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velvette-creations · 5 months ago

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To be loved by death

Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

WC: 1.5 k

Prompt: “That’s an awful lot of blood” for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Heavy on the blood play, stalking, oral (f receiving), manipulation, mind control, biting, thigh riding

Summary: You become Santiago's prey

A/n: Ben Daniels as Santiago has a hold on me. First time diving into writing for this fandom that I've loved for so long

A sense of dread crept up your spine as you took the last sip of your coffee at the quaint cafe on the corner. Your eyes darted around, but nothing suspicious lingered in your view. You placed the cup back on the saucer, the ceramic clinking together as you stood and left the money on the table. You hurried across the cobblestones, feeling like someone or something was following you. It was a feeling you couldn’t explain, but it felt like danger loomed in the distance, concealed in the shadows of night.

Your pulse pounded in your throat. Heady and unstable. The pavement slapped beneath your worn leather shoes, the pointed heels scraping against the grooves. One unsteady movement caused your downfall and sent you spilling across the ground. Your palms scraped against the concrete as the rough surface tore through your stockings and resulted in skinned knees. Tears of humiliation burned your eyes as you swallowed down the pain. You were thankful this pathway through the park was abandoned this time of night; otherwise, you would have curled into a ball of shame.

“My, my, you took quite the spill.”

You lifted your head at the sound of the voice, shaking the loose curls out of your face as you peered around, your heart racing with anticipation. It was quite odd because it sounded like the voice surrounded all sides of you, echoing through the stagnant night air. You gasped as a man appeared in front of you. Older with coiffed white hair and stunning blue eyes. Eyes that were not of this world, and something about them made you shiver. The black cape he wore surrounded him ominously as it billowed around his legs.

“What were you running from, ma chérie? Was a wolf chasing after the little lamb?”

You scooted away from him, your palms leaving a trail of blood along the cold ground, frowning as he taunted you. How dare he? He didn’t know you and had no right to be so condescending. If you were in a better mindset, you would have slapped him across the face for his brazenness.

“What’s wrong, chérie? Cat got your tongue.” A smirk crossed his face as he loomed over you. He was taunting you, and it made your blood boil.

“You are rude, monsieur,” you frowned, finally finding your voice while you slowly stood as pain surged through your body. You felt wobbly and lightheaded from the sight of your blood smeared against the concrete—a crimson gash reminding you of your folly.

“I have been told worse,” he chuckled. His demeanor shifted as he followed your gaze to the ruby blood sparkling in the dim light of the lamppost illuminating the park. “That is a lot of blood, chérie.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern,” you murmured, pushing your stinging palms together and cursing yourself for not wearing your evening gloves.

He tutted gently, stepping forward with intricate grace, and instinctively, you wanted to run. A cold dread set over you. Had he been the one you were running from? The looming dread from the shadows, the breath on the back of your neck, the mysterious figure who had set you on edge that sent you sprinting through the park toward the safety of your apartment. This feeling had followed you for a week; perhaps now, the answer stood before you.

“Of course I care, ma chérie,” he chided, stepping closer and drawing your hands into his. His long nails reminded you of spun glass. You stood frozen, fixated on his unnatural, spectral blue eyes as he lifted your palms to his mouth. His warm pink tongue rolled from his lips as he lapped at the tiny droplets of blood that clung to your scraped flesh. A scream felt caught in your throat, yet you were paralyzed. Pointed fangs extended from his mouth, dragging across your wounded flesh and splitting it wider. He reminded you of a cat enjoying their dish of cream.

“Please,” you whimpered, voice faint and cracked.

“The sweet essence of fresh youth,” he sighed happily, your blood splashed around his mouth, “You are going to be quite the treat, ma chérie.”

You trembled like a lamb caught in the wolf’s jowls.

You waited in your apartment every evening at the same time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months progressed and still, he kept the same schedule. The night ticked away, and the city of Paris was still alive as people enjoyed the treasures offered in the seclusion of darkness. As if on cue, you rose onto your bare feet and padded onto your balcony. The gentle breeze wafted through your loose hair as the hem of your black dress tickled your calves. You were mesmerized every night as he floated above the dimly lit streets and toward your balcony. Santiago. You were his dark bride, offering your flesh and blood to satiate his voracious appetite.

You gazed up as his hand cupped your chin and pondered how easily those long glass nails could puncture your skin. His lips were cold as ice as they pressed against yours. Warmth spread through you as blood bubbled to the surface, spilling down the corners of your mouth as he laid the first mark of the evening. Wordlessly, he took your hand, guiding you into the privacy of your apartment as the doors closed behind you. You moved as if under a laden spell as your fingers unbuttoned your dress, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you in silky undergarments. Ones you had scrimped and saved for, savoring the delicate fabric as it slipped through your fingers.

Santiago stepped closer, using his claws to tear them to shreds until you stood naked before him. Not a single tear dribbled from your eyes at the loss of the treasured garments. You moved in a daze, slowly dancing in place to an invisible tune as he removed his cape, leaving him in dark trousers, a white undershirt, and suspenders. His piercing blue eyes remained fixed on you as you continued your silent dance before he pulled a chair into the center of the room. You straddled his thigh before skimming your hands over his muscled arms, marveling at how an older man kept in such shape. You supposed there were many mysteries about him that you would never uncover.

His mouth grazed over your neck, leaving the flesh pure and unmarked until he reached one of your breasts. His tongue rolled over your nipple until it stiffened under his touch. The sharp pain made you gasp and rock against his thigh as your blood oozed into his welcoming mouth. It was intoxicating; the pain was quickly replaced by euphoria. Lust unraveled through your body as Santiago continued to claim your flesh, savoring each drop of warm, delicious blood. Your arms circled his neck, one palm pressing against the back of his head to hold him closer.

