#Fractured Time Apocalyptic Series

[renegadedrummer]

I’m loving this split screen feature for Windows. I used to manually resize my tabs to fit but this way is so much easier. Now, on to writing a new chapter on my take of a Casey Jones Jr. centric apocalyptic series. You can find me on AO3. The series is “Fractured Time: Casey Jones Jr’s. Guide to His Third Apocalypse.”

[kingofbodyrolls]

I will come to you (m) | ksj

When the first flakes of white snow fell, the world shifted, draped in a quiet, uncanny veil. Then came the air raids—a brutal, unrelenting scream that tore through the silence, and Seokjin feared he had lost you forever. He wandered through the wasteland, searching, aching, haunted by the memory of your touch—warm, tender, as if sunlight itself had lingered upon his skin, even as darkness closed in. And now, as he feels your heart beat against his, he wonders, barely daring to breathe: can this be real?

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (genderless) → AUs: apocalyptic!au, survival!au → Trope: established relationship → Genres: angst (heavy) + fluff (heavy) + poetic → Rating: mature (though this mentions an apocalypse and there’s no sexually explicit stuff, please tread carefully.) → Word count: 1.6k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of nuclear war (bombings), fire, lost love reunited, FLUFF with a happy ending → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: so… I listened to Jin’s album—I don’t know how many times (I’ve lost count), and I kept replaying ‘I will come to you’ and so this one was born while I cried my eyes out. It’s a very poetic piece, inspired by Jin’s new Album ‘HAPPY’ but mostly the tracks ‘Running Wild’ and ‘I will come to you’ and you know what? It fits perfectly into my End of The World series 🤧 I remember once, there was an anon who asked if I would make a story in this universe for each member, and I’m still not sure. This one kinda just happened. I do really hope you’ll love it. I promise; it might sound really sad, and it is, but it’s just as much a hug and a promise of forever 🫂 I love you 💜

[series materlist]: End of the World* *this story is a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is a part of my End of the World series, so if you haven’t read it you can give it a read 💜

The day the white snow fell, the world transformed. A pristine veil descended, cloaking not just the streets but hearts and hopes, painting everything in hues of ash, bone-white, and the ghostly luminescence of distant fire. The afterglow of atomic storms lingered on the horizon, a reminder of ruin.  

When the air raids screamed—a piercing, merciless wail—it felt as though the earth itself recoiled. The sound rippled through him, sharp as shards of glass, setting his skin alight with dread, each nerve taut as a bowstring. And then he turned to you.  

For the briefest heartbeat, he saw it—fear etched in your gaze, crystalline, like a reflection caught in a frozen pond.  

And then the world ruptured. Explosions clawed at the heavens. Buildings fractured, shards spinning like deadly constellations. Falling.  

His reality tilted, a kaleidoscope of chaos. Heart pounding a desperate rhythm, he stumbled through the wreckage, blinded by dust and despair, grasping for some sign—anything—of you.  

But you were gone. Where were you?  

He had scoured the ruins, stumbling through the shattered remnants of a world undone, as shadows of planes etched cold, cruel arcs across the ashen sky—each one a harbinger of annihilation. Above him, the heavens carried a promise of total destruction; below, the earth whispered only despair.  

Tears carved rivers down his soot-streaked face, his bones heavy with dread, each step forward an act of defiance against the weight of grief that clung to him like iron chains. He didn’t know how to exist in a world where your smile, radiant as sunlight breaking through a storm, no longer graced his days. Your laughter, a melody that once brightened even the darkest hours, was now an aching echo. Your warmth, the heart of every moment, felt as distant as the stars.  

And yet, something within him—a fragile ember of you—urged him onward. His heart, though fractured, whispered to push through the bitter snow, to carry the memory of you as a flame against the encroaching dark. He vowed to keep it alive: the memory of your boundless kindness, your tireless hands shaping a future together in the lab, side by side, crafting medicines to heal a broken world.  

But now, that world was gone. You were gone.  

And he stood on the edge of the abyss, a lone figure amid endless ruin, asking a question with no answer: What should he do now?  

The weight of it all threatened to crush him, a pain so vast and unrelenting it seemed unbearable. The burden of your absence was a mountain, a storm raging in his chest. Yet still, he carried it, each faltering step a testament to the life you had shared, the dreams you had dared to dream.  

Even as the universe itself seemed to collapse around him, he clung to the one thing that remained: you, alive in his heart, guiding him through the endless night.  

When he looks back, he marvels at how much time has slipped through his fingers, yet you remain vivid—a ghost etched in his heart, haunting every corner of his barren world. Your image lingers, unyielding, like the golden trace of sunlight that kisses the horizon even as night falls.  

The world may be gray, its hues leached by sorrow, but you remain—an unbroken thread of warmth, a tender caress on his cheek, softer than the whisper of the wind. Each night, he seeks you in his dreams, wandering through shadowy corridors of memory, chasing the echo of your laughter, the light in your eyes.  

He swears to you: when the warm breeze stirs again, carrying the scent of renewal, he will come to you. No matter how long the journey, no matter how heavy the ache in his soul, he will find his way back to you.  

Until then, as sleep takes him, he surrenders to your memory—an embrace of all that was beautiful, a sanctuary where he can still feel your presence. There, you are whole, alive, and radiant.  

Without you, the world is stripped bare. Color fades to ash, the air turns cold, and life feels like an endless winter. You were the fire in his soul, the summer in his heart. Without you, everything is still, silent, and gray.  

And when he finds himself wandering a dark and desolate road, he sees it—a glimmer of light, distant but steadfast. It pulls him forward, a quiet beacon in the endless night, and he thinks of you. Of his promise. 

He will come to you.

With trembling resolve, he steps toward the light, each stride shedding the shadows that cling to him like ghosts of the past. His hand reaches out, and in the glow, he feels it—the warmth of your presence, as if the very air hums with your essence. Your fingers graze his, soft as whispers, anchoring him to this moment.  

And then you hold him, drawing him into an embrace that feels like coming home. The world could end again, collapsing into chaos, but none of it matters. Not the ruin, not the loss, not the pain. Not while he is here, held in your arms, the fragile promise of forever whispering between you.  

Please give me forever, he thinks, the words a prayer that rises from the depths of his soul.  

His cheek presses against your shoulder, and he feels the wetness there—tears he hadn’t realized were his own. Sobs shake his body, raw and unyielding, as the weight of your reunion crashes over him like a tidal wave.  

“Is this real?” he whispers, his voice breaking, fragile as the first crack of dawn.  

Your touch is warm. Real. Tangible in a way he almost forgot could exist. And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, the darkness doesn’t seem so vast.  

The pulse beneath his hand—steady, alive—grounds him as his palm rests against your chest. He feels your heart beating, each rhythm a melody of life, a reassurance so fragile it terrifies him. He doesn’t dare wake, doesn’t dare let the delicate warmth of this moment dissolve like mist at dawn.  

“I missed you,” you breathe, your voice low, soft, trembling with the weight of emotion. Your arms encircle him, holding him as though tomorrow may never come, as though this embrace is the only thing keeping the universe intact.  

Tears spill down his cheeks, unchecked, uncontainable. He sobs, raw and unguarded, the pain and joy of reunion too much to hold inside.  

“Seokjin, stop crying,” you murmur, your fingers tender as they wipe the tears from his face.  

“But I don’t want you to leave,” he chokes out, his voice cracking, each word heavy with fear.  

You cup his cheek, your touch gentle, grounding. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, and your voice carries a quiet strength, a promise woven into the very fabric of his soul.  

Still, his eyes search yours, confusion and disbelief flickering like shadows. He’s afraid to believe, afraid to hope.  

“I’m here,” you whisper, leaning close. The brush of your lips against his cheek is featherlight, a kiss that feels more real than anything he’s known in so long.  

He blinks, his breath catching as if the world itself has paused, waiting for him to believe in the impossible.  

“You’re here?” he whispers, his voice trembling with disbelief, as if the words might vanish the moment they leave his lips. His gaze searches yours, desperate, yearning, still caught between the shadow of doubt and the light of hope.  

You smile softly, a sound like a distant melody escaping as you chuckle, your fingers reaching out to pinch the cheek you had just kissed.  

“Ouch!” he exclaims, rubbing the spot, his lips curling into a faint, startled smile. But he felt that.  

Felt it. You’re real? You’re alive?  

Before the thoughts can fully settle, he pulls you into his arms with a fierceness born of desperation and relief. He holds you as though you’re the last thing tethering him to this world, so tightly it feels as though you might break—and yet, neither of you lets go.  

Finally. After all the ruin, all the searching, he has found you. His heart pounds against yours, a frantic rhythm that echoes the mantra he’s carried in his soul all this time: If you need me, I’ll come to you.  

And now, here you are.  

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours, and breathes in your presence, the scent of you, the reality of you. You are here, in his arms, alive and whole. And he vows, silently, fervently—never again will he let you go.

Together, you’ll run wild—you’ll face this apocalyptic world, a fractured place of ash and ruin, armed with nothing but your unyielding love. That love is your fire, your lifeline, a force wild and untamed, propelling you forward when the weight of despair threatens to pull you under. Side by side, you’ll find a way to mend the shattered pieces—not just for yourselves, but for a world that still aches for healing.  

His hand cradles your cheek, his touch a silent vow, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips—tender, lingering, a spark of life in a barren landscape. Then his lips find your forehead, and this kiss is different: it carries a promise etched into the very fabric of his being.  

Forever.  

He whispers it softly, though the words hold the weight of eternity. His promise is clear, unbreakable: he will always come to you.  

If you need him, no force—neither time nor distance, neither chaos nor destruction—will keep him from finding you.  

And at this moment, nothing else exists. The world may crumble, the sky may fall, but as long as you have each other, as long as his arms can hold you and your heartbeat echoes his, you are infinite.  

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Author’s endnote: what do you think?? And what do you think of Jin’s new album? What’s your favorite track? Please let me know what you think of the story that honestly was a mixture of a poem and a story, there wasn’t really any character growth or world building in it, but I hope it was good anyway 🥹🫶

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 28

read on ao3! (125k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 28:

Juliet's POV:

3 weeks later...

Juliet’s bathroom mirror had a crack in it. 

The edges were jagged, creating a black slash across her face whenever she peered into it. Juliet ran her finger along the gap, allowing the razor edges to glide across her skin, as she examined the way her features split in half. 

The steam from the shower had begun to dull the mirror’s clarity, surrounding Juliet’s body in a strange fog. One thing the mirror had yet to dilute, however, was the burning red outline of her father’s possession. 

E.M. reflected back at her with precise clarity. 

Juliet didn’t flinch anymore when she saw it in the mirror; the reminder of her father and his burning hot poker had faded to a constant screaming in the back of her mind. 

The scar appeared to her now like a stain to be removed, one which she itched to run her hand over and erase. 

A sense of hollowness began to invade her bones as the shower’s steam gradually coated the glass, turning it opaque. Her father’s brand began to fade into a dull red glow and Juliet released a slow breath.

She turned and stepped under the stream of blazing water, which instantly scorched her skin and another sigh of relief eased from her parted lips. Recently, the burning of the water was the only thing Juliet truly allowed herself to feel. 

She tipped her head back under the water and ran her fingers through the soaked strands of her hair, tugging gently as she loosened some knots. For a moment, her own hands were replaced by rough fingers and a tight grip and she let go immediately. 

He lingered everywhere: in her hair, on her cheek, her lips, her thighs…

Joel was a stain she could never wash off, no matter how hard she tried. 

It had been three weeks of hiding her tears behind closed doors and gasping awake in the middle of the night reaching desperately for him and finding nothing but an empty mattress. 

On the darkest of those nights, Juliet imagined herself leaving her house, walking to Joel’s door and taking up the offer of his meaningless touch. Juliet imagined that just the feeling of his hands on her might ease the ache a little… but she knew it wouldn’t fix the fractures he’d left. 

Joel had split her open and all that was left was a scarred girl with no one to pull her back together. 

She turned the shower off and stepped onto the bathmat. Juliet’s body began to shiver as the warmth of the water left her, and she quickly changed into her clothes and braided her wet hair down her back.  

Juliet hesitated when she pulled her shirt down over the brand. Today was her final check up before she could be cleared for Jackson’s patrol and Juliet prayed that Charlotte deemed her whole enough.  

When Juliet first arrived in Jackson, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to step foot outside the fence again… but claustrophobia sets in fast when you’re trapped in a town with a man who has seen the entire rotten mess of your soul and wants absolutely nothing to do with it. 

Above all, Juliet wanted to earn her keep. She’d been on medical rest since she came to the town and the weight of her debt to the townspeople was crushing her. Juliet knew how to shoot, she knew how to ride a horse, and she knew how to fight. Patrol was the best fit for her. 

She just had to prove that she wasn’t completely falling apart. 

Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs as rushed down them, desperate to avoid being late for her appointment. 

“You ready?” Ethan called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah,” Juliet shouted back as she pulled on her boots. 

She’d invited Ethan to come with her and get to know the clinic a bit more. He’d been the medical prodigy of her father’s town and Juliet knew that he was itching to get back to practising medicine, he just needed a push. 

Juliet straightened as Ethan rounded the corner into the hall. She only had a second to plaster a somewhat convincing smile on her face before he was in front of her, scanning her up and down. 

“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown. 

Ethan asked that a lot in the past couple weeks.

“I’m fine,” she assured him as she tilted her chin up, “just want to get this over with.��� 

Ethan nodded with a weak smile, and his eyes lingered on her face for another moment before he turned to grab his jacket from the hooks beside the front door. 

As Ethan shrugged his jacket on, Juliet squeezed past and reached for the khaki coloured canvas jacket. 

It still smelled like him. 

The reminder of Joel was imprinted in the material and Juliet was forced to breathe in the memory of his presence every time she pushed her arms through the sleeves. 

She could have found a new jacket, if she’d tried. Juliet could have traded something and added to her ever-growing debt, it wouldn’t have been too difficult. But how could she? When this was all she had left of him. 

Juliet should be angry, she should be furious and disgusted, but she wasn’t. Juliet just felt hollow, like all the emotions she should feel towards Joel had been gutted out and all that was left was an empty pit where her heart used to be.

She pulled the jacket off the hook a little too forcefully and the entire structure shook. Ethan’s head swung towards her but Juliet kept her eyes to the ground and held her breath as Joel’s  jacket engulfed her body. 

