#and it also makes you angry! not everyone grieves by crying a bit

[yuridovewing]

Remember when people would make fun of Russetfur’s death and get angry at ShadowClan for being horrified and upset at Lionblaze for killing her, saying “lol she was old anyways, its not that big of a deal, they’re so annoying for hating Lionblaze, she shouldn’t have even been fighting.” Even though ThunderClan provoked that battle on ShadowClan’s own land and she’s the deputy so naturally everyone’s gonna be outraged and upset at him and ThunderClan

That was weird.

[petrichorium]

so I think I got to that absolutely devastating thing in witch hat last night—that hurt :,)👍 literally was not expecting qifrey to wipe oru’s memory after everything the story seemed to be building up for between this hurdle for them

like….that was such an important moment for them. Oru had been so willing to help him despite qifrey become so insanely fixated on stopping the brimmed hats and….qifrey made the decision that he’d rather oru remember him as the qifrey he’s familiar with than whatever he’s become now. put me down like an old dog—that HURT

AGOKNEEEEEEEEEEEE

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[papayajuan2019]

how to fall in love with life?

i feel unqualified to answer, im so mentally ill, but i'll try. also, im drunk, so excuse the incongruency. if youre looking to fall in love with life, and youre asking someone who is also hurting, it's likely you have not been given what you deserve throughout your life. please acknowledge you have always deserved the love life has to offer, the sweet moments of connection and warmth. what took that love from you was not fair; grieve it entirely. you always deserved to fall in love with life. let it hurt entirely. please do not be afraid of the hurt. it's proof the love has always belonged to you. please hurt entirely, it's necessary to let the love in. dont let the shame stop you from hurting. please, i know this sounds counterintuitive, let yourself feel so fucking hurt. it doesnt mean you have to be angry, or righteous, or demand answers, just let it hurt. cry, or be sad. acceptance that things are not right is key.

after that, learn to be childlike again. learn to be scared again without baggage. learn to play games without remorse. learn to make art again, regardless of talent. be open, even while being so scared. find the right people to be open to (read: platonic people, do not go looking for romantic openness, that is for later on). love of life6 requires finding the right people to be open to. do not find those people online, or at the very least, dont let the online people be the key people. find people in the real world (if youre like me, that is real fucking scary. but it cant be done any other way. it has to be people whose reaction you can see physically in real time).

after that, just be you. the person you have been reluctant to be. be overwhelming. be sad. be fun. go out in nature. find outlets (up to you. could be physical activity, or writing, or nature appreciation, or other types of art, could be sex, could be platonic activity. everyone is different, dont judge what finds you).

basically, be the version of you that you knew was always true. be messy. be earnest. find safety, which, paradoxically, requires a bit of risk first. be so scared. love requires undoing the baggage put on you, which, in turn, requires a bit of fear.

sorry if this doesnt make any sense. i am still in the process of falling in love with life. if you fail at it this time, try again later. i love you

[deans-angel67]

Just Friends

Summary: They're "just friends"

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 600

Warning: none really, angst?

Everyone knew they were inseparable. Wherever she was, he was right there beside her. They were attracted by the hip, 'I'm going to get food.' 'Let me grab my jacket.' They shared a bed, and always did research at the same time. No matter what they were doing they were together. Dean and Y/n if one was close the other couldn't be very far.

A/N: Drabble. Let me know if you enjoy things in this format. Also would you be interested in me turning this into a series?

____

Y/n joined the Winchesters after her parents where killed. None of her family could take her in (not that they would have). So John kept her, she was quiet and shy, which was normal considering she was grieving. But she eventually broke out of her shell, thanks to Sam's thousands of questions and Dean's sympathetic glances. She'd answer all the questions and she started to be herself again slowly. She got closer to the brothers but mostly to Dean. It was bound to happen with the amout of time they spent together. They shared a bed, spent hours if not days in a car together and had all the same classes. Even though she was a year younger than him (she skipped 3rd grade).

They had quite a bit in common. Same music taste, they enjoyed the same movies and food. But something about them just clicked and they never left each other's side. Even when Sam went to college and John left, they always had each other. Throught out the years they went through a lot of things and they bonded, over trauma, over sports, over homework. They built an incredible strong trust between the two of them and it was never broken. Y/n was probably the only one who had ever seen Dean truly cry, and he was the only one who had ever seen her so angry she beat a man half to death. Which was extremely unlike her. They comforted each other.

Now they were adults, and they knew everything about each other. They knew the others triggers, when they needed comfort, physical touch, when they needed to be alone or just some encouraging word. Most people assumed that they were dating because of how in sync they were. Always knowing the others next move, but they were....

JUST FRIENDS.

It was something they had both said numerous times throughout the years. Sam knew that saying those words always hurt Y/n. She fell first, how could she not? He understood everything that she was going through, he was kind and gentle. He smelled like pin cones, cologne and leather. Not to mention he was tall, with beautiful eyes, a killer smile and an adorable attitude with alot of sarcasm mixed into it. He always made time for her and his touch gave her butterflies. He would hold the door open and stay near by when he noticed she didn't feel safe.

But when he realized that he was falling for her it became chaos in his head. Her kindness, compassion and her soft smile. The way she always smelled good honey and mint even though they stayed in musty motel rooms. Her way of always having a brighter perspective and a chipper attitude. Yes, she had her bad days, but who didn't. She would play along his sarcastic wit, and she never failed to make him smile.

But neither was willing to risk there friendship for a stupid crush. A crush that made her heart swell, and that made him feel jealous the moment another man looked her way. They were oblivious to each other. They were just friends. That's what they tried to convince themselves at least.

