#Everybody Wants to Rule the World MAP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

topochicoslut · 6 days ago

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everybody wants to rule the world: chapter one

fic synopsis: A young woman is sent on what is sure to be a suicide mission to spy on Ryomen Sukuna by a rival curse user who has heard rumors that the infamous King of Curses might have found the secret to true immortality pairing: heian era ryomen sukuna x fem!reader rating: 18+ ONLY!!!! (mature for now) word count: 8.8k+ lmfao fuck me

chapter warnings: some language, reader is kind of sort of a (huge fucking) klepto and doesn't feel bad about it, heavy angst (death of a parent due to illness), the briefest of mentions of someone getting handsy with reader but nothing intense or graphic, ummmm the overall looming threat of Sukuna's presence??? and the death and destruction that follows him wherever he goes??? probably some typos and/or grammatical errors i missed while editing (my bad y'a'll), lol i think that's it for this one a/n: hello, hello, helloooooo. first of all, thanks so much to everyone who read the prologue from a couple of weeks ago! this is the first official full length chapter of this story, and it takes place thirteen years before the prologue. it's mostly world building and exploration of reader's ✨back story/lore✨. sukuna doesn't appear in this one (plz forgive me! he's on his way i promise!!!), but he is mentioned/plays a big off screen role so to speak at the end of this chapter. i thought about breaking it into two parts, but decided to keep it as one so as not to prolong when Sukuna makes his first official appearance a couple of chapters from now : )okay that's all i've got. enjoy! 🖤 divider by sweetmelodygraphics

|masterlist| |ao3|

Hida Province, Japan, 875 AD

The late summer air was thick with the scent of hinoki and sunshine as you basked atop a pillowy bed of grass in the afternoon sun at the edge of your village. You’d come down here as you so often did when you wanted to get away from everyone and everything around you, passing the time by watching the clouds as they floated across the bright, blue sky above you.

Sadly, there wasn’t much else to do around here.

The village you’d grown up in was not only small, but remote. So small and so remote in fact, that it didn’t even have a name, let alone appear on any maps of the area. Its residents would come and go only as needed, traveling to other villages and towns to barter and trade not only in material goods, but also sometimes dowries and the young men and women that were included in those marriage deals. No one really had any reason to leave its confines besides that. Its isolation wasn’t without its perks however, your home was safely nestled in a small valley surrounded on all sides by lush forest and far enough away from the main road and the numerous wandering bandits that plagued the area.

But according to the village elders, there were worse things than bandits that lurked out there in the world. Though admittedly you had a hard time believing in that sort of thing.

As if in a warning to your skeptical thoughts, a particularly strong breeze blew around you, carrying with it the soft twinkling sound of the brass bells that hung all around the forest in a protective perimeter that perfectly encircled the village. The bells had been there since before you were born, a gift given to the village decades ago by someone who claimed to know magic- or jujutsu, as some of the elders referred to it- and had blessed them with their energy to provide protection to the village and all its residents from the evil spirits and monsters that supposedly roamed the land. While everyone else was convinced the bells existed to keep unwanted guests from getting in, sometimes you couldn’t help but think they were actually there to keep people from leaving the village for good. People like you.

Granted, you were only fourteen, so it wasn’t like you had much of a reason let alone the means to leave. But god you wanted to. Each passing year the urge to run away grew stronger and stronger, to venture out of the valley, past the forest, and to see what the rest of the province really looked liked. To visit a town, or better yet, an actual city. Surely there was more to life than spending yours hidden away in the smallest corner of the world. But you had responsibilities that kept you tethered here, namely being your mother’s sole companion.

You had no other family, supposedly a father, but seeing as you had never met him you were almost inclined to believe he didn’t exist. Your mother rarely spoke of him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to press her for more information about him whenever you noticed the tightness of her mouth and eyes whenever he did come up in conversation. All you knew about him was that he had all but disappeared shortly after she had gotten pregnant with you. There were rumors he had run off of course, leaving your mother high and dry as not only a pregnant girl barely past adulthood, but an unwed one at that.

But then there were the other rumors. The ones that no one dared say after dark when the sun went down. The rumors that something far worse had happened to him. Something evil and sinister, committed by some thing that lurked in the forest past the protective barrier of the brass bells around the village …he wouldn’t’ve be the first person to have gone missing like that. But since the bells had gone up all those years ago, there was simply no longer anyone still alive in the village who had actually seen any of those so-called monsters. But there were enough rumors and wives’ tales that had been passed down through the generations, whispers not only of cursed spirits, but of the men and women who battled and exorcised them. Those stories had left a mark on the village strong enough that even the most skeptical of those who resided in it never tried to tamper with the bells, and that anyone who needed to travel past the barrier always carried one of the spare ones borrowed from the elders for extra protection.

You had never admitted it out loud to anyone, not even yourself, but sometimes when you were bored and wandering alone around the forest- never crossing the barrier of course- you thought you’d see something move out of the corner of your eye. Or hear some sort of chittering that didn’t sound like any animal you’d heard before. But no matter how quickly you would turn your head, whatever thing that may or may not have been hovering nearby would be gone. For the sake of your own sanity, you decided it was just your imagination running wild. That the elder’s stories had finally gotten under your skin. ‘There is no such thing as monsters,’ you’d tell yourself. ‘There are no such things as curses.’

But despite how many times you would repeat that mantra over and over again, it didn’t stop the hairs from rising on the back of your neck sometimes whenever you were alone…

The sun was no longer at its highest point in the sky, signaling that it was much later in the day than you had realized. Soon it would be dark out, and not even you felt comfortable staying this close to the forest when night fell, bells or no bells.

With a stretch and a groan you stood up, your hips popping slightly as you rose to your full height. Turning your back to the forest, you began your journey home, the occasional sound of the bells growing fainter and fainter the closer you got to the heart of the village until there was nothing but silence around you.

The sky had faded from a calm blue to a fiery orange by the time you reached the small house you shared with your mother, and when you entered the main room that also served as your kitchen and dining area, you were relieved to see that she was already in the process of preparing dinner for the two of you. You quickly made your way towards her side to help with whatever finishing touches needed to be done before the two of you ate.

“You’re late getting back,” She said. You did your best to keep your mouth from twitching up in annoyance at the barely perceivable tone of accusation in her words.

“I was down by the river,” You replied, as you stirred the pot of vegetable soup that was bubbling over the hearth. It wasn’t a total lie, you had passed by the river on your way towards the edge of the village.

“Are you sure that’s the only place you went?” She asked you, this time suspicion heavily laced her question.

You knew she wasn’t asking about you going towards the forest, for that was the least of her worries when it came to you. Your mother knew that even though you scoffed whenever anyone brought up curses and sorcerers, you didn’t dare tempt fate by being foolish enough to wander too far past the barrier without a bell of your own to protect you. No, she was worried about the other ways you chose to spend your free time.

“I’m not stealing again if that’s what you’re getting at,” You grumbled under your breath. You kept your eyes trained on the contents of the pot in front of you, counting the number of mushrooms floating towards the top of the clear broth, not trusting your gaze to give away the fact that while you hadn’t stolen anything from an unsuspecting villager today, you most definitely were still stealing whatever and whenever the mood struck you.

Which was often, and had been for years at this point.

Your almost eerie talent for stealing had manifested at a young age, much to your mother’s horror. It had started with you taking dolls from neighborhood girls who had pushed you or bullied you in some way. Then it turned into you taking fishing hooks from some of the men, chopsticks, sandals, scrolls of poetry and other books, and even private letters from time to time, (though in your defense you only took those so you could learn how to read). Important family heirlooms and other priceless trinkets also made their way into your possession, whatever you could get your hands on really. It was all just a game to you. One that you had gotten away with for a shockingly long time until your mother had discovered your secret stash of stolen goods in an old basket in the corner of your home one day.

She made you go through the entire village that afternoon returning the items while she begged for forgiveness, promising with a deep bow that you would be swiftly punished once you returned home. The looks of anger you got from most people should’ve been enough to stop you from ever doing it again, but it was the expressions of shock and even slight fear when you returned certain items that stuck with you.

Somehow, on more than one occasion, you had managed to find the most prized possessions belonging to your neighbors that had been so well hidden, not even other members of their own household knew they existed. And when you were confronted with how you knew exactly where so and so had hidden an item of particular value, you merely shrugged your little shoulders and said in a bored tone,

‘I dunno, I just knew where it was.’

Your nonchalant attitude about the whole thing only added to your mother’s shame and embarrassment, and she made you promise to never do it again, but you had your fingers crossed behind your back when you did. You kept at your thieving, but you were a lot less greedy with it. Taking only small things here and there, simple items that could easily have been misplaced by the owners themselves. And you never kept them in the house. Instead you stashed your goods in a hollowed out tree stump behind your house that no one paid any mind to. Your own personal treasure trove filled with broken hair pins, sticks of incense and a few of their ceramic holders, a long forgotten calligraphy set, and other things that you slowly added to your secret stash over the years. Sure you were still greeted with the occasional suspicious glare from a villager here and there, but as long as no one could find your hiding spot, they couldn’t prove there was still a known thief in their midst.

“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort,” your mother huffed, but she kept her gaze focused on spooning heaping mounds of rice into two bowls. The two of you didn’t have much in common, but you both shared the inability of masking your true feelings when it came to your eyes. One look could give away your truest of moods, no matter what expression decorated the rest of your face. It was easier for the two of you to deflect your gaze elsewhere when lying.

Not wanting to pick a fight, you instead turned your attention on portioning out some soup for the two of you, carefully setting the bowl that had more mushrooms in front of your mother knowing they were her favorite.

“I know you weren’t mama,” You said. “I’m sorry if I came across as being disrespectful.”

You bowed your head, hoping that your show of earnest remorse would be enough to sweep the entire conversation under the rug, and it did. Your mother merely sighed before leaning forward to place a kiss on the top of your head. A gesture you were familiar with that signaled the almost-argument between you two was indeed over and forgotten about. The two of you fell into an easy silence and tucked into your dinner.

“I have to leave after this and won’t be back until much later,” Your mother said suddenly in between bites of rice.

“Is someone expecting?” You asked with a mouthful of food, ignoring the slightly pained look on your mother’s face at your lack of manners.

Your mother was considered to be the village’s unofficial midwife, a status that offered her enough respect and trust that those who would potentially judge her for being a single mother to a not so reformed delinquent of a daughter would at the very least have the courtesy to do so behind closed doors.

“No, but there’s been a few cases of people coming down with some sort of sickness. The village healer has asked me to help check in on a few of them tonight since he can’t make his rounds to everyone on his own.”

