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hellishjoel · 1 year

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seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

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toxintouch · 5 months

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Love the thought of Mhin’s monster being terrifying; a true threat to your (the MC’s) safety, an insurmountable burden that has destroyed Mhin’s life and that’s why they are so desperate for a cure.

But also…

Thinking about Androcles removing the thorn from the lion’s paw…

The thought that maybe if the monster doesn’t successfully kill you the first time, it will recognize you the second.

That transformation looks like it hurts. Before, after, during.

The idea that it will be a slow process, a dangerous one, but if you can survive, if you can calm it down–

Preening broken feathers. A slow and methodical process, but your heart beats like you’re running for your life. You keep retreating, feather by feather, because you’re not sure how stable this moment of calm is, how long you have before it will try to kill you again.

You gain Mhin’s trust the same way. Slow and methodical. Showing your hands at all times. No sudden movements.

Mhin knows you ran into their Monster–knows that you know. They hate the thought of putting this much faith in another person but they hate the thought that the monster might get out and harm people even more. You could be an ally in this too, they suppose…

They hand over a key to their safe house, show you how to use the security measures they have in place for when they transform. They explain to you how to safely lock them inside–it can be done from either side effectively but Mhin never gives any thought to which side of the door you’d choose to be on…

You start asking Kuras for medical supplies, unable to give any information regarding why you need them. You see someone selling hunting birds and carrier pigeons in the market so you ply them for information, paying them back by shelling out a ridiculous amount of money on whatever care products look like they might be moderately useful.

More preening broken feathers. It seems to–they–seem to understand that you mean to help, now. The process becomes easier. You start carefully removing bits of broken glass you find embedded into them–you’re not sure how it got there, if the glass is something mystical or if they went on a little rampage before you were able to lead them into the safe house. Maybe they’re just like a regular bird and they ran into something by accident. Maybe it’s been there for years because no one’s been around (or able to) take it out.

Does it hurt Mhin, too?

You’re even more determined with that thought, though you have to be so-very-careful because if you startle or hurt them, they become agitated. You’re not sure if they would hurt you on purpose anymore, but they sure as hell could kill you by accident.

It burns your heart to leave some pieces in before Mhin changes back, but you know you have to. You can’t help if you don’t stay safe. And Mhin always makes you promise to look after yourself when they can't.

Mhin transforms back and realizes that it didn’t take so much from them this time, that the usual pain is a little lesser, that they still ache but it isn’t debilitating. They write it off at first but the thought sits at the back of their mind. Filling them with unrest. A thorn in their side that they cannot quite reach...

They go to their safe house to check how the locks are holding up and they notice some things. A large basin for water. Your supplies. A music box, of all things.

Needless to say, they’re horrified. They demand to know what you’re doing. Are you trying to get yourself killed?

“I knew you had no sense but–”

You assure them that you’re taking every precaution.

Besides, aren’t you doing the right thing? It’s totally logical that they (–it , Mhin insists) can get thirsty, of course Mhin is feeling better when they aren’t being locked in an empty room deprived of water half the time.

The monster looks so sad, now that they aren’t trying to hurt you. As they became more used to you, you began to see the parts where they and Mhin overlap. Shared habits. The way they settle down to sleep at night is the same…

Mhin hates the monster inside of them, but you don’t.

#i wrote this so fast i am omw out the door forgive me the are for sure mistakes this is the energy today that we are bringing #Something something loving the parts of someone that they think make them Bad And Terrible #but not in an ‘i can fix you way’ but in an i’m here to support you even when you’re at your lowest’ kinda way #Soft Mhin Hours ft. The Bird Monster #mhin touchstarved #Touchstarved Fanfic #Touchstarved game #grammar edits made next day #the music box is so Atheris-coded btw u know they gotta play their bird some tunes even while their hands are occupied #toxintouch writing #touchstarved Wishlist: Mhin

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balkanradfem · 3 months

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So, I've been reading 'Seeds of Hope' by Jane Goodall, because I am curious to what other people are saying about plants, and this book truly delivered. I've been introduced to some past plant drama in the world and that was incredible lore that should have been taught in history.

Apparently, when people first discovered tulips, they were so intensely valuable and popular, that people would trade huge amounts of money, diamonds, or even acres of land, for just one bulb. People were pre-paying for bulbs that didn't even exist yet, they would pre-order bulbs that are not yet even made. One servant ate a bulb thinking it was an onion and he got jail time for it. And I mean they're all correct, tulips just are that good.

There was also a lot of, much sadder drama about orchids; I didn't know this, but they originally grow very high up in the trees, and people were competing for discovering new and rare species. These rare and exotic species would then be displayed in rich people's gardens. Because they became so valuable, poachers would go trough the forests and take almost all of the orchids in there, making them near extinct in nature. This was resolved by orchid gardeners carefully growing them, multiplying and sharing to the point where they were sold commercially, which lessened their value on the black market, so there was no need to pillage them from the forests anymore. Growing rare plants is protection of them!

The book goes on to talk about botanic gardens, herbariums, and the value of collecting and archiving plant material, which is then showing us the effects of climate change, and stores valuable information about what is happening to the plants. It made me want to start a herbarium for sure, I'm always stressed about the loss of local plants, and it's happening more and more as green areas are cleared out.

The book touches upon plants that people have found harmful, such as plants that people make drugs out of; she clears it out to us that these plants are sacred to the native people who grew up with them, and creating drugs from them is in fact, abuse of these plants, and offensive to the communities who hold them sacred, and use them in appropriate doses as medicine. The book talks a lot about plant medicine! Apparently the pharmacy companies have been learning the knowledge about medicinal plants from native people who knew how to use plant medicine, and then the pharmacy would make medicine from those same plants, and profit off of it, without giving any credit or profit to the communities they got this knowledge from, which is not great. But then the demand for this medicine would go so high, they would go and gather all, or almost all medicinal plants from the areas where native people lived, devastating their medical supplies and natural habitats. Book goes on to question the ethics of acquiring medicine in this way, and never informing people where it came from, or what was sacrifices in order for the world to have it.

Similar things happened with valuable crops that are grown in native areas; once the demand for these crops grew, big monocrop fields were established, damaging the land and the local ecosystem, killing millions of animals who lived there, and sometimes forcing people or children into modern slavery, in order to grow them. Coffee, cocoa beans, vanilla beans, palm oil; they've been described as specifically devastating for the communities and the environment. But the book doesn't condemn these foods at all, instead the author goes on to describe, what has been done to improve this. Instead of monocrops, which are devastating for the environment, people are now taught to grow fruit trees in the same fields as coffee, which makes the coffee plants healthier and stronger, and creates and environment where some plants and animals can thrive. I personally don't believe you should have only 2 or 3 plants in a big area, I think you need about 3 millions, but it's a progress from monocrops.

The author describes finding and helping the local farmers who found ways to healthy, natural and non-damaging growing of these plants, and she helped them sell it! She also encourages buying organic food because it helps if the demand for non-monocrop food is growing.

Now there's a section of the book standing strongly against GMO foods, and for some reason I never heard any arguments against gmo, I didn't understand much about the harm coming from them, so I was very curious to hear this. The author explained how 47 million dollars was spent just for lobbying for GMO, which explains why all my information on gmo was positive, and I remember hearing it was 'the best way to reduce world hunger', but the world hunger is still a problem, so it obviously did not succeed. But now I have a better understanding of what it is.

GMO foods were specifically developed to have pesticides inside of them, so they'd be poisonous to pests, but not to people eating them. The research on whether they're poisonous to animals showed that the animals who ate them long term, had their inner organs irritated, enlarged, stomach infections, and had higher risk of cancer. So it was not proven to be safe, but it ended up in the stores anyway; the author says that about 70% of food in american supermarkets has unlabelled gmo, which is scary to think about. She also explains that this is the reason so many people in america are now trying to grow food at home, they don't want to be poisoned by pesticides.

GMO foods were specifically designed to support monocrops, and to protect them pests; this worked out in creating more and more bugs that are resistant to the pesticides, and farmers have reported the appearance of 'superbugs', which are resistant to any kind of pesticide. There's now also 'superweeds', which are resistant to herbicide. The industry is trying to develop new pesticides and new herbicides, in order to counter these new problems, but it is obvious that they're only sinking deeper and deeper; monocrops are unsustainable. Poisoning the earth and the plants, and even the seeds, is not going to lead to the end of world hunger. Farmers are often ending up losing their entire farms due to new bugs that are now thriving because all of their competition has been eliminated by pesticides, they're now the only bug and they can eat up the entire crop easily.

The other problem of GMO crops is that they're spreading their seeds and mixing with the natural crops, making them into GMO crops as well. According to the author the canola crops has already been lost, now all canola existing is genetically modified.

I'm dissatisfied with this knowledge, but it's better to know and be aware rather than to be in the dark. The author suggests designing living spaces that have gardens in them, and encouraging local community to garden, as well as planting city gardens, where food would grow for everyone. She goes on to describe the efforts of universities and cities who already had built their own living gardens in order to support the community, and how it worked to create a more beautiful, life-sustaining, happier place. She even explained how having local gardens makes the crime rate lower.

I loved this book, it had the environment awareness that can only be compared to Greta Thunberg's book, it described trees and plants so lovingly, and the connection people have with them. It showed me there's so many people fighting to save the forests and grasslands and native plants, and it's an effort that will make a big difference to how we get to live on this planet in the future.