………………………..

The walk to the clinic started out rough, as it always did. 

Juliet tried not to look towards his house. 

She’d gone through multiple methods to stop her eyes from straying towards it: First, Juliet attempted to cut through the back garden of another house, but she got stuck between a very large tree and a very high fence. Next, on a particularly rough day, she walked past with her eyes squeezed shut, but didn’t get very far before she tripped. Juliet had quickly dusted herself off and darted away, praying no one had seen her. She didn’t even turn back when she thought she’d heard the sound of his door open and footsteps rushing out onto the porch… 

Juliet had decided it was just the wind. 

This time, Juliet threw herself into a conversation with Ethan as they strolled past. She watched his eyes brighten as he talked about the meal they shared the night before. Juliet smiled back, but it wasn’t real.

She would pretend, though, for Ethan.

For Ethan, Juliet would fake a smile and pretend that she wasn’t entirely numb to the kindness of life in Jackson. 

Joel had stripped her of that luxury… but how could she truly blame him? 

His only crime was not loving her, and the more she thought about it the more she understood why he could not: she’d bribed him, lied to him, and forced him into a situation where he had to save her life.

Juliet had thought there was something there, glimmering beneath his furrowed brow, clenched jaw and rough commands. Juliet had thought he felt something for her.

She blinked away the threat of tears and tuned back into Ethan’s chatter. Things had been better between them; Juliet remembered how comfortable it had been, with him by her side. He was still the same man after all this time and, as the trauma of the last few weeks started to chip away, Juliet remembered why she had fought so hard to save him. 

They walked down Jackson’s mainstreet at a quick pace, smiling at the residents who passed by. 

“No one ever smiled back home, did you ever notice that?” Ethan observed in a wistfully sad voice. 

“Yeah,” she answered as her head turned towards him, “there wasn’t much to smile about.”

Ethan let out a cold laugh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Guess that’s true,” he replied, “people here have something to live for, I suppose.” 

Juliet caught herself before she flinched, but her skin still pebbled beneath her thick jacket as Ethan unknowingly repeated the words Joel had whispered to her in that dark forest.

“You just gotta find somethin’ to live for,” he’d said in a voice so low and lips so close that his breath had brushed over her forehead. 

How could she? Juliet wanted to scream at him now… how could she, when he’d left her standing alone in the cold? 

……………………….

“Charlotte!” Juliet called when she opened the door to the clinic. The heat from the fireplace hit her immediately and a flush began to build on her cheeks. She stripped her jacket off immediately and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. Behind her, Ethan did the same as his eyes roamed the room.  

“In the back!” Charlotte called back.

Juliet turned to Ethan and raised her eyebrows before they followed the sound of Charlotte’s muffled voice into one of the back rooms. 

“Hey,” Juliet said carefully as she stood in the doorway. She was conscious of frightening her new friend as she sat hunched over precariously balanced bottles of some strange liquid. 

Charlotte’s head swung towards them and her face lit up. “Hey! Give me two seconds, I’m just finishing up,” she said in her permanently cheerful tone. Juliet nodded and turned to Ethan, ready to gesture that they would go wait in the hall … but Ethan’s eyes were glued on Charlotte.

Juliet watched as Ethan followed the movement of Charlotte’s hands. She must have noticed too, because she called over her shoulder: “Are you interested in medicine?” 

Ethan straightened in surprise. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat, “used to practise but it’s been… a while.” 

Juliet didn’t miss the way his voice quietened at the reminder of the last few years.

“I take it you were the one to dress Juliet’s wound before y’all arrived?” Charlotte asked over her shoulder as she continued to fiddle with her equipment. 

Ethan looked to Juliet before responding, his eyes had taken on a haunted look as they dipped to her stomach then back over to where Charlotte sat at her desk. “Uh, yeah, that was me,” he confirmed in a rough voice. 

Charlotte finally looked away from her work and stripped off the gloves in her hands, then carefully dropped them into the bin on the floor. Her eyes lifted to Ethan’s as she reached up to tighten her long blonde ponytail.

“You did a good job,” she said earnestly, then paused and tilted her head slightly to the side, “we’re always looking for help around here, if you’re interested…” 

Charlotte trailed off as Ethan began to nod enthusiastically, then she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Fantastic! We’ll talk,” she answered with a wink.

Juliet watched with a hidden smirk as a flush rose on Ethan’s neck. 

“But first, Juliet, shall we?” Charlotte said, nodding towards the examination table in the corner of the room. 

It was metal with a thin mattress over it, and Juliet had found herself lying on it more times than she could count over the last couple weeks. It turned out that her injuries were more severe than she had realised. Having grown up with bruises as a permanent feature on her skin, Juliet never took her pain seriously. Even in the QZ, her hands were littered with burns that went untreated. 

When her father told her every day that the marks he left on her didn’t actually exist, Juliet began to adopt her pain as second nature and question if her tears were worth anything at all. 

Charlotte had treated the bullet wound on her shoulder, the bruises and burns on her wrists and ankles, the slash from her father’s bible on the side of her face, and his white hot initials on her stomach… along with various other aches and pains from untreated wounds over the years.

After Charlotte sent Ethan into the hall, she read out the list of treatments Juliet had accumulated over the past few weeks… and it wasn’t surprising she was banned from patrol. 

“Okay, so, let’s see if you’re ready to get on a horse,” Charlotte said softly as she rolled up Juliet’s top. 

Charlotte’s fingers were icy and goosebumps travelled across Juliet’s skin. She bit her lip and kept her gaze levelled on the ceiling as Charlotte peeled off her bandage. It was terrifying, the thought that she might still be too weak to step outside the town and do something with the abundance of time now on her hands.

In the QZ, the days were long and brutal, and Juliet would stumble back to her dingy apartment with smoke covered hands and blackened lungs before passing out on her moth-eaten couch, preparing for another gruelling shift the following day. 

In Jackson, life was much slower. Everyone worked and contributed to the community and there were no enforcers, no men with guns and bats tasked with keeping people in line. People worked in Jackson because they wanted to; the residents were fueled by their gratitude to the town and their willingness to work together.

Juliet wanted, so desperately, to be a part of that. She wanted to find something to get her up in the morning after long nights spent haunted by the memory of rough hands and cold eyes.

“You’re healing nicely, I’m going to recommend to Tommy that you’re cleared for patrol,” Charlotte declared as her hands left Juliet’s torso. 

“What?” Juliet coughed out and she used her elbows to lift herself up on the table, just enough to see Charlotte look down at her with her eyebrows raised. 

“I said you’re good,” she repeated slowly, “I mean, you’re still healing but I don’t see any risks of infection.” Charlotte clasped her hands together and tilted her head to the side as her eyes softened. 

“I know you’ve had a rough time of it the last few weeks… with Joel” Charlotte said in a quiet voice. 

She was frighteningly perceptive.

Juliet’s eyes left Charlotte’s as she sat up and swung her legs off the table, cringing slightly at the pull on her stomach. 

When she turned to her again, Juliet shook her head and feigned confusion. “It wasn’t like that,” she assured Charlotte with as much conviction as she could muster.

Charlotte scanned her face for a moment, then stepped backwards with a knowing smile. “Just don’t do anything reckless, it won’t make you feel any better,” she warned as her chin tilted downwards. “I’ve spent weeks trying to patch you up, don’t spoil my good work,” she continued, her voice friendly and teasing but with a soft undercurrent of concern. 

Juliet feigned an exacerbated eye-roll and let out a long breath. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied and Charlotte shot her another quiet smile.

Juliet thanked Charlotte and left the room. Her heart raced and her body had stiffened slightly as Charlotte’s words sunk in…

Was patrol just another one of her distractions? 

Self-destructive behaviour was not new to Juliet, but patrol had nothing to do with Joel, surely. She just wanted to prove herself, right? 

Her mind felt clouded as she walked into the waiting room, ready to join Ethan by the fire for a moment, but her steps halted when she entered the room. 

The front door swung open and Tommy entered, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him. “There you are,” he said warmly as his eyes focused on her, standing stiffly next to Ethan’s chair. 

Juliet blinked. “Hey”

“How’d it go?” Tommy asked as he walked closer, running a hand through his long wavy hair, “you cleared for patrol?” 

Juliet straightened and a sudden feeling of dread began to burn in her gut. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “Charlotte said I’m good to go.” 

A relieved smile took over Tommy’s mouth. “Thank god, a couple guys had to leave patrol when their wives had their kids, so we’re needin’ some fresh recruits,” he explained enthusiastically.

Juliet didn’t reply, she just nodded awkwardly and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Tommy’s stare cut suddenly to Ethan, who sat quietly in the armchair by the fire watching their conversation with his usual curious look. 

“What bout you?” Tommy directed towards Ethan. “Heard you can shoot too, you interested in patrol?” 

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up and he shifted in his seat. 

“Tommy Miller, are you tryin to steal my new trainee?” Charlotte exclaimed in mock surprise as she squeezed into the room behind Juliet with a gentle touch on her shoulder. 

Juliet’s mouth twitched as Tommy’s eyes shot to the ceiling.

“New trainee?” he asked, looking between Charlotte and Ethan. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “with doc doin’ so many house visits, I need all the help around here I can get.”

Tommy looked contemplative as Charlotte’s head turned to Ethan. “Plus, I think he’s already had some medical training. Is that right?” she asked, tilting her chin down at Ethan, sitting in his armchair. 

Ethan stiffened as all the eyes in the room swung on him at once. “That’s right,” he confirmed roughly as his gaze found Charlotte’s. 

Tommy raised his hands. “Fine,” he said, admitting defeat, then he caught Juliet’s eye and nodded. “Let’s head over to the stables, I’ll introduce you to your patrol partner.”

Juliet didn’t say anything for a moment. The weight of her decision grew heavy on her shoulders, but there was also a glimmer of excitement within her. She imagined herself getting on a horse, armed with every weapon she needed to protect the town.

It would be good to protect a place like this, a place that actually deserved it. 

Her eyes caught Charlotte’s and the weight eased as Juliet returned her warm, encouraging smile. 

She turned back to Tommy, who watched her with a curious look. Juliet might have thought there was guilt swimming in his gaze if she didn’t know any better. 

Eventually, Juliet nodded sharp and quick. “Let’s go.”

………………………..

Juliet hadn’t stepped foot in the stables since that first day, when burning relief was her most prominent emotion. 

Now, Juliet wasn’t sure what to feel. 

Tommy showed her around, pointing out all the things he hadn’t needed to on that first day. Juliet listened intently, wishing she had brought a notebook with her. It was the first job she’d ever cared about and she didn’t want to fuck it up. 

Juliet was very conscious of the fact that she had no ties to Jackson or Tommy, and that she and Ethan were allowed to stay purely because of the kindness of the residents. 

Once the tour had ended, Tommy and Juliet circled back to the entrance of the stables, where they waited for her new patrol partner to arrive. Tommy assured her that she wouldn’t start until the following day, but he wanted to make sure that she met her partner before then. 

They chatted quietly about Jackson’s weather, and the snow which was very possibly arriving the following week, when the barn doors opened with a long sharp whine of the hinges.

Juliet’s head swung in the direction and her stomach dropped to her feet. 

She would have prepared herself if she thought it would have been him. She would have donned some armour, strengthening her defences and at least attempted to plug the gaping hole in her chest. 

But Juliet hadn’t expected to see him, so the sight of Joel Miller struck her like the most painful blow. 

When her eyes finally focused, the first thing she noticed was his new jacket.

It shouldn’t have caused her stomach to drop even further, but it did. 

It was a dark brown leather, with the collar slightly turned up over his throat and Joel tugged against it as he entered the chilled barn. 

Juliet swallowed rough and shifted on her feet as she forced her eyes to focus on Tommy, but she knew the exact moment Joel’s stare found her. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his stride suddenly stop and his body physically stiffen. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, greeting his brother with a tight smile. 

Juliet kept her stare pointed on Tommy’s face but goosebumps grew across her skin as she felt Joel move closer. 

“Ready to head out?” Joel asked his brother, his voice low and stilted. 

Tommy nodded and crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes darted to Juliet. 

“Yeah, soon, just waiting to introduce Juliet to Matt,” Tommy explained, as he tilted his head down to check his watch.

“Why?” Joel demanded in a voice so devastatingly dark. She felt his hot gaze find the side of her head and Juliet knew she had to turn around and face him, but his uncaring stare still stained the inside of her eyelids when she tried to sleep at night and Juliet worried that she might see that coldness in his eyes again. 

Tommy looked taken aback as his head turned between them both. “Juliet want -”

“I’m starting patrol,” Juliet said, cutting Tommy off as she finally faced Joel. 

Joel’s eyes were like the heaviest anchor, dragging her down into the depths of her sadness. Juliet had once thought he was the weight that kept her afloat, but she was wrong; she was merely a passenger in his life before he pushed her off the edge, back into the dark murky waters. 

“You’re what?” he growled. Joel looked down at her with a face like cracked stone, where his rage simmered out of each jagged edge. 

Inside, Juliet’s heart was hammering against her chest, but on the outside, she forced her spine to straighten and she wiped her face clean of any shock or surprise. 

“I’m starting patrol,” she repeated, slower this time with a harsher edge to her voice. 

“No, you’re not,” Joel argued gruffly, but his voice didn’t invite a response, it was a command.

Juliet blinked and looked to Tommy for assistance. “Charlotte just cleared me?” she replied, confusion evident in the crease between her eyebrows.

“Joel, you said it yourself, Juliet is highly skilled and we need that on patrol,” Tommy interjected, shifting on his feet. 

Joel said that? 

Juliet reached up to rub the back of her neck as her irritation grew. Joel was cruel that day outside her house, she hadn’t imagined that… but was she now imagining the way his eyes shone with concern? 

“You’re not ready, it’s too dangerous, you’ll hurt yourself,” Joel challenged. His words spilled from his mouth in a distressed ramble which made the confusion in Juliet’s chest twist painfully. 

Juliet shook her head and tilted her chin up to meet his flared pupils. 

Her mind flashed back to the Joel she knew three weeks ago, who had looked so guarded and frigid, and then she focused on the Joel standing in front of her with a turbulent combination of fear and anger darkening his eyes. 

Juliet should be outraged at his insistence that she couldn’t take care of herself, but she couldn’t help the part of her who clung to him on dark nights, and looked up at him like her protector, from viewing Joel’s words with optimism, with some sick hope that maybe he really did care after all. 