“That sounds serious,” You said with mild alarm. You’d heard a few people coughing over the past couple of days, but assumed it was nothing more than a late summer cold signaling the changing of the seasons.

“I doubt it is,” She replied as she collected her now empty dishes and set them aside near the bucket you would be tasked with washing them out in once you were finished with your own meal. “It’s probably just a summer cold.”

Your concern melted away at her seemingly carefree dismissal that there was any serious illness potentially ravaging the village. And as you watched her gather her modest medicine pack that was usually filled with various tinctures, tonics, and teas that helped the women in your village navigate their pregnancies however they saw fit, you noticed that her eyes held nothing but sincerity in them at her belief that she was merely being sent out to help treat a summer cold.

You waved goodbye to her as she left, and told her to be safe. The smile on her face promised that she would, and in that moment you almost believed she was telling the truth.

It wasn’t just a summer cold.

In the span of a week, nearly a dozen people had fallen ill with whatever illness had found its way to your tiny village. The more superstitious residents were convinced that the bells had failed, and something had snuck past them in the night, cursing anyone it had come in contact with. You knew that was nothing more than the work of paranoid minds, and thankfully most of the other villagers agreed with your sentiments. You knew the most likely reason behind the sickness had to have been from one of the handful of men who had recently come back from trading with one of the neighboring towns in your province. They easily could’ve picked up any sort of illness and brought it back with them. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But it had never been this severe before. And when the first person ended up dying from it, panic began to take hold of everyone. Your mother forbade you from leaving your house, and she spent her days going to and from every corner of the village doing her best to provide everyone with whatever sort of comfort she could pull from her trusted medicine pack. When she returned, it was only to quickly wash herself, change her clothes, refill her bag, and bring a hand to your forehead to make sure you didn’t have a fever.

You felt more useless than you ever had in your entire life. And for the first time you found yourself feeling ashamed that you had spent so many years focusing on honing your skills as some petty little thief, rather than actually bothering to learn anything about your mother’s craft like a normal, respectable, daughter would’ve done. You could’ve been helping her replenish the herbs she needed, grinding up seeds and plants into medicinal pastes and powders. Instead you stayed home, all but twiddling your thumbs while she worked herself to the bone trying to help your neighbors. So you made yourself as helpful as you could and instead focused your energy on cooking and cleaning and maintaining the house to the best of your abilities in her absence. Hoping it would be a strong enough showing of your unwavering support in her endeavors.

It took over five weeks for the mysterious illness to work its way through the village, striking down people seemingly at random, and eventually claiming the lives of nearly forty-five people in the process. The dead were taken out to the forest and past the brass bells, their remains laid to rest as far away from the village as safely possible in an effort to keep any possibility of the sickness from coming back and infecting anyone else.

You knew it was finally over when you woke up one morning and saw your mother’s sleeping figure on the other side of your shared bedroom, the white linen mask she had been wearing over her mouth for the better part of a month discarded next to her medicine pack at the foot of her futon. You crept around her quiet as a mouse, brushing the hair from her face just as she so often did whenever you were asleep and smiled, silently rejoicing that the worst of it was over and things could finally go back to normal.

Three days later, she started coughing.

You never believed less in magic than you did in the weeks your mother was ill. How could there be sorcerers, real life sorcerers out there in the world wasting all their crazy infinite powers on fighting invisible spirits, when they could, no- should, be using said powers to heal and help the sick and dying? It just didn’t make any sense to you.

You did your best to tend to your mother. You made her her favorite mushroom soup, making sure to finely chop the fungi you used in it until it was so tiny, she wouldn’t have to waste her energy on chewing anything. The village healer stopped by every other day to check on her recovery, or lack thereof, and each time he left he said that you just needed to give it more time. But time didn’t seem like it would be enough, and the waiting was eating away at you, just as whatever it was that was ravaging your mother was eating away at her. You never cried though, not even once. You knew that if you did, that would mean that you had accepted that the worst was going to happen, and you refused to give in to those thoughts.

You thought about stealing one of the extra bells from the elders, it would be so easy after all, it always was, and then you could make a mad dash through the forest, past the barrier that protected the village and seek out a cure. You would steal whatever you had to, from whomever you had to. You would snatch the very moon from the sky if it meant saving her, grind it down into some sort of iridescent powder and make a tea with it, helping her take careful sips until she glowed from within with its healing lunar power, and not the fever that had taken over her body. But that would require sorcery, and you didn’t believe in that. Though a hidden part of you liked to imagine that if you possessed even an ounce of it, that’s how you would be able to fix her.

Above all, you were afraid to leave your mother’s side. The healer’s voice telling you to give it more time echoed in your head, but time didn’t feel like it was on your side.

Even so, there was nothing else you could do but wait. Wait for her to get better. Wait for her to get worse. So you waited, and waited and waited…

It turned out, you didn’t have to wait all that long.

Your mother’s sickness lasted two full weeks, and when she finally died, it was the most unexpectedly expected moment of your life. Even though you had been preparing for it to happen for what had felt like a century at that point, the sting of coming home to a silent house from doing the laundry down by the river that was a mere ten minute walk to and from your home felt like a punch to the gut.

When you first entered the doorway the house was still, no coughing or hacking came from your mother’s futon in the corner of the room. And the sigh of relief you let out was so deep, all the tension you’d been keeping in your shoulders finally eased out. Setting the basket of clean linens on the ground you padded over to heat up some tea for her.

“Mama,” you whispered as you crept towards her silent figure. “Mama, I’m back.”

Carefully, you kneeled to the ground and reached a hand towards her head to check her temperature, but the feeling of her cold skin caused you to draw back with a sharp hiss, and you fell flat on your backside in shock.

Her fever was gone. And so was she.

You didn’t know how long you sat there on the ground staring at her. Years later, when you would finally allow yourself to think back to this moment, you realized that you had wanted to spend as much time with her as you could. Studying her features in a desperate bid to immortalize her face in your mind and your heart. It wasn’t until the soft golden light of the late afternoon began to seep into the open doorway that you finally willed yourself off the ground, but not before crawling over to your mother’s body to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Goodbye, mama.”

Her funeral was quick.

Two men from the village helped you bring her body to the same part of the forest where everyone else who had perished from the illness had been laid to rest. As you watched them perform the funeral rites, you realized through your fog of grief that this was the furthest you’d ever gone from the village. And as you finally made your way back, you realized that this would be the very last time you’d ever set foot in it again.

You had barely crossed the barrier of bells when you swiped the solitary one from the pocket of the man who had been charged with carrying it when the three of you had set out to bury your mother. They didn’t notice of course, but still you kept it silently hidden in your fist, and tried to ignore that not only was it surprisingly warm, but it almost seemed to radiate the faintest of rhythmic thumps, like it had its own heartbeat. Instead you chose to focus on the thick twine that it hung from that was wrapped around your hand and wrist so tightly that the coarse fibers dug into your skin. You knew they wouldn’t have given it to you if you had asked them for it. After all, what would a young girl need a protection bell for when she was merely going home?

When you arrived at your house, you knew you had a short window of time to gather what you needed before the men realized the bell was gone and came looking for it. You grabbed your mother’s medicine pack and took the mostly empty jars from it, only bothering to keep a few whose contents you actually knew. You packed up a few meager belongings you wanted to take with you, mostly items that would help you on the journey you were about to take. The tiny house that you’d called home all these years felt bigger than it had any reason to, and you found yourself eager to leave it behind. Your mother had been the only thing keeping you tethered to the village, and now that she was gone there was no real reason for you to stick around.

The last thing you grabbed before you left your home for the final time was your mother’s fall outfit from storage. It didn’t quite fit you right, the legs of the pants were too long, and the waist of the top was too short, but it was warm, and smelled like her, and you knew you would need both of those comforts once you were on your way. It dawned on you as you began your trek back towards the forest that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing or where you were going. But there was no fear in your heart as you walked deeper into the lush greenery that surrounded your village. The single brass bell you had triple knotted to the strap of your mother’s medicine pack that was slung over your shoulder chimed with each step you took, and when you crossed the barrier of bells the air filled with a chorus of them ringing even though there hadn’t been even the slightest gusts of wind to disturb them.

That secret part of you, the part that you had kept buried deep within, reached towards the surface of your mind and for once you didn’t fight it. Maybe there was some truth to the bells and their origins, that maybe once upon a time, a sorcerer really had stumbled across a tiny village in the middle of nowhere and decided it deserved to be protected. The hundreds of brass bells that they had enchanted all those years ago granting one of its inhabitants a final farewell in the form of a gentle symphony that overtook the entire forest.

The wave of sound washed over you and it followed you all the way through the rest of the trees until you cleared the forest and stood before a road that stretched for miles and miles in two different directions. The silence was almost deafening, but the bells still echoed in your head as you turned to face left, then right, then left again, trying to decide which way to go. Left meant going south, and you knew enough from the stories of the villagers who made it out this far to do their trading that the south was filled with more villages that were much like your own. Small and remote, but clustered closer together. Right meant going north, and north meant less villages, but there were several towns scattered that way. Including an actual city that was so massive, there were supposedly whole neighborhoods that were bigger than your entire village.

North also meant the higher possibility of running into bandits, because there were better opportunities for them to rob people that way. Something that also bode well for you, because even though you weren’t one for violently mugging people, you could still survive off of pickpocketing. And who knew what sort of unfathomable treasures you could possibly get your hands on in the process.

The rush you got at the thought of finally being able to fully flex and test your skills as a thief was all you needed to make your decision, and you turned right without a second thought and began your journey north.

You had been on the road for nearly a week, and despite the sharp aching in your feet from all the walking you had done, you were feeling pretty confident in your decision to leave home. You had passed by a handful of people so far on your journey, but apart from a polite nod of acknowledgement you didn’t really interact much with any of them. No one seemed to really bat an eye at a teenage girl walking alone on the main road, or maybe they just didn’t trust that you weren’t bait being used by some bandits looking to rob and kill whoever would be dumb enough to stop and speak with you.

You didn’t mind it all that much, you yourself were always cautious whenever you walked past someone, even a harmless looking cattle farmer perched atop a wagon that was being pulled by two horned bulls that towered over you. The first time you crossed paths with one of those, you stood slack jawed and frozen in place at the sight of the monstrously large animals. The farmer had been so amused by your reaction, he offered you a ride as far as the next town over on the back of his cattle cart, which you graciously accepted. But you still made sure the knife you had taken with you for protection that was stashed away in the front of your shirt was easily accessible as you clambered up the back of his cart.