#jane goodall #seeds of hope #book review #reading #environmentalism #climate change #gmo #gmo foods #monocrops #gardening #environmental

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martyrbat · 3 months

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[ID: two screenshots of a YouTube ad sponsored by the Joe Biden Campaign. In the video, Barack Obama is sitting in a chair and subtitles read, ‘—pitched in $5 right now, Joe and Kamala would have the resources they need.’ The link to go to the page shows Biden smiling with the text, ‘No donation is too small. $5, friend.’ END ID]

The man whos paying and sponsoring a genocide has a campaign asking for 'just $5' and 'no donation is too small' is genuinely infuriating when those are the exact words i see over and over again from people sharing GoFundMe's from Palestinians who face being murdered. Those are the exact words I see from Palestinians who are being forced to leave their homes and land, from Palestinians who are suffering from the effects of this genocide including PTSD, starvation, organ failure, disability, and more—from now martyred Palestinians who were the family members that others were begging desperately for other people to help them save them. Palestinians are having their families murdered in front of their eyes, they're being killed trying to get food or medical supplies, they're being subjected to torture and inhumane conditions, they're being forced to pay thousands upon thousands of dollars to leave Gaza. And the man that's directly funding and supporting their genocide is using the same language as a marketing campaign and is still being called a 'lesser of two evils' by white liberals. It's infuriating in every fucking way.

Please go donate to the people who ACTUALLY need the money and who it'll make a real, life saving difference for. My friend has two masterposts spotlighting Palestinian GoFundMe's here and here.

I'd also like to specially mention Wafaa Alnha—who's niece and sister have been recently martyred. Her family is without baby supplies, clean water and food, and much needed medicine. Her GoFundMe isn't even halfway to the €50,000 goal.

#first link for wafaa is to my friend's post where theres updates and more details about the conditions her family are facing #2nd link (on the GoFundMe) is directly to the campaign #but this is the thing that made me so mad i think i actually cracked my tooth #its so fucking insulting in every way i can think about.

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southernsolarpunk · 3 months

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Hey what the fuck is this news story?

“ But the world’s largest economies are already there: The total fertility rate among the OECD’s 38 member countries dropped to just 1.5 children per woman in 2022 from 3.3 children in 1960. That’s well below the “replacement level” of 2.1 children per woman needed to keep populations constant.

That means the supply of workers in many countries is quickly diminishing.

In the 1960s, there were six people of working age for every retired person, according to the World Economic Forum. Today, the ratio is closer to three-to-one. By 2035, it’s expected to be two-to-one.

Top executives at publicly traded US companies mentioned labor shortages nearly 7,000 times in earnings calls over the last decade, according to an analysis by the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis last week.

“A reduction in the share of workers can lead to labor shortages, which may raise the bargaining power of employees and lift wages — all of which is ultimately inflationary,” Simona Paravani-Mellinghoff, managing director at BlackRock, wrote in an analysis last year. “

Is this seriously how normal people think? Improving the bargaining power of workers and increased wages are bad?

“ And while net immigration has helped offset demographic problems facing rich countries in the past, the shrinking population is now a global phenomenon. “This is critical because it implies advanced economies may start to struggle to ‘import’ labour from such places either via migration or sourcing goods,” wrote Paravani-Mellinghoff.

By 2100, only six countries are expected to be having enough children to keep their populations stable: Africa’s Chad, Niger and Somalia, the Pacific islands of Samoa and Tonga, and Tajikistan, according to research published by the Lancet, a medical journal.

BlackRock’s expert advises her clients to invest in inflation-linked bonds, as well as inflation-hedging commodities like energy, industrial metals and agriculture and livestock.

Import labor via migration or sourcing goods? My brother in Christ they are modern day slaves!! I feel like I’m in backwards town reading this what the fuck?!

“ Elon Musk, father of 12 children, has remarked that falling birthrates will lead to “a civilization that ends not with a bang but a whimper, in adult diapers.”

While his words are incendiary, they’re not entirely wrong

P&G and Kimberly-Clark, which together make up more than half of the US diaper market, have seen baby diaper sales decline over the past few years. But adult diapers sales, they say, are a bright spot in their portfolios. “

Oh now the guy with a breeding kink is going to lecture us. Great. /s

“ The AI solution: Some business leaders and technologists see the boom in productivity through artificial intelligence as a potential solution.

“Here are the facts. We are not having enough children, and we have not been having enough children for long enough that there is a demographic crisis, former Google CEO and executive chairman Eric Schmidt said at the Wall Street Journal’s CEO Council Summit in London last year.

“In aggregate, all the demographics say there’s going to be shortage of humans for jobs. Literally too many jobs and not enough people for at least the next 30 years,” Schmidt said.

Oh god not the AI tech bros coming into this shit too. Wasn’t the purpose of improving tech to give people more free time? So they can relax and spend time with family more and actually enjoy life? Isn’t our economy already bloated with useless pencil-pushing number-crunching desk jobs that ultimately don’t serve a purpose?

I’m not going to post the entire article but give it a read. It’s… certainly something. Anyway degrowth is the way of the future.

#solarpunk #degrowth #leftist

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hallowxiu · 4 months

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Gentle Monster

part 1

i will be posting this as a chaptered series on my a03 linked here.

characters: zombie!Beel, gn!mc

word count: 4.8k

Summary: You're living in a zombie apocalypse where your current struggles have brought you to a small town where you meet a strange zombie.

"The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. If anything, it seems startled by your presence."

Autumn leaves rustle on the ground, the wind blowing them down the streets as you walk hurriedly. You’d left your house, your very own sanctuary that you built with your own hands, to run into town to look for supplies. You were stocked on most things, but you found yourself running low on medical supplies (you had a bit of a nasty run-in with a handful of zombies a few nights ago) and ammunition (for the same reason you ran low on medical supplies).

For the last year, you were nearly sure you were one of the last remaining humans in your town. You hadn’t seen or as much as heard a peep from people, which was somewhat uncommon. If there were groups of armed people holed up somewhere, you would have eventually run into them when out on supply runs.

The echo of your steps is the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet town. You can hear the faint grunts and groans of zombies in the distance, but the sounds aren’t close enough to draw any sense of alarm. Still, you had your hammer ready in case you were surprised.

You weren’t feeling hopeful today with the potential outcome of your supply run. Medical supplies and ammunition generally were rare to find, but in a town where most humans were wiped out? Yeah, fat chance. You felt a growing pit of anxiety forming in your stomach. Never run low: that’s what you drilled into yourself whenever it came to medical supplies and ammunition. How could you let yourself get so careless? You should have never put yourself in this situation to start with.

Your eyes scanned over the abandoned and ruined buildings, moss and vines covering the exteriors and forcing their way inside through broken windows. Damaged bricks lay discarded and forgotten on the ground. Most places had already been ransacked by both you and other survivors. You knew markets had little to provide, and long-forgotten homes had been stripped of anything valuable they once had. There was, however, one place in town that most people avoided. The feeling of anxiety grows larger within you, threatening to break out. You didn’t want to go to that section of town, but you were low on options. You needed medical supplies and ammunition desperately; if you wanted to survive, you’d have to take calculated risks. Running a dirty hand through your hair, a shaky exhale forces itself past your lips as you head toward the town’s police station.

The police station was a place to avoid for several reasons. However, the most pressing one was that it was located right on the outskirts of town. You tried to avoid the outskirts of town as much as possible. Zombies always seemed to linger in groups that could easily overpower someone traveling alone. The police station also had a small jail toward the back of the building, which became an issue once people started dropping dead and turning. Many of the prisoners were still in their cells, turned years ago. It was just a place you didn’t like to be around, but you also knew many survivors shared that sentiment. If you wanted to get the supplies you were so desperately in need of, you knew the police station would more than likely have it. However, there was a risk that you may end up using all the supplies just trying to get back out of the station.

You stop short in front of the station. The building looks the same as the rest of the infrastructure in town. Something, likely a herd of zombies, had pushed in the front doors that were now barely attached to the hinges. Bloody handprints had been smeared on the remaining glass, and from what you could tell from where you stood, the inside didn’t look much better. You could see the center of the reception room, papers discarded and dumped on the tiled floor. Inhaling and giving yourself a false sense of confidence, you step inside the station.

The first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. No grunts, no moans, no shaky breaths. Your dominant hand grips the hammer tighter. It was rare for the police station to be empty; there were almost always zombies roaming around the building. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding away as you scan the room for any threats. The air held a musty and metallic smell, and you could see thick layers of dust on the plastic chairs that sat haphazardly in the room. Slowly, carefully, you walk behind the receptionist's desk, looking for anything useful. Nothing, but that didn’t shock you. Survivors brave enough to break into the station usually only made it to the receptionist area. Not many were brave, or for lack of a better word, stupid enough to push further. Luckily (or unluckily), you were stupid enough to do such a thing.

Moving through the reception area and toward the back of the station, you knew the likelihood of finding supplies increased. You swallow nervously, glancing around as you push through the building. Somehow, it became more nerve-wracking the longer you went without running into anything. The lights are out, thanks to the power outage from the outbreak. Still, you weren’t anticipating just how dark the building grew the further you pushed. You knew you had to be getting close to the jail based on the lack of windows.