[ghostiesandghoulss]

This is gonna be a bit of a long rambling personal post sooooo do what you will with that information

The way that Butchered Tongue makes me literally sob

Every time I learn more about Irish history and I learn why my name is spelled the way it is and why my family had to come here makes me feel sick

My last name is Egan, it should be Mac Aodhagáin but when the English colonized Ireland they changed the spelling of last names to kill their language and it happened for hundreds of years

This specific line of my family lived in Offaly for centuries until they were starved out of their own country by their queen who had stewardship over them.

But Irish is still spoken, I have ways of learning it, and people are taking back their names and the names of places. They failed at destroying that culture and I am so openly and annoyingly proud of my all my weird amount of Irish ancestry

But if it weren't for the colonization and imperialization of Ireland my name would still be Mac Aodhagáin. My language would be Irish and I'd be living on the same land that almost every other person in my line has lived on.

It makes me want to curl up and cry and it makes me so fucking angry and if this is how I feel about something that was so tame compared to what happened in America then I can only barely begin to imagine how Native Americans feel about how their land and their people and their cultures and their languages have been ravaged. And every other group of people who've had their cultural identity and their population obliterated for the sake of fucking profit

It's horrific what human beings do for the sake of control over other human beings. It makes me sick

I grieve the cultures that were stolen from me, both Irish and Scottish, and I’ve spent several years trying to reconnect with them, but I also know that it’ll never be the same as it could’ve been if they hadn’t been butchered by the English monarchy for hundreds of years. And that hurts very deeply

I encourage everyone to learn about their family history, and in turn it’ll help you learn about who you are.

And I also encourage everyone to listen to Unreal Unearth because it’s very good

[correctproseka]

Been thinking about absolutely strong An has been through this event.

- Finds out her aunt died from her uncle after he said her team would never beat RAD Weekend in their lifetime

- Watched her colleagues (EVER, Arata, Kotaru) get decimated in a singing battle SECONDS AFTER by the same uncle who broke the sad news to them (Arata especially getting Shredded from Taiga’s remarks about carrying dreams since he carries Soma’s dream of becoming the best singer ever)

- Later performing against said uncle with her team WHILE STILL PROCESSING NAGI’S DEATH, WHAT TAIGA IS DOING, and other thoughts racing in her head, only to get eviscerated by him sINCE SHES GOING THROUGH A LOT AT THE MOMENT MENTALLY (“Your Aunt’s dead, your team wont ever beat me, lets have a rap battle now!!” - Taiga)

- Seeing said colleagues leave seemingly forever because their dreams have been shattered, only having her own team

- Her father finding them and telling her the whole truth, which included the reason why until now everyone had been LYING TO HER FOR YEARS about Nagi’s condition

AND THIS HAPPENS ALL IN ONE DAY

AND SHE GETS RIGHT BACK UP AFTER A FEW MOMENTS OF GRIEVING NAGI’S DEATH

She gets back up, thats true, but lets make a few things clear.

She only gets back up because she has her team and her dad. If anyone in her team had given up, i dont think she could've handled. And as much as she is rightfully angry at her dad, he is also a good reason she can stay as confident as she is.

Plus, we know that whatever happened was NOT acceptance, well, it kind of was, but also not. You know the stages of grief are.. weird. An skipped denial (or we can count those three years as denial), right into anger- and she unleashed that anger while singing, and is angry at her town and at her dad- and in between anger she has depression, i would say they're both so intertwined you can barely see which is which. She can't bargain, or maybe she's bargaining at herself, she cant fully break down in front of Taiga, or until she learns of everything.

And once she does, more at side cards than in the actual story. Here comes the acceptance, alongside again more depression. You just know she possibly cried herself to sleep that night- if she slept at all. But also, yes, An is strong, but we cant just ignore the fact that she set her feelings to the side enough to cry at a safe place- and that she has her team to lift her up.

Because for one. Nagi is right. If An knew about it before she met Kohane, and before they formed Vivid Bad Squad, An would have given up on music all together, not that she wasn't strong then, she would have gotten over with that situation, probably EASIER without yknow. Knowing it three years later. But also the main reason she was into music would be gone, so what was the point? Now she has more people- and more reasons- to be into music.

Just adding salt to the wound yknow.

Also my headcanon is that after An was. Like yknow, not fighting tears just because of Nagi's name (which took like a full week), Ken took her to the cemetery where Nagi is, which made An cry all over again but helped her mourn since she never had the chance to, he walked away to give them a bit of privacy while An talks to the grave to give Nagi updates about her life and in the end, she feels more determined than ever, she leaves a little drawing of the vbs logo on top of it and goes back more at peace than when she came in.

[drsbutmakeitspicy]

Some more thoughts about : The neutral to enemies to friends to lovers but spice it up with a crash - below

English is not my first language, this is unedited spilled thoughs.

*They dont become touchy after the accident, but before - Carlos has this need to touch everyone he is talking to or just are around him, so as soon as they start to have fun together during nights with other drivers Carlos just has the need to put his arm around Oscar's neck And Oscar just go with the flow since Carlos does the same with Lando and Charles.

It turns into long hugs and cuddles after the accident, Carlos doesn't like how Oscar is taking it - Carlos expected Oscar to be angry, to explode in rage and refuse his fate, yell at everyone and somehow throw the wheelchair and crutches out the window, but that's what Carlos would feel in his place, that's a little bit what he feels deep down. He is upset and angry but also angry at Oscar 'Did he really loves the sport?!' is one of the many questions on his mind.