You admittedly made one mistake during your journey, and that was when you had foolishly accepted a ride from a lone soldier who rode past you one afternoon on an elegant but battleworn horse. He had seemed harmless enough at the time, but when his hands started roaming across your thighs not even a mile in, you threw a sharp elbow as hard as you could to his nose, and hopped down and ran off into the woods while he was still holding a blood soaked hand to his mangled face. You laughed as he cursed at you, calling you all sorts of names, and when you set up camp that night, you laughed even harder when you helped yourself to the stolen provisions you’d nicked from his saddlebag when he wasn’t looking.

You figured this talent of yours would be what would keep you alive once you got into the city. You couldn’t think of any other job you would actually want to do. You could be a maid, but that sounded boring. Not to mention your employers might notice that your arrival would undoubtedly coincide with items going missing, and you may be a thief, but you certainly wouldn’t try and pin any of your handiwork on the other help you’d end up sharing a roof with. There was always the option of selling your body, but you didn’t think you had it in you to walk that path. Not to mention you wanted to think you were still too young to do so, being just a girl of fourteen. Though others might not agree with that.

You shuddered at the thought of what sort of man would find a child like you a desirable bedfellow and almost missed the sound of shuffling feet headed your way. It wasn’t until the frame of an old man entered the clearing you were calling home for the night that you let out a shrill scream.

“Shush!” He cried out, while pressing a gnarled finger to his lips. “Please, quiet down. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I noticed your fire and was wondering if I could warm myself.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” You snapped at him. He hovered near the edge of the woods as you sized him up. He looked as though he was well into his seventies, and seemed to be more skin and bones than muscle and flesh. Despite that he carried a large sack on his back like it weighed nothing at all. You determined he wasn’t much of a threat, and gave him a quick nod gesturing to him to come sit beside your fire.

“Thank you,” He groaned as he sat down opposite you. “I’m headed towards the city to do some trading and fell behind schedule. Growing old slows you down more than I would care to admit.”

You merely hummed in response, still eyeing him cautiously across the flames.

“You’re a brave one for lighting a fire out here,” He said.

“Brave?” You asked.

“That or very foolish.”

“Listen you old buzzard-” You growled, but he raised his gnarled hands in a silent apology.

“I only meant that not many people in this area would be willing to risk doing that,” He said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what roams these lands.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You said, while lazily waving a dismissive hand towards him. “Monsters, and curses, and sorcerers. And all sorts of other things that go bump in the night. That’s just a bunch of nonsense.”

Sure, you had finally made peace with the idea that the bells that had surrounded your village might’ve been placed there by an actual sorcerer. And yeah, everyday you would absentmindedly reach down to make sure the little brass bell you’d taken with you was still tightly secured to your mother’s pack. But that was still as far as you were willing to go with admitting you believed in anything more than that. You hadn’t seen, heard, or crossed paths with anything weird or unexplainable since you started your journey north. And you had started to think you never would.

“Is it?” He asked with a grin that was a little too grim for your liking.

“It is,” You insisted. “Just a bunch of old wive’s tales to keep children in check. They told those stories in my village all the time. But that’s all they are- stories.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“Oh, really?” You scoffed. “Is that your cryptic way of telling me you’ve crossed paths with that stuff before?”

“I’ve seen the aftermath of a battle before,” The old man replied, his eyes twinkling with both mischief and the light of the fire reflecting in them. “Even met a few sorcerers in my time. But I’ve never seen a curse, because not everyone has the ability to see them.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. No one in your village had ever once mentioned needing some special type of sight to see curses or spirits. No wonder no one had ever seen anything before, every new detail you learned about this jujutsu nonsense seemed more and more ridiculous.

“Whatever you say, old man.” You yawned. “Feel free to stay the night and keep warm, but I'm getting some sleep. Don’t try anything funny.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it girl,” He chuckled.

You rolled to your side curling into a tight ball as you heard him groan and creak as he settled into a resting position of his own on his side of the clearing. You tried not to let his words get to you, just as you tried not to stare too hard into the inky darkness ahead of you in the woods. For the first time since your journey began you noticed just how silent the woods were.

You didn’t fall asleep until just before dawn.

You awoke a few hours later feeling cranky, hungry, and sleep deprived. You didn’t bother trying to remember if you’d had any dreams the night before, you never did. Even when you were a child no matter how deeply you slept, you never dreamt. You would listen with envy to the other kids in the village as they talked about how they would fly higher than the mountains, or breathe underwater, or talk to animals, all in their sleep. You ended up tearfully asking your mother once if she had dreams, to which she responded yes, but usually they were quite boring and often involved a singing tea kettle. She was shocked when you wailed in her arms that you would give anything in the world to dream about a singing tea kettle just once. She gently rocked you to sleep in her arms, telling you that maybe your dreams were just too big for your little head to remember when you woke up, and maybe once you were older and bigger that would all change and you could dream about all the singing tea kettles you could ever want.

You felt the corners of your eyes prick with tears you still had not shed over her, and you silently told yourself to keep it together, suddenly remembering you had a guest that had spent the night across from you and your fire. A guest who you could see moving out of the corner of your eye.

The old man had seemingly already been awake for about as long as you had been asleep. He sat cross legged in front of your now dead and smoldering fire, helping himself to a breakfast of smoked fish and tea. You were surprised when he handed you a tiny mug of your own, and wordlessly accepted it with a nod. Your first sip was strong and bitter, but its warmth was welcome in the chilly morning air.

“So,” He asked as he stared at you, seemingly taking in just how young you actually were in the light of day. “Where are you headed girl?”

“The same place you are I reckon,” You yawned.

“The city is still three days from here,” He mused, reaching forward to refill your mug that you hadn’t even realized was empty. “Perhaps we can walk the rest of the way there together.”

“Worried you’ll get lost?”

“I’m worried you will,” He said. “It would weigh on me something heavy if I let you continue the journey on your own out here. After all, you’re just a girl.”

“I’m not just a girl,” You hissed.

He let out a wheezened giggle that only annoyed you further and you chugged the rest of your tea to keep from biting out a cruel retort in his direction. The hot liquid sloshed its way down your throat and into your stomach as you considered his words.

“Maybe…” You started quietly. “We could walk the rest of the way together…might make the rest of the trip go by faster.”

The old man flashed a joyful grin your way. You didn’t even know his name, but his presence though slightly irritating at times, had been a welcome one. And you hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been since you had left the village with no one to really talk to. Your stomach growled, and he handed you the last of his smoked fish.

After you finished your breakfast, you packed up your belongings, slung your packs over your shoulders, and carried on down the road together.

The rest of the journey was enjoyable, and you were right- it was passing by a lot quicker with the old man accompanying you. You learned that his name was Genji, he was a widow, and that he spent his remaining days traveling back and forth from his town to the city selling the various ceramics he made himself every other month. For someone who was pushing eighty he was remarkably spry, and as quick witted as a man more than half his age could ever hope to be.

Every night you lit a fire, and every night he would watch you do so wearily. But the desire to stay warm outweighed what you still considered to be the imagined risks of a superstitious old man. You didn’t want to admit that there were moments during the night where you thought you saw movement in the shadows that had nothing to do with the fire. Quick flashes of light that looked less like crackling embers and more like eyes that glowed. You didn’t want to admit that your hair standing up on the back of your arms and neck had less to do with the chilly night air, and more to do with... Well, you just didn’t want to admit it.

Genji did not press the issue either, and for that you were thankful. Perhaps he saw the uncertainty in your eyes despite your best efforts to put on a brave face in the night. He never outright asked if you had seen anything, not wanting to start an argument with you by indirectly implying you possessed some sort of totally not real gift, or sight, or whatever the hell it was he had called it the first night you met. Nevertheless, you still managed to awaken each morning in one piece, albeit sore, and cranky from a lack of a good night’s sleep. You would eat smoked fish, drink tea with Genji, and then go back to walking. All in all, it was a very uneventful two days.

That was until the third day.

That morning started off as all the others had. Genji had already brewed tea before you had even woken up in the tiny pale pink tea pot he used every morning. He wordlessly passed you a piece of smoked fish, and you ate it in bleary eyed silence. Knowing you would make it to the city by nightfall made you all the more eager to hit the road again, and you were on your feet quicker than you had been during your previous mornings. Genji was busy quizzing you on all the different neighborhoods that awaited you in the city when you arrived, reminding you which ones would be the best for you to find work in (“The River District is home to plenty of affluent families who are always looking for help. And most Marketplace vendors will pay people to help them set up and tear down their stalls.”). Along with which ones were in your best interest to avoid (“The Red Light District is nothing but trouble, you wouldn’t last a minute there. It’s filled with thieves, unsavory women, criminals, and worse.”).

He thought you were joking when you said the Red Light District sounded like it would be the perfect home away from home for you, but the serious look on your face when you confirmed that you were in fact planning on checking out that particular neighborhood, and only that one had him scolding you like you were his own grandchild for even thinking such nonsense. The two of you were still bickering loudly with one another as you neared a curve in the road, and you were on the verge of calling Genji a particularly rude name when you rounded the corner and ended up crashing face first into Genji’s pack that was filled with all his ceramic knick knacks.

“What the hell Genji!?” You shouted out as you rubbed your nose. “You can’t just stop walking in front of someone without any warning!” An uneasy silence was all that greeted you, and you were about to yell at him again, but when you peered over his shoulder to see what all the fuss was about, any and all words died on your tongue.

The road that you had been so diligently traveling on for the past week and some odd days was gone. Or at least part of it was. In front of you there was nothing but a large hole. No, a crater was more like it, one that seemed deep enough to swallow a small lake, but had settled for the crumbling earth around it. In the not so far distance across the sprawling center of it, you could make out the other half of the road that was somehow still partially intact. It seemed impossibly far from where you stood.

The two of you stared speechless taking in the sight before you. The trees that lined the edge of the crater were burnt and turned on their sides, like old long forgotten sticks of incense. The gaping charred earth that lay before you still faintly smelled of smoke, and when a breeze blew past it kicked up bits of dirt and ash that stung your eyes. It was only when you looked down to cough and wipe your eyes with your sleeve that you noticed the bones.

They were human. Blackened and broken, and blasted into bits and pieces by whatever had caused the crater that stood before you. There were animal bones too, and with horror you realized the larger skulls, at least that's what you assumed they were based on their half intact shape, were horses.

You were standing at the grave site of what appeared to be an army.

But what could have-

“Gods above,” Genji whispered. “He was here.”

“He?” You said hoarsely. “What do you mean he?”

“Come on girl,” Genji said, face paler than death itself. “We have to keep moving.”

“Moving? Moving where? There’s not a road to move on Genji- Hey!”