You blink several times, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You hated being in the dark, something you didn’t initially have a fear of until you found yourself living in a world full of blood-thirsty monsters. Your mind would play tricks on you, conjuring up distorted images of things lurking in the shadows, hiding behind every corner. Whenever you found yourself in the dark, it became incredibly difficult for you to stay focused, to separate reality and hallucinations. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded in the moment. Losing yourself to panic would only cause more trouble. Opening your eyes again, you grab a flashlight in your bag. Once on, the flashlight illuminates the room with a narrow tunnel of light, giving you an idea of where you’re at in the building. You had been right; you were in the jail portion of the police station. Lifting your flashlight, you freeze when seeing the outline of something right in front of you.

Disorientated from the darkness, it takes your brain a moment to process that you are staring directly at someone or something’s chest. Before a scream can erupt from your lungs and you lose yourself completely to panic, you throw yourself back, trying to put as much distance as possible between whatever’s in the room with you. You aim your flashlight, the light revealing a zombie in the corner of the room, visibly startled by your sudden movement. You glance from the zombie to your hammer, noting that it’s of significant size for an ordinary zombie. It didn’t seem like a Griever, the deadliest zombie from the outbreak. That relieved you; you didn’t think you could take on a Griever of that size without a gun. It was the risk you carried when traveling into town; the sound of a gun firing could attract all types of zombies from all over. You were exposed enough as it was in town; you didn’t need to make it worse for yourself.

You didn’t want to fight the zombie with your hammer. It was large and could easily overpower you. Your pistol is in your bag as a last option, but you couldn’t risk alerting more zombies to your location. The palm of your hand is sweating as your grip around the hammer tightens, your knuckles turning white. Cautiously, you take a slow step back, desiring to add more space between you. The zombie, which hasn��t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true.

Without warning, the zombie lunges for you, its hands outstretched as it runs toward you. You force a scream down as you stumble back, unthinkingly swinging the hammer out in front of you, striking at the air. You back into something, feeling cool metal pressing against your back. It’s bars to a jail cell.

Making a rash and sudden decision, you yank the door to the cell open, darting inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You stumble back against the wall as you watch the large zombie trying to squeeze its arms through the gaps of the cell door. Your chest rises and falls, eyes dilated and wide as you try to make out your dark surroundings. You must’ve dropped your flashlight in the struggle because you were again thrown into darkness. You place a shaky hand on your chest, trying to calm your nerves. You were away from the zombie, but now, admittedly, you were trapped in a pitch-black jail cell. The full gravity of your decision begins to settle over you. You have no medical supplies, you’re low on ammunition, you’re without a light source, and you’re trapped in a jail cell with limited food and water on your person. Feeling panic welling inside you, you struggle to keep it at bay. Throwing yourself into a jail cell has to be the most impulsive decision you’ve made, and it may just cost you your life. You’re only lucky that you managed to pick a cell that wasn’t already holding a zombie.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, watching wearily as the zombie continues its assault on your cell. You had no idea how long it would take before the bars would give out under the zombie. Sure, it was a heavy metal door, but this was also a larger-than-average zombie. You had no idea the strength it held. You watch as the zombie begins to slowly lose interest, another thing that strikes you as odd. Typically, even if a zombie couldn’t reach you, it’d try to get to you as long as it could see you. Hunger was not something that ever went away with zombies. It was what drove them to survive, what drove them to keep going. You were a free ticket to a hot meal as far as this zombie was concerned, and yet…

You observe how it still lingers by the door, its hands wrapping around the cool metal of the cell bars. It’s watching you closely, its eyes following your every move, no matter how small—the zombie’s groaning, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Regardless of how long you’ve been stuck in this hell, the sounds of zombies never stopped creeping you out. The zombie pulls weakly at the bars; odd. Why would it pull so weakly when you both knew it could easily apply more strength? You were at the mercy of this zombie, and surely you both knew that. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you feel backed into the wall behind you, your back pressed flat against the cool, bricked surface.

You needed to plan your escape, but escaping while this monster hovered around your cell wouldn’t do you any good. You lost your flashlight, and while your eyes have been slowly adjusting, you were still at a steep disadvantage. You still have your hammer, but you ultimately knew it wouldn’t do much in a fight against this guy. You could lodge it in its eye and run for it, but then you’re without a weapon. As morbid as it was, your only hope would be if another poor soul wound up here and took its attention off you. You never prayed on the downfall of another human, but if it was the only thing standing between you and getting back home, then you just might.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you see movement in front of you, watching in curiosity as the zombie slowly sits down in front of the cell door. It wasn’t like zombies to sit and wait for their prey; they usually just continued to groan and pound away at whatever was blocking them. This zombie was nothing like one you’ve encountered, and its odd behavior was only stacking up in front of you. “What are you?” You find yourself asking, knowing you won’t get anything in response. And true enough, you don’t, except for a grunt. If you weren’t so hung up on how to get out of this situation, you’d probably be taking notes on this zombie, trying to learn about its behavior and unnatural size and classify its type.

It’s still quiet in the jail, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by you. You wonder if the zombie in front of you is the reason for the lack of other zombies in the building. That thought sends another shiver up your spine; if this zombie could keep other zombies out of this building, how strong was this beast? Your grip on the hammer tightens as you try to keep as much distance as possible despite the cell door acting as a barricade. You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, your stomach already growling. Pushing the thought of food aside, you look down at your left ankle. It was swollen, ballooning in your shoe. Your ankle was the main reason you were out for medical supplies. During your last run-in with zombies, you sprained it when fleeing. However, with the current state of your ankle, you’re starting to suspect that you might be suffering from a sort of fracture, and you’re even more sure that trying to escape this zombie earlier only made it worse. You should have waited until your ankle healed more; patience in a zombie apocalypse was vital, but it seems it was something you lacked.

Your ankle was throbbing as you sat, and you started to wonder just how fucked of a situation you landed yourself in. You glance back up to see the zombie still staring at you. It’s strange, but what’s even stranger, you think, is how you aren’t unnerved by its stare. You don’t feel anything. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. If you get lost in your thoughts now, if you let your panic consume you, you are dead. There was no other way about it. So, instead of letting yourself get wrapped up in your head, you needed to focus on-

“H…el…p.”

Your head snaps up, and your eyes widen as you scan the area as best you can while stuck in the dark cell. Was someone else in here with you? Was someone also stuck in a cell? A prisoner, maybe? Or someone in a very similar situation to yours? “Hello? Who’s there?” You didn’t bother hiding your voice, you were nearly positive that there was only one zombie back here with you, despite you not fully understanding what kind of zombie this was. “Are you injured?”

You were met with silence, and you felt your eyes narrowing in the darkness as you tried to pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from. “Hello?” You try again, waiting on bated breath. After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear a response.

“Not… injured.” You’re confused by this. They’re not injured, but why are they replying as if they are? “You… injured?”

“What?” You’re straining to hear the person, and the more you strain, the more you’re uncertain that you might be going insane and hallucinating the entire conversation. You’re so absorbed in this conversation that you inch yourself closer to the cell bars, your fingers wrapping around the rusty metal, the zombie the last thing on your mind.

Suddenly, the zombie’s face is blocking your view, pressed against the cold metal bars. You let out a surprised yelp, throwing yourself away from the bars and zombie and back against the brick wall. The overly large zombie is pressing itself into the bars with its hands outstretched towards you. You notice it’s not moving aggressively but slowly and curiously. “In…jured.” Okay, now you know you’re going crazy because there’s no way you just saw and heard a zombie attempting to communicate with you. There’s just no way. The zombie points at your swollen ankle with its outstretched hand as if to prove a point.

“Yeah… injured.” You repeat slowly, not quite believing that this thing is speaking to you. Or that you’re responding to it. There’s a beat of silence as the zombie stares at you, its head tilting. You’re unsure if it's trying to speak or thinking of eating you.

“Why?” The zombie’s voice is rough and raw. You assume this is because its vocal cords are damaged, and possibly because it hasn’t spoken in who knows how long. You look down at your ankle, bruises blooming across your skin.

“Because I sprained it. Maybe fractured it. I don’t know.” You offer lamely. Why are you talking with a zombie? Are you really that desperate for some kind of human interaction, even if it comes in the form of a bloodthirsty monster? You look up when hearing the zombie grunt. You’re unsure if that was a response, or just the zombie grunting for the sake of grunting. It’s still pitch black, but your eyes have somewhat adjusted. You can see the outline of muscles and the torn fabric on its dirty and bloodied clothes. It looks like a type of uniform, but you couldn’t figure out what. The zombie has shaggy hair and strands of grown-out bangs covering its eyes. Its hand is still out stretched toward you, the other clutching onto a bar of the cell. There’s dirt packed under its broken and chipped nails. You spot what looks like a nametag on the monster’s chest. “What’s your name?” You don’t know why you’re asking. Maybe to give the zombie some human element, to make it less scary. Or maybe you’re trying to prove to yourself that this whole situation isn’t made up.

The silence stretches out, lasting so long that you almost forget the zombie is there. You begin to wonder if you did imagine the scenario. “B…Beelze…bub.” Huh. Odd name. You rub your hands against your face, crouching over as you try to comprehend everything. Odd name aside, the zombie answered your question. You asked for a name and it gave you a name. Which meant the zombie understood your question and has been asking you questions and responding in kind.