Moving gracefully and quickly, he lifted you into his arms and placed you on the bed. He kissed his way down your belly, leaving a light trail of your blood over your quivering flesh until he lay between your splayed thighs. Pain and pleasure blurred together as he feasted on your thighs while his tongue claimed your slick cunt. Blood and arousal intermixed and clung to your flushed skin as your fingers buried in his white hair. The sweet release rolled through your body like waves crashing through the ocean. You knew he savored the blood more.

“Sleep, ma chérie. My sweet little lamb. I will return to you tomorrow night,” he whispered as his fingers gently slipped against the tender skin of your eyelids and closed them. A deep slumber grasped your body, pulling you under the swirling darkness of dreams.

Santiago tucked the blanket around your body, a few sparkling, wet, ruby droplets clinging to your glowing skin as the rest dried into a vexing crust. The next day, you would indulge in a hot bath and scrub yourself clean. He lingered for a moment, watching your chest heave with your shallow breaths, hot blood pumping through your veins—an intoxicating ichor that called to him. How selfish it would be to drain you and deny him such a treat.

“What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?” The words rolled from his tongue, ever the skilled orator and performing, falling onto deaf ears before he disappeared into the black night. You were left to your dreams.

You dreamt of your malcontent Santiago, giving your being over to him as his fangs and claws ripped apart your flesh. Consuming you until you were nothing as blood dripped from him. The wolf feasted upon the lamb. To be loved by death. To be wrapped in it’s tender embrace. What divine bliss.

The next evening, Santiago did not arrive at your door, but instead, a courier who delivered a card and a wrapped box. Nestled inside the box, between layers of white tissue paper, lay a set of silky undergarments to replace the ones ruined the previous night. Inside the white envelope was an invitation to the Théâtre des Vampires on an evening of your choosing.

Join me, ma chérie. Perhaps you will welcome the dark gift.

Your thumb traced over the elegant cursive of his signature. Answers awaited you. Time to let death embrace you.

#fic: iwtv #sweetspicyhc #iwtv fanfiction #iwtv santiago #santiago x reader #interview with the vampire fanfic #santiago iwtv #santiago

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller hbo

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cherrybacy · 4 months ago

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@toyotayou: Thank you to everyone who was concerned about Fujisaki-san's safety and Toyokawa's stock price…! I guess Adachi had the first experience of waking up to the smell of coffee in Kurosawa's house ☕

DO NOT REPOST OR REUPLOAD ON OTHER SITES

CREDITS:

tl: red

cl & ts: naina

(join our discord!)

#cherry magic

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weibonique · 2 months ago

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Hey hey! My Law and Chopper keychains are finally up on etsy! Please check them out if you're interested! :3

Also, there is a little bit of info about the stickers. The stickers are currently very low in stock. I'm having some issues with my printer, and I'm thinking of outsourcing my sticker production. It will be a while before I can get back up in stock.

#one piece #fanart #one piece fanart #art #krita #kritaart #stickers #sticker #keychain #one piece keychain #etsy #etsy shop #etsyseller #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law #tony tony chopper #one piece chopper #one piece law #law one piece

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reve-writes · 1 year ago

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—ground floor; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x agent!reader | resident evil | 1k words. ʚ leon comes to your rescue when you're trapped underground. ʚ profanities; mentions of death (no one really dies). ʚ a/n — to the anon who wanted more agent! reader. i like to think this leon and reader exists in the same universe and timeline as rotten work. they have their adventures (and endless bickering). also i could not come up with a title so we are stuck with this.

I told you so.

It's probably killing him not to say those words to you right now. Leon's face flickers on your communication device as his voice crackles through your earpiece. His jaw is taut as he glares, blue eyes serving you a disapproving look.

“Where are you?” He asks, not unkindly.

“Some sort of basement?” You reply uncertainly, looking around for a clue in your surroundings. You end up without an answer, only a steel-paneled door that looked like it belonged to a garage—although much, much bigger—and imposing blank cement walls. No windows. You remember going down the elevator. It's a metal box that reaches up your waist and you could see a blur of metal and concrete as it descended.

It's just your horrible, rotten luck that the elevator is one-way and it ascended without you up to where you originally came from, leaving you in the vast space, stocked with crates and large trucks with nowhere to go.

“That narrows it down,” he replies, sarcasm apparent. “I leave for one second—”

“Leon,” you interrupt, uneasily glancing behind you. “Save the lectures after you find me please. I don't like it here.”

Your voice comes out like a whimper and he is suddenly scared for you. Gone was the fiery, argumentative partner that was an eternal pain in his ass. He blinks rapidly, clearing his throat.

“Okay,” he says. “Where did you find the elevator?”

“Ground floor,” you recall. “Left from the room we were in. I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“Wait for me.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armour,” you answer. “Not like I can do anything else.”

He scoffs. You hear the shuffle of his trousers as he's running, boots thumping to follow your directions. You are thankful that he stays on the line with you. There's a loud clang echoing from somewhere in the vast basement.

“Leon, I think—”

You're whispering to your codec call communication device, but the screen goes dark.

Did he hang up?

Another loud clang.

After the countless amount of infected and bioweapons you've encountered with Leon since you've been dropped off here, no one can blame you for being paranoid. The light overhead flickers as if it can sense your nerves.

You reach for your handgun that is holstered on your belt.

You haven't moved far from the elevator shaft. It's on one far corner of the room. Your safest bet would be to wait near it so you can spot Leon when he comes down to your rescue.

If he can find the elevator.

You don't doubt him, but your descriptions were vague and this building is vast and maze-like. You hear another noise, louder, a staccato of a blunt force against metal. You're breathing heavily, a shiver of terror washes over you as you point your gun aimlessly.

