine, okay? I just…I need a minute, please. I just need a moment to myself.”

You stepped toward him to grip one of his offered hands with both of yours, cradling it. Looking up at him, you could see that he was as worked up as you were. Both of you feeding off of the other’s intense emotions in the worst way. He slowly lifted his other hand to caress your cheek.

“We’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You untangled from him, offering him a wan smile, and walked away, gazing out over the river.

After a beat, you began to follow behind Ellie as Joel continued on at a slower pace.

“Look at that river. It’s crazy blue.” She fell silent for a moment, looking down at her boots as she thought something over.

“Hey Joel…what is this is the River of Death?”

You both paused at her words, realizing that this was in fact a secondary river. You looked up and locked eyes with the man as he turned, hair ruffling in the breeze. The map was quickly pulled from his coat pocket, and he unfolded it as you closed the distance, coming up close behind them both, head on a swivel as he tried to center your current position.

The whiny of a horse had you bumping into Ellie. Too late to do anything about it or even announce it as the sound of hoofs thundering across the fallen snow blanketed all around you assaulted your senses.

You could feel it reverberate through your entire body, teeth clenched tight and eyes wide as they took in the fast-approaching group cresting over the hills of the landscape.

Joel scrambled for Ellie, pulling her behind him. He chanced a look over at you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you were surrounded on all sides by people on horses, two dogs pacing around them all with the river’s bluffed bank behind you all.

Joel reached for her hand and she reached for yours, scrambling to huddle close and maneuver with a dash that wasn’t quick enough. Allowing for the group of saddled horses to surround you on all sides.

“Get behind me.” He ushered, realizing it was too late to run or even think of making a getaway with the ten or so people now aiming their guns on you in a misshapen circle.

Hands going up in surrender, you didn’t dare close your eyes as you took in a deep breath of the stinging cold air.

“We’re not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel was calm despite the buzz of adrenaline that was lighting you up, no doubt mirroring his own. “We’re just passin’ through.”

“Drop the guns.” The demand was calm, controlled. “And the blade.”

With slow movements, you removed the colt from the harness inside your largest coat, the shing of the blade following the thump of it to the ground.

Eyes moving from each imposing figure, you noticed that they were all armed with rifles. The glint of secondary handguns on their hips. Every single person was armed to the teeth and concealing their faces with masks made of scarves, bandanas, and scraps of clean fabric.

“You,” The same man spoke to Ellie, his eyes trained on her. “Take five steps back.”

“And you as well.” A woman spoke to you, her eyes calculating. Tracking the way you were scrutinizing the entire group with quick glances all around you.

“How ‘bout we just talk this through?” Joel attempted to bridge the gap. But they weren’t having any of it, cutting him off before he could even get the words out.

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up?”

“Okay, easy.”

Glancing down at Ellie he assured her she was going to be okay, the hope that they wouldn’t harm a child allowing the words to sound genuine. He glanced over his shoulder at you, paces behind them both having already heeded their commands.

“You been near Infected?”

“There’s no Infected out here.” Your voice was strong despite feeling anything but. Overpowered, out manned and out gunned. Not letting it show that you were absolutely terrified for the two people spaced out in front of you.

“The hell there ain’t.” The man argued with you, tearing apart your feeble attempt at complying with them but also sticking your own ground.

A barking dog was lead out from behind the man, as he declared it the last chance for a swift death.

“If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath; eyes trained on the back of Ellie’s head. What if they could smell the dormant cells in her body? Suddenly, it looked like this wasn’t going to end well at all.

The dog was going insane, barking up a storm with intermittent growls from deep in its ribcage. Struggling against the leash it was being held onto with. But it wagged its tail as it loosened and approached Joel. You could see the increase of his breathing from your spot, though the man hadn’t been near Infected since Cody. A tense moment passed as it deemed him safe after sniffing around him and standing up on its hind legs to get a sense of him too close for comfort.

“Like I said, we’ll just move on.”

“Now the woman.” Dogs always made you nervous, having been on the receiving end of a rather bad bite at a young age. But you kept your eyes open as it approached you and did the same inspection. A deep breath in, held the entire time, and exhaled only when the dog was backing trotting away from you. You could only hope Ellie remained as calm as it cautiously approached her, growling as it did so.