*Carlos learn that Mark Webber is an Oscar Expert. Some times he would ask everyone to leave the room to give Oscar space, even though Oscar hasn't said a thing, haven't even moved. It happens a lot during the 4 days Carlos stay, he start to think that Webber dislikes him, they have a talk while Oscar is sleeping peacefully (so many painkillers).

During the talk Mark tells him how Oscar was while growing up, how he is more logical than emotional, he talks about Oscar winning races, f3 and the f2 championship but not jumping around or yelling at the top of his lungs like Leclerc did in f2, Oscar simply had a big smile on his face. "He has always been like this, like he works on low energy." Webber tells Carlos how right now Oscars reaction is a bit different, "He cried the first day when you were holding him but right now I think he is refusing to, I think he sees that as a useless reaction since it won't make things turn back. I tried to talk to him about it and he tells me not to worry, but I can't. He needs to allow himself to feel his feelings. To grieve his career."

Mark tells him how they have a video call scheduled with Nicole early in the morning, she wants to actually see Oscar, only hearing him on the phone and receiving pictures is not enough for her heart. He ask Carlos if he would be okay to stay in the room with them during the call "I think the dam will break yknow? And he will need us."

Before the call Carlos ask Oscar if he can fix his hair "Its fine" "It is fine, I'm sure the birds love it, no?" He gets a little chuckle from that, others would say Oscar was still a bit high from the drugs but Carlos just likes to think he is funny.

"oh wow I could go back to sleep like this, I love it" Carlos hear him whisper while trying to comb his hair to the right direction with his fingers. Yep, Oscar is high.

During the call Carlos is out of the frame, he is watching Oscar more than anything, how he is avoiding looking at his mother's crying face, concentrating in the corner, how he doesn't finish most thoughts, how he is slightly shaking but moving his hand and asking Mark to hold the phone to not be so obvious.

Carlos put his hand on the bed, by Oscar's side, he almost went to touch him too many times, his body acting on impulse, so used to show support and comfort like that. And to his suprise he feels a hand on his, lacing their fingers, his whole body is shaking. The call is almost over with Oscar's sisters wishing a fast and painless recovery and Nicole asking to talk with Mark, as he leaves the room he takes a last glace at Carlos and he gets the message. The door close and he hears Oscar's voice waver as he ask 'Can you hold me? I think- Something is wrong'

And he holds him against his neck "Big Breaths Oscar, can you do that for me?" Helping him during the panic attack, and comforting him carresing his hair and back when the tears finally fall, saying between hiccups "I want to walk again, I want to drive! I need to driver!"

"You will, you need to heal first ok? We will help you ok?"

[whatvef]

If there's one single thing I want people to stop saying about Romeo and Juliet it's that all the other characters died because of them. Have whatever "kids are dumb" take you want - literature is meant to be interpreted in a million different ways - but I simply can't stand for grossly misreading the explicit events of a text to fit with a preconceived narrative about the characters being un-likeable or stupid.

The events and behaviours leading to deaths:

Romeo goes to a Capulet party and Tybalt recognises him. Tybalt wants to throw him out but his uncle gets angry at Tybalt and berates him instead ➡️ Tybalt sees Romeo and his friends on the street and harasses him in an attempt to start a fight, angering Mercutio until he starts fighting Tybalt instead ➡️ Tybalt kills Mercutio causing Romeo to lose it and kill Tybalt in return ➡️ Romeo is banished causing his mother to die of sadness

Cause of deaths: the feud, Romeo sneaking into the party, Tybalt having anger issues and his Uncle getting pissy about feeling like his authority has been challenged causing Tybalt to get even more angry, Mercutio being a bit too much of a real one and two Montagues who love and grieve too strongly to survive it

Juliet fakes her death but Romeo doesn't find out it was fake ➡️ Fully Adult Male Paris hangs out in her tomb crying about how he didn't get to marry a 13 year old ➡️ Romeo shows up and they fight ➡️ Paris dies ➡️ Romeo kills himself ➡️ Juliet wakes up and kills herself too

Causes of death: THE FEUD also tragic love, dodgy mail services, the fryer being a bit useless, I guess you could say that Paris died because of R&Js love but like. Good.

What's really important here!!!!! Is that THE WHOLE REASON the fryer agrees to marry Romeo and Juliet without their parents blessing is because he wants to use their union to end the feud for good. Romeo is on his way to tell Juliet's parents about their marriage when Tybalt intercepts him. He avoids fighting right up until Mercutios death because he and Tybalt are now family. Their marriage does not cause any of those deaths, in fact, it comes extremely close to preventing them! Romeo and Juliet die for their love of each other, but their love almost saves them along with everyone else!!! It's so sad to me that people deliberately miss this in favour of dunking on romance!

Also worth noting:

-people talk a lot of shit about the getting married after knowing each other for three days thing but Juliet's dad starts the play saying that she's way too young to get married to Fully Adult Man Paris and then changes his mind. In three days. With no explanation other than "do what I say how dare you question me"

- the people who survive from both families are the people most responsible for the tragedy. They have to live with their losses knowing that these wretched circumstances where of their own making. "All are punished".

- Romeo and Juliet's marriage did ultimately succeed in ending the feud, they died together and neither family could continue to blame the other and keep perpetuating the cycle of violence. They could only blame themselves, and so the feud ended with their families united in grief.

[sahhr-studiesmed]

27/10/24

Sunday.

11:40 PM.

Hey everyone.

It's been a while since I wrote here especially since my exams were done and over with.

I think I was in the recovery phase in a way. The experience was not just stressful but also extremely traumatic and for a long long time I couldn't figure out what to do about any of it. I suppose I was waiting for it to start feeling right once again and that I didn’t want it to feel overwhelming once Again.