You inhale sharply. This is fine.

You're not stupid enough to call out as you walk slowly forward. Soundlessly. Dumb as it is to try and investigate, you're locked in a square room with whatever it is anyway. Better you find it first before it finds you.

While you're quiet and careful, Leon does not know to be.

He is calling out for your name as the elevator creaks downwards, his voice echoing. You flinch, turning on your heels to make a run for it. Whatever it is that lurks here must have heard him.

When he spots you bounding towards him, he's waving his hand furiously, beckoning you to come.

“Don't look back,” he calls out, pointing his gun towards your direction, which means something is behind you. Or a lot of somethings from the thumps of footsteps. “But you need to hurry.”

“This is your fault,” you yell out, daring a peek as you're close enough to the elevator. A pack of five infected dogs slobber as they run after you. You yell out a curse.

“Told you not to look!”

To your mortification, the elevator is moving up.

“Come on!” Leon calls out, pushing his body up against the low metal walls of the elevator, extending a hand towards you. “Dammit. Come on!”

With one last, petrified push, you jump and he grabs your hand, hauling you into the safety of the ascending elevator, away from the very likely possibility of getting torn apart. The two of you stumble and fall, with you, falling on top of his well-built body. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart mirroring yours.

He groans, body going limp underneath you. “You fucking scared me.” His hand snakes around your waist.

“Hell, I scared me.” You push yourself off before you get too comfortable, rolling over to lie on the elevator floor, heaving. “Why did you hang up on me, asshole?”

He's pushing his hair out of his face. “I thought you did.”

You angle your head sideways, brow creasing as you look at him. “You being on the line kept me from going insane. Why would I hang up?”

He returns your stare with a teasing smile. “Glad to be your anchor to this world.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“You flatter me enough.”

“I would much rather be eaten by those—those things.” You regret it as soon as you say it. Images of blood-covered, slobbering canines running after you, baring their teeth and snapping at you for a taste will forever haunt your nightmares. If you'd been slower, or if you'd tripped over your foot, or if Leon didn't arrive in time, you would be dog food by now.

Dead.

“Hey.” Leon's voice broke you out of your stupor. His gloved hand reach for yours as you lie on the rusting metal floor. “You're okay.”

“I know. I'm fine.” You appreciatively squeeze his gloved hand. “Thank you.”

“Part of my job description, remember?” He runs his thumb over yours.

“So you keep reminding me.”

Leon pushes himself off of the ground and pulls you up with him. He dusts your shoulders off, checking you over and lets out a relieved sigh when there's no sign of injury.

“My hero, aren't you?”

“Nothing new.” He shrugs. “Let's go. Try not to get yourself into more death traps.”

You trail after him with a frown as he stalks off, handgun in hand. “Says you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Remember that time in Europe when you—”

Leon shushes you, crouching as he holds out his palm towards you, signaling that he heard something. You roll your eyes, saving the bickering for later.

[ ].

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #—ki writes 🍯

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bleedingichorhearts · 6 months ago

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𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲: 𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This one reminded me of Subnautica.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Injury, Violence.

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧} • {𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐮𝐬} • {𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐢’𝐬}

Collecting minerals across the deep-ocean floor was a rather pleasing experience, especially right next to the lava lakes and volcanoes. It was cool to see when they would pop and create this “pillow lava.” All round and bulbous, its sphere crust erupting to other Little Rock’s called “igneous rocks.”

Of course, you have to be careful on doing this sort of job. Be wary where you go, how deep you go, what and where you decide to collect your mineral or samples. Creatures and Mother Nature might not like you if they so much desire to rip you to pieces or shoot pillows of lava at you. It can be a very dangerous job in a second. So it’s best to leave it up to the professionals who have more experience for these types of jobs.

This also accounts for the equipment needed to use for this type of job. You can’t have some weak and classic diving suit to swim to the approximate depth of your area filled with underwater lakes of lava. That suit has to be modified for a human to be able to take on the heat of the lava in order to get the goodies like: Gold, silver, copper, manganese, cobalt and zinc.

Though, you gotta be careful of how much the human weight and pressure can take. You don’t want to sink to the ocean floor and be pressurized by the water for going too far down for a human being. So you got to be careful with your selective gear, but your absolute must haves are a storage pouch, underwater flashlight(s), lining, and a knife. All these are important for your survival into the depths of the ocean, and if you think you can take a harpoon? Go for it, the ocean can be quiet and scary when it wants to be.

Pushing of some rock with my hand. I avoided some hydrothermal vents as I took my diver knife from my waist and stabbed it into piece of rock wall a couple times, digging out some mineral with in it. The disrupted sand on the rock obstructing my vision for a second before I spot that shine of the material and grab the mineral with my other hand.

Zinc, I recognize from the splintery metal it has and the sheeny grayish color it’s known for. A good chemical element for to help you immune system fight of bacteria and viruses inside of your body. Though, I would not recommend to blankly just touch, inhale or eat raw zinc before giving it over to the scientists. It can could cause some side effects too like: Stomach cramps, nausea and vomiting. For higher levels: Anemia, damaged pancreas and decreased levels of high-density lipoprotein (HDL) cholesterol.

Opening my pouch, I place the small mineral into the storage pouch on the other side of my waist, from the knife holster and sheathed my knife back into its holster. Swimming carefully near the edge of the cliff where a lava lake resides just a few inches below. The boiling heat of it warning me if I was too close to it or not while I looked for some more minerals to collect. My feet and hands pushing off rocks when I didn’t find anything in the surrounding area.