He must have seen it in her eyes; Joel must have watched her gaze shift into something softer, something kinder. And so, just as he had three weeks ago, Joel crushed any hope still living within her. 

Joel’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Tommy, ignoring Juliet altogether. “She’s not ready, she can’t protect the town.”

It was like her heart was shattering all over again. 

Juliet’s eyes turned glossy despite her best efforts to push down the ache in her chest. Joel just had this keen way of finding the part of her which hurt the most and driving the knife in deeper. 

Tommy stepped back from his brother, rage now rippling across his face. 

“Go sort the horses Joel, we’ll leave once I’m done here,” Tommy seethed, and Joel’s eyes widened. 

“You can’t be serious,” Joel ground out when he turned on Juliet, “after everythin’ we went through to get here, you’re just gonna go back out there?” 

Juliet winced. “You’re on patrol, why can’t I?” she bit back, standing her ground. 

Joel’s jaw clenched with teeth cracking intensity as his dark eyes roamed her face. What he was searching for in her expression, Juliet didn’t know, but she wasn’t planning on relenting anytime soon. In fact, Joel’s presence just made her more determined to find time beyond the fence. 

Everything about being around him hurt. It hurt to look in his eyes, knowing the way he used to look at her. It hurt watching his mouth curl into a cruel snarl, knowing the way he used to reluctantly laugh when she least expected it. But most of all, it hurt to hear the bitter words from his mouth as she remembered how warm they had once sounded against her skin. 

“That’s different,” he argued as he sharply turned his head back to Tommy in a desperate attempt to find some agreement in his eyes. But his brother said nothing, he was the one to approach Juliet with the offer of patrol and he wasn’t budging. 

“Joel, just go,” Tommy interrupted with a hand on Joel’s chest, holding him back from god knows what. Juliet hadn’t realised until Tommy broke the spell that Joel had moved closer, towering over her as he almost growled his words. 

He took one last look at Juliet, scanning her face with such intensity before he pushed past his brother and headed further into the stables with his shoulders tight and his fists clenched by his side. 

Juliet blinked and felt her race redden.

“I’m sorry bout him,” Tommy sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly. It wasn’t though. She just couldn’t understand it. Joel and Juliet fought their way across the country together; he knew she could shoot, and protect herself, so why would he be so against her joining the patrol?

Maybe what her father had done to her changed the way Joel saw her… maybe he saw her as weak, maybe that’s why he wanted nothing to do with her…

Juliet swallowed roughly and coughed away the lump in her throat. She couldn’t afford to think like that. If she started to imagine why Joel had backed away, Juliet would spend the entire day ripping herself apart. 

“Hey!” a new voice called from the entrance to the barn. 

A smile approached Tommy’s mouth as a man Juliet hadn’t seen before stepped into the stables and headed over towards them. 

“Matt, I’d like you to meet Juliet - your new patrol partner,” Tommy said, gesturing towards Juliet. 

Juliet’s eyes finally focused on him and she stood up a bit straighter. He was handsome, with messy brown hair and a friendly smile which prevented any tendrils of fear from growing in her chest.

But it was his eyes which helped ease Juliet the most. They were kind eyes, the sort of eyes which echoed every smile on his face. 

“Juliet,” he echoed, now staring down at her, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Juliet wasn’t sure how to reply. Her mind was still caught up in the mystery of Joel, so she opted for a quiet smile and raised eyebrows. 

“Heard you’re a good shot, will be good havin’ someone like you watchin’ my back out there,” Matt said with a friendly wink. 

How did everyone know so much about her? Only Joel truly knew the extent of her survival skills but she couldn’t imagine him singing her praises around town, he could barely look her in the eye without scowling. 

“When do we start?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Matt’s comment out of mild embarrassment. 

Matt crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Tommy. “We’re on the schedule for tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah, bright and early,” Tommy confirmed.

Juliet nodded and looked between the two men. “Perfect.” 

…………………………

Two days later, Juliet had regrets. Not enough that she would swear off patrol forever, but she definitely had her doubts. 

She walked into the stables for her second shift just before dawn with her hood up and her sleeves pulled down over her fingers. The barn was empty and she could hear the soft thuds of her footsteps hit the straw covered ground as she made her way over to her horse. 

With everything in her, Juliet tried not to think about the day before or the fresh, thick ring of bruises around her wrist… if she did, she might start to think that maybe Joel was right, maybe patrol wasn’t for her. 

But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. 

Matt went first through Jackson’s gates, leading his horse with an air of confidence about him while Juliet tugged on the reins of her own horse and followed behind with sweaty palms and a racing heart. 

The first hour or so was fine, boring even, as Juliet and Matt travelled towards a nearby abandoned town they’d been asked to clear. Juliet had her gun loaded and her knife ready. She wasn’t frightened of the infected, it was always the people to look out for. 

She eyed Matt on the horse next to her. He seemed nice, making an effort to keep the conversation up even if Juliet only responded with vague answers and quiet pauses. His smile never faltered, it was inspiring actually. But Juliet hadn't seen him fight yet and she worried that his skills might not match his confidence. 

When they reached the array of houses, they stopped and slid off their horses in silence; only communicating through hand signals and exaggerated looks. Within minutes, Juliet and Matt had their guns positioned in front of them as they approached the first house. 

Their backs were pressed against the rotted wood, listening for any infected groans or hushed whispers. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief when they heard nothing, but the rigidness of her shoulders didn’t ease; they still had to clear the houses, which meant actually going in them.

Juliet swallowed and closed her eyes, she allowed the weight of her task to fall down on her tense shoulders and then waited for herself to get used to the feeling. Juliet was beyond the fence and she had neither Joel nor Blake standing by her side to protect her. Despite Matt’s gentle presence, Juliet felt like she was facing this alone, and with that thought came a feeling of pride. She could do this, she was doing this. Juliet pushed Joel’s harsh words to the back of her mind and strengthened her grip on her gun. 

When she opened her eyes, Matt turned her way and he signalled to split up and enter the house through different doors. Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the mention of splitting up, but, despite hardly knowing him, she trusted that Matt knew the ways of patrol and decided to follow his lead. She nodded back fast and sharp. 

The thud of hard footsteps startled Juliet from her memory and her head darted towards the source of the sound. 

As soon as her eyes brushed over the muddy leather jacket she froze and squeezed her eyes shut. Shit. 

That was not Matt. 

Juliet swallowed down her panic and shrunk behind the wall near the back of the stables, where the shelving was kept. Maybe if she stayed here, Joel would get what he needed and leave. He wasn’t scheduled for patrol this morning. 

She heard him head over to his horse and Juliet allowed her head to fall back against the wall in relief. 

The front door made no sound as she turned the handle, not even the signature shriek of over twenty year old hinges. The initial stabbing of fear in her chest lessened as a small bit of relief flowed through her. 

Juliet walked into the house with the softest footsteps she could manage, barely even putting weight on the wooden floor as she made her way through the hall and into the living room. 

The house was a massive, practically a mansion, it was bigger than any house Joel and Juliet had come across on the road and there was a lot of ground to cover. Matt had entered from the back door and Juliet watched as he silently headed up the stairs before she rounded the corner into the living area. 

The room was a time capsule. With the layers and layers of dust on everything Juliet assumed that nothing had been touched since the world changed. It was strange to come across a house that hadn’t been pillaged but Juliet assumed being positioned deep in Wyoming would deter any visitors. 

The realisation allowed Juliet’s muscles to ease even further but she continued to hold her gun tight in her hand with her finger hovering over the trigger, just like Ethan had taught her. It was her first time on patrol and she wasn’t taking any chances. 

There was a door across the room so Juliet headed there next, still making sure to keep her steps light and fast. She kept listening for anything amiss upstairs but heard nothing, Matt must have been fine, just silently sweeping the untouched rooms. 

Juliet was struck by how cold the handle was as her hand curved around it. She should have taken it as an omen, but the thought hadn’t even entered her head as she angled her wrist and turned the handle. 

“The hell you doin’ back here?” a gruff, startled voice demanded. 

Juliet’s eyes shot open and her head turned to Joel, now standing beside the wall she leaned against. She straightened instantly as her heart started to speed in her chest. Juliet could tell herself that he had startled her, but her body reacted this way every time she met his dark brown eyes.  

“Just waiting for Matt,” Juliet answered as she continued to shake herself from her memories. 

“Behind a wall?” Joel asked, amused. 

His mouth didn’t have the same sharp edges to it, but Juliet knew not to be fooled. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her face reddening slightly, “was just uh resting my eyes for a second.” 

“Sure,” Joel replied slowly, with raised eyebrows. 

Juliet shifted, suddenly feeling unsteady. She hadn’t spoken to Joel since the day before last, when he had very publicly questioned her survival abilities. 

She wrapped her arms around her middle, making sure her hurt didn’t spill out from the hole he left in her chest. 

“Why are you here?” Juliet snapped, “you’re not on the schedule.” 

Joel blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked down at her with eyes that didn’t match the memory of his apathy that day outside her house and Juliet struggled to keep her defences secured. 

He cleared his throat and his jaw shifted. “Just grabbin’ some ammo,” he answered, nodding at the shelving behind her. 

“Oh,” Juliet breathed. She realised that she was standing in his way and a horribly enticing  image of him brushing against her as he squeezed past flashed into her mind. Juliet swallowed and decided to avoid any more close proximity, lest her defences fail entirely and she fall for the hint of decency he was showing her in that moment. 

“I’ll grab it for you,” she said quietly and turned. The shelf of ammo was quite high up so she had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her right arm up to grip the small box. 

Behind her, Juliet heard Joel’s sharp intake of breath as her sleeve fell.

The handle turned with ease, it wasn’t even stiff. Somehow, Juliet had been fooled by the silence of the house and its lack of immediate threats. That’s why, when the door inched open and the infected’s peeling face filled her view, Juliet froze as her shock choked her. Her hand paused on the handle, she didn’t dare make a single movement. 

It was strange, looking back on it, that the infected hadn’t made a single sound to announce its presence. Not a click or a grunt or a screech. 

Peering into the windowless room, Juliet hadn’t known it was lurking in the dark until its decayed fingers were wrapped around her wrist, as her hand continued to grip the freezing cold handle. 

With the first touch of its wet, torn flesh on her skin, terror struck Juliet, wrapping around her throat with the same vice-like grip of the infected on her wrist. She might have screamed, she wasn’t sure, because the infected had finally decided to make its presence known, shrieking violently into Juliet’s ear. 

The infected gripped her wrist so forcefully that she couldn’t pull herself from the door handle, so she did the next best thing: Juliet tightened her hold on the door and pulled with all her strength to slam it closed on the infected. 

It worked. Kind of. 

The infected was jammed in between the door and its frame, with its hand still squeezing down harder and harder against Juliet’s wrist and its head pushing through the gap. 

Juliet was definitely screaming as the infected’s teeth snapped against her arm. Joel’s jacket wouldn’t protect her from the force of the infected’s bite. Panic flooded her bloodstream. Juliet couldn’t think, she couldn’t strategise, because what if the infected’s teeth had already pierced her skin?

What if this was it? 

If she was bit, Matt would shoot her in the head and Juliet would never see Joel again. 

Even in what might have been her final moments, as she struggled against the infected, Juliet still thought of him. 

She would die, and never get to tell him how she really felt. 

Juliet knew he wouldn’t care, that some confession from her would only be met by emotionless eyes and cutting words, but she couldn’t let go… she couldn’t forget how she felt, and how he had once made her feel. 

Thankfully, her sanity returned as the milliseconds ticked by and Juliet started shooting the infected’s arm, desperately attempting to force it to release her wrist. 

She heard Matt rush up behind her, shouting her name, but she just kept shooting until a bullet finally landed itself in the infected’s head. 

Matt caught her as she fell backwards, still kicking her feet and continuing to scream even as she watched the infected fall to the floor, mostly behind the door with only its arm and leaking head in sight.

“It’s okay,” Matt repeated over and over as Juliet struggled against him. 

“No, get away” she gasped as terror poured from her, “I might be infected.” 

Matt didn’t let go, even as Juliet began to punch his arms. It had to have hurt but he didn’t budge. 

“Calm down, we’ll check, okay?” he said breathlessly as Juliet’s punches grew weaker. “Please, just let me have a look.” 

Juliet slumped against him, breathing heavy. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at her wrist. 

Matt held tight against her until for another moment before he cautiously reached towards her arm. Juliet could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her back. 

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she felt his fingertips on her wrist, her skin was almost numb from the force of the infected’s grip, but she still felt Matt slowly trace her skin, searching for her death sentence. 

Tears leaked from the corner of her scrunched eyelids when he pulled her sleeve down further and Juliet wondered how long the infection would take to set in. Was she starting to feel it now? Or was the shaking of her body just the remnants from her adrenaline rush? 

The seconds stretched beyond all understanding of space and time as Juliet waited for Matt to confirm her fate. 

“You’re clean,” he whispered softly as his fingers left her aching skin. 

“Juliet,” he said, raising his voice a little to grab her attention. “You’re clean, it didn’t get you, I swear.” 

Juliet felt his voice rumble against her back as she continued to slump against him and she waited for his words to register. When they did, she sat up and, with a spinning head, examined every inch of her skin. 

“I’m clean,” she confirmed under her breath as her wide eyes trained on the rapidly developing bruise on her skin. 

The following day, the bruise had only grown worse. It was almost black and wrapped around the entirety of her wrist in the shape of the infected’s rotten fingers. 

Juliet’s entire body stiffened as she felt the sleeve of her jacket brush her raw skin and reveal the evidence of her stupidity, her inability to protect the town. 

She’d got herself caught by an infected, she could have got Matt killed. 

Quickly she gripped the worn cardboard of the ammo box and dropped her arms, swallowing rough before she turned around. 

She knew how Joel would react. He would tell her that he was right, that she wasn’t ready to go on patrol - 

“Who did this to you?” Joel seethed in a voice so viciously menacing that Juliet couldn't help but flinch. He stalked towards her and grabbed the ammo from her hand, throwing it on the low shelf behind her, before he lifted her wrist with surprising gentleness as his fingers slowly pushed back the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the extent of the bruising. 

His eyes left her arm momentarily to meet her wide eyed stare. 

“Who did this to you?” he demanded again, slower this time, like every word choked him. 