Growls turned to happy yips as Ellie giggled, the two finding peace as she pet the suddenly friendly animal. You head knocked back your head as you sighed in relief. The man speaking for the group was smiling, you could see it in the way the wrinkles around his eyes creased despite the mask. Much like when Joel allowed himself to relax enough to do the same around the fire at night.

“You just bought yourself ten more seconds. What are you doin’ out here?”

“I’m just lookin’ for my brother.” The truth, you hadn’t known he was going to say it. But you felt your heart soften as he did. “That’s all, nothin’ more.”

The woman who had been watching you pushed forward and demanded his name, gaze locked on his.

“Joel.”

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

taglist: @narcissa-anastasia @ayamenimthiriel @rosaaeles @sawymredfox

[dinoace2]

Ring Around the Rosie

Little piece vaguely inspired by @camilleflyingrotten , a drawing I found on their Insta.

The Bubonic Plague is literally one of my favorite periods in history (to learn about), I'm shocked at myself that I haven't already done something with it. I know aziraphale would do his best to help where he could, in a time and place of such suffering. I'll say they're probably in a tiny village in rural Italy during this time.

(This is a part 1)

1500 words of angst and sad angel snuggles :3

Or read on Ao3

~~~

Crowley hated the fourteenth century.

One of the nice things about Time, Crowley always said, was that it was steadily taking him further away from the fourteenth century.

He enjoyed Torment and Sorrow as much as the next demon, but this...this seemed a bit much.

He walked out of the latest house of victims, pulling the beaked mask from his face. Needed a breath of fresh air after that, the stench of Death was becoming far too overwhelming.

Speaking of, Crowley didn't think he'd ever seen the man so happy.

Death and Pestilence worked hand in hand, now more than ever. Somehow they concocted a disease so deadly, so volatile, so malignant and grotesque, that, once afflicted, the human body could succumb to failure within half a day of exposure to it.

A condition so severe its name was simply Death.

After a few clear breaths (not that he needed to, but old habits, you know), he replaced the mask over his face, once again inhaling the gentle scent of lavender and sharp mint. Apparently someone, somewhere, determined those particular plants good for keeping sickness at bay.

He walked to the small village's church, little more than a rectangular building with a few rows of pews and a small pulpit. Nowadays it served as a different sort of sanctuary, the benches pushed aside in favor of cots and bedrolls, a sort of infirmary for those who hadn't yet been holed up in their homes. Once he arrived, he just stood silently outside the door. Anyone who questioned why was simply told there wasn't enough space for him to enter without causing trouble.

The doors opened, and a few beaked people in cloaks walked out, all practically indistinguishable from one another. Crowley made a 'psst!' noise to attract the attention of the last doctor in the crowd. When they didn't answer, he cleared his throat. "Doctor Fell."

The beaked figure stopped at that, turning around to stare with empty, dark, round eyes. "...yes?"

Crowley walked over, gently putting a hand on the other's shoulder. Though it was impossible to see, the touch said it all. He was trembling.

Just as I thought.

"Come with me a moment...I think we could use a break." He studied Aziraphale, trying to gauge his reaction, but the masks proved such a task impossible. He was more relieved than he'd like to admit when the other beak bobbed up and down in a nod.

Crowley took his hand and gently led him down the silent, empty streets, all the way to a now-abandoned vineyard at the edge of town. He sat down in a shaded spot amongst the vines, and pulled down the mask and hood. His auburn hair fell behind him in a loose ponytail, and he tossed the beaked face aside.

Aziraphale was silent, but eventually sat down next to him. He carefully took the mask off, then pulled his knees to his chest.

They sat in somber silence for a while, and eventually Crowley pulled a cluster of grapes from a nearby vine. While on the plant they looked a bit underripe, and far too sour, but by the time they were in front of him they were plump and purple. He plucked one and tossed it in his mouth, then held it out to Aziraphale. The angel hesitated, and he sighed. "Th' field's been abandoned...the owner already died...'s'not theft if it was gonn' go bad anyway." Aziraphale seemed satisfied with that argument, and held his gloved hand out to take them.

The silence stretched until crickets and frogs chirped in gentle harmonies, and the sun sank over the horizon. The first few stars dared to peek over the sky's veil. Each of the pair had a few bunches of grapes while they sat, simply basking in the other's company.

Just before the moon made her entrance, Crowley let out a long sigh and turned to Aziraphale. "....'s'not your fault, Angel."