“How is this possible?” You ask out loud as you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. You’ve never heard of this happening; you never imagined this happening. A talking zombie that isn’t immediately trying to kill and eat you? It’s as if you fell into a completely different world. Were there others like it? Was it possible for a community of zombies to exist? The zombie, or Beelzebub, only stared in response. Perhaps it was letting you think things over, or maybe its vocal cords were on the verge of giving out. You could also be crazy.

You lean back against the wall again, your swollen and throbbing ankle nearly forgotten. “Will you eat me if I get out of here?” It was a question you did but didn’t want to be answered. You were stuck in this situation because of it, and it did try to attack you earlier. You also figured you’d ask this before asking if it would help free you from your cell.

“Y…es…”

Solid. You managed to find the only talking zombie in town, maybe even the world, and it still wants to eat you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. You needed to think of a way out of this. “What if you let me out, you know, find a key or something, and then you don’t eat me?” Beelzebub stares at you with an expressionless face. You’re fairly sure you see it blink one eye at a time. However, a lightbulb goes off in your head; bargaining with it might work. “Uh, if you get me a key and get me out of here, without eating me,” you find yourself emphasizing, “I’ll help you find animals to eat or something.” You haven’t seen humans in town for a long time, so you don’t know the last time Beelzebub ate. Could zombies last for periods without eating? “So? What do you think? Pretty sweet deal, right?” You fully intended on ditching this zombie as soon as it lets you out. Hopefully, it can’t tell.

Still, you don’t receive anything in response. It’s still staring. “Key? You know, the shiny metal thing that unlocks doors? Cells?” You make a gesture with your hand in the air, mimicking unlocking a door with a key. “You know? Key?” You’re starting to sound desperate; you’re also stuck in a cell with a talking zombie for company. Is desperation really that bad of a look?

The zombie grunts before pushing itself away from the cell bars and standing up. It turns its back to you, shuffling away quietly. Either it’s looking for a key, or it got bored of you. You’ll gladly take either option at this point.

You sit for several minutes, trying to brainstorm ways of escape with your near-useless ankle, while also being located in the back of the police station, possibly the most dangerous place to be in town. You were also without a weapon other than your hammer, and missing your flashlight. Maybe you could brute force your way out of here? Bang on the bars enough until they give way? No, that’s ridiculous. You could try lockpicking your way out; you’ve seen it done in movies before. Maybe if you found something like a paperclip or even your fingernail-

Clank.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel something hard and cold bounce off your forehead. You look to the ground to see a shiny metal key by your hand. Looking up, you see Beelzebub staring at you from the other side of the cell bars. “Really? You threw it at my head?” But most importantly, this zombie fetched you a key. You asked for a key and it retrieved a key for you. Whether it’s the proper key or not is yet to be seen, but still, you find this astonishing.

“Key.” It grunts out and leans against the bars again, its expression unreadable.

“Key.” You repeat and slowly lean forward to pick up the small object. “And you’ll let me unlock the door? Without trying to eat me?” You cast a suspicious look the zombie’s way. It only grunts in response, and you struggle to decide how to take that as an answer. Regardless, your options are limited, and you don’t have much in the way of supplies when it comes to food and water. Inhaling deep, you push yourself off the ground and force your way to the door. If it tries to attack you, you can always try to outrun it. Doing so might prove slightly challenging with your ankle, but adrenaline can do wonderful things for the human body. “Can you take a step back?” You ask as you approach the cell’s bars. Unlocking the cell with your hand outstretched, a feeling of unease washes over you. The thought of it potentially seizing your hand at any moment kept you on guard, emphasizing the need for caution. It could grab your hand at any moment and bite down, why wouldn’t you be hesitant?

You watch in slight relief as Beelzebub takes a step back, and you quickly reach your hand between the bars to unlock the door with the key. With a loud click the lock opens. You swiftly slide the door open and run for it. You don’t bother looking for your flashlight or even checking for other zombies. You just run. Your feet feel heavy as they hit the ground and a searing pain swiftly travels up your ankle with each step. How long you could keep going remained unknown as you raced away from Beelzebub. It was a relief to know that Beelzebub wasn't a Griever, but its true nature remained a mystery. Could it match the speed of a Griever? Possess greater strength? These were questions to which you had no desire to find answers.

Running down the hall, you suddenly hear loud footsteps approaching from behind. The light from the reception area is just starting to become visible. You refuse to look back and instead pick up your pace. Your ankle is screaming in agony, but you couldn’t afford to stop now. This entire thing was a bust, and you knew you’d be getting out of this situation more fucked up than you were before.

The light is an overwhelming assault on your eyes the moment you step foot into the reception. Your vision is white as you stumble blindly, your hands outstretched as you try to grab onto a nearby item for support. You had to get your shit together and fast. The police station was always a hot spot for zombie activity and you were completely exposed. You were blinded, your ankle was an absolute mess, and you only had a hammer to defend yourself with. As your vision slowly returns, a rough hand lands on your shoulder from behind, and you struggle to suppress a blood-curdling scream. You spin around, your ankle nearly going out in the process, only to be met with Beelzebub’s fogged-over eyes.

“Human… lied.” You swallow the growing lump in your throat as you stare up at the monster before you. Now in the light, you can see just what you’re dealing with. The zombie’s tall, but not taller than a Greiver. It’s muscular too, which oddly enough, brings some comfort. Grievers were not known for being muscular, but that didn’t mean this zombie couldn’t seriously mess you up either.

You noticed the uniform it had on was that of a police officer, and the nametag did in fact display the name Beelzebub. So, your zombie friend was once a cop and this is likely where it died and became a zombie. Interesting. “Human prom…ised… food.” You can feel a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as its eyes bore down into you. Hopefully, it doesn’t consider you to be the food. “Human ran. Human left. I let… human out.” It seemed angry, that much was clear. Your throat was running dry, and any and all words in your head died as soon as they reached your tongue.

“I, uh…” Could you seriously not think up any excuse? “Forgot?” On second thought, maybe it would’ve been better to stay quiet. The look on Beelzebub’s face tells you it doesn’t quite believe your words either. “Alright, look. I was nervous. Can you blame me? You’re a talking zombie and I’m your five-course meal. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t try to eat me the second my guard is down? What if you call your zombie buddies to tell them you found the hottest meal ticket in town?”

“Zombie… budd…ies?” There’s a look of confusion on Beelzebub’s face as it stares down at you.

“You’re missing the point entirely.”

“B…Beelze…bub hun...gry.” A sigh leaves you as the insistent zombie stands before you. You briefly check your surroundings. It was a risk standing in an area as open as reception. You were no stranger to the types of zombies that lingered by the police station, and you didn’t want to draw a crowd. You needed to hurry this up.

“Look, if I feed you an animal or something, will you leave me alone?” You don’t know why you’re even trying to bargain with this thing; possibly because you want to get out of here and can’t outrun it. The zombie nods its head, or at least the best it can. “Fine, fine. Follow me and I’ll lead you back to my home. I have food there. Meat.” The word meat seems to do the trick, as the zombie’s eyes widen and it seems overall more aware. “Attack me though and I’ll kill you.” It doesn’t look very intimidated by your hammer or you.

Once you two agree (if you can call it that), you look around the reception area. You don’t see any zombies lingering outside. It was just as clear as when you first came in. That was weird. Normally there are at least a dozen, and the fact that there were none when you first arrived or even now leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Uneasiness aside, you didn’t want to wait around for more to show up. “Alright, follow me. Stay close behind,” you turn around to narrow your eyes suspiciously at the zombie, “but not too close, and don’t get lost because I won’t come looking for you.” You couldn’t believe you were actually considering bringing a zombie home with you.

You couldn’t see this ending well.

48 notes · View notes

research-89 · 7 months

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#Disposable Medical Supplies Market Share #Disposable Medical Supplies Market Size

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bri-in-ur-attic · 5 months

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Someday, Our Fascinations Will Align

—-

Do you remember the moment you fell in love? The moment when you were the only two people in the world. That splendid, magical moment when all your sadness was forgotten.

—-

I dedicate this to @engardeitsme <333 we share an unhealthy amount of love for the B.R.B, she also did an amazing fan casting of these idiots which is how i envisioned the brotherhood and is also writing a fic series of the battle maniac!! 100% recommend it

Heads up: kidnapping but (Name) vibes w it, typical black rabbit brotherhood violence, perspective changes, this is a long fic like over 7k so prepare yourselves

pairing is battle maniac x fem!reader , but there are implications of P x reader

longest fic I’ve ever written and its for a bunch of assholes that were punching bags for P *sigh*

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

“Hopping around Elysion Boulevard doing God knows what and in the end, getting yourself hurt! Like seriously you’re running my medic supplies dry!”

“Quit your yammering the black market will provide you more.”

Most people shrivel at just the mention of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, yet here you were scolding the one who was infamous for putting unfortunate souls in the Liar's Coffin

It was a simple negotiation really, in exchange for your medical knowledge and treating their wounds, considering they live life on the edge, you were sworn with protection from the Brotherhood without paying the dumb fee.