But Genji wasn’t listening to you. Instead he was pulling your arm with a strength you didn’t know he had and dragging you with him into the crater. You didn’t have time to pull yourself free as you both slid down the side of it, narrowly avoiding being tripped by the remnants of tree roots, rocks, and god, burnt human remains. You both landed at the bottom of the crater with a soft thump, your feet kicking up plumes of ash. But even then Genji didn’t let go of your wrist, dragging you behind him as he walked as swiftly as he could through the pit with you in tow.

“Genji, I don’t understand. What could’ve done this?” You were alarmed at how scared your voice sounded, and you tried to focus on the comforting sound of the brass bell that clanged shrilly from its home on your pack.

He didn’t answer. Instead he just kept pulling you as he walked across the crater. Not bothering to side step the remains that were in his path, while you tried your best to dodge every last piece of human being you could. It wasn’t until your foot collided with a skull that was half buried in at least half a foot of ash, staring face up toward the alarmingly blue sky in a silent scream, that you finally yanked your arm free from your companion.

“Genji! What the fuck is going on?” You yelled.

Genji stopped and turned to look at you. His eyes were no longer filled with their usual cheery warmth. Instead they shown with fear.

No.

Terror.

“Those things you like to lie to yourself about not being real exist.”

“Okay, but they couldn’t cause this,” You hissed as you flapped your arms in a panic gesturing to the carnage all around you. You didn’t even realize you hadn’t corrected him on how they weren’t real. “Those things just, I don’t know, spirit people away or eat them or whatever grandmother’s tell their grandkids. They don’t punch a goddamn hole through the earth!”

“This wasn’t the work of one of those things,” He replied, looking around like he was worried that something, or someone might hear him. “This was something else, a man.”

“Oh come on, Genji,” You laughed but there was no humor in the sound. “There’s not a man alive who could do something like this.”

“He’s not much of a man anymore if the rumors are true.”

“Oh my god, what rumors? What man? You’re not making any sense right now.”

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

Ryomen.

Sukuna?

It was a name you had never heard before, but the moment it fell from Genji’s lips in that hushed whisper ripe with the same terror that matched his desperate eyes, it felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water on your head. The air itself became still, and you were suddenly, painfully, aware that you were much too far from the sky. Too deep in the earth. Too deep in a grave, a grave that was shattered into existence by a man named-

“Ryomen Sukuna?” You repeated, the name itself filled your mouth with the taste of iron, and for a second you wondered if you’d bitten your tongue and it was your own coppery blood that you were tasting.

“Shush!” Genji hissed at you, much like he did the first night you met. Though this time it was a warning and not a plea. “Don’t say it again.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“He’s a sorcerer. Or he was before. I’m not sure what he’s become over the years to be capable of doing something like this. He’s been running around this entire province for ages now, striking down anyone who so much as dares to look at him a certain way. But he’s never been this far south before, this road was perfectly intact when I was in the city last month.”

“But sorcerers aren’t re-”

Genji didn’t even let you finish the lie you’d been telling yourself since childhood only because you hadn’t seen the truth of it all until this very moment with your own eyes.

“Look around you girl,” Genji scoffed bitterly. “You still deny that you live in a world where the impossible is possible, that jujutsu is real, and there are those who wield it not for the greater good, but for their own cruel desires and bitter amusement?”

“But all I've ever heard anyone say about sorcerers is that they’re good,” You countered, immediately thinking of the faceless and nameless one who had shown up at your village long before even your own mother had been born, and gifted everyone who lived there the protection of those bells. The bells that you wished were still surrounding you right now. “They protect people! You’re saying this Ryo- oh for heaven's sake. This guy is not only some crazy powerful sorcerer, but a bad one at that. And he did all of this…What, for fun?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I'm saying.”

The two of you stared the other one down. Genji watched as you silently began the process of realigning everything you had ever believed in before this moment. Finally coming face to face with the truth that while there were no such things as miracles in your world, that didn’t mean there weren’t curses.

And there really were people out there, actual honest to god sorcerers, who had somehow harnessed the unchecked power of jujutsu that walked among you. Maybe they had never set foot in your village for as long as you had been alive, but they were out here in the real world. Roaming the lands like they owned it, leaving nothing but scorched earth and dust in their wake as proof that they were here.

And apparently one of them, quite possibly the worst one, had been living in your province this entire time wreaking havoc, and you’d had no idea. Maybe leaving the village had been a bad idea after all. You weren’t even remotely prepared for any of this.

“How do you know for certain it was this Sukuna person?” You finally asked, and you cringed at the way your voice shook as you said his name.

“Because he’s the only one I’ve ever heard of who’s even remotely capable of causing devastation such as this,” Genji answered as he looked up fearfully towards the sky. You followed his gaze.

“You can’t be serious,” You groaned. “He can fly?”

“Do you really want to stick around and find out?” Genji asked.

You didn’t. So with all the courage you could muster, you gripped your hands tightly around the straps of your pack and gave Genji a curt nod, signaling him to lead the way out of the crater. You both made quick work of it, sprinting your way across the tomb you’d stumbled across as fast as your legs would carry you. When you made it to the other side, the two of you scaled your way towards the top of the crater, desperately clutching any rock and root you could reach as you hoisted yourselves back up to the surface.

Genji didn’t give you much time to catch your breath or even wipe the dirt and ash from your clothes before he began trudging ahead on the other side of the road that was still intact despite the damage that had been inflicted on a sizable chunk of it. The two of you hoping that it would lead you not only to civilization, but safety.

You allowed yourself one final look over your shoulder at the crater, and did your best to ignore the shudder that ran its way down your spine as you tried and failed to imagine exactly what sort of man this Ryomen Sukuna was to be capable of such wanton destruction. You wondered if there were others like him out there, who were just as violent and deadly, but better at hiding it and themselves from the masses. You silently prayed to whatever god that would listen that if you ever did cross paths with any sorcerers, you would never have to encounter one like Ryomen Sukuna.

And on the chance that you were ever unfortunate enough to do so, you prayed even harder that perhaps they would be willing to show you mercy.

tag list: @after-laughter-come-tears @officialholyagua @clp-84

#ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fanfic #ryomen sukuna fanfic #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna smut #jjk fanfic #everybody wants to rule the world fic #topochico writes things

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deathssunshine · 1 year ago

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A Date with Death After the End

Warning: bad language, SPOILERS. THIS GAME HAS ONLY COME OUT RECENTLY ABOUT A DAY MEANING SPOLIERS INCLUDING HIS NAME WHICH WASN'T IN THE DEMO AND POSSIBLY HIS NICKNAME FOR YOU ALONG WITH SPOILING THE END

Genre: Really silly

Word count: not counting 💀💀💀💀💀 its small though

Game: A Date With Death by Two and a Half studios

Pairings: Casper (Grim) x you silly

Character: Casper (Grim)

Description: Basically going on from where the end of ending 3 (I think) left off. So right after the kiss with Casper that silly silly reaper. I HAVEN'T WRITEEN FAN FIC IN AWHILE SO IM SORRY

~A date with death after the end~

The kiss lasted a good minute. It wasn't a rough sloppy kiss but rather a soft, sweet simple kiss. You pull back as you open your eyes still straddling his lap. Both you and him had you're cheeks dusted with a soft pink, you looked into his eyes happily as he did to yours.

"Seems like a certain little reaper is quite submissive" You teased earning a scoff from him. "I'm nor submissive or dominant however, I would prefer to be on the dominant side" He smiled reaching out to hold your hand. Your warm soft hand and his icy soft hand intertwined as you two gazed into each others eyes. He pulled you in for a hug, holding you tightly with an arm around your waist and another going up your back with that hand holding your head from behind. (I'm sorry yall know I'm bad at this shit) "I'm surprised you got here this fast from Australia, and without any spiders on you too!" You giggle.

"For the last time I'm from the underworld, not Australia. Pick up a map for fuck sakes," He sighed but chuckled at you. "I can finally hold you in my arms" He pressed his forehead against yours and held you tighter. You then roll off him and to right next to him, laying your head on his chest. He took the opportunity to play with your hair. "I love you, my sunshine"

#steam games #game #casper #death #date with death #a date with death #date with death casper #casper date with death #casper a date with death #romance #fan fic #silly #I LOVE CASPER SO MUCH BRO #grim reaper #grim date with death #Spotify

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sammy8d257 · 3 months ago

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PURPLE AVM LOOK OUT

Oh no they can't hear me... they're admiring the egg they stole-

everyone LOOK a MAP PART

youtube

i love you purple avm

#WAAAAUUGHG #I ADORE THIS PART SO MUCH #Purple my beloved #AvA Everybody Wants to Rule the World MAP #AvA EWtRtW MAP #AvA MAP #Purple stick figure #AvM Purple #video

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maechery · 3 months ago

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youtube

Check out my parts of Sammy's Everybody Wants to Rule the World MAP!!!

#alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm #avm king orange #king orange #avm purple #Youtube

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wolf-tail · 4 months ago

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So, my little brother's been watching this cartoon called Craig of the Creek, and one of the things I really like about it is how it seems to, even if accidentally, promote an anti-authority stance, possibly an anarchist one.

Craig of the Creek is essentially Recess but in the woods, and takes place in a world where the kids of this town have their fun by going down to The Creek, a society made up of children who play and explore in and around the titular creek. And I do mean this is a functioning society, where the children have their own rules and culture, mostly centered around fun and play.

But the cool part is, no one makes them, there's no kid cops to enforce these rules. They're held up by a sort of social contact, mainly this shared idea that for this space to exist and be fun for everyone, we have to do these things. There's the girl who keeps time for everybody and blows the horn to notify the Creek that it's time to go home for dinner. There's the girl who runs the Trading Tree, where kids barter for snacks, entirely without the use of money. The closest thing the Creek has to leaders are the Elders, three grown ass men who hang out in a cave under a bolder and play Dnd. But they're not in charge, they're just the guys who've been here the longest and who the Creek kids come to for advice. Craig himself doesn't have a particular job per say, but he's the Mapmaker, he maps out the Creek, and he does this because he likes it, it's fun for him. Craig of the Creek is a show that understands that the lamest kind of kid to hang out with is the kid who demands that everyone play by the rules that they made up, and it's made evident by the kids who live on the Other Side of the Creek

On Craig's side, every kid is free to play how they want to. The horse girls run around on all fours in the field, the weeb kids read manga at the waterfall, Craig and his friends do whatever the mood strikes them to do. No one is forced to do something they don't want to, and any kid that tries is considered by the narrative to be a huge jerk and no fun, but on the Other Side?