On the better part— I am starting to feel a bit more normal than say a month ago. I haven’t been studying a lot but I have started studying a a bit more or at least the way i used to.

The biggest change that came in my life was not coming to the second year but rather that— i went through a breakup. That’s not something that a a study blog talks about. Right? Well, this is a life blog and broken relationships are still very much a part of life.

Why am I taking about this? Why am I making a a big deal out of this? Why am I being dramatic about it? It’s not a big deal. It would have happened eventually. What difference does it make that it happened a bit earlier than you had expected? And why even feel like it came out of nowhere? You had been anticipating it. You could almost see it happening in your head— are some of the things my brain has beentelling me.

I am a sleepy right now as I write this but i have been choking on my own words and i promised myself that I would write today and get it out. No matter how hard it was.

The thing about med school no one talks about is— the impact it has on close relationships. It could be platonic ones or it could be romantic ones and they are never the same once you get in med school. The people who scoffed and ridiculed you suddenly become nicer and the people who meant the world to you become distant and eventually you end up losing them.

In my head relationships have always been a game of probability and the steps you take to push the probability in your favour.

The person I love— he is the reason I got in med school. I was never the one with grit. I talked big about dreams but they were mere words and words mean nothing if they are not backed with actions. Words are air and they vanish just as quick as they come but actions anchor them. When we had first met— I was just that all talk and no action and I would blame everything else instead of being accountable and that made him angry. I was scared of losing him to this reason— so I stared working hard even though it felt like my mind was not my own and that I was clutching at empty air. I wanted him to know that I was putting in efforts.

That’s how it started and then by some miracle I got in med school and he became secondary.

I didn’t get a choice and we slowly grew apart. He got angrier and I got busy. He got colder and I couldn’t do anything about it. He lost his warmth and I became the villain.

That’s how it happened— the breakup.

How am I dealing with it all?

I have been binge eating— i have gained weight because of that because somehow food brings comfort. A full stomach keeps the mind full and there is no thinking one has to do. I spend time doing everything that can be categorised as wasting time.

It happened three days before I was to start in the new year.

Med school doesn’t allow you to grieve. So i cry now and then— when I can register what has actually happened.

The thing really is— i knew months ago that this would happen but I mourn the loss of what was. The comfort and care. The openness and sincerity and it eventually vanishing away.

I don’t know what else to write really. I have been feeling disengaged from even expressing. Words do form but they bring me not relief. I keep feeling empty.

So i will write from now on. Broken and imperfect. Unsatisfactory and incomplete but I will write because I cant let myself go. I have worked too hard to get where I am right now and if I let that go— there is not much left to me.

So i will start small and fall a lot but I will try to save myself and not let go of myself.

[nardo-headcanons]

Sorry for bad formatting! I’m on mobile! Also English isn’t my native tongue sry

Thanks to @seikosenju for requesting!

Short Comfort Scenarios for Madara and Tobirama!

Fluff, light angst, grief, sfw

Pronouns used: she/her

Comforting Madara Uchiha after the loss of Izuna

Madara sat on the stairway of his porch, a storm brewing around him; resembling the hurricanes he felt in his heart. Like a sweeping wave trying to throw him around like a pebble on the ocean floor. Why was he feeling that way? He wasn’t supposed to have thoughts like these. Why couldn’t he be.. normal?Raindrops were hammering on his skin. But he didn’t care. Madara felt an indescribable, agonizing feeling.

And it wasn’t because of the death of his younger brother, he was angry at himself. He had seen his cold, lifeless body being lowered into the ground. He had seen the surprise and terror on his face when he was struck by Tobirama’s deadly blow. And yet, he did not want to acknowledge what had happened. Izuna is still out there somewhere, he can’t be gone forever. Yet the only thing remaining were his eyes, now a part of his big brother.

He remembered training during a storm similar to the current one, not stopping until he had mastered that Jutsu he wanted to utilize. Izuna would then come into the muddy inner patio of the Uchiha mansion. “Madara, father says you must come inside now, it’s no use training in the rain like this” Madara ignored him, still practicing hand signs. Izuna crossed his arms. “Get inside or you’ll catch a cold, idiot!”

Now there was no one that could convince him to come inside. Anyone who tried to cheer him up was either ignored or sent away. The ones that didn’t left him sitting in the cold rain all day, as they thought, Madara had taken Izuna’s eyes by force.

He sensed someone behind him but didn’t bother to turn around. Footsteps approached him along with the sounds of raindrops falling on an umbrella. “Haven’t I made myself clear?! I don’t need anyone telling me what or how to-“ as he realized it was y/n, a girl who attended Izuna’s funeral, he fell silent.

She sat next to him, shielding him from the rain with her umbrella, shyly looking into his direction. She inhaled to talk, but when she saw Madara still focusing the ground in front of them, she ceased. Minutes, feeling like hours, were passing by. Y/n, collecting all her courage, uttered to him: “You know, everyone grieves in their own way. I just don’t want you to catch a cold, you know? Please don’t forget to take care of yourself, you deserve it!”

Madara didn’t want to admit it, but the kindness and sincerity of y/n’s words touched him deeply. It wasn’t often people aside from his little brother showed genuine care. He felt his eyes warming up, becoming hotter and hotter, filling with tears.

After an eternity of bottling up his emotions, he allowed himself to cry for the first time in a while.