And by negotiation it went more like you were kidnapped against your own will after the brotherhood tried to rob you but deemed you more useful by keeping you by their side

For a bunch of criminals, you could tell they care for each other’s well being and soon enough, they grew accustomed to you. The brotherhood was amused by your gutsy attitude and feistiness as if you weren’t surrounded by dangerous criminals, amusement turned into respect which then turned into kindling a fondness towards you

The Eldest, Cyrus would tease about small you were compared to him and often annoy you by holding things above your head

Buckethead was the one abusing the microphone constantly, for an oddball, he had quite an elegant name, Oswald. You liked to call him Oz for short to which he had taken a liking to, it sounds similar to odd funnily

The baby of the group was Bonnie being merely 16 years old, at first you had no idea that there was a sister in the Black Rabbit Brotherhood as the name speaks for itself let alone one being this young. She was quite touchy by wrapping her arms around you and constantly wanting your attention by whining about the tiniest scratches she gets and wanting immediate medical attention

And finally, the one who was currently at your mercy was the battle maniac of the group, if you were being honest all siblings were battle maniacs but whatever

You would always butt heads with him at any chance you got as he always gave the best responses to your remarks, he was simply fun to argue with

“For God’s sake go easy on tightening those bandages, my arm's ‘bout to bust!”

“Awww is poor bunny about to cry cuz he can’t handle a bit of pressure?”

“Shut up, just do your damn job.”

“Shame that these bandages and medicines are wasted on you.” With a huff, you finish wrapping his arm

“Oh and it’s not a waste to use 'em on Bonnie’s paper cuts?”

“Any injury no matter how miniscule it might seem isn’t worth not treating, one cut can turn into a nasty infection.”

Finishing wrapping the bandages you pat on his shoulder firmly

“Done, Rojo.” he winces

The brother with the red scarf hadn’t revealed his name and identity to you while the others have unconcealed themselves to you, he was a tough nut to crack compared to the others. Heck you found the Eldest to be more approachable than him

And so you nick-named him Rojo (Ro-ho) because of his red scarf

”Stop calling me that.”

”Oh? You don’t like Rojo? Then what would you like me to call you? How does Bun-Bun sound?”

”Call me that and you’ll be fed to those monstrous freaks.”

After washing your hands, you grab a rack with a sigh

”Look, I gotta call you something, Rojo is the best I could think of unless you spare me the trouble and give me your damn name.”

His masked face directs to you, seemingly in deep thought and then looks down on the floor

”Elyas.” he let out begrudgingly

”Elyas ..” you repeated in a soft tone testing how his name rolled off your tongue

”That wasn’t so hard now was it Elyas ?” With a cheeky grin you walk out of the room

Elyas watches your figure get out of his range of sight and takes off his rabbit mask running his hand through his dark waves

“That woman is gonna be the death of me..”

——

It had been about a month of being ‘held hostage’ by the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, overtime they let you have more freedom such as wandering through the Malum district as long as one of them was accompanying you, quite restrictive freedom but you have no combat abilities so this didn't bother you all that much as the brothers and sister pretty much acted as bodyguards

Now that the Malum District officially had a doctor, the Brotherhood originally wanted to charge those who seeked you for medical attention but you gave them an earful before they could

Today you were meeting with the Robinson family and the one escorting you was Elyas , who recently trusted you with his name

The walk was quiet and a bit tense, if in different circumstances it would look as if the the two of you were on a awkward first date due to the close proximity and stiffness

Up ahead seeing the Robinson’s small run-down house up ahead, Elyas leaned his back against the neighboring houses

“Hurry up, make it no longer than 10 minutes.”

”Oh what a pity, I was hoping to bake a pie with the Robinsons today.” you say sarcastically and knock on the Robinson’s door

Civilians nearby peeped their heads out, seeing the poor doctor being held captive by the ruthless Black Rabbit Brotherhood, the residents viewed you highly for aiding the District with daily check-ups

“That poor girl, God knows what those ruffians make her go through..” one of the civilians say

Seeing the Battle Maniac glance up in their directions, the neighbors duck their heads away

You knock on the door and call out for the Robinsons

“Mrs. Robinson? It’s me, (Name).”

And it didn’t take long for the aged woman to open the door, her gaunt features welcome you

“Oh Doctor (Name), it is very good to see you, please come in.”

Closing the door after you come in, Mrs. Robinson leads you to her husband, who looked in better condition than the last time you saw him, the Robinson children also greet you while the oldest nods his head with a small smile

“The echinacea tea did wonders to me. I can't thank you enough Miss (Name).”Mr. Robinson says with weak smile

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad you have been making progress to a full recovery. I was going to check on your health but it seems your immune system is doing all the work and my visitation is unnecessary.”

“Oh hush dear you are always welcome in our humble abode, you have always been very kind to us, do please stay for a little longer will you?” Mrs. Robinson directed her hand towards the living room

“Ah I wish I could, but I’m afraid my time here is limited for I have an invisible lengthy chain on my ankle.”

“That hooligan from the brotherhood is it? Honestly I send my condolences to you for dealing with those bad men.”

“I can hold my own against them. They cannot be tamed, but they can be reasoned with.”

“I see, well good luck out there dearie, please take care of yourself too.”

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, best of wishes to you and your family.” With a small bow you make your way to the door

“E-excuse me, Miss (Name)?”

The eldest of the Robinson children was Finlay, though he was barely a child as he was in his young adulthood

Now having your attention, Finlay grasps his hands together

“If you don’t mind, may we talk for a bit?”

“Hm, I suppose I have a few minutes to spare but do make it quick, the rabbit who’s acting as my esquire isn’t known for having patience.”

With a deep breath, the fair-headed boy looks at you with a deep gaze that is laced with worry

“I hate to see you go off with the evil brotherhood, surely there must be something we can do to help you.”

With a sad smile, you shake your head

“I very much appreciate your concern Finn, but I accepted my fate and I swear on my life that I am ok. Besides, who will provide you all with check-ups if I escape this dreaded town?”

Finlay’s expression hardens “Then you don’t have to escape, hide in our home and we can take care of you just like how you’ve taken care of us.”

“Finn..please don’t risk your family’s lives and your own for me.”

“But I would risk my life for you! Because I-”

“Alright, time's up!”

The door violently burst open revealing Elyas

Upon seeing you and Finlay, something in Elyas cracked as he approaches Finlay in a threatening way and grabs him by the collar of his shirt

“So you’ve been extending the doctor’s session eh? I'm afraid you're gonna have a fee for that, blondie.”

“S-sir please I’m sorry! W-we don’t have anything to give you! We're barely getting by after this month's fee!”

You immediately grab Elyas’ arm and attempt to pull him away from Finlay

“Cut it out! I was about to leave anyway!”

“This piss-haired rat got greedy and reached over the time limit, now he has to pay the price.”

You get between the boys and with all your might push Elyas’ chest away from Finlay, while doing so, Elyas’ puppet string accidentally pricks your cheek but the minor injury barely bothered you

“Stop! It was only for a few minutes, let it go!”

Elyas looked at you and you hear the crinkling of his gloves due to his fists clenching

“Fine.”

Letting out a sigh of relief you look back at Finlay who still looked like he had the heavens scared out of him

“You will no longer visit this house.”

You look back at Elyas with wide eyes and before you can protest he grabs your arm and pulls you out of the Robinson's household

“Wait a minute!..Elyas!”

With a panicked look, you look back to the house and see a distraught Finlay reaching his hand out

“Please just stop for a moment!”

Ripping your arm from Elyas’ iron grip you rub the area and glare at him

“What has gotten into you? I know you’re a jackass but you really have crossed the line this time!”

“That beggar boy was the one crossing the line by wasting our time.”

With a sigh, you stay silent briefly

“You know.. you were a hypocrite when you called him greedy when all you and your siblings do is suck up all my time like a bunch of mosquitos.”

Now it was Elyas’ turn to stay silent, he turns to you and looks down at the small gash on your cheek

He approaches you slowly and grabs a hold of his red scarf, ripping it. He then daps the blood off that was on the plump of your cheek

You felt almost every negative emotion under the sun towards Elyas, fear, anger, frustration and even amusement

This was the first he made you flustered, you’ve been in close positions with Elyas before but it was when he needed treatment. Now he was willing to be this close to you to do a quite sensual gesture

“What are you doing?…”

Elyas lets a scoff ”You said it yourself, any injury no matter how miniscule it might seem isn’t worth not treating, one cut can turn into a nasty infection.”

“Oh..”

With a small hum, Elyas continues to treat the cut on your cheek ”Sorry.” His apology was quick and blunt but there was a hint of sincerity in it

”It’s.. whatever I’ll treat it myself when we get back.”

Backing away from you, Elyas’ hand hovers over your cheek and feel his finger brushing over your injury

You look up to meet his eyes that were concealed behind his rabbit mask, sometimes you wonder how these guys could see through those atrocious masks

Desperately wanting to see what he was thinking, you gaze into the eyeholes of Elyas’ mask, to see what the hues of his eyes were and if they even held light

You wanted to see his humanity

Immediately he withdraws his hand away from you and makes a quick turn to continue his way

“Let’s go.”

Recovering from what just occurred, you slowly make your way behind Elyas

”I’m still gonna visit the Robinsons.”

“You won’t be a mile radius near that shithole when I’m around.”

”So what you’re saying is as long as you're not breathing down on my neck I can visit them?”

”What I’m saying is if I see you interact with that scrawny piece of shit, no treatment will ever be able to cure what I’ll do to him.”