The Other Side kids are under the rule of a tyrannical king who's word is law. The king decides who gets to eat what snacks and when, what games to play, and forces the kids into a strict hierarchical system, complete with uniforms, and little to no upward mobility. It sucks, it sucks so bad. The king is the logical conclusion to that one kid who makes up rules and throws tantrums being allowed to do whatever they want. It's the job of the Green Poncho kid to guard the overpass that separates the two sides of the Creek, or else the king's influence will spread and threaten sacred playtime.

Unlike in Recess, where a king is needed to enforce the rules and keep the peace, in Craig of the Creek, children don't need a king, rules are kept in place by mutual needs and values, all kings do is fuck everything up. This show really said "no gods no masters" and I love that.

#cartoons #kids media #children's media #craig of the creek #anarchism #leftism #antimonarchism #antiauthoritarian

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year ago

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I just wanted to say I loved your map of Inver and the history involving the werewolves and everything! I never would have discovered the Irish used to be known as Hibernians otherwise. I’d love to see more art of your boy Finbarr! His design is GOLDEN

Thanks! For Inver I decided that it needed some hints that it takes place in our world but with an alternate history, and one of the last common eras that we shared before the history diverged was the ancient roman empire. So the place names which linger on to contemporary times in the world of Inver are the roman empire names like Hibernia, Armorica, Aquitan etc (Albion doesn't exist tho it blowed up)

Developing the language of Inver was stupid fun haha. So you mention Finbarr, who lived several hundred years before all my other characters from this region. In his time, he would have called the land Indreabhán.

"Inver" is a real place name, it's the anglicisation of Indreabhán. The modern-day capital city of Invergorken was originally a keep built spanning the inner corner of Amhan bay, called Indreabhán Ceann, the head of Inver. This was where the first High Kings of Inver lived. Finbarr Ó Casaide and his arch enemy/fwb Olivier Fils-Tanet belonged to different cultures and clans, and their kings swore fealty to the High King. Their story is basically the history of the nation and those guys' part in starting the war which turned the scattering of small allied Hibernian, Aquitanian and Armorican kingdoms which settled Albion (post blow-up) and doggerland into one single empire of Inver ruled by werewolves and the near-extinct dregs of the Hibernians.

Everybody say "congratulations on being so toxically horny for one another that you ended destroying your entire world and irrevocably changing the course of history by starting a war" to Finbarr and Olivier

#there's a.. prolific bigot on tumblr dot com who uses 'hibernians' as a slur which i find rly funny tbh #at least call us ***** instead. it has more bite #setting: inver

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sammy8d257 · 4 months ago

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YEAAAAH

LETS GOOOOOOO

Dw about the fact I disappeared for a month, will happen again, but I have something to show for my absence

My part of @sammy8d257 's Everybody Wants To Rule The World map :D

Bit of ramblings + individual frames under the cut

I started the part late June I think??? Took July off since Artfight began and I was also accosted by burnout. BUT I'd gotten a good amount of progress done in that time and was able to finish off everything before the end of August :]

Believe it or not I am a long haired + bug wings purple believer, but feathered wings were easier for me to draw (plus I think they look cooler (sorry bug wing enjoyers)) Decided to give Purple shorter hair because in my mind, they're closer to Rb/ Navy/ Whatever you call them, so they haven't started growing it out yet. After this whole dragon fiasco is when I think that starts happening Speaking of closer to Navy, I'm sure you've noticed the gem on their crown :) I cant share anything about the other parts of the map since well. They're not mine, but I will say all the parts are looking absolutely awesome, I'll be reblogging their posts as I find them Also hello avm community I think this is my first time interacting with you on this blog

#OOOUUGH #Its so good #AvA EWtRtW MAP #AvA Everybody Wants to Rule the World MAP #alan becker #video #I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS MAP TO GET COMPLETED

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sammy8d257 · 3 months ago

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youtube

"There's a room where the light won't find you, Holding hands while the walls come tumblin' down, When you do I'll be right behind you

So glad we've almost made it, So sad they had to fade it,

Everybody Wants to Rule the World~"

-Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears

And here it is! The long awaited AvA "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" MAP is complete!

I can't believe it's out for everyone to watch. It was such a delight to work with everyone on this project and I can't even begin to imagine how excited everyone is to finally see the results of all their hard work!

40 parts with 35 participants! And you know what? Everyone absolutely kicked it out of the park

Please take the time you check out everyone's credits below and give them your support!

In a separate post I'll share the MAP Call image, the Thumbnail, and the Credits image without their words because I think they make great backgrounds!

And I hope you enjoy this crowning MAP!

Credits (Check out the Video Description for Full Credit Links!):

Intro & Part 23: Sammy8D257 (yours truly)

Part 1: Pegg @sticksfight

Part 2 & 20: Mary @mary-games-and-arts

Part 3 & 13: NivousNiv @nzn43

Part 4: Rubtix @rubtix-a-betz

Part 5: zkylearnstherope @zkylearnstherope

Part 6: AveryBug [Youtube]

Part 7: Whirld @whirld-of-color

Part 8: Sticky @sticks-without-stones

Part 9 & 25: Vita1/Galactic Bastard [Youtube]

Part 10: Wildcrest [Youtube]

Part 11: Eclipnet @eclipnet

Part 12: Urantum [Youtube]

Part 14: Danrishy @danrishy-ava

Part 15: Marsh @marshmallowart

Part 16: Lara Prisma @lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog

Part 17: Jack What-Stasis @what-stasis

Part 18: KikoQueenoftheRats @kikoqueenofrats

Part 19: dazeyyt [Youtube]

Part 21 & 33: Maechery @maechery

Part 22: Ghosty [Youtube]

Part 24: Reptilia @reptilia0freptiles

Part 26: FireflyFlareNight @fireflyflarenight

Part 27: Ella @ellathebirb

Part 28: Celentinel [Youtube]

Part 29: Ravienski [Youtube]

Part 30: Wxlfy @wolfydoesstuff

Part 31: Oaks @veryoaki

Part 32: Sabre @sabretoothedhorse @ohhhsosleepy

Part 34: Flanik @flanik

Part 35: Theo/Purple @cindersnows

Part 36: Yumesz [carrd]

Part 37: Jadeactuallysucks @jadeactuallysucks

Part 38: Storge @storgicdealer

Outro: Allu @allunary (w/ bkgs help from NivousNiv)

Thumbnail Credits:

Victim: NivousNiv

Purple: Maechery

King: Lara Prisma

Dark: FireflyFlareNight

Background: Sammy8D257

#sammy8d says #alan becker #AvA Everybody Wants to Rule the World MAP #AvA EWtRtW MAP #ava map #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava shorts #avm shorts #ava #avm #Sammy8D Stick Stuff #Sammy8D animates #Sammy8D queues #Youtube

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theladyofbloodshed · 10 months ago

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SJM Romance Week - Day 5 - Favourite Tropes

@sjmromanceweek

Forced Proximity x Injury Recovery meets Sister Act

Two years. Two long years since Nesta had been given sanctuary by the priestesses in Itica after running from her life from Hybern’s beasts.

Even now, days before the anniversary of hammering on the doors with her bloodied hands, she remembered the thundering of her heart as she was herded by monsters. Remembered the soul-wrenching fear that kept her bare feet pounding across the rough stone even as it tore open her skin. She bore the scars from that day. Her feet had been in ruins. Her hands even worse.

On that night, her slumber had come to an abrupt end. A soft voice had whispered that she must open her eyes and when she did, a knife was plunging for her chest. If she’d not stamped on her instincts year after year, her magic would have flared out of her. It had spent too long locked away, so like a beaten animal, it was too afraid to emerge. Nesta had wrapped her hands around the blade, its kiss agonising. She didn’t know how many soldiers had burnt their way through the village, how many lives they’d ended. Nesta had leapt from the window, bones cracking on the impact and ran. Ran and ran and ran.

The Mother had always favoured her, people said. They were comments that she’d laughed at. Everybody wanted to be favoured by the Mother but it was another thing to truly be blessed by her. But that night, Nesta did not know how she could have survived without a soft, maternal hand pushing her along.

In two years, she hadn’t become a believer. Despite the gratitude she felt towards the priestesses and the acolytes for granting her sanctuary, despite whatever kindness the Mother had offered her, Nesta wasn’t moved by religion. She wore their garb - pristine white robes with a hood that covered her hair - and joined them for prayers as was expected of her, but Nesta still couldn’t muster her faith.

It couldn’t go on like this, she knew, hiding forever amongst the priestesses. One day, the world would remember Nesta Archeron, the girl who stole from the Cauldron and come looking for her to tear her heart from her chest and repair what was taken.

***

Another dead end. From the whispers and foreign tongues that they had managed to gather across the centuries, the feet of the Cauldron were hidden in temples.

Azriel and Rhys had sat with Amren for hours, collating information, trying to narrow down the search. Prythian was littered with temples. As was the Continent. And Hybern. They ruled out temples that had been built since the war, which only eliminated a handful. It was Azriel’s task to sweep through as many as they could, starting with ones they had associations with, no matter how weak they were. The words were too precious to put in a letter. Every night, he’d winnow to a new location then return at dawn to cross it off on their map. Each night, their disappointment grew.

‘Where to next?’

Amren drummed her painted fingernails on the table. ‘Hybern. It would make sense if all three feet were on a different piece of land. One for the Continent. One for Prythian. One for Hybern.’

Azriel raised his brows. ‘Are you sentencing me to my death?’

‘Don’t get caught, Spymaster.’

Once darkness fell, Azriel was away. A different tactic was needed for Hybern. He’d hit up as many temples as he could in an area lest word spread that he was spotted flying there night after night.

It was bitterly cold in Itica. Snow had already blanketed the craggy ground before winter had truly arrived. He tread lightly, flying as often as he could despite the pummel of wind. The first temple did not allow him entry because he was male. The second was made up of only males but when Azriel made excuses that he wanted to pray, he was followed. If the feet were here, his shadows would be trailed by the priests. The third and fourth temple were also a bust, but more and more attention was being shown to him although it was late into the night.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end even before he’d winnowed to the fifth temple of the night. If Azriel hadn’t been so committed to finding the feet, he’d have listened to his instincts and not bothered going.

As soon as he landed, the armed guards stood on the brass doors of the temple outside moved.

At the same moment his shadows enveloped him again, an arrow hit him in the wing. He felt the sting of ash sear through his blood. He could only get a short distance away and the guards were coming. Again, he winnowed. Again, another arrow sailed through the black sky, this time piercing his leg. Amongst a volley of arrows, his shadows swooped around him, taking him as far as they could whilst his magic was nullified. Another hit him, sinking deep into the flesh of his shoulder. In the distance, he could just make out another temple carved into stone. His wings and his shadows did all they could to get him there despite the pain racking his body.