Taking care of a wounded Tobirama

“It’s always those darn Uchihas..”, Tobirama groaned. After battling the Uchiha, he was deeply wounded, with every joint and muscle fiber aching. “Tell me about it”, y/n answered while tending his wounds. Her expertise in medical jutsus allowing her to heal his wounds quickly and efficiently. While Tobirama recounted to her about the battle, y/n pulled a little glass bottle of iodine solution out of her medikit. After he had finished his story, y/n smiled softly at him. “Now, this might hurt a little bit, I’m sorry” A loud groan emerged as she poured the solution over his bleeding wounds. “I’m disinfecting your wounds before healing them so you don’t have to deal with later complications”

When she used the mystic palm technique, Tobirama could feel his energy levels returning to normal. He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the brief moment of closeness he had with her. Her touch was so gentle and loving, making him forget his anger and bitterness for now. After y/n bandaged him up, he got up quickly, trying to maintain his tough persona.

“Well, y/n. Thanks for your care.”

Flustered at him looking directly at her, y/n’s cheeks went a little red.

“Come see me anytime”

[hassedah]

how would they react to MC being an older vampire, older even then Neil, being basically the parental figure to them? like, the mc would try to make vladmir feels better, would try to help rapha to deal with grieving and would teach ivan to hunt ?

platonical relationship ykyk :p

MC is an older vampire :

Hi! How are you? I hope you are well! ^^

Here is the headcanon you requested, I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Take care of yourself and have a nice day! ^^

You're one of the original vampires and you're a very old vampire, so old that you were present at the Trojan War and have survived all the wars between vampires since your birth without difficulty. You've travelled the world and met many other supernatural creatures. After your travels, you've looked for a comfortable place to settle down, a quiet little corner away from humans, if possible, but with other vampires because you don't really like solitude and you enjoy communicating with your fellow creatures, especially the younger ones who, unlike the older ones, still marvel at many little things.

You arrived in this manor shortly after Vladimir. The young vampire was already living there with Neil. You didn't understand why the older one, who was injured to boot, was locked up in a dark, damp cellar, as it was clearly not good for his recovery, so you moved him to a room upstairs.

Later you met Aaron, a friend of Vladimir's, the poor guy had nowhere else to go anyway and you certainly wouldn't have let him live outside. You were more than happy for him to join you.

Then Beliath arrived, a very energetic and teasing young man, half incubus. His much sunnier personality made the nights more eventful. He invited one of his friends to join him shortly afterwards, Ethan, he had a difficult character of course, a bit like being in an eternal teenage crisis, but that didn't bother you. You know your young peers well enough to know that they can be quite temperamental.

Then Raphaël came to live with you. The poor vampire seemed as sad as the stones and his false smile didn't really fool you. You were beginning to run out of room though, after all this is a manor, not a castle. So when Aaron brought Ivan back things got a bit complicated. You gave Ivan your old room after converting the cellar into a sort of suite. You knew that with a bit of work you could turn it into a really nice room, and you weren't wrong.

Your calmness always surprises everyone in the manor, nothing seems to impress you or make you angry. When someone annoys you, you usually just say "Go to your room, you're annoying me" or "Get out of here and don't come back until you're calmer". The surprising thing is that most of the time you manage to get them to obey you.

Vladimir :

Vladimir with Ivan is the one who demands the most attention from you. He can look after himself, of course, but your presence seems to reassure him enormously, so you spend a lot of time with him. The early days were difficult though, both because he could be cold and arrogant, but also because he was terrified of being alone again. As a result, every argument between you ended with a vampire convinced that you were going to abandon him in that horrible mansion. And it was a long time before you managed to reassure him about that. No, you weren't going to leave overnight, yes, you were going to stay with him.

When you arrived, Vladimir seemed like a very sad boy. He was alone in a mansion that was far too big for him (you don't count Neil as company as he hardly spoke to each other and slept a lot). Vladimir was quite thin, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, he always gave you the impression he was about to cry. At best he floated in his clothes, at worst he just looked dirty and worn out. His unhappiness weighed down the atmosphere in any room he passed through, and you spent a lot of time watching him, so worried were you by his constant sadness.

He opened up to you little by little as you talked to him. He told you what had happened to him, his illness, his transformation, his years of wandering, his meetings with Aaron and Raphaël, the death of his mother, his arrival at the manor and the death of the couple he found there. He talked to you mainly about his mother's death and the murder of the former inhabitants of the manor, in fact he was on a loop about it. You must have spent a lot of time reassuring him. Sometimes he was so distressed about the murder of the former residents that he'd wake you up in the middle of the day to tell you that the couple had come back to haunt him.

You ended up letting him sleep with you on certain days when, despite long discussions, he was still far too anxious to go back to bed on his own. You tried lots of things to help him calm down: soft music, plants, books, purify the house, you even bought her a cuddly toy in the hope that it would at least ease her nightmares a little. But it was a long time before he finally started to calm down about it. The arrival of Aaron has made your job a little easier. Vladimir stopped waking you up almost every day and started going to see Aaron instead.

Today, he still follows you around like a duckling that has lost its mother. You're still the first person he comes to for advice, whether on landscaping the garden or on the manor in general. Your approval means a lot to him, and he takes it pretty hard when you disagree with one of his decisions. He's mainly afraid you'll hate him for disagreeing with you, part of him knows it's silly and you're not going to hate him for it, but another part can't help worrying about it.

He also comes to talk to you when he's feeling sad or when he's managed the feat of arguing with several people in the manor in a single night - at times like these, discussions can be lengthy, especially when you have to persuade him to apologise after being unpleasant with someone. You often have to act as an intermediary between him and the others, especially between him and Ethan.

Even though you've assured him on several occasions that you're not planning to leave, he's still afraid of you leaving. When people he doesn't know come to visit you he feels threatened, he's afraid you'll finally decide to leave with them and leave them here. he still needs to be reassured that you regard the members of this manor as your family.