Juliet’s lips parted as her eyes darted between Joel’s intense stare and his fingers softly brushing over her wrist. 

His mouth was bloodthirsty but his eyes were pained, like the sight of the dark ring of purple around her wrist bruised him too. 

“Nobody, It was -” 

“Don’t lie to me,” he nearly growled. “Was it Matt?” 

Juliet’s stomach dropped. Joel said Matt’s name as though her were some mass murderer. 

“No!” Juliet said nervously, “It was -”

“If he fuckin’ touched you,” Joel raged, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

“It wasn’t him!” Juliet breathlessly revealed. “It was an infected.” 

Juliet expected Joel’s rage to burn out when he realised Matt had no part in her injury, but for some reason it looked as though the muscles in his body grew even tighter.

“An infected did this?” he breathed, hovering his thumb over the dark purple. 

Juliet nodded slowly, not trusting her words. 

Joel was touching her and she could think of nothing else other than the calloused edge of his fingertips brushing so delicately against her injured skin. 

“You weren’t bit?” Joel asked softly, already knowing the answer or Juliet wouldn’t have been standing in front of him. 

“No,” she whispered hoarsely. 

“You could’ve been killed,” he ground out as a muscle jumped in his very tight jaw. Joel was so close to her now, his breath touched her forehead as she looked up at him. 

She was pressed against the shelving, with nowhere to escape him. 

His other hand reached up and cradled her cheek as his eyes scanned over her face, watching as her lip trembled. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a hushed voice. 

Juliet had been drawn in, caught in the spell of Joel’s close proximity; exposed to the intoxication of his smell and the magnetism of his eyes. 

But his words struck her in that deep, dark hole in her chest, and she was thrown from his orbit. 

Why didn’t she tell him? 

Her eyes darkened. 

“Why the hell would I tell you?” Juliet almost snarled. 

Joel drew back as if he’d been slapped. 

For a brief moment, Juliet imagined she saw hurt blazing in his eyes, before they hardened. 

“We haven’t spoken in weeks, and you all but told me you couldn’t care less about me,” she bit out, pouring every bit of her anger, shock and sadness into each word. 

“Why would I tell you anything?” she continued, her voice cracking. 

A million emotions flashed across Joel’s face, and Juliet couldn’t seem to grasp at any. 

She was breathing heavy. 

His hands released her slowly as though he had to force himself to pull away. 

Joel took a deep breath and Juliet held her’s as she waited for him to take back every cruel word he threw at her and rescind the way he made her feel. 

But his eyes scanned her face and the breath slowly left his mouth, with nothing to ease the ache in Juliet’s chest. 

“It’s a miracle you’re alive,” he said quietly after a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

Juliet said nothing, all the fight in her was gone. 

She’d expected Joel to argue back, to fight her accusation of his indifference towards her. 

But, instead, she watched as all the shutters in his mind slammed closed once again.

With one last lingering look, Joel turned and stormed around the corner without his ammo. 

Juliet closed her eyes and felt tears leak down her cheeks, cleansing her skin of the memory of Joel’s heated touch as she heard his hard footsteps march out of the barn.

_________________________________________

@amyispxnk @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf

(I'll proofread this properly tomorrow, sorry if there's any random formatting or grammatical errors lol)

thanks for reading ❤️

[pocksprincess]

Death Stranding AU

Porco Galliard x f!reader

CW: smut and dark themes; suicidal thoughts, monsters, horror, violence, blood, death, post-apocalyptic setting (each chapter will have its own individual trigger warnings).

This series is a reposting from the old blog.

Playlist

Terminology:

Bridges- a company that was formed to reconnect the fractured society of the USA after the cataclysmic event known as the Death Stranding.

BTs- souls trapped in the land of the living that form entities known as Beached Things, or BTs, they are hostile towards living beings.

Cryptobiotes- small life forms that float around unique natural formations, they can survive any environment, no matter how harsh. They replenish a small amount of blood and increase resistance to TimeFall when eaten by humans.

Death Stranding- an event that caused the world between the afterlife and ours (purgatory) to collide with the living world, entangling life and death.

DOOMS- a condition that grants people a greater connection to the "other side", the land of the dead. People afflicted with DOOMS are called "sufferers" of the condition. Depending on the individuals level of DOOMS, sometimes they can sense BTs or even see them.

MULEs- a faction of cargo thieves suffering from "Porter syndrome", an obsession with their previous profession. They will chase others and incapacitate them in order to steal their cargo. Many have been driven mad by the environment and circumstances, but they do not kill, and are deathly afraid of BTs.

Necrosis- a stage of death that happens after cardiac arrest (the heart has stopped beating), after which the corpse will become a Beached Thing.

Porter- freelance delivery personnel who transport cargo across the continent of UCA (United Cities of America, renamed after the events of the Death Stranding).

Repatriate- an individual with the ability to return to life after death. When people die they end up in a place called the Seam, and Repatriates can guide their soul through the Seam back to their bodies.

The Beach- a limbo, or purgatory, between the world of the living and the afterlife. Everyone has their own unique Beach that is personal to them once they die.

The Seam- the place that connects the living world to the Beach, this is where souls end up, and where Repatriates can guide their souls back to their bodies.

TimeFall- otherworldly rain that accelerates time of everything it first touches and then turns into normal water again. The appearance of TimeFall, accompanied by an inverted rainbow, signal the presence of BTs.

Voidout- an explosion that is caused when the anti-matter of a BT consumes living matter (when a human body is consumed by a BT).

Series Masterlist -

Part One: Easy Way Out

Part Two: We Carry On (Because We Have To)

Part Three: Anything You Need

Part Four: Final Waltz

Epilogue: Without You

This series is ongoing.

[honourablejester]

Tagged by @theoutcastrogue to press shuffle on my general listening playlist 10 times and relate the results. Thanks!  

I don’t have spotify or what have you, I usually listen to music on youtube on my laptop. But I’ve got a couple of playlists I’ve made, and if I shake them a bit, what comes out is:

Konya Wa Hurricane, Kinuko Omori/’Priss & the Replicants’. (It’s the opening song for the Bubblegum Crisis OVA series, the cyberpunk anime series of the 80s. In universe, it’s a song by one of the main characters and her band, aptly named Priss and the Replicants, which I love).

Sin City, Meredith Brooks. (I’m pretty sure this was from/for a Nic Cage movie, let me look this up, yes, Snake Eyes. But it’s a good noir sort of a song. “Change the names to protect the guilty, you’ll never leave Sin City … where you are king”).

Short Change Hero, The Heavy. (I’m 90% sure I first heard this song on a TF2 machinima, but it’s such a cool vibe for a post-apocalyptic western sort of deal. “This ain’t no place for no hero, this ain’t no place for better man. This ain’t no place for no hero to call home.”)

Power of the Night, Terrence Mann/’Johnny Steel’. (I’m starting to realise I have a lot of songs from various soundtracks on my lists. This one is from Critters, supposedly from the in-universe rockstar the alien hunters take the shape of. It’s a pretty sweet rock song though, and I do love Terrence Mann).

Keep the Streets Empty For Me, Fever Ray. (An eerie, drifting track that I think is about urban emptiness. Great thing to listen to at 4am on a thin night).

Labirynt, Zbigniew Preisner. (Again, if you want something drifting and eerie and vaguely unsettling. I cannot for the life of me remember how I stumbled across this, but it’s beautiful).

Spanish Train, Chris de Burgh. (Spanish Train & Other Stories was one of the tapes that always came on car journeys when we were kids. Chris de Burgh is one of the things from my childhood that really stuck. I love his story songs. Spanish Train is a fabulous little folk tale about god and the devil playing poker for the souls of a damned train).

Splitting the Atom, Massive Attack. (I found this because of the video, because the video is wild. A slow pan through a fractured black glass city to find the bizarre source of destruction at the centre. But the song itself is also great, a slow, dark, threatening rhythm. I also like their song Angel, and it’s also on my playlist).

Fancy, Reba McEntire. (I do not, as a general rule, listen to much country music, but I do like a few by Reba McEntire. This one is dark, about a girl whose mother sells her into prostitution because they desperately need money, and the woman the girl became coming back later after she’s made a life for herself to forgive her for it).

Starlight Brigade, TWRP. (This one was, again, because of the video, but it’s such a fantastic video. If they made a whole damn show of this, a-la Galaxy Rangers, or an animated music video move a-la Daft Punk’s/Leiji Matsumoto’s Interstella 5555, I would absolutely watch it. And the song itself is a fantastic synthy cheerful unabashed sci-fi cheese, and I love it).

I'm too scrambled for tagging right now, but anyone who wants to showcase their weird music choices, feel free to blame me!

[bloodgulchblog]

I started reading Halo books after you recommended Legacy of Onyx to me not too long ago. I started with Fractures, which was a good first taste. Really liked Into the Fire. Next up was Legacy of Onyx, which was REALLY GOOD WOW and I chewed through the whole thing in two days. There's SO much left about Onyx, I hope we get more of it in novels or gameplay in the future. Now I'm onto Rubicon Protocol, which is pretty good so far (ch3) but not holding my attention as hard as Legacy of Onyx did

Ooh, Fractures is an interesting place to start imo. I'm glad you enjoyed it! It honestly gives you a lot of directions you could jump off in if you're looking for more book recs. I think getting into stuff with big lore like Halo is, unless you're doing something wild like just reading all of it like I did, mostly about figuring out what your handholds are and what you're interested in and where to go to follow those interests.

Rubicon Protocol is definitely a heavier, slower book than Legacy I think. It's a lot grimmer. I thought it was good overall but there were definitely points where I had to take a break because that gets dark. Really loved what the author did with Stone in particular, though.

If you are looking for more things to add to your list for later, based on what you've said here...

(Big post of tumblr user bloodgulchblog rambling about different Halo novels below the jump)

Ghosts of Onyx is the one I'm most confident about. I typically wouldn't recommend Ghosts as someone's first go at Eric Nylund's Halo novels because they're kind of a trilogy and having The Fall of Reach and First Strike read first makes it better, but if you had a good time diving right in the deep end at Fractures I think you'll be completely fine. (...The other two have Master Chief though and he's my special guy.)

Anyway, the reason I'd say Ghosts of Onyx is the stories you've already read are very heavy on the Spartan-IIIs, and that one is their origin story. You've met Tom-B292 and Lucy-B091 twice, you know Chief Mendez, you've seen the Ferrets, you've seen what Onyx turns into. Then if you like what Nylund was doing, Ghosts has you meet the surviving Spartan-IIs and Halsey and that's a big handhold to dig back further toward tFoR and FS if you feel like it.

Into the Fire is also an easy one to pull a rec off of, because it's actually the first section of a novella called Smoke and Shadow about Rion Forge. I liked it! It's short, but it was refreshing to see a book completely focused on civilian characters (...which is another reason that Legacy was fun for me.) It's also the start of a trilogy. The other two books are Renegades and Point of Light, both of those are full length and are circling back to Forerunner lore that hadn't been touched on in a while.

...Actually, speaking of Forerunners, man I feel like it has to have been wild to go right off with Promises to Keep without the context of the Forerunner trilogy. If you're curious based on that, try Cryptum. The Forerunner Trilogy is some true old-fashioned world-buildy weird scifi, Greg Bear was a master, and Cryptum is pretty accessible because it's about Bornstellar the idiot Forerunner teenager who knows just as little about what's going on as you do.

If you like it and go forward there, I'd say the middle book, Primordium, is much slower paced because it's focused on one guy (Chakas) in particular walking around with some other characters on a spooky Halo, but the third book Silentium is this great apocalyptic log of the whole of Forerunner civilization coming the fuck apart and the Didact losing his goddamn mind. 10/10

....What else.

Oh fuck, I know what else.

Alright, so. I don't like the Kilo Five trilogy, which is the series Glasslands is the first book of. The writing is engaging, but it has... it's hard to say it in a short way without starting to pull out my red string conspiracy board of insanity live on camera, but 1) this book in particular severely mishandles the characters from Ghosts of Onyx and 2) it has this really uncomfortable vibe about ONI and "necessary evil" that I think it doesn't quite stick it in a way I'm cool with. tl;dr the fictional characters don't need to be good people doing good things and fiction isn't real and the author doesn't have to come out on stage and tell you BAD PEOPLE DOING BAD THINGS IS BAD in order for a book to be okay, but I just do not trust the way this author handles ONI for real-world reasons that have a lot to do with real-world military imperialism.

...Also if you disagree with her on anything, especially Halsey, prepare to get hit with a sledgehammer telling you that you shouldn't be having fun. But I'll try to be the bigger person here.

The main reason I would say Glasslands at all is mostly Jul 'Mdama, who really does not get any emotional weight anywhere else in Halo. He's just kind of a ragdoll they throw around to have a bad guy in Spartan Ops and the Escalation comics until killing him off in the first 2 seconds of Halo 5. But if you cared about his sons in Legacy, I think you will find the origin story of Jul and how he wound up in an extremist Sangheili sect (and how badly the UNSC treated him as a POW) interesting. (He's also in The Thursday War, which gets him to where he is when he goes to find the Didact. Up to you if you decide to continue for that.)

It also deals with getting characters out of the dyson sphere at Onyx right after that's been discovered. I'd say if you're interested in this one, definitely read Ghosts of Onyx first.

........OKAY I THINK THAT'S EVERYTH-

This is just to say that if you really liked the Halo But It's High School vibe of Legacy of Onyx, you might enjoy the actual Halo YA novel Battle Born where four scared high school kids and one (1) wounded Spartan-III who's only a little older them try to rescue a whole town from the Covenant. It's slow at the start, but it's short and I had a lot of fun.

DONE FOR REAL THIS TIME THANKS FOR READING HAVE FUN OUT THERE BYYYYYYE

[fluffypotatey]

SO. mythical j. sausage infodump time.