***

Poppea’s rough wake up left Nesta shaking. It had brought back too many memories of that night.

‘Come. Quickly.’

Nesta donned her garb, pulling the hood up and over her hair. It was still pitch-black outside so it had to be an emergency. That was not good news. She dreaded running again. She’d spent so much of her life running.

The temple was quiet. A peaceful sort of quiet. The great, metal basin at its centre remained blazing with more candles flickering in their silver candelabras around the prayer room.

At a statue to the Mother which was veiled, Poppea paused.

‘There is a male here.’

‘He cannot be,’ replied Nesta, well-accustomed to their sacred vows even if she had never said them.

‘He is a male I recognise – a good male. Yasmeen has used what little healing power she has to stabilise him, but you are more learned in such matters.’

‘Healing?’

Poppea frowned, the deep etchings of her face worsening from the motion. ‘Males.’

At that, Nesta’s own brows drew together. Poppea had made it clear that Nesta's rude, uncouth behaviour had no business in her temple over the last two years. Often, she'd been sent to bed without supper for snorting during prayer or for cursing when she dropped an item. Now she was flaunting Nesta's history.

The high priestess cleared her throat. ‘Many of these females have never known a life beyond these walls. They have few memories of the fathers that gave them away. Many have vivid memories of the males that hurt them.’ Poppea rested a hand on Nesta’s shoulder. ‘The Mother brought you here for a purpose. Perhaps this is it.’

With support from the other acolytes present during the night, Nesta was ushered into the tunnel running beneath the statue armed with supplies. Yasmeen offered strict instructions on how to take care of the male. As the statue was moved back into place, she followed the glow of lights at the bottom of the sloping stairs to find her way. Nesta knew the route well. She had spent three weeks beneath the ground when she had first arrived because it was the only place that could guarantee protection and privacy.

On one of the beds, a male with massive, leathery wings was asleep although the slumber did not seem peaceful. Sweat beaded his brow despite the relatively cool temperature under the ground. Blood stained his skin. A hole was punctured into his right wing. His clothes had been cut away by Yasmeen and an arrow removed from his shoulder. It would scar through the intricate whorls of obsidian ink on his upper body. Yasmeen seemed to have balked at removing his trousers so had sliced up the length, leaving them flapping open all the way to his thigh where another arrow had likely hit him.

Nesta knelt down beside him and pushed his sweat-soaked dark hair from his tan skin. The moment she looked at him, she felt like she’d found something that had been lost forever, like he had been missing from her life until that moment.

‘Who are you?’

She ran a thumb over his brow, the skin burning beneath.

Whilst following Yasmeen’s instructions to clean and bind the wounds on his body, the judder of boots above her head had Nesta stilling. She remembered this moment. The absolute soul-gripping fear of discovery. How the gentle priestesses had the courage to look Hybern’s soldiers in the eyes and lie would always amaze her. For now, they hadn’t crossed that line in sieging a temple because their fear of the Mother held them back.

The male jerked away, hand reaching for his sheath which was now empty of its blade. Despite the pain, his eyes fixed on Nesta. Hurriedly, she bared her palms to him then pointed to the ceiling where the rough, low voices of the males seeped through. She pressed a finger to her lips.

He glanced down at the bandages she’d been winding around his thigh then relaxed slightly, recognising that she was not a threat. In a terse silence, Nesta continued Yasmeen’s instruction while they both listened keenly to any shift in the conversation above.

***

This female was enchanting.

Azriel had lost blood. Could still feel the ash coursing through his body. He ought to have been terrified of being found, of bringing death to this temple, but all thoughts emptied at the sight of this beautiful female dabbing the wound on his shoulder, silver eyes focused on his injury. She had an elegant, classic beauty – one that seemed criminal to hide away in a temple.

She grazed her knuckle along the bone of his wing and that motion had him biting down on the flesh of his palm.

‘Painful?’

Azriel shook his head. ‘Sensitive.’

‘I need to clean the wound.’ She added, ‘I’ll be gentle.’

That was almost worse, he thought. Azriel could feel every languid touch, every soft breath as she leaned close to the membrane. Her concentration had her lips pursing slightly, making her all the more enticing to look at.

Once the noise had died down, Azriel tried to stand but the female pressed a hand against his bare chest to keep him on the mattress. She was more forward, more physical than he knew acolytes to be when it came to males.

When she had finished, she carried a basket over to the bed. Inside were robes of differing sizes, all pristine white, and Truth-Teller rested on top. He felt better knowing the blade’s location.

‘How long must I remain here?’

She shrugged. ‘The priestesses risked their lives to keep you safe.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘I’m grateful.’

‘Good,’ she replied, fighting a smirk from her lips. ‘And to answer your question, I was down here for three weeks when I arrived.’

Three fucking weeks?

Azriel doubted he’d make to morning before he was climbing the walls. Already, he was shaking his uninjured leg as the realisation that he was trapped in here settled in.

‘Are you going to do that all night?’

The female was staring at his jiggling leg, disgust curling her upper lip.

‘Who are you?’

‘Company for the foreseeable future,’ she replied. ‘There’s a small alcove back here with food for emergencies. Take what you need. There’s also a bucket that will be emptied when its safe for somebody up there to move the statue.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘Since you’ve bloodied up that bed, I will sleep in this one.’

Was he supposed to just fall asleep after being shot at by Hybern’s soldiers? Trust that these priestesses wouldn’t betray him or the soldiers wouldn’t come back and slaughter their way through the temple? The ash was still suffocating his magic preventing winnowing, preventing Rhys from reaching out with his mind.

‘What’s your name?’ The female was sizing him up like an apex predator.

‘Azriel.’

She gave a slow nod in response. ‘Poppea recognised you.’

The name wasn’t familiar. Azriel gave a shrug. ‘Where I live, we have a sanctuary for females who have been injured – similar to this temple. I help females find their way there.’

‘A hero,’ she said, not hiding her sarcasm.

Fine. That line had worked numerous times, but not on a priestess it seemed.

‘Your name?’

‘Nesta.’

As soon as she said it, her expression froze. A misspeak. She smiled tightly, the light not meeting her eyes.

‘Well, I was woken to be your nursemaid. I shall return to sleep.’

***

It took some tossing and turning, but Nesta eventually fell asleep. She had been hyperaware of the male definitely not sleeping in the bed opposite. There had been a lot of grunting from pain as he sloped off to the pantry then she’d spied him in the largest white robes they had to offer, with slashes in the back to force his wings through.

It was Azriel who woke her with his pacing like a caged beast. He dragged his injured leg across the floor and his wings rustled as he fought to keep them upright with the injury to his shoulder.

‘You need to rest your leg,’ she snapped.

‘I can’t be in here.’

Nesta sat up in the bed, her hood discarded in favour of comfort. ‘You have no choice. Get in the bed.’

If this male had a tail, it would be lashing. He stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the darkened tunnel.

Gritting her teeth to keep from yelling – her prickly nature never quashed by soft prayer – Nesta stormed across the room and dragged him by the hand back into bed. The skin beneath her fingers was odd, deeply set in some places or smooth in others. In the dim light, she could not make it out fully. She released his hand and pointed to the bed. ‘In there.’

‘Have they sent the most ferocious priestess to guard me?’

No, Nesta was on her final warning. She refused to say her vows, refused to commit herself to the Mother until her dying moments because she had to believe there could be more to her life. She’d not kerbed her bad habits; she still cursed, still blasphemed, still drifted elsewhere during services when the others sang. Poppea had made it very clear that staying was a curtsey if she was to remain a guest and it could be easily taken away.

‘Yes, I’ll smother you if you wake me up for a third time tonight,’ she replied shortly, before climbing back into her own bed.

‘It’s difficult for me to be here,’ Azriel said.

Nesta gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think any of us would choose to be here?’

Few of these females had dreamed of being the unwanted daughter given to the Mother because they served no other purpose or saying holy vows that committed them to the temple for eternity because they had nowhere else to go.

‘It’s different.’ Azriel eased himself back into bed with a groan. ‘I spent my childhood locked in a dungeon. I never planned to be locked up again.’

‘Nobody does,’ replied Nesta as she pulled the blankets up and over her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, but the females in this temple have risked their lives to keep you here. As soon as the soldiers aren’t watching the doors – and when your magic allows – nobody will stop you from leaving.’

In the morning, he was in a deep sleep. Nesta could hear his low snore as she opened her eyes. When she moved from her bed, he did not stir. She idled her time reading the book of prayers kept in the bunker for lost souls, not believing much of it. Faith was a strange concept to her. She’d grown up amongst mortals, her mother one, and they didn’t set much store in higher powers, not when the fae ruled their lives. Her sire – whoever he was – had to be fae for Nesta’s powers to be so great. They’d flared out of her one day when the soldiers came to the village to capture more slaves to be chattel for their army. Nesta couldn’t take the screams. Her magic had erupted in cold, silver flames that devoured. Since that day, Nesta spent her whole life running, never staying in a place more than a moon.

She perched on the edge of the bed near the male who was blanketed by shadows. They parted for her to press a hand to his forehead. The skin beneath burnt fiery. An infection had settled into his body during the night and she had slept through everything.

When the statue was removed for fresh water and food, she called for Yasmeen.

‘She is afraid to be here,’ replied Athilea. ‘You know what happened to her.’

‘This male is unconscious.’

Yasmeen would not go below again, but provided more tinctures and fresh muslin cloth to rebind his wounds.

‘The soldiers?’

Athilea nodded. ‘Still there. Still waiting.’

The male’s sleep was uninterrupted by the exchange. When Nesta returned to Azriel, shadows coiled around her wrist as she worked. It was wasteful to cut away his robes but she didn’t know how else to reach his shoulder. At Azriel’s nudity, she averted her eyes upwards and adjusted the thick, woollen blanket across his lower body. Nesta had seen males before. It was one of the hardest parts to give up when she entered the temple.

The wound on his shoulder was angry and swollen, the skin red around the entry. As she cleaned it, he stirred slightly with an incomprehensible murmur then a hand landed on her thigh.

Nesta spoke to him softly, explaining what she was doing in case a part of him could hear. His shadows were happy to curl onto her shoulders like little birds observing too.

For longer than she should, Nesta remained wedged onto a sliver of the mattress with him, a hand stroking against his black hair as she sang the few hymns she’d learned during her time in the temple. He was handsome, she decided. Too handsome. The sort of face she’d have made hers in a dingy tavern. The kind of face she’d want to wrap her thighs around.