He particularly likes it when you bring him a cup of milk or hot chocolate when he's sad, or when you read to him in the little lounge.

Sometimes you try to persuade him to go out, but it's an uphill battle. He doesn't really feel safe outside the manor and even if you promise that nothing will happen to him he can't really help worrying. However, you sometimes manage to persuade him to go out to the theatre or the opera, he wouldn't feel safe going alone and even if Beliath and Aaron agree to go with him, he doesn't feel right bothering them for that.

Beliath :

Beliath doesn't really need your help in general. He's probably one of the most emotionally stable people in the manor, along with Aaron. He's not really irresponsible, despite what Vladimir is constantly telling you, and he doesn't knowingly put others in danger - in fact, quite the opposite, as he's serious enough to stop Ethan fighting with people at the Moondance or to defend the other members of the manor in the event of a problem. He's a bit reckless at times, of course, but it's nothing really serious or anything you can't sort out easily. After all, you're a very old vampire and you've had far more difficult situations to deal with than a slightly reckless and mischievous vampire.

You knew straight away when he arrived that he was an incubus. This was mainly due to his behaviour towards the other members of the manor: he was always a bit flirtatious, even when his aim wasn't to be flirtatious at all. However, seeing him try to hide it from you was far too amusing for you to tell the others. He didn't seem to want to hurt the other boys in the manor either so you let him. What's more, this only concerned Beliath, and as Aaron didn't feel it necessary to tell you straight away that he was a werewolf, you don't see why Beliath should be forced to reveal his true nature to others.

When they found out, you had to ease the tension between them. Vladimir had taken it into his head to blame Beliath, and Aaron didn't react any better, reproaching him for not revealing that he was an incubus immediately. You had to have a long talk with both of them to make them understand that their reaction was inappropriate, given that Aaron only revealed his werewolf nature to Vladimir and no one blamed him.

You quickly become attached to him. Beliath is always in a good mood, rather like a child or an adolescent. There's not much that seems to wipe the smile off his face, and it's a real pleasure to chat with him when other people's worries are monopolising your mind.

He often comes to see you to try and understand his housemates' reactions better. Even though he tries not to show it, he's become very attached to them (more than an incubus should, according to his sister) and their friendship is something he treasures and doesn't want to spoil. Because he hasn't lived much with humans, he doesn't always understand what it is about his behaviour that upsets Aaron, Raphael, Ivan or Vladimir, especially as Ethan never complains about him. So he comes to you for advice, which he then tries to apply with varying degrees of success. The biggest difficulties he encounters are with Vladimir, he doesn't know what he's doing wrong, but he always ends up offending the aristocrat in one way or another, he really appreciates you explaining to him what Vladimir has taken the wrong way in the discussion.

You let him give you manicures; he loves doing that because it gives him a good excuse to chat to you. After all, he's not going to give you a manicure without talking to you. More often than not, he'll tell you all the gossip he's picked up at the Moondance. But when you're really alone, he mostly talks about the other members of the manor. He's much more concerned about them than his carefree appearance would lead you to believe. It's with you that he discusses his ideas for trying to get Raphael and Vladimir out of the manor.

He also loves it when you go shopping with him (Ethan sometimes goes with him, but the doctor only complains about how long it takes him to choose and try on new clothes and never gives her opinion on her outfits). You sometimes spend several hours shopping, and on more than one occasion you've had to stop him from going way over Vladimir's shopping budget. But you buy him one of the shirts he wanted anyway, you know he's got more than a dozen just like it, but it makes him so happy you can't resist.

Ivan :

Ivan is, along with Vladimir, the one who demands the most of your attention, but he's still young, so the fact that he often needs your help with things that other people think are simple or obvious doesn't surprise you. You also have the advantage of having been around a lot of young vampires, which makes it easier to get on with them. It's not the first time you've had to reassure someone about the upheaval in their daily life caused by becoming a vampire, after all, you've done it many times and you know what to say to reassure them.

You quickly found that the boys were far too brutal with the young man. As you know, young vampires are generally very fragile psychologically, after all, the transformation into a vampire is a big change, even a traumatic one for many, and for Ivan, who has no idea what happened to him before Aaron found him and transformed him, this is even more the case. What's more, someone so young can't do things as well as Aaron, who has passed the 600 year mark. Ivan still has a lot to learn, whether it's about vampires or about life in general - he's barely out of his teens, after all.

After a few weeks of letting the others interact with the young man, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You started by going with Ivan to hunt in Aaron's place, mainly to see if it was as bad as the boys were telling you. And it wasn't nearly as bad as you'd been told. Ivan had great difficulty managing himself, of course, but all young vampires have more or less difficulty, and for Ivan it was mainly due to the fact that his hunts were too far apart in time and to his constant fear of making a mistake and disappointing Aaron.

The fact that he has trouble mastering his vampire powers doesn't surprise you either. After all, he lives safely in the manor, so there's no vital need for him to master them in order to defend himself. In fact, in a way it's a good thing, because it means that times are a lot calmer than when you were born. You've lived through several wars between former vampires, and back then, the least combative young vampires died very early on. It was dangerous to be a young vampire and those who didn't die in battle were often traumatised for years by war and violence. You're pretty happy Ivan doesn't have to go through this.

You do, however, spend time trying to teach him to use his vampire powers properly. Even if he doesn't need them vitally at the moment, knowing how to master them could save his life one day. You explain things gently and go at his pace, so as not to rush him.