(note: i will only be talking about his empires smp s1 lore here bc that’s what im most familiar with, but just know that he’s one of the most lore-heavy CCs i watch, and it shows in his empires smp lore, which spans across like 3 different servers lol) (also btw: empires smp is a minecraft series in which 12-13 players each rule their own biome, or “empire,” and each has their own main item that they export, and have a monopoly on)

lord mythical j. sausage of mythland started out as a generally friendly and peaceful guy, but conflict quickly broke out between him and codfather jimmy, ruler of the neighboring swamp, over a series of escalating thefts and pranks. in this conflict, sausage teamed up with Wizard Gem of the crystal cliffs and Count fWhip of the grimlands, forming the Wither Rose Alliance. (note: these guys were so heavily sibling coded. it was fantastic)

within this alliance, sausage was often the odd one out. gem and fwhip’s empires were right next to each other, while mythland was a lot farther away, and it was also kind of their bit that gem and fwhip would mess with sausage a bit. also, there was the fact that gem had magic, and fwhip had cool tech, and sausage had neither of those things, instead dabbling in blood sacrifices and dark magic (both of which gem very much disapproved of).

this came to a head when xornoth, the demon menacing the server, trapped the wither rose alliance in the nether, and fwhip and gem decided to sacrifice sausage to reopen their portal and let them out. xornoth had been tempting sausage for some time at this point, so at this betrayal, he lashed out and eventually became fully corrupted, leaving the wither rose alliance.

oh shit this got long so i’ll sparknotes the rest:

after being corrupted, sausage would often black out, and during this time “dark sausage” (aka evil him with no morals or anything, fully corrupted) would start wreaking havoc

after leaving the WRA, his main allies were Farmer Queen Pearl (a later addition to the WRA, liked the demon bc he kept trying to kill her and it was like enrichment in her enclosure) and Joey of the Lost Empire (known monsterfucker, also corrupted by the demon)

many crimes later, he was eventually cleansed of his corruption when gem killed him with her magical staff. he was dead For Real for a while after that, and came back to life jesus style after taking a walk with his dog (actually a magical interdimensional being) through 5 of his past lives. since coming back he started getting prophetic dreams, and also rejoined the wither rose alliance

at the apocalyptic end of empires smp season 1 (which happened when count fwhip and codfather jimmy put salmon and cod into a power reactor together, causing a huge explosion that fractured the whole continent), sausage had to watch pearl, his best friend and the person who stayed by his side while he was at his worst, wither away in front of him as her empire burned (her life force was connected to her land, so when it died she did too) (it’s okay she canonically ascended to godhood lol) and then went home to find mythland overrun with the same (evil and magical btw) sheep that he used to sacrifice for his blood magic, and they were completely trashing the place.

and then he blew up in a magical explosion trying to get rid of all of the sheep and also his evil double, dark sausage (which you may remember from earlier- he split off from sausage when gem cleansed him of the corruption)

(also btw, empires smp is a vanilla server- all of the magic and cool tech and stuff were done through a combination of roleplay and a custom textures mod they added for immersion stuff)

this is barely touching on most of the roleplay and shenanigans that went on in empires smp season 1 btw. these are the important beats of sausage’s story but like. i haven’t even told you about the fishfuckers man. there’s so much. there were 12 players on this server and all of them had some absolutely wild shit happening. i didn’t even tell you about the human sacrifices sausage did

this is a vanilla server?????

[ohraicodoll]

Thank you so much for Red. It’s crazy how much I relate to her. We don’t live in a post apocalyptic world but we all live in our own worlds and sometimes it can feel like us vs them which Red helps me to navigate. She has helped me to feel less ashamed about the way my brain has turned out.

She’s so cathartic and has shown me that even when someone is as rough and ready, or completely rejecting of anything good that comes their way because they ‘don’t deserve it’ or that they will wreck it that some people could them her regardless. If that makes sense.

I especially love the new Tommy x Red friend post that just made me feel so fucking validated again! The way that Red has unusual ways of showing her love/gratitude and the people in her life just try to understand it until they do with no questioning!? To be loved in a way that is so accommodating and significant blows my mind. I know you’re writing fiction but sometimes discovering that this very specific thing is addressed and taken care of by another human being in the world is insane and has given me a bit of hope for my future.

It’s so soothing and Cathartic to read your work . I spent some of my childhood in survival mode and it never truly leaves you. You’ve written it so realistically I am in amazement with every piece of the puzzle you post.

I wish I had an ounce of your talent so that I could explain my love and gratitude for you in a way that was comprehensible. I’m sorry, I just had to say something now though, I’ve been having a weird couple of days and your writing is one of my only forms of escapism.

I am so interested in what inspired you to create such a specifically complex female character like her. I consume a lot of media, have read and literally studied the new era of woman (still hard to give them a specific name) and no character has ever come close to Red. Your talent blows my mind.

Thank you Sam.

Oh goodness, did you make me cry ❤❤

I'm so glad you feel seen and feel a bit of representation and catharsis with her. That's just all I can hope is that you all love the characters I create and the stories as much as I do. You've all kept me motivated and inspired to write her (especially as fast as I have haha).

The idea about Red came because I kinda got tired of only finding pure smut or timid characters in the TLOU fic tag. I love both but Tess was not timid and was more the dominant in the relationship. And I fully get that Joel radiates "I'll take care of you" dom energy but at this point in the apocalypse I doubt there would be many people left that didn't have some aggression in them or that need taking care of. I love character analysis too much to do the same type of character.

I've always been drawn to rage characters. I wrote a whole book series when I was a teen centered around one. And I think I wanted to go back to that since my character in my Sandman series is the opposite. Dahlia is an exploration of trauma responses, especially around acts of anger because that's what I experience. But I started writing with action and violence and someone who is angry all the time and motivated by rage and I wanted to go back to it because writing a character that lacks the moral responses to killing is fascinating. So often we get characters that regret or are remorseful around killing and I don't think that's Joel.

So it was a combo of just writing someone who doesn't regret her violence, doesn't regret killing, and has been alone in the wild for a long time focused only on surviving that they never thought they'd get more. Someone who is accepted for their violence and rage. And that's Red. She is a bunch of fractured pieces held together with string with no coping skills and Joel and Ellie love her either way.

There's the her before the Outbreak, the her that was broken by her sister (who she sees in Ellie), there's the her that was with her group, the her after being alone for years and years, and then the her with Joel and Ellie. Joel never shies away from her and may actually be drawn to her more because of it since there's a piece of that in him. This story is about being seen and accepting your ugliness.

I think being able to jump all over her timeline and continuously build her has been so wonderful and fun. Requests and prompts have been great in building her (though I do change some to make sure they fit the world and who she is). I fully acknowledge she's not a reader but an OC but I cannot write a character who is a blank slate because your past and history dictate your personality and actions (and tbh, most Readers are actually OC's without names or descriptions. I'm old, the x Reader/You thing is new but also just a relabeling of OC's)

I don't know how other writers write, but these characters fully inhabit me when I focus on them. It's why it's hard to switch between stories and characters at time because I can only see through their eyes. I feel their natural body movements, their conversations flow in my head and usually I have to race to write them down somewhere for later. Red is very much a part of me and it's been a joy to explore her and bring her to you all.

So much love and thankfulness to you all ❤❤

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Some more random thoughts about "The Lost Slayer" Buffy series. But I'm going to break from the norm I've adopted for this series so far and not put everything under a "read more" this time. So, major spoilers for that entire series ahead, beware. If you want to read the series yourself and don't want anything spoiled for it, you probably want to stop reading now.

Buffy and Willow's friendship in the saga--despite the awkwardness in it, and it getting a little fractured a bit--means the world to me. Mainly in that, even with all that, they work things out and still remain the best of friends. And the fact that Willow stayed in the thick of things in the horrible, apocalyptic universe for Buffy, according to Oz kills me. Kills me! -sobs-

Willow and Oz breaking up in the future--because Oz had to kill Willow's vampire-ified parents to save her, Xander, and himself from them, and then Willow not being able to forgive him for that--breaks my heart. But I also think it makes sense, of course. It reminds me a bit of some Fred and Gunn stuff in AtS. And that one line in the book where Willow thought something about, "She couldn't imagine her life without Oz," or whatever, made me think, "That could be foreshadowing that Oz is eventually going to leave her here in S4, sadly, but I also think it's more than that." And I was right. It was this whole Willow not being able to forgive him in this AU, and them breaking up for that reason thing. And I really liked that foreshadow and how this whole thing was set up.

Speaking of Oz, I really loved seeing him in this book and it makes me wish we'd gotten to see more of him in S4. I know it's impossible, because Seth Green wanted off the show, but I guess that's what things like this are for:)

Backing up a bit... Holy crap, the fact that Willow's parents tried to kill her (a second time for Willow's mom, after the "Gingerbread" thing) is so fucked up, and must be so traumatizing for Wills. Ahh! Poor Willow! This whole thing gives me so many feelings.

So, there's a moment where Buffy kisses Xander in here, and while not being a Buffy/Xander shipper (I don't really think the author Christopher Golden is, either), I was more than okay with it. I got the feeling that it was moreso Buffy trying to give Xander something to hold onto/look forward to, because he'd changed so much and become so depressed after everything they'd lost, largely after his losing Anya. And she thought if she didn't, he might go into the upcoming battle in a very reckless and almost suicidal way. (And Buffy thought Angel was dead at this point, so why not give Xander hope and perhaps try to move on with him, maybe?) And fortunately, she was able to reach him. But Xander still died:(

And ahh! His death killed me! And his funeral was so sad! And I think it's fitting that that's the thing that made Buffy and Willow adamant that they were going to find a way for Buffy to go back and fix things.

I also really appreciated the scene where Buffy avenged Kendra, even though I see Dru as a victim of her circumstances (something I really got into in the tags of another post).

Somewhat off-topic of this, but on the topic of Dru, I suppose, The SpikeDru in this book was also great.

And then Wesley thinking about how he'd actually really respected Giles and Giles' attitude towards the Council, and hated to see what had become of Giles as a vampire and the Big Bad of this series... and all the things Wesley in general in this book, really. He's so good here!

And Faith was so awesome! And led the Slayer front for five years while Buffy was imprisoned! And tried to save Joyce from getting killed from Spike, but alas. (And Joyce even came to Buffy in her dreams and told her that Faith tried to save her, before Spike killed them both [also, it's super depressing that in this universe Spike of all people kills Joyce]).

...That's all I can think of right now. There might be stuff I forgot to mention.

Edit: Oh. And the "The Freshman"/"City Of..." parallel we got here, when Buffy thought about calling Angel, but hanging up and not talking to him--because she doesn't know if she'll have the strength to talk to him--in just needing to hear his voice after he'd died in the horrible apocalyptic future she'd seen, that thankfully she's now stopped.

[caranox]

omg yes a thread for me to collect books frommmmm

I'll also drop mine in here...

Seraphine's Chosen, Epic LGBTQ+ Scifi Fantasy

I keep comping this series as SIX OF CROWS meets CITY OF STAIRS for books, but I think it's better described as "imagine Final Fantasy 15 meets Persona 5."

In a fractured fantasy world advancing into the future, technology has replaced most of what’s left of the magic that once brightened its dark corners. Now with darkness looming over the horizon once again, Noa, a killer-for-hire, has been charged with unlocking the special vault that can bring magic back. The catch? There are thirteen keys scattered throughout the world that she’ll have an easier time stealing than convincing everyone she’s worthy of the task.

THE THIRTEENTH KEY (Book #1)

THE VAULT (Book #2)

The Custodians, LGBTQ+ Urban Fantasy

Think SHADOWHUNTERS meets ADDIE LARUE with a dash of Disney+'s Loki series.

Evie Thatcher is an exhausted, resilient third-year college student dealing with the recent loss of her clock-tinkering grandfather. So when she accidentally manages to rewind a small moment of time, she uncovers that he neglected to share a family secret with her—one that ties her to fate-orchestrating secret society behind the curtain of her previous reality. And someone lurking within wants her dead.

TRICK (Book #1)

The Wild Hunt, Achillean (M/M) Romantic Fantasy

In a post-apocalyptic world reclaimed by the fae, Grey and Noel must learn to work together to escape the Wild Hunt. But what begins as an uneasy partnership between a blood-manipulating hemomancer and a blade-wielding macharomancer slips dangerously close to dependency—something the fair folk would love nothing more than to prey on.

A Hunt of Blood & Iron (Book #1)

A Trial of Wrath & Ruin (Book #2, currently serializing on Patreon—sorry, no physical release yet)

i want to read more books from people on here, and unfortunately, i struggle a lot with online reading. it’s much better for me to actually have the text on page in front of me.

SO!!!! this is an open call for all my tumblr writer friends to link/promote their published, purchasable books here! let me buy them and put them on my bookshelf please

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

Armageddon is coming, and this is her final stand.Preorder Reality Bites by Lia Davis now!

Universal: https://geni.us/RealityBites The end is near.

In the wake of Vassago’s deadly game, Randi endures a lull almost worse than another tango with Stone. Her paranoia feeds on the quiet, filling the silence with fears of Shade reprisal. Sure, the Vampire Council is rebuilding, her once-dead husband has come home, and she’s got time again to spend with her son, Logan.

But what are her enemies up to?

It doesn’t help matters when her new friend, Misty Drake, reports fractures in the unholy alliance that point to possible Shade spies. And then there’s the dead John Doe case, which seemed at first to be a garden variety mob hit but reveals magical connections.

When the investigation dovetails with Shade machinations, Randi slowly uncovers Stone’s biggest plot yet. But Shade spies and secret agents abound, thwarting Randi at every turn. Attacks, betrayals, subterfuge, and a hurricane brewing off the coast of Florida conspire to try and defeat Randi and her coalition of the middle.

When the storm makes landfall, Armageddon comes to Jacksonville. With the help of her two lovers, Cash and Kalon, as well as new allies and old friends, Randi prepares to make the final stand.

The last chapter in the Shade saga packs a punch of apocalyptic proportions. The ultimate battle for the middle unfolds in an epic and emotional climax that will put Randi Sanderson’s strength, heart, and soul to the test.

#teaser #teasershare #comingsoon #bookpreorder #preorder #sneakpeek #realitybites #randisanderson #urbanfantasy #romanticurbanfantasy #paranormalfiction #supernaturalfiction #fantasyfiction #books #readers #reading #booklovers #bookbuzz #booknews

About Lia:

Lia Davis is the USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books, including her fan favorite Ashwood Falls Series. A lifelong fan of magic, mystery, romance and adventure, Lia's novels feature compassionate alpha heroes and strong leading ladies, plenty of heat, and happily-ever-afters.

Lia makes her home in Northeast Florida where she battles hurricanes and humidity like one of her heroines. When she's not writing, she loves to spend time with her family, travel, read, enjoy nature, and spoil her kitties.  She also loves to hear from her readers. Send her a note at lia@authorliadavis.com!