Azriel blinked himself into consciousness, eyes adjusting to the dim light Nesta’s bobbing faelight offered. Could he have sensed those thoughts she’d just had? Surely not.

‘You were unwell,’ she stammered to explain why she cradled his head and had been caressing his soft hair for the last hour.

Azriel pushed an elbow against the bed to lift himself, teeth clenching together from the pain. ‘Were you singing?’

His shadows snapped between them, hiding her blushes. He waved a hand through the blockade, scattering them. ‘They don’t usually do that.’

‘I don’t usually sing,’ she countered.

‘Must be the effect I have on you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I mean, I’m a shadowsinger.’

‘I gathered,’ she replied, pressing her lips together. It was fairly obvious from the blanket of shadows that stayed with him, but she’d let him keep his mystique. ‘You have an infection. It will require regular cleaning.’

‘Am I naked?’

Her blush deepened, turning the apples of her cheek crimson. Nesta tried and failed to speak, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. No man had ever found issue with her undressing him before.

A brow rose. ‘A nude male doesn’t affect the gentle disposition of a priestess?’

It had been a long, long time since Nesta had seen a naked male but not a single one had looked like this male with his face carved by the Mother’s hands or his powerful body. And those wings. It had been such an effort to keep her hands from those but she’d seen the effects they’d had on him yesterday when she cleaned the blood away.

She flicked his cheek, sending him back down onto the mattress. ‘I’m not a priestess. I haven’t said any vows. I was like you once with no place to go but the Mother’s arms. Your nudity is no cause for alarm.’

***

This female had to have been sent by the Mother herself. She was gentle with his wounds, diligent and compassionate, but she had a sharp tongue which was at odds with that gorgeous face. The notion that she had not yet committed herself to a lifetime of servitude to religion sparked something in his chest that he was trying to extinguish. Nesta did not need him panting after her. But gazing at her provided an alternative to spiralling in worry about being beneath the ground with no escape route.

As the days wore on, they became more companionable with each other. Still, his wounds needed tending to thanks to the ash making them heal as if he was mortal. Nesta was devoted in this. She cared for him as though it was her calling in life. Day and night his wounds were left to air in between bandage changes and she’d clean each one before. It could have been his imagination but Azriel was sure her fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his thigh. Once, she even ran a tender finger against the whorl of his tattoo. It had been damaged from the arrow but it could be re-inked in Illyria. Nesta enquired about their origins then listened intently as he spoke of Illyria.

'You came from there, but they aren't your people?'

Azriel swallowed, the knot in his throat pulling tighter. He wanted to tell her everything - about his beginning, his father, his mother, learning to fly - but Nesta was a stranger. A stranger who felt as familiar to him as his reflection.

'No. I have family but we aren't bonded by blood.'

There was no news from Rhysand. He had to hope it was due to the nullifying effects of the ash. Either that or they thought him dead or in enemy’s clutches so had gone silent.

There were still soldiers making the rounds but not as frequent so as soon as his magic returned, Azriel could leave. They'd strike when a blind eye was turned to the temple so he could pass the threshold and winnow. Ancient magic was imbued into the building's foundations preventing winnowing inside the walls.

He almost didn’t want to leave. What would his evenings be without Nesta dragging her bed close to his and playing cards or word games to pass the time? She had no fear around him – almost seemed to relish his company despite spending her life in this temple. The females that he’d ushered into the library were reluctant to be around him, their fear of males deeply rooted. This one had moved her bed alongside his for their games then ended up sleeping just inches from him ever since. Each night, Azriel wanted to close the gap and reach out for her slender hand. Sometimes Nesta's reached out to the end of the bed, daring him to hold it.

‘I think you’re cheating,’ she murmured, peering at her hand of cards. Nesta was cross-legged on the bed, hood pulled down. They wore the same virginal white robes but they suited her. Cassian would laugh himself hoarse if he could see Azriel in his.

Azriel let out a low chuckle. ‘It’s my shadows. I didn’t ask them to spy.’

Nesta dropped her cards on his lap. ‘Dirty cheaters.’

‘You dealt a dodgy hand yesterday, bending the aces. I saw you.’

She shrugged both shoulders. ‘No idea what you’re talking about. False accusations.’ She pressed her hands together in prayer. 'I am a devotee of the Mother.'

‘How does a soon-to-be-priestess know so many card games – and how to cheat?’

‘I told you,’ she replied, ‘I’m not a priestess. I had a life before but I was given shelter here two years ago and never left. I've visited enough taverns to know how to play and how to cheat.’ Nesta held out a hand for a shadow to sit upon. ‘I spent my whole life running. I could catch my breath here, but it’s not my forever. I just don’t know where to go next.’

‘What are you running from?’

‘The King of Hybern.’ Nesta swept her hair away from the top of her ears. They were curved like his, but he’d have sworn she was high fae. ‘My mother was mortal. I was raised by mortals. But I wasn’t like them.’ With her free hand, she let silver flames crawl across it. Azriel flinched, expecting heat, but could only feel a seeping coldness. ‘I escaped his dungeon and have been running ever since.’

The flames died out, sputtering with sparks as Nesta banked her power. He couldn’t imagine looking over a shoulder all the time, never settling, never building bonds. Azriel didn't want to think about what she'd endured at the King's hands. Hell, how had she even escaped?

This was a female who’d had her choices taken from her. She’d chosen safety over desire but that need to be immersed in life still blazed within.

Azriel didn’t know if it was the right thing, but he said, ‘I know a place you could go. A library. It’s safe and secret.’

‘I’d have to be there forever?’

No. He imagined her dancing with him at Starfall on the roof beneath a sky of stars falling for only them. Cheating at cards alongside him to drive Cassian wild. Shopping with Mor as they explored the boutiques of Velaris and showing him what she’d bought. Curling her head against his chest at Solstice when they were full of food and joy. Mostly, Azriel imagined her beside him like they were here, beneath the ground.

‘You can be in my city. It would be safe. Hybern would never find you.’

From her expression, Azriel knew she doubted him. He clutched her hand, the shadow scarpering. ‘I promise you this: I would keep you safe.’

‘You arrived here with three arrows sticking out of you,’ she reminded him.

‘Trust me.’

‘I don’t know you,’ she said, voice dropping to a whisper.

Azriel pressed her hand to his heart to feel the steady beating of it beneath. ‘You have the rest of your life to know me.’

#nezriel #sjm romance week

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sarroora · 2 months ago

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Hey sorry to bug you but uhhh things aren't looking too hot in the good ol US of A right now because Mr. Overcooked Rump Roast is expected to win and basically has already

In my current situation I should be safe for a while but a lot of the people I know won't be

I'm hoping that whatever dumpster bonfire is going on over here doesn't affect Egypt too bad but shit damn I also thought that Kamala would win but look how that turned out, heh.

(You don't have to respond I just wanted to give you an update and some prayers ❤️🙏)

Hey dear ❤️ - no, please do, I too NEED to reach out and talk to people.

Like I only have a surface level understanding of how elections in the US work, but I know that the system is bullcrap. And yes, Trump’s a psycho so please protect yourself. The very idea that not every vote has the same weight at the end of the day is steeped in racism and classism but nothing surprises me anymore.

Really, if there’s anything the Zionist-American genocide against Palestine confirmed in clear light is how evil of a lie ‘western democracy and morality’ is. Like - the rest of the world already knew it for centuries (most of us endured long histories of abuse and settler colonialism since the Romans, after all) but now even people living in the west have their eyes open and no longer fall for the lies and propaganda. But it feels awful to be associated with what our govs are doing when we had NO choice in the matter.

GOD don’t get me started on Egypt - did you know that our complacent ‘leadership’ has allowed a ship carrying weapons to IsnotReal through our waters? People went nuts. Everyone is in a rage and feels humiliated that this happened.

Like here’s a short vid taken by a woman that went viral and even made it to foreign news channels. You may not understand what’s being said in the vid, but the people are aghast, and you can hear rage and panic and profanity all around. The lady recording could only keep repeating in utter disbelief, “you sons of bitches.” (Referring to our president and posse)

Yeah. Things are going to hell here overall. We as civilians are literally held hostage by a draconian military regime that’s throwing everybody in prison on one hand - including minors - and robbing people blind with unexplained ‘taxes’ and insane inflation on the other. The middle class is crushed. No economical reform and no jobs. And people go to prison for objecting - kidnapped by the police in the middle of the night and thrown in secret prisons across the country where their own families can’t find them.

The currency rate to the USD right now here is 1 USD to 50 Egyptian Pounds. FIFTY.

And it’s projected to reach 80 by the end of the 2024. EIGHTY. In less than 2 months. Shifting the blame onto anything else but the consequences of their own decision-making. All while the president and ruling class (military generals) are becoming wealthy and sit above the law. The justice system is in their pockets.

And guess what, Trump loves our guy. Why wouldn’t he, I wouldn’t put it past him that he do anything - even sell his own country and its people and the people next door in Palestine if Trump asked him to. And I’m sure Trump’s gonna push for Palestinians to be expelled from their land and settle in Egypt (which is another country Isnotreal is VERY interested in occupying next, btw) thus helping the Zionists fully take over what remains of Palestine and expand into Greater Isnotreal.

These freaks are insane, istG.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I heard of Harris, it’s not like she was gonna be much better than Trump. Just perhaps a little sneakier. US has treated Isnotreal as its 51st state for decades, it’s not like the politics of the country will change with her. Congress deals with Isnotreal as if it’s more important than America itself. Who’s given the title of ‘president’ doesn’t matter.

Until the US political system is completely changed and the settler colony that is Insnotreal is wiped off the map, we’re all gonna do what’s right in whatever small ways we can and be each other’s backs, even if we live on different continents ❤️.

#seriously talk to me any time even if I take time to respond #but yeah I admit #my mental state is very poor these weeks #things are very bad and becoming dangerous #free palestine #and fuck israel #usa is a terrorist state #the world is complacent in genocide

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jillsandwhichs · 2 months ago

Text

Our Future Days

Joel Miller x Reader series, Chapter 8, After all these years

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: It has been twenty years since the outbreak took place. You're currently on a supply run at a Weston's and you run into an old acquaintance

WC: 2.5k

Type: SFW

Minor warnings: Mentions of death, blood, guns & knives, an animal passing & gory depictions are written for the sake of atmosphere & story

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Walking and walking and more walking. The days never seem to come to an end. You've lost track of time ever since that dreadful day. The only way you can determine what time it is, is by the sun & moon. Other than that, you're completely on your own. You've learned to adapt to it. You've found yourself going to check your watch or grab out your phone but then you remember-you literally can't.