It felt like Cyrus slammed his greatsword on him when Elyas realized what he had just said, visibly stiffening but regained composure

Then it hit you, Elyas was jealous

This new found discovery both appalled and terrified you

He was the equivalent of a school boy who was crushing that just happened to have violent tendencies towards his rivals, it seems you won’t be visiting the Robinsons for a while for Finlay’s sake

You couldn’t but help feel bad for the poor boy, his feelings towards you was obvious but you never really saw him that way, sure you thought he was adorable and very kind but he just was never really your type unfortunately

But Elyas?..

The both of you didn’t quite have a pleasant start and to this day you had lingering feelings of resentment towards him and his siblings

Despite that, your fondness for them grew more than your grudge

After all they guaranteed you safety when you weren’t even sure if Hotel Krat could be a place to seek refuge and for better or for worse there was never a dull day with the brotherhood. You weren't just surviving, you were living

And the somewhat intimate moment you just shared with Elyas and how he and his siblings aid each other is enough for you to believe that the brotherhood has a soul that was tainted due to the result of evolving in a harsh environment

Hiding your smile, you follow Elyas towards the Red Lobster

Oswald and Bonnie were present, hanging out and having some downtime

”We’re back, but I’m gonna head back to headquarters real quick, don’t you knuckleheads plan something idiotic when I’m gone.”

Oswald only waves his hand dismissively and Bonnie sticks her tongue out at Elyas

“How was your trip (Name)?” Bonnie asks in a cheerful tone

”Phew it was quite something, I’ll tell you that.” You place your hands on your hips and bounce on your feet making eye contact with Bonnie with a nervous smile

“Speaking of trips, I call the shots on taking our doc through Malum next week! I haven’t done errands with her in a long while!”

”Hey! It’s my turn to hang out with (Name)! I thought we were following the pattern!” Bonnie complains and lightly shoves Oswald

“Since when did we ever agree to that? It’s whoever gets to her first the one going little sis!”

With an audible pout, Bonnie sits back down on her seat

”Not fair! (Name) please tell him off!” Bonnie drags out your name

”No can do Bon, first come first serve.” You say with a cheesy grin

”I’ll beat you to her Oswald! You’ll see!”

”Oh really? Well that’s a shame ‘cause I already got to her!”

Oswald dashes from his seat and grabs you by the waist hoisting you over his shoulder

“Oz! This is very unnecessary!” trying to hide your grin but fail as you grab onto his shoulders

“Hold on tight doc!~”

Bonnie jumps from her seat and dashes towards Oswald who was now carrying you

The two siblings laugh hysterically chasing each other while you cling on to dear life to Oswald’s shirt and join in on the laughter

“What did I say about planning something idiotic while I’m gone?”

Elyas voice suddenly echoed throughout the room causing the siblings to stop

“Ahh lighten up brother, we were just having a little fun!”

”Not much fun anymore when you’re dizzy! Now put me down Oz!”

“Alright alright down you go doc.”

Setting you down with ease, Oswald then wipes off invisible dust off of you

“There you go all in one piece.”

“Quit touching her. Now scram, Cyrus asked for you and Bonnie back in headquarters.”

”Huh? What for?”

Elyas simply shrugs

Oswald let out a loud groan ”It better be good, c’mon Bonnie.”

”Watch my cheesecake for me (Name)!” Bonnie then scurries out of the room right behind Oswald

“Hey, what did Cyrus ask them for?”

“Nothin’ I was jesting.”

You shoot Elyas a blank stare

“Don't give me that look, I don't want to deal with their annoying asses when I play this.”

Elyas held up a record and walks over to the gramophone

Once he plays the record, an elegant sound of a violin plays along with an accordion that harmonizes with each other

The gramophone changes the setting of the rundown tavern of the Red Lobster into a more elegant atmosphere, both you and Elyas lean against the bar table. The sound of the singer’s rich voice singing in a language you somewhat understood

“Say Elyas, do you comprehend French?”

He only shakes his head “I never knew what the hell the guy was saying, I just like how it sounds.”

“From my limited French knowledge, what I’m getting at is that the singer is longing to meet his departed lover..”

Concentrating on the singer’s words you close your eyes

“You will come back

Someday

Someday…”

Halfway through the song there was a solo

“And..listen to my heart,

I will wait for you

Even if my heart hurts..

So that you can hear my words

I will wait for you..

I will wait for you..”

The record meets its end as the accordion slows down fading away bringing you back to the dreary tavern

“Since when did you understand French? "

"I'm not quite fully fluent in it, the Monad Charity House taught some classes."

"You went to that Charity House?"

With a nod of your head you continue, then grabbing the chain of your necklace, you show Elyas your graduation necklace that was hidden under your blouse

"Yup, I grew up in the Charity house and wanted to become an Alchemist at first but I couldn’t read alchemical equations for the life of me. However I liked science enough to pursue the medical field."

“I see, glad you didn't join those egotistical smartasses.”

”Heh, I suppose so, I didn’t even like them all that much if I’m being honest.” You look at Elyas “Seeing how you and your siblings ar-were Stalkers, were you all in the Charity House as well?”

Elyas notices your slip up and crosses his arms “Nope, the four of us grew up in the alleys, the Sweepers in our area taught us since we were young.”

“Oh, it must’ve been rough growing up in such a place.”

“But it’s what made us strong and outlived the other weak fools. We survived this far, and we will continue to do so together as a family.”

Turning your head away from Elyas you chuckle softly

“What’s so funny?” Elyas asked in a condescending tone

All this time, you believed the Puppet Frenzy and the Petrification disease brought the worst out of humanity, from those who exploited Krat’s vulnerable position and ransacking homes, to survivors who were now in a dog eat world where the strong live and are victorious while the weak can only hope for a quick death

There were countless times when the Brotherhood made it clear they couldn’t give a rat’s ass about fighting with honor, as former Sweeper Stalkers it was in their psyche to survive and win, simply that. But there were cracks to their rough exterior, their love of family for one another.

The reason the Black Rabbit Brotherhood lived this long was their camaraderie and sticking together as a family.

And most recently there was another Achilles heel to their bruteness, you.

The feeble yet firm doctor who doesn’t carry a sword but a stethoscope and briefcase full of instruments to life. Unlike the brotherhood, gentle and merciful

“It’s just, you four are a group of delinquents with disregard for others, but I find it quite endearing that you all got each others’ backs. You all understood you were stronger together.”

“Oh? Getting all sappy on us now, are we?”

“Quiet you, I still don’t like how you treat the poor civilians here and would find an escape route at any given chance.” you didn’t quite mean that last part, but you wanted to get a reaction from Elyas to get back at him

And it seems to have worked too well as Elyas stayed silent and motionless with his teasing disappearing in an instant

“Would you.. actually?..”The tone of his voice almost makes you feel bad, the desperation and worrying riddled in his words

Caught off guard by Elyas’ question you stutter out “Uh-Uhm yeah..I would.”

You side eye Elyas to get a glimpse of him, he faces the floor, silent

“Hey.. I was jesting.” a callback to when Elyas repeated your words

His head suddenly turns to you, you expected him to implode on you but instead your ears were met with a light chuckle

“God…you really are a pain in the ass.”

Looking towards Elyas you also let out a soft chuckle, then you glance down on his hand that was draped on the table, there was this urge to get close to him, to feel a connection

You already suspected he has some type of attraction towards you, and may you be damned for reciprocating them

Slowly, your hand itches closer to Elyas’ hand. Once the tips of your fingers meet, you feel his fingers flinching, taking this as a sign he didn’t want to be touched, you pull your hand back slowly

There was a sudden pressure on your hand and the feeling of leather'

You look down to see Elyas’ hand on yours but he refuses to meet your eyes

Instead you feel him squeezing lightly

“Hey Elyas you lying asshole! Cyrus said he didn’t fucking ask for us!” Oswald's eccentric accent breaks the peace

Immediately the both of you retract your hands

“You just lied to steal (Name) away from us didn’t you?” Bonnie jumps down from the level rail and tugs on your arm “C’mon let’s get away from these dumb dumbs!”

As Bonnie drags you away, Oswald and Cyrus walk up to Elyas

“Ha! If you wanted some alone time with doc, you ‘coulda just said something!” Oswald teases

“Shut up.”

Cyrus laughs and slams his large hand on Elyas’ back making him let out a groan

——

“Ah good evening Miss (Name)! What can I get for you?” The black market merchant greets you

“Say you wouldn’t happen to have some records on you would you?”

“Is that even a question worth asking? Of course!” He then pulls out a crate full of records

“Feel free to look through this mess and pick the one you want.”

Kneeling down, you browse through the records looking for a certain one

“Nope..nope..not this one…found it!”

Pulling out your desired record, you pull it towards your face, admiring the beautiful artwork that decorated it

“Oh? Fascination? Now that’s a classic!”

“An oldie but a goldie. Here’s the ergo.”

“Thank you very much, oh and you’re aware that it’s the instrumental version right?”

“Quite aware, I weirdly prefer this version.”

“To each their own I guess. Well I hope you enjoy it and have a pleasant night.” The merchant tips his hat

“Thank you, good night to you too.”

You walk back where the gramophone that Elyas played earlier was. Taking out Elyas’ record gently placing it away and slipping in yours

Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes and let the music immerse you in a different reality

It sounded as if the violin was singing, synchronizing with the backing instruments, perfectly capturing the beautiful feeling of falling in love

“You’re up late.”