Follow Lia Online:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LY50TH

BookBub: http://bit.ly/2N3X2dS

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2H7mhbL

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2mdNlOG

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Website: https://authorliadavis.com

[fightfil]

To celebrate making it through 2022, I thought I'd go over a few of the books and media that I enjoyed the most this year, so that others might be able to enjoy them in the next. A round-up of sorts, and a chance to reflect as well.

We can start with books, since we all love them. I've been driving a lot more in 2022 than I had in previous years, since I go to activities that are all a 30 minute drive away, and audiobooks have been what's let me eat up those highway miles.

I read 27 books (all fiction) this year, totalling 14,000 pages! That's more than I would have thought, reflecting back, but I think I enjoyed almost all of them.

I'll start with some honorable mentions, books that I really enjoyed, but aren't superlative enough for me to laud them unreservedly.

For series:

I have a few honorable mention series:

The Bone Witch is a trilogy by Rin Chupeco about a geisha-like society of mages, the politics of nations, and undead 3-headed dragons. Told in a twin narrative of present and past, it kept me on the edge of my seat. Emily Woo Zeller is one of the narrators, and I love her style, so it was a fun romp! There even is representation with a trans secondary character and a queer couple of sidekicks.

The Stormlight Archive: Brandon Sanderson's ginormous sprawling fantasy epic was a good way to let my audible credits catch up when I was finishing shorter books too quickly. There's so much going on in his worlds. I don't think I can give any real synopsis of the books without that taking over this post, so I won't even try.

The First Sister Trilogy by Linden A. Lewis: A very queer space series with post-apocalyptic humanity that's spread out in the inner solar system, with creepy religions, cybernetic dystopias and a looming AI. It's world-building was knocked out of the park.

And for single books, the honorable mentions are:

The City of Dusk, by Tara Sim: Technically this is also a series, but only the first book is out. The four heirs (and some younger siblings) of the magic houses in an isolated realm fight their gods. I read it back in May, so I don't remember it perfectly, but it was very fun.

Ocean's Echo, by Everina Maxwell: A gay disaster failson learns to become competent at the edge of a sword, and uncovers space mysteries while being infected by alien tech, fighting of a coup, and falling madly in love with a soldier.

Two one-off books (or firsts in series) that I really enjoyed, and are superlatively well-crafted are:

Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao:

Mecha Sci-Fi with a deep re-imagining of Chinese History and Mythology creates a great backdrop for a power fantasy gone-wrong. A ruthless girl who's mental fortitude is her greatest strength starts with a quest for revenge on the mech pilot who killed her sister by over-taxing her mind in a battle.

As she undermines the misogynistic dynamics of their society, she has to amass a powerbase and acquires a ride-or-die OT3. This is probably the single most fun book of the year. Definitely a lot of cackling with glee while listening to it in the car.

The Unbroken, by C.L. Clark:

A dark post-colonial story about a soldier who was conscripted by the colonizing nation and only now returning to her homeland for the first time as an adult. When she stops an assassination attack on the princess by a member of the local resistance, all hell breaks loose. As she and the princess navigate the fractured landscape and their even more fraught ties to their families, we get a very intimate and visceral view at the brutality of empire.

There are magics at the outskirts of the world, and the dueling powers of civilization and the arcane is just one of the many fronts in this war.

To me, this story has one of the pinnacles of a well-executed enemies-to-lovers arcs. I whole-heartedly recommend it. If not for the series I'll talk about next, this would have been my favorite book of 2022.

My two superlative series are:

Rook & Rose (starting with The Mask of Mirrors), by M.A. Carrick:

I've talked about these ones at length. They've probably become my favorite books of all time. M.A. Carrick is the pen name for a duo of writers: Marie Brennan and Alyc Helms. Infused with many magics, the city-state of Nadežra provides a gloriously tense backdrop for a colonial conflict, a long con, intrigue and masquerade parties.

Pulling off a main character with dual identities is no mean feat, but it's done exceedingly well, and I just cannot emphasize enough how much you all just have to read these books if they sound like they might float your boat.

The Serpent Gates (starting with The Unspoken Name), by A.K. Larkwood:

This is another series I've not been able to suppress my urge to recommend. I'll include my previous recommendation blurb, because I don't think I can top that now:

A story about someone raised to be a sacrifice to their god, breaking free from their programming and learning to have a life of her own, it's really well done and the prose, while a little odd at first, really helps sell it as it subtly changes throughout the book.

Alchemical airships link dying worlds across a labyrinthine realm and connect different fantasy races with their own gods, cultures and magics.

The writer is in a writing group with Tamsyn Muir, the author of the The Locked Tomb books, and there are definitely some underpinnings that bring them together.

[seaofthesoul]

Hi friends ✨ I was tagged by @enbymoomin @korre @ashinlae @fractured-ice and @yilinglaozu in a few tag games, thank you so much! 🌈🦋

—tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Favourite colour: green in all shades, pink and purple 💚💗💜

Currently reading: haven’t had the energy to open a book in ages rip, only been reading a bit of fic here and there :’)

Last song: Stray Kids - MANIAC 🔥

Last series: currently watching Alchemy of Souls, Love Between Fairy and Devil and Joy of Life - obsessed obsessed obsessed with the first two 😭👌💕 

Last movie: can’t really remember 🥲 these days, I almost never watch movies and focus my attention on shows instead

Currently working on: world-building for my fics 🥺

—10 characters, 10 fandoms, 10 tags

Let’s go with a few fandoms (aka kdramas and cdramas haha) I’ve recently been invested in 🌸 

Love Between Fairy and Devil - Dongfang Qingcang

Alchemy of Souls - Crown Prince / Go Won

Beyond Evil - Han Ju-won

Arthdal Chronicles - Saya

Joy of Life - Fan Ruoruo

Who Rules the World - Feng Qiwu

Legend of Fei - Wu Chuchu

—works in progress

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it, and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I don’t actually have any wips atm 😭 But I can give you the title of three short stories I wrote not too long ago for a mini-series I’m doing about two ocs 💖

running deep

doors wide open

when the cicadas sing

—this or that?

hot shower or cold shower // texting or calling // earbuds or headphones // paperback or hardcover // matte or gel // 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrises // tulips or orchids // candle light or moonlight // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencil // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // chocolate or sour candy // deodorant or perfume // drive-in movie theater or the cinema // pastel colors or neutral earth tones // lemonade or fruit juice // past or future //

—this or that? tropes edition

slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

For anyone who hasn’t done it yet and would be interested, I also created a fantasy this-or-that a while ago 👀✨

I’m tagging everyone who tagged me + @amantisegreti @technicallysideacc @byallaccountsitdoesntmakesense @no-straightlines @baichoufeis @hendery @stregaorionis to do whatever part of this you want 🥰💛

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 20

read on ao3 (111K words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter 20: 'No Sound But The Wind'

Joel’s POV: 

“Get her on the table, now.” 

Joel staggered towards the metal surface elevated in the middle of the room; his steps were quick, brutal, and unrelenting. He cradled Juliet against his chest with a gentleness that warred with the fury etched in every fine line on his face.

When he reached the table he stopped, towering over it, reluctant to let go of the woman in his arms. Joel couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of his nose. It lingered in the air, choking him with every breath. He heard Ethan shout another command, urging him to lay Juliet’s broken body on the medic’s table. But Joel was getting sick of Ethan’s orders, and he had vowed to keep Juliet safe. He couldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t lose the reassurance of her shallow breaths against his chest.

“Joel! Put her down, we’re running out of time,” begged Ethan.

Joel’s eyes cut to Ethan standing over the metal table with gloves and a stack of gauze. He was right, they didn’t have long. Any minute now someone was going to find the three bodies they left at the armoury or stumble across the mess left at Juliet’s house. But how could he let her go? He would protect her, he would keep her from any more suffering. 

Joel knew that he was being selfish, allowing his caveman instincts to control him, but he was still high on adrenaline and that burning rush through his bloodstream told him to hold tight to Juliet and kill anyone who dared take her from him. 

Finally, Joel's gaze pointed downwards and he flinched.

He caught sight of the dried blood crusted around her ear and the bruises blossoming on her jaw. Then his eyes dropped lower and he was reminded of the blood that drowned her entire torso, soaking her flannel. Joel tightened his grip, pulling Juliet a bit closer to his chest.

Then his eyes moved to his own hands. Blood coated them so brutally that there was no hint of the tanned skin beneath. Joel flexed his fingers and felt the strain of his fractured knuckles. They were the hands that killed Juliet’s father, they were the hands that protected Juliet; saved her. But they were also the hands that brought her here, that fought infected and raiders across the country to bring her to her own personal hell. 

Joel finally released the choked breath caught in his throat and allowed Ethan’s voice to tune back into his mind. He leaned down and rested Juliet on the cold metal surface of the examination table, but he didn’t step back. Joel rested a hand on her shoulder as Ethan rushed around him. 

His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She hadn’t woken yet and terror surrounded Joel’s heart at the thought of never again seeing the warmth of her brown eyes. His hand on her shoulder began to tremble and Joel dipped his gaze to her chest as he concentrated on counting her slow breaths. 

Joel watched as Ethan cut open her soiled shirt. Each slice of the knife revealed more of the horror that etched Juliet’s skin. Joel felt his other hand curl against the metal table, demonstrating his excruciating rage. His breaths were fast and heavy. 

He wished he had taken longer with Elijah, dragged out his torture, relished in it more. Joel’s rage was a vicious thing. It was always there, lingering under his skin, building until it eventually found its release. And Joel’s fury had burned for a long, long time before his fist finally met Elijah’s face. Joel poured months of frustration, months of fear, months of pure blazing rage into each punch. 

With every hit, the image of Juliet’s motionless body flashed white across his vision, fueling his assault. All Joel could focus on was killing, ending the life that had ended Juliet’s. But when he saw the brand on her stomach, Joel wished he had taken his time with Elijah. 

Joel’s mind returned to the present when Ethan poured some liquid over Juliet’s wound and he was forced to watch as her skin hissed and blistered. Joel’s head shot up, his eyes wild as he found Ethan’s returning gaze. 

“I’m cleaning it,” Ethan reassured. 

Joel had no words to vocalise the threats that crawled up his throat and coated his tongue. His mind was entirely consumed by the woman lying on the table. If Joel were to speak right now, he was sure he would start yelling. Joel didn’t think he’d be able to stop. 

Instead, Joel threatened Ethan with his murderous stare, following his every movement as he cleaned and dressed Juliet’s wound. Ethan’s hands started to tremble under the weight of Joel’s savage attention. 

Minutes crawled by. Joel’s hand didn’t leave Juliet’s shoulder. Without realising, his bloodstained thumb had started to rub across a bare patch of skin near her neck. It moved in soothing circles as Joel unconsciously savoured the feeling of her warm skin, reminding him that she was still alive, that she was still with him. 

Just as Ethan was pressing the bandage against her wound, the office door swung open, revealing the bartender from only hours ago. Joel twisted around, shielding Juliet’s unconscious body with his own. 

The bartender was out of breath, bending forward to rest his hands on his thighs as he gasped. Joel caught Ethan’s eyes before his gaze returned to the bartender. The man was standing straight again, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair. 

“What did you do?” he demanded through deep breaths, staring at Joel. 

Joel shifted to cover more of Juliet’s body but the bartender caught his movement. He shot Joel a shocked look then stepped closer. Joel instantly reached for the shotgun still hanging from his shoulder, a clear warning to stay away from the woman behind him.

The bartender raised his hands and Joel eased his grip, allowing the gun to fall from his shoulder again. 

“I saved her,” Joel ground out, the first words he’d uttered since the basement. His voice was low and flat, entirely devoid of feeling. Joel felt no guilt over his actions, only a deep, brutal fear for Juliet. 

The bartender’s gaze found Ethan, standing behind the table, his hand hovered over the fresh bandage which now covered almost the entirety of Juliet’s stomach. Ethan nodded to the bartender, his chin dipping solemnly. “Elijah’s dead,” he announced in a quiet voice. 

The bartender's whole body flinched as his eyes cut to Joel again. He didn’t look angry, just shocked. But that shock transformed into horror when he finally noticed Juliet’s wounds. The man’s eyes filled with tears as he took slow, shaky steps towards them. Joel allowed it this time, having assessed that the bartender held no hostility towards them. 

“Juliet,” the bartender gasped out with a cry. 

“She’s alive,” Ethan responded quickly. 

“Barely,” Joel cut in, his hand moving to his gun.  “We need to get her outta here.”

The bartender swallowed before meeting Joel’s dark eyes. “They found the bodies in the armoury,” he stated. “A group was headed towards Elijah’s house when I left, if they don’t know he’s dead already, they will soon.” 

Joel nodded, having expected this. “Anyone still at the armoury?” he asked, curling his fingers around his gun, ignoring the pain blazing across his knuckles. 

“No,” the bartender replied, shaking his head. “A few of them took the bodies and the rest left to go find Elijah.”

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. Then he turned, checking for another rise and fall of Juliet’s chest before he caught Ethan’s questioning stare.

“Can you run?” Joel asked as he moved to slide a hand under Juliet’s neck.

“What? We can’t just leave like this,” Ethan protested, rounding the table.

Joel pinned him with a lethal stare before reaching his other hand under Juliet’s knees and lifting her to his chest. For a split second, with the feel of Juliet’s body against his own, Joel released a breath of relief.

“Stop” Ethan demanded, his gaze cut between Joel and the bartender. “She’s not fit to travel, I’ve only bandaged the burn. We have no idea what other injuries she might have.”

Joel physically flinched at his words, then the anger started to build beneath his skin again. “That’s why I’m gettin’ her out this fuckin' town,” Joel growled, pushing past Ethan and the bartender as he stalked towards open door with Juliet pressed against his chest. 

Out in the night air, Joel’s pace started to quicken, heading in the direction of the armoury. There were more guns, more ammo, and most importantly, there was a truck to get them out of the town. Fear and anger fueled his stride as he tucked Juliet closer to his chest. He didn’t look back, not to see if Ethan had stayed in the medic’s office or if he had started to follow them. 

Joel would leave Ethan in a heartbeat. Joel had Juliet; she was all he needed to be able to leave. Ethan was the reason Juliet was forced back to this mess.

Joel’s own guilt always lessened when he placed the blame on someone else. 

But Joel knew that Juliet cared for Ethan, enough to sacrifice her life and freedom for him. So, when Joel began to hear footsteps running to catch up with him, he didn’t let his anger win. He just allowed Ethan to follow as they raced across the grass towards their ticket out. 