It's not always easy to train Ivan, of course, because he's so lacking in self-confidence and always feels like he's making mistakes or doing something stupid, but your constant encouragement helps him gain confidence in his abilities enormously and he progresses much faster with you, probably because you never forget to assure him that you're proud of the effort he's making, even when he fails. He's so happy to feel seen and encouraged by you that he always feels sad when it's not you who accompanies him to training.

Ivan also likes to spend time with you when you're not training him. He'll show you the comics he's reading and tell you the stories of his favourite characters, so much so that you'll know some of them by heart without even having read a single comic about them. He often even asks you to go to the cinema with him to see the latest Marvel film (which sometimes leads to arguments with Ethan, who wants you to go and see the DC films with him).

He'll also show you his favourite video games and he'll be even happier if you agree to play with him, whether you know how to play video games or not. He doesn't mind teaching you how to play some of his games, even if you die several times in a row.

He always comes to you when he's been burnt by the sun while sneaking out during the day. He's far too scared of being shouted at by Aaron or Vladimir to go and see them, and even though he knows you're likely to argue with him, he also knows you won't call him stupid or unconscious, which makes him feel much better.

Aaron :

Aaron generally manages very well on his own. He doesn't ask for much attention from you, as he's lived alone for a long time. However, you do spend a lot of time together, mostly talking about the other members of the manor, what they're doing, how they're doing or what you could do to make them better or happier. Sometimes it makes you feel slightly like single parents at a support meeting.

Underneath his muscles and gruff façade, you quickly realised that Aaron was someone who was very protective of the members of the manor. He takes very badly any threats that might approach them and watches over the safety of the group in the manner of a she-wolf protecting her cubs, which means he gets on quite well with you given that you also seem to want to protect the members of the manor.

Aaron never thought he'd find someone living with Vladimir when he arrived at the manor, well, he's not going to complain given the anguish the younger man seemed to be in it seemed rather positive that you were living with him to look after him. Even though he didn't say it in front of Vladimir so as not to embarrass him, he thanked you for taking care of the aristocrat. He was a little worried about him when Vladimir decided to go off on his own.

You mainly help Aaron to manage the other members of the manor, and it's quite nice for him to have someone to lean on to deal with any problems they may encounter. However, you sometimes have conflicts when you have to deal with problems. Aaron is often too blunt for your liking, and while you don't doubt that this works very well on some people, you know that it doesn't work on everyone and that bluntness tends to put people on edge and on the defensive.

You had to tell him several times to be less rough with Ethan, and fortunately Beliath ended up stepping in to look after the younger boy because Aaron and Ethan would have ended up fighting. Then you had to tell him to ease up on Ivan and to be less direct with Vladimir and Raphaël.

In a way you understand Aaron's point of view, he's lived through wars between former vampires and he's had to adapt to survive. You know that his periods in history still affect him, having spoken to him about them on several occasions, and that his reactions to the others stem mainly from a desire to see them hardened so that they can survive in case he isn't there to protect them. You try to help him break out of this way of thinking, but it's rather complicated for him, who has spent most of his life surviving rather than living.

It's quite rare that you talk about anything other than the boys and the security of the manor, but sometimes you simply accompany him into the forest to walk together. These are pleasant moments when Aaron talks to you about the poetry he writes or the few memories he has of his mother and his life in the village before he became a mercenary. He really enjoys spending his quiet time with you; he doesn't really have the opportunity to talk to others about what's affecting him, as his main concern is their safety. It does him a lot of good to know that you're there to listen to him.

Raphaël :

You spend a lot of time looking after Raphaël. He doesn't need you as much as Vladimir and Ivan, but you can't leave him alone. He's one of the most sensitive people in the manor and what seems harmless to others often seems horrible or catastrophic to him. You spend a lot of time reassuring him or making sure he doesn't stay alone with his dark thoughts for too long. This can be quite unsettling, even for you, as he seems capable of crying over even the smallest things and you sometimes find it very hard to reassure him when he goes into a spiral of anxiety.

You accompanied Vladimir to England to fetch him (Beliath would have gone with him if you hadn't been able to), and fortunately so, because Vladimir probably wouldn't have been able to come back if he'd gone on his own. Raphaël was frighteningly thin, lived in a flat that looked more like a dump than a house and was barely strong enough to get around on his own. You had to go hunting for him so he could get some food. And he also spent a lot of time sleeping or talking about his ex. During the journey to Raphaël's house, Vladimir confided in you that he was absolutely determined to go there because Raphaël had not replied to any of his letters and he was afraid that something had happened to him.

It took you twice as long to get back to the manor as it did to get to Raphaël's house, and you even carried his things for most of the way because the vampire wasn't strong enough to do it alone.

In the beginning, you spent a lot of time with him and he was almost never alone as Vladimir and Aaron were with him when you weren't around. Beliath and Ethan also took care of him, whether by buying him books or sweets when the incubus learned that Raphaël had a certain appetite for sweets.

When you spent time with Raphaël, he usually talked about Margarita, especially at the beginning. He was all over the place on the subject and never missed an opportunity to sing the praises of the vampire, repeating over and over again all her many qualities.

You find it a little hard to like his 'wonderful' Margarita, even though you don't want to tell him so. In any case, Aaron shares your opinion on the subject. You've always been taught that it's very dangerous for humans to associate with vampires, especially over the long term and you find it hard not to resent this woman for having consorted with two humans without regard for their safety. Raphaël is the perfect example of why vampires prefer not to do it, humans are too sensitive to your charm, even when you're not trying to charm them, and apart from vampire hunters few are able to resist it. So you're not really surprised that he's having so much trouble mourning this vampire even though he himself is a vampire and she has been dead for decades.

Now that Raphaël is feeling better, he talks to you less about Margarita and a bit more about art and the books he reads. He often comes to see you to see if you've read a book he's enjoyed and to get your opinion on the subject.