I hum unhappily into my mask when I couldn’t find anything more than just zinc and occasional copper. Bubbles obstructing my vision when I stop and float in place, looking around me carefully for one last scan for minerals. The feeling of unaccomplishment pressing onto my shoulders as I didn’t want to leave the area without another mineral stocked into my pouch. I wanted them for a reason.

The weight on my shoulders pull off instantly when I spot a sliver of gold shining against the red and yellow of the lava lakes light. My legs already working to swim closer to the lava lake; more than one should. The heat threatening to burn off my heat resistant suit if I got anymore close to the lake, having its limitations.

Rounding the material, I made sure there wasn’t any more that I was going to miss. My hand reaching and unsheathing my knife back from my holster as I get ready to dig at it. Head tilting back and forth on how I would like to dig at it to make sure I didn’t damage the gold too much before resting a hand above it for support and giving the surrounding rock around it a good stab.

It took about 7 times before the noble metal popped off its spot. Breifly floating in the water as I made a reach for it. My fingers almost closing around the metal before I found myself scarcely close to the lava lake. A muffled cry ripping from my throat.

Rapid bubbles surrounded my vision as my hand clutches at my shoulder. A line of red threading through my fingers and through the water from the harpoon stuck into my shoulder. My back slowly burning up for being too close to the lava lake; like when you get too close to the campfire for comfort.

My eyes go wide when another harpoon tinks itself near my ankle, cutting my suit there as I scramble back as far as I could to the best of my abilities without getting scorched by the lava. The harpoon in my shoulder not helping when I find myself pinned under the hands of another human. Their knife threatening to crack my goggles as the tip of the knife scratches them, creating a line in them.

All I could hear from them are rough mumbles and gestures to my pouch. Their hands occasionally gripping at the harpoon in my shoulder for more power as I cry out at the pain of it being moved. Their eyes giving a certain glee when they did.

What was another person doing down here? Was this person a pirate? How long were they following me? Where did they even come from? How did they know of this area? It’s wasn’t common to have some search the floor of the sea for some scraps of minerals.

The person shoves my body back into the sea floor harshly and backing off; taking my storage pouch with them as I become lightheaded at the force of their push. That feeling of dread, sadness and questioning settling on my shoulders.

Why would one person what to steal from another and wound them in the process? If they could have asked I would have lended over some materials for them. I wasn’t a greedy person! That— that just doesn’t make any sense! Why steal when you have a perfectly good gear to come down into the depths of the water and steal from me?

I groan and exhale slowly in order not to cry at the loss of my materials and with the harpoon in my shoulder. My hand gripping at the handle and pulling the harpoon out with a painful jerk. More of my blood flowing through the boiling waters of the ocean depths.

I jump when a nuzzle to the back of my shoulder takes my attention when I look back behind me to the creature of the lava lakes. His black reptilian-like body rising out of the lava as it bubbles off his scales. His deep, yet glowing reddish-orange eyes, serpent-like irises with a solid black line going horizontally through his eyes looking me over. A deep rumble coming out of him, vibrating the water.

Relived it was just the sea creature, I reached up to the creature. His head coming down to nuzzle into my open arms. His form chuffing bubbles as he slowly moves to the wound on my shoulder. A low growl rumbling through the water before his long black tongue rolls out of his mouth and laps at the wound, sealing it up with his saliva as I nuzzle up against his shoulder, his appearance welcoming as the saddening thought of being stolen from still ranked through my mind. I was going to make a trinket for this loving creature, and now I have to start from ground zero.

The creature gently coos at me when he wants my attention, giving me a little kiss on the neck while he’s at it. His talon-like hands rubbing against my back soothingly. Prompting me to let go of him as he gestures and gently pushes me to go back to his nest. His form curling around me, blocking me for any disagreement of not going to his nest.

Pushing off the sea floor a little. I reached for the creature again before I went and nuzzled him right underneath his chin. Purposely exhaling bubbles as he gives these chuff-like sounds at my antics. Gently pawing at me to get me swimming back to his nest, and giving me a forehead kiss before I make my way back to his nest. His eyes carefully watching me go swim to the location of his nest before he turns a pushes off the ground with quiet power in his talons and tail with a new hunt in mind.

A vengeful one too.

#Ichor’s Chronicles #warhammer 40k #mermay 40k #mermay 2024 #mermay #x reader #reader insert #oc: dorvenos #salamander #tw: injury #tw: violence #he is batman

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pinkscaped · 8 months ago

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wait omg myah please please PLEASE tell us more abt myrah’s career after allume (and maybe during too 🤭) i js NEED to hear more abt her !

MYRAH YAMAZAKI is a Japanese K-pop idol and global icon based in South Korea. She made her initial debut in the rotational girl group ALLUME in 2005 as the group's leader and lead vocalist until her generation's graduation in 2010. Myrah is often credited for making ALLUME as popular as they are, achieving international stardom during this time for her strong attitude and natural star quality. Her run in Allume would be dubbed "Myrah and Friends" by fans due her popularity often overshadowing her groupmates.

Myrah would immediately begin a solo career after her 2010 graduation, destroying both the Korean charts and Japanese charts with the mini album HAUTE TOPIC. HAUTE TOPIC would break records for having all four tracks debut in the Top 10 on Melon. Moonlight, Chase Me, Starlight, and Kitty Kat would all break into the top ten and remain there for a solid five months. Myrah's solo career would be proflic and global, debuting in Japan shortly after her Korean solo debut where she would destroy the charts there as well. She would be the highest-performing Flowerbank soloist ever until the acquisition of Baebi's contract in 2023.