Aziraphale flinched at the words, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Tears stung his eyes, and all he felt he could do was lean to one side, laying his head on the demon's shoulder. Crowley nodded, putting an arm around him in a gentle embrace.

"What have they done to deserve this?" He finally whispered, his voice breaking. "How could they have possibly angered Her this much, that they all have to die?" He was shaking more now, and Crowley just held him tighter.

"...im afraid that's just how it'll be sometimes, Angel. 'S'outside our control, unfortunately." Crowley did his best to keep his tone gentle. If he wasn't careful, this was going to end in an angry rant to the Heavens. No one wanted that.

Aziraphale shook his head. "I've been healing as many as I can...but they deteriorate so quickly...its been impossible to remain on top of it all..."

They had shifted by now, the angel cradled carefully in Crowley's arms. "I know."

"It seems that every time I try to help, I'm always just barely too late."

"I know."

"They're innocent, they don't deserve something like this."

"I know, Angel."

Aziraphale finally choked out a sob, and Crowley was certain he'd never heard anything so devastating before. His heart ached in a way he couldn't quite place.

"The last one I tended to....it was a little girl. A child, Crowley." He sounded so desperate, so shaken by what he had seen. "The sores had already taken her beyond my ability to help...and- and she just...she kept asking me when it would stop hurting..." his voice was little more than a whisper. "...I told her the truth. 'Soon,' I had said, much as I didn't want to. I wished to tell her it would be alright, that it would be better...but...you know how I feel about lying..." he shook his head. "So I did a smaller Miracle...told her to close her eyes...and dream of whatever she liked best." Fresh tears spilled over his cheeks. "I've never killed anything before, Crowley....but what else was I meant to do...?"

Crowley sighed. "...y'didn't. Not really. You gave her peace. She was heading there anyway...letting her sleep through it was the best thing you could've done, I think..."

"It- it felt so...wrong, though...letting her fall away....and practically doing nothing for it." His fingers curled into fists, the leather of the gloves creaking under the pressure. "....I felt her grow cold in my hands...and could do nothing but watch, only praying that the pain faded." He shook his head.

"...you did your best, Angel...thats what matters," Crowley said softly, wrapping his arms tighter around him.

He felt shaky arms around his back eventually, Aziraphale clinging to his slender form and sobbing quietly into his shoulder. The angel's cries echoed across the vineyard, fading into the skies and meshing with the chirps of the crickets in a grieving song.

Crowley held on to him tightly, looking up at the sky. He felt...angry. Angry with the World, for being so awful...Angry with Death and Pestilence, for being the cause of such severe suffering...Angry with God, for letting this all happen...and Angry at Himself, for not knowing how to fix things. For not being able to help. For feeling so...useless.

He wasn't quite sure who to be upset with for making the angel cry.

Aziraphale wiped his eyes, sniffling and sitting up. "...i....I should be okay, now..."

Crowley sighed. "...you've been under a lot lately. You need rest."

"I don't sleep..."

"I didn't say sleep. I said rest. You're exhausted. I don't think ive ever seen you this tired before...not to mention this miserable. You need a break." Crowley frowned, gently taking hold of Aziraphale's hands.

The angel frowned, sorrow returning to his expression. "But...those people...they still need help..."

"And so do you, it seems." He shook his head. "Youve already helped the humans way more than your assignment requires. Besides, at this rate you're going to work yourself to discorporation. Im-" his voice caught in his throat. "Im...worried. Ab- about you." He tried to ignore the sudden flush of heat in his cheeks, and looked away.

Aziraphale sighed. "And...I suppose there's no talking you out of this?"

The slight pull of a smile tugged at the demon's lips. "Angel, in all the time you've known me, have I ever been anything other than a stubborn bastard?"

His companion responded with a weak smile of his own. "...no, I suppose not."

Crowley grinned. "Lets go, then. I think I know just the place." He grabbed his mask and gloves and stood up.

Aziraphale nodded, following suit. As he stood, his stance swayed slightly, and Crowley reached out. "...you alright, Angel?"

"Hm? Oh...yes, I'm alright, Crowley...just...a touch dizzy, all of a sudden...give me a moment."

Crowley frowned. "...youre absolutely pallid, are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Yes, of course, my dear boy...I just...perhaps I should...sit down..."

He took a step, then stumbled, falling forward against Crowley. He looked ghostly, his skin flushed and pale and hot to the touch. The demon caught him, a colorful string of curses falling from his lips.

"Angel? Angel, talk to me! Shit! Angel, say something! Wake up! Aziraphale!"