Your eyes stay shut briefly and let out a deep exhale

Pushing yourself off the table, you look up to where Elyas was, you could make out his figure but couldn’t see his face where his mask usually was

On closer inspection, you noticed that his shadow lacked the silhouette of the rabbit ears his mask had

“Come now, don't be shy, I won’t run if your face is ugly.”

This might just be the first time you’ll see Elyas without his mask, the anticipation was killing you

Realizing Elyas hasn’t yet moved from his spot, you had an idea

You turned around with your back now facing him

“Come down when you’re ready, I’ll wait all night, I certainly won’t mind listening to this for hours.”

Then you hear Elyas’ footsteps descending down the stairs, with each step he takes it makes your heart beat faster

Just what could he look like? Masculine, feminine or a mix of both? But you have a hard time imagining a feminine face for Elyas

A gloveless hand rests your waist, while another grabs your hand, twirling you around and you meet face to face with the face you longed to see

Messy raven hair was the first sight in your field of vision

Elyas perhaps has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, it wasn’t the type of blue that pierced into your soul, rather it was a calming blue, his eyes reminded you of the romantic evening nights that was once common in Krat’s skies. Elyas had quite a pale complexion, making the dark circles under his eyes more prominent. The bridge of his nose had a scar kissed on it, his appearance was almost exactly how you expected him to be, rugged but quite pleasing on the eyes, dare you say it, handsome.

What somewhat surprised you was how young Elyas looked, he looked like a man barely in his early 20’s. At the prime of young adulthood, around the same age as you.

You’ve seen how the other members of the black rabbit brotherhood looked like, they all possessed unruly jet black hair and a birthmark somewhere etched on their faces. Elyas had a few beauty marks patched on his face, from under his cheek, chin, even one near his nose. You’re enticed to caress the moles and the scars on his face

“With the way you’re eyeing me, I can’t tell if you’re eating me up or about to run off with your tail between your legs.”

Ignoring his teasing, you continue to gaze at him

“It’s just, you’re so beautiful…”

Elyas’ eyes widen, his face reddening and he lets out a small chortle

“You’re quite the beauty yourself, doctor.”

Bashfully, you lower your head, and lightly smack Elyas’ chest

“Hey, don’t you get shy on me now.” gripping your chin to lift your face up

Wordlessly, Elyas then guides you to the center of the floor, hand firmly on your waist still

You stare at the decomposing wooden floor of the Red Lobster, in this moment, you momentarily forget about the dire situation around you, the disease, the frenzy, none of it mattered in this one moment. You look up to the source of your escape from reality, he looks down at you with the same amount of longing

Everytime Elyas’ foot moves forward, yours moves back, when he leads you toward the left you follow his footing, coordinating with his movements causing the both of you to form a slow dance

Your hand rests on his shoulder while the other is held by Elyas’, now lacking the gloves

His hands were rough, almost having a sandpaper-like feeling, years of brawling in the rigorous culture of the alleys left him with textured palms

Elyas’ gaze turns into an ambivalent expression, him two months ago would laugh at his current self for being vulnerable and soft towards the flimsy doctor. For years Elyas’ heart conditioned itself to lock itself away from tender emotions such as love, it only had room for his family, but somehow you happened to make your way into his heart and heal what the world had done to him. What one hell of a doctor you were.

Elyas never was bothered by the fact he’s put a few people six feet underground in the past, leaving his hands stained with blood. Guilt now had a hold on him. Not for the ones slain by him, but for now tainting you, a doctor who dedicated her life to saving lives now associating herself with death himself.

As soon as the music reached its’ climax, Elyas grabs your waist and lifts you up in the air, spinning you around and gently setting you back down leaving you in a brief daze

As the music reaches the end, Elyas dips you down

Slowly bring you back up, his hands still hold you, as if he wished for this moment to never end

Meeting Elyas’ eyes, your hand that was on his shoulder moves up to to cup his face and he closes his eyes, indulging in your warmth

Soft and docile, you felt exactly how Elyas imagined

Would…your lips feel the same?

Opening his eyes, Elyas keeps them lidded as he glances down at your lips

Understanding what he was asking of you, you give him the most love-struck grin and close your eyes, leaning forward

Like magnets, your lips pull in towards Elyas’

Bliss would be an blatant understatement, nothing could ever comprehend the overabundance of emotions you were feeling, both negative and positive

Each movement of your lips with Elyas’ sent adrenaline of excitement and a sense of freedom, sharing saliva with a parlous man like Elyas would be considered unorthodox, but who is left in Krat to judge you?

—-

As time went on, more and more residents succumbed to the Petrification disease and more mutated monsters infested the district, ever since the Alchemists promised a so-called cure to the disease, Krat’s problems seemed to have worsened, those damned Alchemists had done something horrific to those refugees in the Cathedral.

You knew those Alchemists were suspicious from the start, this only worsens your disdain towards them

Much to your dismay the brotherhood refused to let you out in the district anymore, leaving whatever surviving residents to tend to themselves

You couldn’t help but feel hopeless couped up in headquarters, surely there were those who have yet to succumbed to the Petrification disease that is need of medical care

Cleaning and organizing your medical tools, you hear Elyas approaching near you, he takes off his mask

Your relationship with Elyas reached a new degree, it has no label yet but the feelings are there and real. And so you just let it happen and see how it goes from there

“That frown has been common on your face these days.” Elyas says as he grabs and raises your chin,

With a tight smile, you grab his hand on your chin and intertwine them with yours

“You know why I’ve been getting frown wrinkles.”

His eyebrows furrow “And you know why we don’t want you going out there, the world is going to hell, it’s too dangerous.”

You sigh and break eye contact, but keep your hands connected

Stroking your cheek, Elyas leans closer to your face “You worry too much, let’s just look after each other now eh?”

Calloused hands grab your cheek to direct your face towards him, Elyas leans forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss to which you return

The newfound connection you’ve made with Elyas is yet to be revealed to his siblings, but you assume at this point they’ve connected the dots by now with how insistent Elyas is to be close in your presence and they bite their tongues to avoid his retribution

Pulling away, Elyas hovers over your face

“There’s an intruder in the District, stay in headquarters until we deal with this pest.”

Your eyebrows downturn “Intruder? Is it another Stalker?”

”Not sure, but he does wield a weapon and has competent skills with it.” Elyas stares off in space deep in thought “So stay put, will you?” Looking at you with a hardened but pleading look

With a sigh you nod

“Thank you.” With one more quick kiss, Elyas slowly parts from you and heads out the door, “We won’t take long.”

As you watch him leave, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, no one outside Malum has ever made it far into the District due to the immense number of carcass monsters increasing

But it gave you a sense of hope?

Who would be bold enough to infiltrate the den of the notorious Black Rabbit Brotherhood unless they had a motive to put them in their place. For the longest time, you thought humanity lost its willpower and strength, God knows what’s happening to the world outside of Krat. Despite your affections for the Brotherhood, you can’t help but respect the one who has the guts to face them. And it’ll be a shame if Krat’s last spark of hope gets snuffed out.

With a determined look, you go against Elyas’ wish. Grabbing a cloak and a small messenger bag, you make your way up to the roof

—-

The Malum District was the embodiment of misery and despair, P never thought that he'd ever miss the Puppets that he once loathed and wished to eradicate

Any sight of puppets would be a welcoming sight compared to these monstrous sights

As he makes his way through the streets, P notices writing on the walls

‘The Angel of Malum, Doctor (Name) where are you? Please we need you!’

‘Damn the Brotherhood for taking away our Angel!’

‘Prayers for the Angel of Malum, our beacon of hope’

This (Name) person must’ve be an important figure in the Malum with how many memorials he’s seen for this doctor

While observing the walls, there was a sudden groan heard from one of the houses

Raising his weapon, P stalks closer to the source of the sound

Heading inside, a gold-haired man was the first thing he sees, tainted with the blue of the disease

“W-who are you?.. (Name)..?”

The slouching human lifts his head up looking up at P, his deathly pale blue face had a look of hope that fell immediately

“Oh… you’re not her…they’re still holding her captive... If she’s even alive...”

”Who?” P asks

”She was our angel (Name)…she gave comfort and aided to those in need of care…until the brotherhood took her away…” The blonde man lets out a violent cough ”Mister…you must save her if she's still alive and well…those awful Black Rabbit Brotherhood caged her up in their hideout…my final wish is for her to be liberated…”

Contemplating, P then nods

“Haha…thank you…oh and if you see (Name) tell her that I, Finlay… love…”

Before the man could finish his sentence, death came for him first, his confession forever lost

—-

Stepping outside the house, P continues his way

*chirp* “Geez..poor guy, looks like he was the only survivor in his family judging from the other corpses inside the house..”

There was a sudden clamping on his leg

”Ha! It’s funny seeing ‘em all flustered!”

He looks up to see a girl with a rabbit mask

”Hey…the idiot’s actually a looker…” she then jumps back and retreats

P struggled to get the trap off his leg, each time he squirms it bites harder into his leg

“Oh my goodness, I’ll come down and help you!”

His head suddenly swings up, a woman in a hooded cloak gets down from the roof and rushes towards him

“How in the..how are you not bleeding?” The woman looks at P with confusion and curiosity “Are you… a puppet?”