Myrah is still a high profile celebrity, starring in a handful of blockbuster films, critically acclaimed dramas, and becoming the face of many luxury brands through out the years. She is also the head of the creative board in Flowerbank Entertainment, owning an impressive amount of stocks in the company. She has been the host of the radio show AllTalkMe for over ten years now, keeping her and Allume relevant over the years.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: MYRAH

BIRTH NAME :: Myrah Yamazaki

Birthday :: December 1st 1987

Zodiac :: Sagittarius

Birthplace :: California

Hometown :: Osaka, Japan

Ethnicity :: Japanese

Nationality :: American-Japanese

Faceclaim :: Devon Aoki

Height :: 175 cm || 5′9

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ VIRAL MOMENTS!

"I don't think people realize we haven't actually had sex...I wish but we're acting, guys." One of her first viral moments as an actress was in 2016 during the press tour for A Man and a Woman with her co-star Gong Yoo. Myrah and Gong Yoo would go on to have a public relationship that would often have them going viral for their cute and funny moments. To fans' dismay, the pair would split in late 2020.

When she snatched Sooah's mic from her during a concert, singing her lines and high notes. "My mic wasn't working. It's not like she sings much anyways," Myrah would go on to say in an interview, fueling the fire of rumors about the two having a feud during their time in Allume. After this, Sooah would noticeably clutch her microphone whenever Myrah would walk by her.

"How could I not like her? I've never spoken to her. I love 2ne1. Shut up." Myrah would shut down rumors of her and CL of 2ne1 having beef, telling a fan to shut up when they spoke negatively of her. Shot in glorious 2009 iPhone quality, the video would make its round around the internet. A week later, Myrah would post a selfie with CL on her blog with the caption "My bestiiiiii~ ^-^ <3" and the two are still close to this day.

She put her hand up in Gdragon's face when he attempted to sing to her at the 2013 MAMA Awards. It was a lighthearted interaction, Myrah laughing the whole time, but the internet took it differently and deemed her "a rude bitch" and VIPS would begin to harass her. This would have very little effect on Myrah as she would go on to post a couple of photos of her with T.O.P and Gdragon in the studio with the caption: "I lovvveee rappers!! (*^^*)♡"

"She's a bitch! A hot one though!" Myrah would shout out her car window when she was escorted out of a club by Flowerbank CEO Kim Iseul. Myrah was a bit of a club-goer post-Allume, often having to be picked up by friends or, on rare occasions, her CEO. When asked by paparazzi about her thoughts on Iseul having to pick her up, prompting her to say her now most iconic line.

#༘⋆✿ ARTIST PROFILE #༘⋆✿ MYRAH #fake kpop oc #idol oc #idol au #kpop addition #kpop oc #oc kpop group #fictional idol community #bts addition #kpop au

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steddie-island · 11 months ago

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Cabin in the Woods

@steddiemas day 27 - Keeping Warm | WC: 1199 | Rating: G Tags: Snowed in, First kiss, Getting together Also find it on ao3

They’d been looking for the cabin for half an hour. Hopper hadn’t been lying when he’d said the side road leading to the cabin had been easy to miss; they’d had to turn around twice before they’d actually spotted it. It was a couple hundred yards away from the road and surrounded by trees that almost seemed to have grown up around it. It was perfect for a romantic weekend getaway. …Which was why Hopper had asked the three of them, Steve and Robin and Eddie, to take an afternoon and make sure the place was clean and that the firewood was stocked. Robin, the traitor, had caught the flu, so it was just Steve and Eddie.

Not that either of them were complaining at first. Eddie put on some of Hopper’s vinyls as they wiped the layers of dust from the furniture. The windows were open, the fresh air sweeping in and clearing away the smell of stagnation.

The two boys changed the bedding, they replaced the pillows with the nicer ones that Hopper had bought because he thought Joyce deserved the best– and because Robin had pointed out that if the pillows had been there for ten years the way he’d claimed they’d been, they definitely needed to be replaced before Joyce used them.

The refrigerator was stocked with groceries that Hopper had bought. They made sure the water was running and that there were gallons of water in case the pipes ended up freezing. Everything was going perfectly.

Until they went out to start gathering firewood.

Until the snow that had been coming down in gentle flurries all day decided to stop flurrying and start dumping down on them.

They hadn’t gone that far from the cabin, really they hadn’t, but with the way the wind whipped the snow off of the ground and into their eyes, they may as well have trekked to the other side of town. “Stay close to me!” Steve shouted before abandoning part of his armload of wood. He wanted to make sure they still had something to burn, but he needed a hand to hold on to Eddie with, too. Both of them being lost was bad enough, but being lost separately? That was another kind of hell that Steve really didn’t want to think about.

So they held on to one another as they stumbled this way and that, blown about like they weighed as little as the snow drifts.

It was another twenty minutes before the snow slowed enough for them to make out the shape of the cabin against the trees. Both boys ran for it, and almost as soon as they reached the porch the blizzard started up again.

“F-f-fuck!” Eddie dropped the firewood into the bin Hop had set up for it inside. “It’s f-f-freezing out th-th-there.” His teeth chattered as he spoke. “Cl-clothes off,” Steve managed to get out once the door was closed behind them. He shrugged out of his parka, removed his mittens and the hat that was stiff with ice and snow.

“You h-hitt-tting on me?” Eddie tried to joke. His teeth clacked together too hard for that, though, and he began stripping out of his wet layers, too. Which at this point was pretty much everything.

Steve was shivering too hard to respond. He just walked past Eddie to the bedroom to dig through and find clothes. Hop’s pants would be too big for them, but he found lounge pants that they could cinch tighter and two flannels that they could wrap up in. He managed to dig up some thick socks, too, and made a note to thank Hopper for never properly packing this place up.

“I’ll g-get the fire going.” Steve passed Eddie’s clothes over to him. He’d hurried to get dressed already, but Eddie had less meat on him and was practically turning fucking blue.