……………………………………………………………..

Juliet’s POV:

Juliet could hear voices.

They were definitely male voices but it sounded like they were underwater. Everything sounded distorted. There was a ringing that echoed in her ears and a rumbling that shook her body. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids wouldn’t move, not even to twitch in response to her brain’s firm instructions. 

Before Juliet could begin to panic, another wave of unconsciousness washed over her.

………………………………………………….

“Take the next left,” a voice said.

Juliet heard the words this time, they still sounded strange but they were legible. There was something familiar about the voice but Juliet couldn’t place it. It made her feel younger, safe, comfortable. She could hear the crinkle of paper moving, Juliet assumed it was a map.

She must be in a car. 

“Yeah? If you wanna get us killed. I’m goin’ straight,” another voice argued back. This one was older, deeper, darker. Juliet recognised it too, except this voice sent a pulse of warmth through her. This voice was angry and almost frightening but it made Juliet desperate to wake up and find the man who sent the chill down her spine. 

She didn’t get a chance because, soon after, the voices faded and the darkness returned. 

…………………………………………………………

When Juliet awoke again, the car had stopped. 

Her eyes blinked open but the darkness remained. Had she lost her vision? Was it night? The multitude of questions started to seep into Juliet’s, still fuzzy, mind. 

The voices were gone, there was no sound but the wind striking against the vehicle. 

Juliet started to blink rapidly as her heart rate picked up. Where was she? Why was it so dark? Why was her stomach starting to burn?

A fierce pain began to consume her torso, extending down to her ankles, across to her wrists and then up to the entire left side of her face. Soon, Juliet’s entire body was engulfed in an inferno of agony. 

Her breaths came quicker as the panic set in. She couldn’t remember what had happened, why she was in so much pain or why she was alone in a vehicle. There was no space in her mind to begin untangling those thoughts. Her pain consumed everything. Every breath was agony, her stomach contracted as a vicious blaze continued to burn across her skin.

Juliet started to moan, quietly at first, then, as the pain grew, her cries got louder. Tears started to leak from the corner of her eyes, dripping down onto the seats she lay across. A sob choked out of her and Juliet gasped out a quiet cry for help. 

As the plea left her mouth, the car door behind her head flew open. Juliet blinked through tears, attempting to see who now stood above her. From the position she lay in, the figure was upside down, holding a torch. Juliet realised it was a man, but she couldn’t see his face. 

Juliet began to thrash and cry louder, begging her weak muscles to move. She had to do something, get out of her vulnerable position. Fear consumed the pain in her body.

Then, the man’s voice cut through her terror and Juliet instantly stilled.

“Shh. It’s alright, you’re with me,” he soothed. 

The man brought the torch forward and his face was illuminated in a warm yellow glow. Juliet gasped and another sob released through her clenched jaw.

“Joel?” she cried. Juliet’s body sagged in relief as the hot tears continued to pour from her eyes. For a second, she forgot about the pain and focused entirely on Joel’s dark eyes. He stared down at her with his permanent scowl, his jaw was rock hard and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. But his eyes were soft and glossy, watching her with a mixture of shock and a look she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s me. You’re with me,” Joel repeated, his voice rough. 

Juliet nodded through sobs but the tilt of her head caused a wave of dizziness to attack her and she stilled all movements, breathing heavy. 

“Don’t move,” Joel ordered and shot a look behind him. 

“What happened?” Juliet whispered. Her memories still escaped her, she couldn’t remember anything beyond Joel.

Through the torchlight, Juliet watched a muscle jump in Joel’s jaw as his gaze returned to her. “Don’t think just now,” he commanded, his voice like steel. 

Juliet’s mouth began to dry. Something was very wrong. That underwater feeling started to return but she didn’t feel like she would pass out again, instead Juliet felt her mind drift away. Without intending to, she disobeyed Joel’s order as flashes of her memories began to return. 

Juliet remembered, with a flinch, returning home to her father.

She remembered, with a sickening churn of her stomach, the chair in the basement. 

She remembered that her father had taken Ethan from her, turned him against her.

She remembered the slap of the bible against her face.

Then… she remembered the hot poker. 

And the smell of burning flesh.

Her burning flesh.

Nausea washed over her and Juliet felt herself shift, struggling to sit up. The consumption of her memories had dulled the pain a little. Her body felt so far away. Juliet was still trapped in her past. 

Strong hands captured her struggling limbs, lifting her to a seated position. A rough hand caught her head before it rolled to the side. A calloused thumb brushed over her cheek. 

Juliet opened her eyes into Joel’s. He looked at her with unrestrained terror, his stare wide and intense. But his touch was gentle and his body, now seated beside her, was warm.

“It hurts, Joel,” Juliet whispered as her teeth caught her trembling bottom lip in an attempt to stop another sob from escaping. She wasn’t sure herself if she meant the pain in her body or the agony in her mind. 

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows deepened and his eyes dropped to her bloodied lips.

“I know, baby,” he murmured in a low voice as his thumb moved to brush over her mouth, gently releasing her bottom lip from the grip of her teeth. 

For a long moment, they stared at each other and everything else fell away. Juliet forgot about the pain, she forgot about her past, she forgot about her questions. All she could focus on was the look in Joel’s eyes and the creases on his forehead she was so desperate to soothe. His eyes were wide and open, his expression was defenceless. Juliet could see every ripple of terror, hope and anger glide across his face.  

Juliet opened her mouth, words waited on her tongue. Joel followed the movement with his thumb, refusing to leave her lips without his touch. 

But before Juliet could speak, the door to her right opened and the shutters fell on Joel’s face once more. Juliet turned her head, fear gripping her, and her gaze instantly met green eyes she knew all too well. Green eyes which had once been her symbol of hope. Green eyes she thought she would never see again.

Ethan. 

Juliet screamed.  

“No, no, no,” she began to cry as she frantically pressed herself against Joel. No, this couldn’t be happening. Her father had taken Ethan from her. Her father had turned him against her. He was here to take her back to him.

That underwater feeling began to consume her again. Juliet’s memory was hazy and her mind was still ravaged by pain and confusion. But she remembered what her father had said, she remembered what he had done to Ethan, the loyal follower he had turned him into.

Elijah had threatened her with Ethan and she had learned never to take her father’s threats lightly.

In the murky waters of her mind, Juliet was terrified of Ethan. 

“Juliet?” Ethan asked frantically, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

Before Ethan could lean in any closer towards her, a figure suddenly slammed him against the side of the car, shaking the entire vehicle.

Juliet realised, with a shocked gasp, that the figure was Joel. She hadn’t even noticed he had left her side. Juliet’s thoughts were so scattered, her mind was floating away from her, all she could remember was the soul crushing sadness etched with despair when she had heard of Ethan’s fate. But she wouldn’t let Ethan bring her back to her father, she wouldn’t go through that again. 

As her mind started to focus again, she began to hear Joel and Ethan. Joel had him pinned to the car, an arm against his throat. 

“What did you do to her?” Joel growled.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” Ethan croaked out, struggling against Joel’s grip.

Their voices grew quieter and Juliet couldn’t hear them anymore, but she watched Joel loosen his grip on Ethan and dart his eyes towards her.

After a moment, she listened closer and Juliet was able to make out their harsh words.

“Elijah must have said something to her, tried to convince her I was on his side,” Ethan ground out, practically spitting at Joel. “I told you he tried to turn me against her, get me to join his cause but his brainwashing didn’t work, I swear it.”

Joel took a step back but his eyes didn’t leave Ethan’s face, the wind swirled around them, blowing through Joel’s hair. He looked conflicted, his lips pursed and his jaw clenched with indecision. 

Juliet didn’t know what to make of what she heard. Everything was still so fuzzy, she couldn’t remember everything that had happened in the basement. There were only flashes of horror that blinded her as they attacked her mind. She needed answers, she had to know what was going on.

Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, attempting to clear her head enough to make sense of Joel and Ethan’s conversation. Her fear of Ethan had begun to ease. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe her father had lied to her. Maybe Ethan hadn’t changed. 

She blinked and felt tears settle on her eyelashes. Juliet was so tired, and everything hurt. She just wanted to return to that black nothingness, but she fought against it, desperate to hear more.

“Why’d he tell her that? What was his goal?” Joel demanded as he ran a hand over his jaw.

“Fear, submission, intimidation. I don’t fucking know. All I know is that Elijah loved to play games with Juliet. He had her so messed up in the head,” Ethan explained, his voice desperate.

Ethan began to turn towards her but stopped himself, sighing quietly, then he dropped his voice lower.

“The man is dead and he’s still playing his fucked up mind games with her,” he murmured, his voice thick with sympathy. 

Juliet choked out a strangled gasp. If she had enough power in her arms, she would have covered her face, dug the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw stars. 

Her father… dead?

She was thankful for the cushioned seat that caught her head when the darkness consumed her once more.

________________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

THE A-TEAM ; PART 7 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: Now stranded on Lamentis with two of the worst variants, you find it difficult to decide whether Loki is potentially empathetic to others around him. A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t updated in awhile and for posting this slow-moving and kinda uneventful chapter but I promise you, it’s vital for the next chapter as it explains a few things. Please tell me what you think so far and maybe theories? (idk if yall have any lol) gif from this gifset by @kamalaskhans WARNINGS: Swearing. Loki being a jerk. Loki and Sylvie support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Vertigo strikes you more often than you enjoy. The sensation of everything that encompasses, spinning in tandem with your mind. It’s the work you deal with that constantly sends your brain reeling because the complexity of time travel and time itself sometimes becomes too much to handle. Yet, this isn’t vertigo caused by an existential crisis. It’s nausea from the throbbing gash on your cheek and the numbness of your entire face from the fall through the time door.

For a split second, as your body surges through the door in mid-air, you have a vision, a series of flashing images—crimson eyes blinking before you, the sea, the Sun and fire.

Then, it’s gone and you land with a loud thump.

Your head hurts. Your face hurts. Everything hurts.

A groan escapes your lips, muffled with your face to the ground. You attempt to seize yourself up but immediately halt as your hand seems to come into contact with a shirt-like material. Too soft for it to be the ground unless you are on a mattress. Nothing seems to make sense anyway because a second ago, you had a knife to your throat and another, you are falling.

Deciding that maneuvering in the darkness of your shut eyes isn’t going to give you answers, they flutter open, adjusting to the lightness and hues of your surroundings. Then, every muscle of yours freezes with the realization that it is not the ground you had landed on as you meet another’s eyes with the same stricken gaze, staring back at you. Loki, in a rather unfortunate position, lays beneath you.

Momentarily, time passes like a goddamn laggard.

You can hear and feel every ragged breath he takes. Suddenly, you find yourself swallowing.

What a great time to stab him in the chest if you had a knife right now.

Yet, the moment passes as the tension severely thickens and your anxiety starts to creep onto you with the sudden awareness of your unknown surroundings. Purplish hues can never be good. You continue to seize yourself up in the effort to get back on your feet albeit legs feeling weak when you unceremoniously jab his rib with your elbow and you hear Loki wince from below you.

“Woman! Why are your elbows so sharp?!” Loki shrieks through a series of grunts. In a swift movement, his hands are on either side of your shoulders, shoving you off him. You land hard on your back, head slamming onto something metallic as it clangs with the impact. You groan, hand flying to your head as you eye the God with sharp eyes. “Ow!” you yell but then hear the same exclamation echo from another’s lips—the fugitive variant. You seemed to have kicked her in the knee.

In your peripheral vision, there’s a certain glint that catches your eyes. It’s the tempad, sitting idly amongst the dark gravel. Before you could even begin to pull yourself up from the ground, you are being hauled once more as the blonde climbs over you to reach for the device. But, Loki is quick to grab her by the foot, yanking her away with force.

“Get off my foot!” she growls as Loki attempts to make an expeditious crawl towards the device. He manages to snag it but, the Goddess hoists his head onto a nearby desk with a loud clang.

She already has it within her grasp as you’re struggling to lift yourself.

“Goodbye, variants.” she spits, voice course. If it weren’t for your throbbing migraine and the sting from the open wound along your cheek, you would have properly realized she referred to you as a variant. Well, she’s not wrong to a certain extent.

Yet, she’s still here and no timedoor appears.

“You’re outta juice!” Miss Minutes’ American Southern accent mechanically echoes from the tempad in an almost eerily way followed by repetitive low beeps. You watch her repeatedly stab the screen with slightly wide panicked eyes. “It’s not working,” she says, expression growing anxious with every passing minute.

Loki manages to gracefully stand on his own two feet, even after a brutal hit to his skull, and unexpectedly bends over to you and offers an outstretched hand. You don't say anything, taking it as he hauls you up with a hand to your back as leverage. In an attempt to steady yourself, you instinctively grab his shoulder

Then, you find yourself being yanked by the sleeve and a knife to your throat once again.

She has a scowl imprinted on her face, eyes blazing with frustration and rage.

“Give me your tempad,” she snarls, face close to yours. You can feel the edge of the knife grazing your neck with every inhale. A nervous laugh escapes your lips, eyeing the shine of the blade. “Do you really want to do that?”

For a moment, her face falls, yet it’s gone the next second. She pushes the blade closer. If you breathe, there’s going to be blood. “Give me your tempad or I’ll slice your throat,” she threatens and with your erratic heart pounding in your chest, you manage to cry out.

“I don’t have a tempad!”

“She doesn’t have a tempad!”

You and Loki exclaimed synchronically and shared a look. As far as you were concerned, only Renslayer and Mobius knew about the confiscation of your tempad because it was embarrassing enough to be the only analyst to be called to court. You have so many questions but right now, you should be thinking about how your one slash away from being decapitated.

You feel his grip on your back tighten and within a split second, everything changes around you.

Your surroundings have changed, her knife is no longer on your neck. Magically, you have been transported across the room, facing her back. Loki releases his hold on you and shoves the blonde to the side as she tumbles into a storage shelf.

Your stomach churns unannounced, feeling like the floors are spinning below you as you try to wrap around the fact that you were on the other end of the room a while ago and now you’re here. Transportation or whatever the hell it was, made your insides feel like it's about to spew out of your mouth.

“Never do that again,” you groan, holding your abdomen. Meanwhile, Loki has plucked the tempad from the ground and the other doesn’t seem to want to take the hint that fighting isn’t going to do any good to the situation.