Your phone died the same day as this treacherous outbreak began. You couldn't charge it either, power went out everywhere shortly after. Your watch was broken in a fight. This man was trying to steal Becker away from you and you had to murder him and whilst doing so, he stabbed your watch, causing it to shatter. So you're shit out of luck when it comes to time tracking. It's just up to your estimations now.

The sun is still up but you can tell the evening is approaching. If you had to guess, it's between five and six pm. The sky just has that orange tint to it that lets you know it's getting closer and closer to the darker hours of the day. You just want to raid one more building and you'll be on your way.

Today has been good-supply run wise! You have found some canned goods and water. You're set for a good two weeks or so. You've learned serious discipline. You only ever eat more than probably 500 calories when you plan to go and raid a larger area, one that could potentially be more populated. Other than that, you don't eat a lot. You savour what you get and you make sure it lasts.

When Becker was still alive, he ate so much and it pained you to have to starve him. Not literally, but to feed him less so you could ration broke you. He got skinner within time and it got to a point where you just had to give in and feed him a lot so he wouldn't die from starvation. He passed away four winters ago, so four years ago. You just woke up one day and he wasn't breathing. You sobbed, hard. He was all you had in this shit hole new world. You miss him so fucking much.

Just to think about him makes you emotional, so you quaked the saddening thoughts from your mind.

Just a few yards in front of you is a Weston's. It's a pharmacy. You never recalled seeing it pre outbreak but you've seen quite a bit during your travels. You've went literally everywhere in the U.S ever since this entire ordeal occurred. Your favorite place was Michigan, it was the safest and you had a good group there. It's too bad they all had to die on you. It's not surprise anymore. Everybody does at this point.

The first place you went to was Oregon. Of course you had to pass through states to get there but it's the first place you inhabitated. You went to your parents house just days into the outbreak, wanting to check on them. You did it all by yourself too, of course with Becker though. You used a map and your photographic memory to get there and once you did, you dropped to your knees sobbing.

The sight of your parents on the floor bleeding and decomposing was sickening and you wish you hadn't seen it. What was even worse was that it was recent. If you had just made it there a day or so sooner, you could've possibly prevented their deaths. As for Hannah, she was no where to be found. You searched the entire house and property, no sign of her. You like to think she's safe and with good people, but knowing Hannah and her cowardly side, there's a high chance she's long gone.

You like to imagine the positives though.

You took guns and ammo from your dads safe and those were your weapons for a long time. You were loaded actually. A rifle and a handgun with a sick combat knife, you felt safe always. You were grateful that your father taught you how to shoot and defend yourself-you wish he could be here to see how well you've handled yourself. You miss them so much. Your parents are in a better place though.

Within time, you expanded your arsenal. Well, you had to, your original weapons were stolen. You were out on a run, wanting to stay in shape and boom, hunters out of no where. That was the first time you got shot too, right in the leg area. It was only a bb so you were fine but man, the impact was not pleasant. They left you for dead though and you luckily survived. Eventually you found new guns and knives and you've been set since.

Your luck throughout these past twenty years has been oddly increased.

Entering the Weston's, you held up your pistol, slowly aiming and turning around swiftly. You just want to be as careful as you can be. The place seems safe enough. You'll scavange and be on your way. You're currently sleeping in some rundown hotel. You sleep in one of the highest floors and it's actually nice, all things considered. There are hella spores on the floors above you but they haven't made their way lower-yet.

You used to be with a group. You guys called yourselves the Texans because most of you resided there beforehand. A few of the members weren't but majority. You ended up leaving that group due to conflicts and you hope most of them are well aside from that cunt Tammy. You hope an infected tore her goddamn neck out. She just had it out for you.

Another group you were apart of was the last one you ever joined. They made you feel welcomed and as if you were family immediately. You were with them for a very long time too, almost two and a half years. One day when you got back from taking Becker on a walk, they were all just dead. Dead. You were heart broken. You forced yourself to not get attached though and you soon moved on.

That's just how life is now.

You meet people, you either kill or get killed or if they're kind, you work with them and that's final. There isn't a in between.

Picking up some supplies, you stuffed bandages into your rugged green backpack. It was getting heavier with each item, which is more so a good thing than a bad thing. There were some snacks but you have no idea if they are good or not. "Expiration date is 2014... I'll give it a shot." You snickered to yourself, very quietly though. You put the snack in your sack. "I'll eat around the mold if I have to." You huffed out.

This place has definitely been scoured through already, it's obvious. What seems more odd is the fact there is fresh blood near the bathroom door. Is there an infected here? You genuinely have no clue but you're prepared to do anything you need to do. With your pistol raised up, you slowly treaded towards the door and heard the sound of grunts and whimpers. Yep, has to be an infected. It doesn't sound like a clicker but it's possible.

With your right foot, you creaked the door open, pistol up. You saw nothing. "What the hell?" You mumbled. You turned your flashlight on since infected can't see it anyways and you entered the large bathroom. Multiple stalls were connected to the walls. You planned to analyze the room more but you were abruptly stopped when you felt a large arm go around your neck.

You began to hit it-hard. Punching and punching and punching. You remembered that you have a knife in your holster. With the tips of your fingers, you began to reach for it. Your fight or flight has been activated and it's time to fight for your life. This was so sudden. You don't miss moments like these and it's been awhile, hence why your adrenaline is pumping more than usual. You got ahold of your knife and sliced the man's thigh. You assume it's a man, it has to be.

Their grip got lighter and that's how you slipped out of their grasp. You dropped to your knees, catching your breath with haste until you remembered you're literally fighting for your safety here. You grabbed your knife and pistol instantly. You stood up and turned around, aiming it at the man. Although, you couldn't find it in you to shoot him because well, he wasn't a hunter. Hunters travel in groups and this man is alone. He has a pistol but didn't bother using it on you. That left you curious.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" You panted, keeping your gun on him. He put his hands up. His thigh was bleeding. "Ma'am, I didn't realize you weren't a hunter. My apologies." He has a Southern accent. You kept your pistol up. "Drop everything you have. Now!" You shouted. You've become more roughened up these past two decades. You've had to. There's no getting around it. You can't be a softie in these times.

He gently dropped his stuff and kept his hands up.

"My leg is bleedin' . You cut me up pretty bad." "You tried to choke me out." "I understand but miss, I need to aid this?" "Who are you? Do you have a group? What are you doing here?" "I'll answer any of your questions, just let me patch myself up." "This isn't a fucking negotiation." You said sternly. The older man looked at you and nodded. "Ok, ok..." He kept his hands up and nodded. "Tommy, Tommy Miller. I do have a group. I was trying to get supplies for me and my wife." He explained himself.

Your eyebrows contorted. Tommy Miller? As in Joel Miller? Joel had a brother named Tommy. But Tommy and Miller are such common names, this may or may not be him. Oh Joel... You've held onto that name for so long. You wonder if he's alive or not. The last you heard about him was that he was wanted alongside a woman named Tess, that was a year or two ago and it made your heart swell. Maybe he's alive, maybe he isn't.

"Tommy? Tommy Miller? Can I ask you something." You voice was a bit shaky. "Answer this for me and it may be your ticket to getting out of this alive." "Anything, ask me anything." "Do you have a brother named Joel Miller?" "Whose asking? How about you tell me your name?" You told him your name and how you know of a man named Joel. "Jesus Christ..." Tommy was speechless. "Guess you are her."

Tommy's muscles relaxed and yours did automatically. "So you know him?" "Of course I know him, he's my goddamn brother." Tommy sat down and began to fiddle with his backpack. You weren't worried even a bit anymore. Tommy and Joel were good men. You sat down as well. "Patch yourself up. I'm sorry for cutting you." "Hey, it's life or death, right?" Tommy chuckled, getting some medical supplies out.

The entire room felt as if it was closing in on you. This is an entirely new revelation for you. Joel is alive, and so is his brother. This changes everything. You were always wondering how he was doing. You heard about him back in a QZ but never did further investigation for your own sake. You've missed him a lot. He was the only person who helped you when you moved to a Texas and he was so welcoming

And fuck, you fell in love with him. Then out of no where, you two were split up because of this pandemic. Goddamn crops. You wish none of this ever happened.

"So he's alive? For sure?" "I saw him an hour ago. Yeah, he's alive." This means everything! "How is he?" Your tone was eager. Tommy looked up and you and snickered. "The man is fine. Roughened up and old, but fine." Tommy disinfected his wound. "Need any help?" "I'm good." Tommy seems to have a weird awkwardness to him. Does he not like you or something?

"Could you maybe tell me where he's residing?" "You want to see him?" "Badly, yes. You remember how me and him left off, yeah?" "There was no other way, we had to get Sarah to safety." The way Tommy said Sarah's name was odd. It was as if he was deeply affected by it emotionally. "I understand but it'd be pleasant to get some closure with him." "Closure?" "Tommy, I want to see him. Tell me where he is." You said softly. You are such a persuading person.

He sighed deeply and nodded. "You have a horse with you? A car?" "No, I travel by foot." "Damn girl," Tommy laughed, "By foot? All the time?" He asked. "Yeah..." "I'll get you a horse, no problem." He stated. That means a lot. You used to have a horse with your old group, Sally, but she ran off when shit went down. "Oh, okay. Thank you then." You nodded. "But I wanna-" "You're going to see Joel. He's in town, he doesn't have patrol today so you can see him the second you enter Jackson with me." Jackson? With him?

"Alright." You said quietly. You don't want to pry too much. You'll just go with the flow as he does. You're going to see Joel, that's all that matters.

A few minutes go by and Tommy finishes his bandaging. You sighed softly and stood up, adjusting your backpack and stuffing your gun into it's holster alongside your knife. "Just ride on my horse with me. We'll be to Jackson in no time. You're going to have to have a sit down with my old lady though, we don't just let anyone in." "Got it." You smiled. A ray of joy coursed through you as you both made your way outside. This is what you've been waiting for.

This can't just be a coincidence. This is fate. The Universe has set this up. What are the chances you meet Joel twenty years ago and suddenly meet him again? Once in Texas and now in Wyoming. This is a dream come true.

Tommy hopped up onto his horse and helped you up to. You held onto him as he began to immediately trot his male horse. "Jackson is about four miles from here. Just hang on and look at the pretty views." He chuckled.

You laughed too and rested your head on his backpack, admiring all there is to this place. Unlike a lot of areas, this place doesn't look so bad. It's pretty, just as he said. Mother Nature definitely took over, there is a lot of overgrown plants and vines but it just adds to the serenity of it. You closed your eyes and simply imaged in your head what your guy's reunion will look like and feel like.

It's been so long.

You can't wait.

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