“My– my f-fingers are gonna f-f-fall off,” he complained as he pulled the socks on over his hands instead of his feet. “Jesus Christ, why didn’t we do firewood f-f-first?” “Because we’re idiots,” Steve said. He knelt beside the fireplace and began stacking the few dry logs they had inside. It took some fumbling with crumpled up newspaper, and the lighter Eddie carried around with him didn’t want to work where it had gotten so wet, but soon enough a fire was burning and the cold was seeping from their bones.

“Hop owes us b-bigtime,” Eddie murmured. Steve had sat him firmly down right in front of the fire so his hair could thaw and his lips could get their color back. He found a can of stew in the cabinet and used a pot held over the flame to get it warmed up. “It’s okay, Ed. We’ll be okay.” “I know.” Eddie pulled the quilt tighter around himself to keep the heat trapped in. “Lucky thing I got stuck with a B-boy scout.” The tease had less heat in it with the way Eddie’s teeth chattered in the middle.

Steve just grinned and dished the food up. “Lucky I got stuck with a stoner who had a lighter on him.” His voice was fond, though, and as he took his spot beside Eddie the other boy opened his arms to drape the quilt over Steve, too.

They talked as they ate, about Robin, about Joyce and Hopper, about how Erica was the scariest person either of them had ever met (tied very, very closely with Max.)

Steve put their bowls in the sink and came back to the fire. Eddie looked better now, had most of his color back to his skin. When those doe eyes looked up at him, Steve felt his breath catch in his chest.

“What?” Eddie asked as he pushed his hair off of his face. “Nothing. You just… look better.” Steve folded back down beside him under the blanket. Eddie smelled nice, too, like cold and snow and the conditioner that he’d filched from Steve’s house that Steve used when he spent the night at the trailer. “Do you have feeling in your fingers again?”

His intention hadn’t been to take Eddie’s hand as he asked the question, but between one breath and the next their fingers were laced together and resting on Eddie’s knee.

Eddie looked down at where golden skin met alabaster. Something had been growing between them since Steve had taken care of him in the hospital and after. There were so many shared glances, touches that lingered just a little too long, and it had long become normal for the two of them (and a lot of times Robin, too) to share a bed when the nights were long and the shadows grew heads that opened into stars with razor sharp teeth. Steve had seen him at his worst and had stuck around, was still sticking around.

“Fingers seem to be okay. I think my lips could use some warming up, though,” Eddie said, finally feeling courageous enough to say something.

Steve smiled and brought his hand up to cup Eddie’s cheek. They leaned in closer.

As their lips met, the storm outside raged on.

Steve and Eddie had never been warmer.

#Steddiemas #Steddie #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #I accidentally combined days 27 and 28 #It's been a long day but we made it lol #We're just leaving this tagged as day 27

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Nearly one month ago, on July 28, Venezuela’s authoritarian president, Nicolás Maduro, stole an election. After a campaign period in which opposition presidential candidate Edmundo González consistently led polls, authorities quickly announced on election day that Maduro had won the race. They have yet to make official precinct-level results available for audit, as is required by Venezuelan law.

In response, the opposition gathered more than 23,000 vote tally sheets, representing nearly 80 percent of the country, and published the results online. In Venezuela, these tally sheets are normally made available to poll watchers. The opposition mobilized across Venezuela to ensure that they gathered evidence of the results, in some cases standing up to security forces and government supporters to do so.

Its planning paid off. The results gathered at polling locations indicate that González won more than twice as many votes as Maduro, rather than the narrow 51 percent victory that Maduro claimed. Independent exit surveys and media analyses support the opposition’s conclusion, and the evidence is so overwhelming that the United States and at least a dozen U.S. allies have issued statements recognizing González as the winner. On Aug. 22, however, Venezuela’s Supreme Court—stacked with Maduro loyalists—declared him the victor.

Although the election is over and Maduro remains in power, he looks weaker than at any point in recent years. He is leaning heavily on police and security forces to carry out a targeted repression campaign, which so far has resulted in more than 2,400 detentions and 24 deaths, according to Venezuelan human rights group PROVEA. Maduro is also taking his repression to the airwaves, shutting down Venezuelans’ access to X and encrypted messaging site Signal. These do not appear to be the actions of a strongman who feels safe and secure in his position.

The United States now has a crucial opportunity to push for a democratic opening in Venezuela. The Biden administration can do this by identifying key figures inside the government who may support a transition and applying pressure on them, while continuing to seek credible negotiations between figures in Maduro’s coalition and the opposition.

González and fellow opposition leader María Corina Machado appear to be working toward such a strategy. Their goal is to negotiate a peaceful transfer of power in exchange for certain guarantees or a potential amnesty for Maduro and his henchmen. They recognize that this is no easy task: “There are groups who are clearly willing to negotiate and press for that to occur, and others who are not,” Machado told reporters recently.

So far, the White House is keeping its cards close. In response to Venezuela’s stolen election, the administration has focused on carrots rather than sticks. The Wall Street Journal reported that Washington was offering to lift indictments on Maduro and other key ruling party figures if they enter talks to guide a transition. The United States is so far reticent to impose new sanctions on Venezuelan oil.

That may change if Maduro’s repression campaign continues with no sign of a transition. The White House should be taking stock of the available options to effectively press for a transition. Some in Washington are already demanding drastic action: A recently proposed bipartisan resolution co-sponsored by 30 members of the House of Representatives calls on the United States to “employ all available diplomatic and economic means to pressure the Maduro regime.”

The United States has a track record of offering sanctions relief for concessions from Maduro. Last October, the White House temporarily lifted some oil sanctions, and Maduro signed an agreement with the opposition to hold competitive elections. Although the United States partially snapped back these sanctions once it became clear that Machado would not be able to run, that deal ultimately facilitated last month’s election—which clearly demonstrated Venezuelans’ overwhelming rejection of Maduro and desire for change. It also allowed for the release of Venezuelan fugitive Alex Saab from U.S. prison in exchange for the freedom of all wrongfully detained Americans in Venezuela.