Staring into the woman’s eyes, P nods his head, the hooded woman then had a look of reluctance before sighing

“Well alright then…let’s get you out of this bear trap.” She then presses on the springs, making the jaws of the trap lower. Feeling the pressure going away from his leg, P closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. Opening his eyes, he looked at the lady who helped him. Up close she was quite pretty

She then offers her hand to him with a gentle smile, “Can you stand? That is quite a nasty trap you fell in.”

He grabs her smaller palms and with her help gets back up

*chirp* “Excuse me Miss if you don’t mind me asking, but just why are you helping my pal here? Considering people don’t treat puppets too well these days.”

“What the- did your bottom just talk??” The lady looks around P, looking for where the voice came from

*chirp* “Down here! I’m his guide, Gemini!” P grabs the lamp from his belt and raises Gemini towards the woman

“Oh.. interesting..” She looks at the lamp with intrigue, looking from the lamp and now to P “Well the reason I came to your aid, I get this feeling that you’re special.”

She continues, “The moment I heard you made it into Malum pass those awful creatures, something inside me just ruptured, like fireworks.” The lady then looks up at the dreary sky with a bittersweet smile “It was a feeling I hadn’t had in such a long time, hope.”

She looks back at P, her hopeful smile doesn’t falter. “I have no idea why, but I just have this gut feeling that you’re important, so please beware, the Brotherhood is wanting to put you under the ground.” Despite finishing her sentence, the kind lady had her lips in a tight line, almost as if she still had something to say

“If you do fight the Brotherhood…please refrain from killing them.”

*chirp* “I hate to be that guy but they're the ones who came after us first! If push comes to shove, we just might have to!”

A sigh of disappointment escapes from her lips. “Then please spare them for my sake, like some sort of favor.” She then gives a friendly smile “I'm (Name) by the way.”

“Doctor (Name)?” Hearing the beautiful boy talk for the first time surprises (Name)

“Yes... But not so much anymore, my patients have been limited to the Brotherhood these days.”

*chirp* “Well maybe that’s another darn good reason we need to get rid of them! They’re practically holding you captive!”

“I-it’s not necessarily like that!” (Name)’s hands rest on her forehead “maybe at first it sorta was but not so much anymore!”

P’s face gave away that he still wasn’t too satisfied with her response

“Come with me.” P says as he raises his hand towards (Name) and she stares at his mechanical arm

“Such a straightforward boy aren't you?” (Name) giggles but then shakes her head “I care too much for the Brotherhood now, but I believe they need to be humbled from time to time.”

Reaching inside her bag, (Name) pulls out three pulse cells

“Here, a fight is inevitable and you best be prepared, but I once again beg of you to not kill them, maybe a good whooping will do.”

Graciously accepting the pulse cells, P looks at (Name) and nods

Holding her hands to her chest (Name) smile gratefully at P “Thank you strong one. Once you liberate this city, I'll deal with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood.”

(Name) slowly steps away from P and makes her way back up climbing back up to the roof

As P watches her disappear, he looks at the pulse cells given to him by the first person who’s ever shown him kindness outside the Hotel,

He firmly grasps the items, humanity is still worth fighting for

—-

Managing to make it back in headquarters with no one noticing the doctor’s absence, in the nick of time the Black Rabbit Brotherhood were anticipating the intruder as the Eldest hauls the Liar’s coffin on his broad shoulders

The Rabbits were on the hunt

(Name) peeks out the window upon hearing the loud eruption on the front gate, humanity’s last hope crashes into the Black Rabbit Brotherhood’s lair

The four criminal siblings march toward, the one leading the group looks back at headquarters one last time, inside someone precious to him resides in it

—-

“Bring it on, you ain’t seen nothing like my brother.”

—-

“The toy is mine! Mine! Root for me brothers!”

—-

“Argh no! Knock him out bro!”

—-

”C’mon, you played nice with the others! Don’t you wanna play with me, mister puppet?”

—-

“So this is Geppetto’s puppet huh? Gotta admit: he knows what he’s doing.”

—-

One by one, you watch as each of the brotherhood get overpowered by the puppet you met earlier, it seems he was keeping up with his promise of not maiming them

Cyrus was holding his ground for longer

Finally, Elyas jumps down, facing the puppet

—-

“We don’t get extra points for fighting fair. Survive and win, that simple.”

—-

Elyas lasted longer than his other siblings, but you started to see cracks in his battle stance, he too was no match for Geppetto’s puppet

—-

“You’re no Bastard, nor Sweeper. Those moves of yours…”

—-

As you watch Elyas retreat away from the battle after a nasty hit, you notice him limping a bit. That set off all the alarms in your head. Grabbing your medical bag, you dash outside to his aid

Pushing the door with all your might, your outburst grabs Elyas’ attention who was on his knee, grabbing on the left of his side

“(Name)? What are you doing out here?! Get back inside!” You ignore his demands and rush next to him

”Quiet Elyas, you’re injured! Where does it most hurt?”

Reluctantly, Elyas looks down to his side, letting out a groan

You take off his mask and hood, revealing his pained expression “Breathing..hurts..”

Looking at his face that was induced with anguish increased your worry tenfold. Both of your hands grab his face in a gentle cradle and slowly Elyas succumbed to your touch, closing his eyes and breathing slowly

You now had a prang of remorse and regret, was it a good idea to help Geppetto’s puppet? You hadn’t meant for the brotherhood to get seriously hurt, at worst you expected bruises and maybe minor cuts but Elyas was showing symptoms of broken ribs

You turn around and see Oswald and Bonnie who are kneeling with fatigue. Geppetto’s puppet and Cyrus were still battling, you had to stop this madness before it gets worse

“Rest here.” As you get up, Elyas looks at you like you’ve grown 10 heads, he yells for you to stop, but you ignore them

—-

Right as P parried the Eldest brother’s blow, he staggers, giving him an open to attack

With a look with intent to kill, he raises his weapon for a deathly blow

“STOP!” The doctor P met earlier gets between him and the Eldest with arms wide open, immediately he halts

”Please, don’t kill them.. you’ve won, fair and square..” P notices on how much the girl was shaking

On que, the Eldest falls on the ground passing out due to exhaustion

”Brother!” The other siblings run to the Eldest’s collapsed body

—-

As Oswald and Bonnie ran over to Cyrus, they look to you for confirmation

Immediately you get beside Cyrus and put your ear on his chest, desperate to hear any signs of life

Thump thump

You let out an exhale that you held in for too long, “He’s gonna be alright..”

Bonnie gasps in relief as Oswald embraces his sister

Rising from Cyrus’ chest, you feel a hand on your shoulder, Elyas who’s hand was still on his side looks at you with gratitude and enamorment, he then looks at the puppet, face immediately souring

You grab his arm and shake your head, “Please, just let him go. It’s not worth it.” Elyas looks at you with a strife look before sighing and glancing back at the puppet.

“There’s a passage to the Krat Hotel inside, we better not see your face again, now fuck off.”

The beautiful puppet gives you one last look before heading inside the headquarters, you give him an assuring smile and watch him leave, perhaps you’ll see him again one day

“What’s the deal with you and Geppetto’s puppet eh?” Elyas asks in a skeptical tone and a raised eyebrow, clearly irritated

Your eyes roll

—-

It had been about over a week since the Black Brotherhood’s defeat against the puppet, a humiliating defeat, but they all survived in the end

Cyrus had made a full recovery, Bonnie and Oswald had very minor injuries but Elyas was still healing from his broken ribs

The skies of Krat started to heal as well as the gloomy gray clouds started to dissipate, the majestic blue skies was returning along with heaven’s beacon

Sitting on the roof of headquarters, a bittersweet smile creeps on the doctor’s face, it had been so long since she felt the sun kiss her skin

“Never thought you could ever be more beautiful until now, that sun does you justice, love” Elyas joins his beloved on her leisure on the roof

“Elyas you need to be resting!” she scolds him but he brushes her off

“Oh shut up, can I not gaze at the sun with my lady?” Elyas sits down next to (Name) and she gives in to his wishes. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close as she rests her hand on his chest

The pair admire the skies in comfortable silence until (Name) speaks up

“To think I met you in grim circumstances and I embrace you as if I knew you for years, have I gone crazy?”

Elyas snickers “You know you love me, as do I with ardent.” His windows to the world gaze into hers, they were each other’s worlds

“I’ll admit that I can’t help it, I really do love you.”

Elyas leans his forehead on (Name)’s and makes a vow

“(Name), one day, we all will get outta this shithole. And when we do, we can start over, maybe we can live like a real couple. I promise to get you out of here and give you a life you deserve.” Elyas’ words touch deeply in (Name)'s heart, somehow falling for him even more

“And Elyas, I pledge to stay by your side no matter what the world throws at us.”

They lean in for a kiss, it was as tender and passionate as any other they shared

The world around them was in chaos, but they knew they would be ok as long as they were together.

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

A/N: *SCREAMS IN AGONY* that was the longest fic ive ever written phew you deserve the world for reading all that cuz it was like over 7k words , but tbh i have mixed feelings over how i wrote the ending, its kinda shit imo

but once again thank you so much for reading, it actually means sm <3333

my friend who knows French helped with translations on the lyrics to Someday so shout out to him lmao

#lies of p x reader #lies of p #black rabbit brotherhood #black rabbit brotherhood x reader #lies of p fanfic

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