~~~~

Thanks for reading! :]

I'll get a part 2 out when I can, stay tuned 💜

[coraniaid]

🔥 about tara

OK, so for the record I like Tara a lot. She's definitely in my top ten favorite characters. I am still in the early stages of a (painfully slow) Season 4 rewatch, and one of the things keeping me going is the thought I will get to see Tara again soon.

I think Tara's death is very sad and I can understand why Amber Benson felt poorly treated by the way it was handled (especially with the stupid gimmick of adding Tara to the opening credits just for that episode). On balance -- and especially given the context arround her introduction and her relationship with Willow -- I think that it was probably a fairly significant mistake from a writing perspective for at least a couple of reasons. (It's not really a good look to kill off half of your show's groundbreaking lesbian couple, whatever the context, and the writers didn't really seem to have any sort of coherent plan for what to do with Willow afterwards.)

But it kind of irks me when I see it described as an obvious case of the Bury Your Gays trope because ... it really isn't?

Tara doesn't die because she's gay: she doesn't die shortly after coming out, she isn't targeted because she's a lesbian; she isn't, in fact, targeted directly at all. Her death is basically just a stupid random accident. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Neither is Tara treated as more expendable by the narrative because she's a lesbian. By the time Tara dies, Buffy (and the Angel spin-off) had already killed off (among other recurring and at least occasionally sympathetic characters) Jenny Calendar, Kendra, Larry, Doyle, Forrest, Joyce and Darla. By the time both shows end the writers will have also killed off Jonathan, Anya, Cordelia, Fred and Wesley. Buffy isn't quite a show where Anyone Can Die, but certainly it's one where anyone can die if they're not in the Core Four (and if they're not vampires Buffy has slept with, in which case they can die for a little bit but they'll get over it).

And nor is there some sense that Tara's death affects the rest of the group any less than any of the others on the above list. On the contrary, other than Joyce, who is the protagonist of the show's actual mother and had been a presence in the show for almost twice as long as Tara was, she gets mourned for longer and by more people than anyone else on that previous list. (Xander and Willow's supposed childhood friend Jesse gets mourned so little I couldn't even bring myself to add him to the list.)

Yes, the show is far from perfect. It definitely is, at various times, racist, sexist and homophobic, often in ways that cannot at all be dimissed as the show being a product of its time. I think you could certainly argue that Tara was a victim of the show's persistent narrative misogyny (Willow's first girlfriend, Giles's first girlfriend on the show, and both of Xander's girlfriends die, but neither Oz nor Riley die and neither Angel or Spike die in a way that matters).

But Tara's death isn't automatically an example of the Bury You Gays trope just because she dies and was a lesbian. Even though, as I said, it was a probably the wrong decision for the character and the show and I wish it hadn't happened.

--

Oh, also, a bonus hot take:

In a hypothetical Season 7 where Tara survived, I really don't think I can see her relationship with Willow lasting long. The show sort of forgets about it in favor of advancing the subplot in which Willow becomes a magic addict after her Evil Friend Amy takes her to see a drug dealer and then forces her to relapse, but .... Willow's supposed magic addiction isn't why she and Tara broke up. They broke up because Willow was messing with Tara's memories and consent, well before she'd ever met Rack or de-ratted Amy. Willow hadn't actually done anything to address the things that made her take Tara for granted and consider herself entitled to mess with her mind with magic at all. She'd been sad about the relationship ending, sure, and Tara missed Willow, but ... Willow was absolutely the same person who did this to Tara.

The show doesn't bother to address the actual reason she and Tara broke up, preferring the cheap shock death just when they'd gotten back together again. But after a while I think Tara would have realized this, and without the shock of losing Tara in the first place I think Willow would find it very hard not to fall back into her old habits. Habits which have nothing to do with Amy's supposed malign influence. After all, Willow was trying to use magic to change her best friend's mental state without his consent as early as Lovers Walk, a full year before she ever met Tara. And when she and Oz broke up that same season she very quickly started talking about wishing she had a way to "make [him] trust me". This is much more a part of who Willow is than any addiction to evil magic.