The United States continues to hold significant leverage over Venezuela. While it has provided licenses to U.S. and Western oil companies to continue operating in the country, Washington has kept a broader sanctions framework in place that limits the Venezuelan oil sector and its financial connectivity with the global economy. These licenses permit a Western footprint in the country—home to the planet’s largest oil reserves—while reducing the ease with which Maduro can divert oil proceeds through corruption.

For the Biden administration, the challenge will be to strike a balance between targeted and effective pressure on Venezuela’s elites, who back Maduro, while preventing Venezuela’s drift further into Russia and China’s orbit. Some policymakers in Washington worry that a return to the “maximum pressure” sanctions strategy of 2019 would push Maduro closer to U.S. geopolitical rivals that have recognized him as the election winner.

Individual sanctions on military, political, and economic elites may be a more attractive option than broader economic sanctions, but even they have clear limits. Punitive measures on key figures can create a rally-around-the-flag effect that often bolsters a regime’s cohesion. More than 160 individuals in the Maduro government have already been sanctioned by the United States, but many of them have been honored in public ceremonies in Venezuela rather than flipping on Maduro.

Carefully and strategically mapping out pressure points inside the regime may provide an effective path toward facilitating a democratic transition. The United States should identify and engage those most likely to support democratic reform from the inside. This means empowering moderate elements and isolating hard-liners to maximize the odds of successful transition talks.

Identifying these pressure points may be less difficult than it sounds. Although the size of Venezuela’s economy is still a fraction of what it was in the oil bonanza golden years, the opposition-led Venezuelan Finance Observatory suggests that GDP has grown quarterly by an average of 5 percent since early 2022, and other independent analysts report inflation has dropped to its lowest point in over a decade.

This growth has not been felt evenly across the country, but there is a set of economic, political, and military elites that—to put it crudely—has a good thing going and doesn’t want Maduro to derail it. Maduro is desperately working to convince these elites that he can reconnect the country with the global economy, but the fact that his post-election repression has once again put Venezuela on the path to greater isolation does not work in his favor.

Some power brokers in Maduro’s coalition may wonder if this chaos is what they signed up for, which may present the biggest loyalty test that the leader has faced in years. Many elites are weary of the prospect of Maduro assuming another illegitimate term, especially if it means six more years of repression, sanctions, and economic catastrophe. The White House has an opening to liaise with such figures, making sure that ruling party elites and the military understand the potential benefits of a democratic transition. Sanctions on individuals, if they are used, should include prudent communication of the conditions necessary for those penalties to be lifted.

Every action taken by the United States and its allies should be carefully weighed against the possibility that these actions can increase rather than decrease regime cohesion in Caracas. Here, the Biden administration can examine the Trump administration’s approach to Maduro’s regime.

After the push to recognize Juan Guaidó as interim president failed to dislodge Maduro in 2019, U.S. Special Representative for Venezuela Elliott Abrams and envoy Richard Grenell engaged in behind-the-scenes conversations with key power brokers in Maduro’s coalition. The Trump State Department’s 2020 Democratic Transition Framework for Venezuela, which outlined a path for power sharing and democratic coexistence in exchange for gradually lifting sanctions, offers a potential model of how to restore democracy.

If the Biden administration chooses to build on this framework, it will require more complicated negotiations than those that led to the July election. U.S. efforts should align with the priorities of González’s campaign, given his electoral victory. Any such deal must also tackle complex issues such as institutional reforms, transitional justice, the release of political prisoners, and the terms under which both the opposition and ruling party can coexist.

The United States should also continue coordinating its response to Venezuela’s crisis with partners in Latin America, particularly Brazil and Colombia. In recent weeks, these countries have been working behind the scenes to advance an agreement that would clear the way for a democratic outcome in Venezuela. They have floated different proposals, ranging from new elections to some form of power-sharing arrangement. So far, Brazil’s and Colombia’s proposals have been rejected by both the opposition and the government, illustrating the importance of local buy-in.

Although both countries are clear that they will not legitimize Maduro’s power grab, they have given no signs that they will cut diplomatic relations with Venezuela, much less join in an international sanctions campaign. But the fact that two leftist leaders who once expressed support for Maduro’s political mentor Hugo Chávez are united in rejecting his stolen election is a major step forward.

Venezuela’s turmoil has regional implications. Nearly 8 million Venezuelans are displaced, according to the United Nations. The longer the crisis drags on, the more migrants and refugees will flee to other countries, impacting domestic politics. There is no guarantee that regional efforts to encourage a democratic opening in the country will succeed. But the fact that regional leftist leaders are using their channels with Caracas to call for change is an opportunity for all, from the Venezuelan people to the White House.

The coming weeks and months will determine the success or failure of efforts to advance a peaceful and democratic solution in Venezuela. By leveraging their influence to shape incentives among Venezuelan elites, the United States and its allies in South America have an opportunity to support the Venezuelan people in their quest for democracy and stability.

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thecreaturecodex · 10 months ago

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Phaerimm

[Sponsored by @coldbloodassassin. The phaerimm are theoretically one of the foundationally important monsters in the Forgotten Realms setting, being tied closely to the Netherese, the sharn and other bits of lore. But they always struck me as kind of boring. They're yet another magically gifted aberration that views humanoids as slaves and cattle. And their stats seem to get more pared down and less interesting with every edition. I went back to their first mechanical appearance in AD&D 2e for inspiration.]