“Just give it back to me. You don’t even know how to recharge it.”

“Well, I do.” you chirp and she eyes you with a scowl. “And so does he. You’re not the only tech-savvy Loki.”

“Don’t call me that!”

You and Loki shoot a bewildered look her way.

“Tech-savvy?”

You swing your head to look at the God who shares an expression equivalent to your own, silently raising the only reasonable question at the moment: What the fuck?

Once again, both of your minds seem to be working in tandem as the two of you echo the same question at the same time like two peas in a fucking pod.

“No. A Loki.” Her gaze shifts between the two of you as she shifts in her stance ready to pounce. Yet, as she does, you see that flicker of green magic appear. In a blink of an eye, the tempad disappears. You suddenly grow worried.

“Loki, where’s tempad?—”

“So, you’re just fully a magician then?” The blonde cuts you off with a mocking tone, snarl directed towards Loki. You watch how his shoulders stiffen at her words.

“Fine. For my next trick,” from his grasp emerges a pair of daggers. “I’ll make you disappear.”

“Woah, Woah. Okay. Now, hang on—” as you were forcing yourself between the two, a shot of flame whizzes just about an inch away from your face, from above. You yelp at the sudden streak of fire right before your eyes as you watch it extinguish to nothing once it hit the ground. The three of you stagger back at the surprise of it.

“Is that one of your powers?”

“Where did you send us?”

Curiosity gets the better of you as you crouch down to inspect the hole in the ground. There are chunks of rock with pieces of dull metallic material amongst the debris. You recognize it in the way it shines under the light that beams through from above—it’s Iridium.

You know exactly where you are.

“You have got to be fucking me.”

Abruptly standing, your hands fly up to hold the sides of your head, face morphing to sheer horror, eyes are wide and breaths deepened. The two Lokis stare at you with slightly anxious looks. You attempt to pull back the wisps of your hair that caress your bloody and bruised cheeks to try and diffuse the growing panic and anger sizzling in your chest.

You feel compressed, stuffy. It doesn’t help when you have two pairs of eyes staring you down while you have a meltdown. So, with the turn of your heel, you trudge out of what you finally figured to be one of the fleets of tents as part of a relief camp. The two variants trail behind you.

A sky filled with light bursts and streaks of asteroids and planetoids. In the foreground, the planet Lamentis grows immensely, its structure severely fractured. The collapse of Lamentis is the ultimate apocalypse and the three of you might as well be dead by now. The ground beneath you rumbles as asteroids shoot towards you from above like flaming arrows. Your head begins to throb all over again at the apocalyptic sight.

“You idiot! This is Lamentis-1!” You hear the woman scream as Loki bickers back. “I don’t know what that means!”

You whip your head to the two of you, teeth-gritting and nose flared—you’re practically seething. “We’re on a moon and that planet is about to crash into and destroy all of us! No one makes it out of here and it’s your fault we’re stranded here!” Your anger is directed towards the two but Loki very well knows it’s specifically him. He swallows, attempting to hide his sudden guilt. “So, fuck you. Fuck both of you—”

“Oh, isn’t that just fantastic—”

“Watch out!”

The woman hollers and suddenly, you are being pushed aside as a meteorite darts, punctuated by a screech that makes your ears ring. Then, you find yourself being guided by firm grips to your arms, dragging you as the three of you sprint across the area. You seek temporary shelter under a tanker, crouching behind its tire. The two variants continue to bicker but to you, their voices are muffled as all you hear is intense ringing.

The fugitive variant abruptly stands, extending her finger to a rundown mining shack. “There!” and once again, much to your feet’s dismay, you’re sprinting through a goddamn warzone. From experience, you know you’re not a fast runner—the whole physicality to it just doesn’t match up to your capabilities. So, you trail behind them, struggling to catch up yet, despite your efforts, the universe tends to play your enemy once again as a meteorite strikes you in the arm.

You collapse to the ground and your right ear starts to ring again, louder than before. You don’t hear your shrill scream, cutting through the noise of the eruptions—it’s just a high-pitched tone drumming in your ears and the excruciating pain burning in your arm.

Loki appears before you, barking words you can’t hear. All you do is grip your arm, pressing into the wound. There’s definitely blood, you feel it surging within your fingers. Indefinitely, you feel his hand sharply tug at the crook of your unhurt arm, hauling you up to stand. His other arm curls around your back, pulling you with him in an attempt to make a run for it towards the shack. Overhead, you see her running, whipping her head around to glance at you. She looks afraid.

The ringing finally halts and through all the wailing like war cries ricocheting across the crater, you hear his voice, ragged and low. It's only for your ears. “Come on, just a little more—”

You’re close to shelter with the blonde a few steps ahead of you. You unconsciously knot your hand against the fabric of his jacket, as if it will conjure any lasting energy left in you push yourself forward, and prevent you from thinking about your bleeding arm.

Eventually, the three of you make it to the shack, slamming the door shut once you’re stepping into the place with the sound of muted metallic thunks. You free yourself from his hold, sliding down the door and to your feet, feeling weak as ever. Your eyes flicker to the wound and it's unexpectedly huge and crimson. You groan, ignoring how the constant arguing of the two variants has become white noise to you but right now, all you need is some goddamn silence.

“Would you two just shut up?” Their pathetic squabble comes to an abrupt stop at your words. You then fish out a handkerchief, from your back pocket, weakly waving it towards your bleeding arm. “—And help me out here?”

The blonde’s snarl returns, “And why would we even help you?”

Loki turns to her with a surprised look. “We? So, we are a team—”

“Shut up—”

“Because let’s face it. The two of you are pathetic liars and you don’t actually know how to charge the tempad. So, help me out here before I start losing more blood than I should and you’ll have no way off this moon.” There’s silence and all you do is concentrate on your breathing as the two of them just stand there, staring, thinking. They share a look. The quiet passes in a moment, Loki surprisingly steps towards you and goes to crouch down to your level. He plucks the handkerchief from your grasp and ties a firm knot.

“Does this mean you’re not planning on killing us?”

You snort, gaze shifting between the two. “Not for now.”

You don't notice the flicker of green emerging from his fingertips as he holds his palm against your wound. You don't notice how the pain nearly subsides at his touch.

—

The golden cocktail glass mocks you with the lack of alcoholic liquid. It shines under the pretty and obscure chandelier above the circular bar where a bartender shuffles her way around. It also manages to reflect the daze of your expression and the flying wisps of your hair that drifts with every passing elite Lamentian adorned with some fancy hat and shiny heels. They seem to move at an obnoxious prissy speed. Though the thought of every being on this moon is about to die and you too might join them in the apocalypse, it somehow comforts you to think that these rich and elite groups, prioritized to enter the evacuation ark, will be joining the others as well.

The trek from the crater to the train had been nothing but eventful. You kept your mouth shut for most of the time, not wanting to lose your energy over two varaints who can’t seem to get along for once. From the woman who blasted the two for harassing her and Loki’s disguise to enter the train, heading for Shuroo, you wonder if this was all worth it.

You also learn that the woman goes by Sylvie. Not Loki.

Strange.

Right now, you aren’t too worried about the major possibility of dying. As much as you hate the two Loki variants that forcefully brought to the current situation you’re in, you know, from working with several variants of the Asgardian prince, Lokis do not die. But, will you? It’s a question better left unanswered.

Loki appears beside you, elbow propped up on the bar, leaning towards it as he faces you with an oddly sickly grin. It’s nearly amusing when you notice how Sylvie and Loki are entirely different from each other, one being much more aloof than the other, yet hold equivalence as well. At the moment, the difference between the two is obvious because you are very sure Loki is as intoxicated as you are while Sylvie has gone off to dream world by the corner of the lounge.

At least you only have to deal with one for the moment.

“You should really stop drinking,” you say, taking a swig from the martini glass. Loki snorts, curiously watching you in a slight daze. “Then, I must call you a hypocrite.” You scoff, not merely paying any mind to his usual antics and clever counters. You spare him a glance before lifting the cocktail glass to rest upon your lips, “Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.”

Amid his drunken stupor, he nearly hears his mother with every articulation of those words. He is yet to admit of his amazement for your unmatching traits to your personality—so wise yet so outrageously reckless. Your mind is powerful but you don’t tend to use it very well. Loki merely hums, deciding to disregard his surprise, and takes a seat beside you on the barstool. You don’t shift or flinch away when his shoulder brushes against yours.

“Untrue. I know nothing about you,” he says, glancing your way in his periphery, “And that is because you never let me.” Your laugh comes off more like a puff of air, hinted with amusement. “It’s not that. There is nothing to know about me. I’m not very interesting, unlike you and your variants.”

Loki turns to you, lips pursed into a smile that’s knowing and somehow charming. “Don’t be so modest. You are a part of the most powerful bureaucratic organization in the universe. You must have been to many places, seen many things...” he trails off, watching the deepening furrow of your brows. You turn in your seat to properly face him this time, “And why does it matter?” You eye him suspiciously as he briefly raises his palms in defense. “It doesn’t. I was just...curious.”

You shift in your seat, arm now propped up on the bar. “Well, curiosity did kill the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

Silvertongue. You narrow your eyes.

“I’m surprised you know that.”

Loki shrugs, gesturing to the bartender for another cup while you carelessly decide he isn’t worth babysitting for now. The alcoholic drink arrives and he takes an unceremonious shot.

“I think you should really go easy—”

He scoffs, “You sound a lot like Thor.”

You’re frowning again.“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re a mewling quim.”

You’re surprisingly calm at his words. He immediately regrets it, thoroughly blaming the alcohol on his once sharp mind. Though your stare is outright intimidating.

“You know, there’s this ancient poem—Hávamál. You might be familiar with it. Hávamál is said to present advice and wisdom from Odin’s very lips. With your current behavior, a particular stanza comes to mind,” you say, voice hinted with cynicism. He knows of Hávamál but with the current scatter of his mind, it’s a lot harder to remember the words of the specific lines of the poem.

“Humour me.” are the words that leave his lips. They are challenging.

You don’t take your eyes off him as you speak lowly, “Er-a svo gott sem gott kveða öl alda sonum, því að færra veit er fleira drekkur síns til geðs gumi”

Less good than they say for the sons of men is the drinking oft of ale: for the more they drink, the less can they think and keep a watch o'er their wits.

You just called him a drunkard idiot in fluent old Norse and it strikes him like a blade to his cheek. Not as bad of an insult than his, but certainly less childish.

His mouth goes dry.

Abruptly standing to your feet, you take a final swig of your drink, slamming it rather vigorously on the bar. “Maybe, you should have listened to your father more often.” With a spin of your heel, you’re walking away from him. Loki swallows, calling after you. “Where are you going?”

You halt in your step, turning to him momentarily with an unknown expression and a lingering gaze. “Away from you.”

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[nanshe-of-nina]

Favorite History Books || The Decline and Fall of Medieval Sicily: Politics, Religion, and Economy in the Reign of Frederick III, 1296-1337 by Clifford R. Backman ★★★★☆

In hopes of offering a subtler response to the Sicilian problem, I suggest in this book that there were many more things “wrong” with medieval Sicily than simply its economy, and that in order to understand the enormity of the island’s suffering in the fourteenth century we must take into account aspects of Sicilian life that certainly bore relation to, but were not entirely dependent on, economic concerns. Among these other factors are a knot of ethnic rivalries, persistent problems in spiritual life, faults and shortcomings in the physical infrastructure of the island, a set of technological hurdles that made improvements in daily life unnecessarily difficult, changes in demographic patterns (especially the dramatic proportionate increase in women among the populace), administrative failures at the royal and local levels, and the development of an overbred sense of personal and family “honor” and the violence it justified in the face of any perceived threat to it. Many of these problems were of long standing, but for a number of reasons, as this book argues, they came to a head during the reign of Frederick III. Frederick was the third of the Catalan kings of Sicily, successor to his elder brother James who had relinquished the crown in order to receive papal acknowledgment of his inheritance as ruler of the Crown of Aragon. Intensely pious and idealistic, Frederick presided over Sicily’s post-war reconstruction, once the war with Angevin Naples finally came to an end in 1302 with a limited Sicilian victory. Though not a very gifted ruler, he nevertheless showed a fair degree of acumen by recognizing that the island had become atomized: petty baronies divided the interior between them, the coastal cities acted as independent agents, domestic trade was limited to the local level with virtually no trade at all between the larger zones (valli) of the realm, and a plethora of local customs and tariffs made efficient and fair administration virtually impossible. The central policy behind the reconstruction, therefore, was to promote Sicily’s internal integration and to create a sense of the island as an organic whole — as a true “Kingdom of Sicily” and not as a mere congeries of loose-cannon towns and estates united only by the fact that they all hated the Angevins more than they hated each other. For a while, Frederick succeeded. Within a few years of the end of the war, Sicilian life had improved so greatly that the king began to believe the wild prophecies made about him by the apocalyptic prophet Arnau de Vilanova, who eventually assigned Frederick the role of the great reformer of Christendom who would lead the final successful crusade against Islam, would root out all the corruption in the church and in European society, and would prepare the world for battle with Antichrist. What’s more, the Sicilian people began to believe it too; and soon an ecstatic wave of evangelical fervor rushed over the populace that inspired vast numbers of men and women to abandon their families and farmsteads in order to follow itinerant preachers and listen to their claims of how the world was soon to end in glory, and how the Sicilians themselves were going to overthrow Antichrist just as they had overthrown the Angevins in 1282. But then, mid-way through Frederick’s reign, a host of forces came together to undo all that had been achieved: the recovery fell apart and Sicily began a dismal slide into poverty and violence. An integrated, reformed, and divinely favored “Kingdom of Sicily” gave way, after about 1317, to a fractured and fractious society upon which, they feared, God had turned His back, and where Armageddon was still expected — but no longer with joyful confidence. This book attempts to explain why. Frederick’s reign began with high hopes and ended in misery. The real disasters were yet to come, when Frederick died: the Black Death and a shockingly savage series of civil wars among the petty lords who were tearing up the countryside. But the groundwork of ruin was firmly laid by 1337, and this book argues that it was precisely this groundwork that went on to undermine Sicilian development in later centuries. The most remarkable thing about Sicily’s economic recovery in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, after all, is that it didn’t solve Sicily’s problems. If the island was not “behind” the rest of Europe by that time, it was certainly a place set apart, a pariah and a backwater, isolated and disdained.