Phaerimm CR 12 NE Aberration This creature floats in the air, looking something like a flying sea anemone. It has a circular maw with eyes dotting its rim, four arms with clawed hands, and its body tapers into a long tail, ending in a stinger.

The phaerimm are strange aberrant creatures native to a deadly desert world in another galaxy. Phaerimm have not mastered planetary travel, and are found on other worlds typically as the descendants of captives and experimental test subjects enslaved by wizards looking for alternatives to celestials and fiends. It may be that the phaerimm sowed the seeds of their own calling, as they can be summoned through magic much more easily than other aberrant creatures. Most of these itinerant phaerimm are interested in converting other planets into worlds more like their own, and seek powerful magic items and ritual spells in order to drain the vitality from ecosystems and render them deserts.

Even a newly born phaerimm is a powerful magic user, and they use their spells preferentially over their formidable physical talents. Phaerimm are spontaneous casters, but can convert some of their spells into spell-like abilities to make them easier to cast and harder to counterspell. The vast majority of phaerimm are sadists, which can be used against them; a phaerimm will often make suboptimal tactical choices if it has an opportunity to spread more pain. Phaerimm are slavers, and view enslaved or magically controlled minions as utterly disposable.

The phaerimm are simultaneous hermaphrodites, able to both fertilize the eggs of other phaerimm and be fertilized in turn. Phaerimm courtship is more akin to a business exchange than anything romantic, and the eggs are kept in suspended animation until they can be inserted into a host—mammalian creatures are preferred, but anything living of Small or larger size can provide sufficient nutrients for the parasitoid embryo. Phaerimm keep their incubators secure, stocking their lairs with galleries of floating, insensate victims, each one growing a new horror inside.

An adult phaerimm is about twelve feet in length and weighs six hundred pounds. They fly magically, and are practically immobile in an antimagic field or similar effect.

Phaerimm CR 12 XP 19,200 NE Large aberration Init +5; Senses all-around vision, arcane sight, darkvision 60 ft., Perception +20, see invisibility

Defense AC 25, touch 10, flat-footed 24 (-1 size, +1 Dex, +15 natural) hp 150 (12d8+96) Fort +11, Ref +7, Will +12 DR 15/magic; Immune petrifaction and polymorph; SR 23 Defensive Abilities absorb magic; Weakness callable

Offense Speed 5 ft., fly 30 ft. (good) Melee bite +14 (2d6+6), 4 claws +14 (1d6+6), sting +14 (1d8+6 plus paralysis) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. (5 ft. with bite) Special Attacks implant, paralysis, prepare spell-like abilities Spell-like Abilities CL 13th, concentration +18 Constant—arcane sight, see invisibility 3/day—blur, shield 1/day—enervation, haste, waves of fatigue Spells CL 11th, concentration +17 5th (5/day)—dominate person (DC 21), waves of fatigue 4th (7/day)—crushing despair (DC 20), enervation, terrible remorse (DC 20) 3rd (7/day)—fireball (DC 18), haste, inflict pain (DC 19), ray of exhaustion (DC 18) 2nd (8/day)—blindness/deafness (DC 17), blur, bull’s strength, paranoia (DC 18), scorching ray 1st (8/day)—charm person (DC 17), mage armor, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement (DC 16), shield 0th—acid splash, detect poison, disrupt undead, light, mage hand, open/close, prestidigitation, resistance, touch of fatigue (DC 15)

Statistics Str 22, Dex 13, Con 26, Int 18, Wis 19, Cha 21 Base Atk +9; CMB +16; CMD 27 (cannot be tripped) Feats Arcane Strike,Empower Spell, Eschew Materials (B), Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Spell Focus (enchantment) Skills Fly +18, Intimidate +20, Knowledge (arcana) +19, Knowledge (dungeoneering, nature) +16, Perception +23, Spellcraft +19, Stealth +12; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Languages Aklo, Common, Undercommon, telepathy 100 ft. SQ undersized weapons

Ecology Environment any deserts and underground Organization solitary, pair or enclave (3-12) Treasure double standard

Special Abilities Absorb Magic (Su) Whenever a spell fails to overcome a phaerimm’s spell resistance, the phaerimm heals an amount of damage equal to the spell’s caster level. Callable (Ex) A phaerimm is treated as an extraplanar outsider for the purposes of calling spells like planar binding. Flight (Su) A phaerimm’s fly speed is supernatural in nature. Implant (Ex) As a full round action, a phaerimm can lay an egg in a paralyzed or helpless target. The egg gestates for one week, whereupon a young phaerimm bursts from the host, killing it. While implanted with an egg, a host is unaffected until the final 24 hours of incubation, during which time it is treated as suffering a -10 penalty to all ability scores (minimum 1). A successful remove disease or similar effect against DC 23 removes the pellet, as does a successful DC 25 Heal check performed over the course of 10 minutes. Regardless of whether the Heal check succeeds or fails, it deals 1d4 damage to the host. Paralysis (Su) A creature stung by a phaerimm must succeed a DC 24 Fortitude save or be paralyzed for one minute. After this duration elapses, the creature must succeed a second DC 24 Fortitude save or be paralyzed for 1 week. While paralyzed, the afflicted creature floats five feet off the ground. Prepare Spell-like Ability (Su) When a phaerimm regains its spells, it may choose to prepare one of its known spells of each level above 0th as a spell-like ability with a caster level equal to its Hit Dice. 1st and 2nd level spells may be used 3/day as a spell-like ability, and spells of 3rd level or higher may be used 1/day. Spells A phaerimm can cast spells as an 11th level sorcerer. A phaerimm does not gain other sorcerer class abilities, such as a bloodline, unless it takes levels in sorcerer.

#pathfinder 1e #d&d #forgotten realms #phaerimm #aberration #sponsored post

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