You also often accompany him outside the manor. Raphaël hardly ever leaves the manor unless someone accompanies him. He doesn't really feel safe outside because of all the cars and the hustle and bustle of modern life. More often than not, you'll take him to the theatre or the opera, and he loves going. Sometimes you manage to persuade him to go to the cinema, but it's always to see romantic comedies. He also likes it when you take him to the museum, Vladimir never feels safe enough to go with him and although Aaron and Beliath agree to go with him, he knows they're not interested.

Ethan :

He's not the easiest boy in the manor to get along with and sometimes you just want to send him to his room like a child having a tantrum. You can't do it, but the idea has crossed your mind so many times it's almost amusing.

He had a bit of trouble believing you at first when you told him your age. In fact, even making an effort and knowing that vampires exist, he can't understand how you could have been biologically alive for so long. He asked Beliath several times if it was really possible and if you weren't making fun of them.

You easily became attached to him, even if your relationship was a little complicated at first. After all, Ethan didn't trust anyone but Beliath and was constantly on the defensive with everyone. You must have made a lot of effort to get him to trust you and start talking to you without being mocking or aggressive.

But your efforts paid off in the end, not least because you stood up for him when Aaron got angry with Ethan. He started to talk to you a bit more often and, above all, a bit more calmly. You also got closer to him by agreeing to play chess with him, which he was quite happy about given that not many people agree to play chess with him ( and especially few people manage to win at chess against him, because despite what Vladimir and Raphaël say, Ethan doesn't cheat at chess).

It took you a long time before he confided in you about his past. At the beginning, when he started to trust you, you had as much information as Beliath. So you knew at least enough to know how to react in a crisis. Now you're the only person who knows everything about his past, even Beliath doesn't know everything.

He didn't think he'd talk to you about it at first, but now that you know, he feels better in a way he didn't think possible. There's something really reassuring about knowing that you're there and ready to listen to him talk if he needs to.

Often, he'll come and talk to you when the others are already asleep, to make sure no-one hears what he's saying. You spend a lot of time talking together, he often tells you the same things even though he's trying to understand how he feels about it, he trusts you but he doesn't like to remember his past and he likes the emotions that come with rememberings even less. Knowing that you're there to help him deal with the emotions he's trying to repress is reassuring for him.

To make him happy, you've bought him a mobile phone on the sly. You don't think Ethan's irresponsible enough to put anyone in danger with it, and what's more, your present seems to really please him given the amount of time he spends playing with it. He's nearly been noticed by Vladimir more than a dozen times, but you always manage to divert the aristocrat's attention so that Ethan doesn't get shouted at. Beliath knows too, and he too helps you hide the fact that Ethan has a mobile phone.

In a way, the phone you've bought him is also a way of reassuring yourself. You know that Ethan sometimes hangs out in dangerous neighbourhoods and knowing that he has a phone to call you if there's a problem makes you feel calmer.

You've already had to pick him up from a bar because he was too drunk to walk home alone. The bartender called you because your number was on Ethan's emergency call list. Honestly, you didn't know whether you were annoyed that you had to go across town to pick him up or touched by the fact that your phone number was on his emergency list.

Neil :

Neil is complicated. It took him a long time before he dared to rely on you and trust you. At first, he didn't trust you at all and avoided you. You can understand him, there's been so much war between former vampires that trusting you without thinking things through could be dangerous for him when he's far from healthy. After all, you're even older than he is, and therefore more powerful.

You moved him to one of the bedrooms upstairs after realising that Vladimir had left him to rot in the cellar (you were a little angry with Vladimir for showing so little empathy). Neil is at least grateful to you for that, he really didn't feel able to get around on his own. What's more, every time he woke up in the cellar, he was afraid that the death of the manor's occupants was just a dream and that they would end up coming back to repeat the experiments on him.

It took you a long time to really gain his trust, mainly because he spent a lot of time sleeping at first (well, when he wasn't being woken up by nightmares, each more horrible than the last).

You contacted some witches to get their advice on how to help him heal quickly. They advised you to let him sleep as often as possible, to block the sun's rays completely and to provide him with regular access to fresh blood.

For the nightmares, they sent you a small parcel of plants to burn in the bedroom, which you didn't think would work so well. You're in a good enough position as a former vampire to know that you often end up developing immunity to this kind of plant, so you assume that it's the weakened state in which you found the vampire that cancels out his immunity. You weren't going to complain though, because knowing that he could finally sleep without being constantly woken by nightmares was rather reassuring.

Thanks to your care, he was able to recover quickly and after a year, he could even leave the room without you having to support him to move around. Well, he couldn't go very far, but being able to go alone into the small living room to enjoy the fire in the fireplace already seemed to please him.

Little by little, he has begun to trust you. You look after him without treating him like a fragile little thing, and you help him to become powerful again, even if he feels that it will take him centuries to be the person he was before he was locked up in the cellar.

In the end, he even finds it rather pleasant to be able to count on someone to ensure his safety. He's never really known that: his half-brothers wanted to kill him, his father wanted more or less the same thing, not to mention his stepmothers who would no doubt have loved to see him dead. Then the rulers of neighbouring countries wanted him dead too when he became king, then other vampires during the wars between the ancients. To be able to trust someone is a rare thing for him, and above all a pleasant one.

His character isn't always easy, of course. Neil is a former king, so he can be rather arrogant at times, especially when he speaks to the younger members of the manor in a tone that suggests he thinks they're idiots. You can't persuade him to speak differently to the youngest, despite your insistence.

Now he likes spending time with you. He understands you more easily than the younger members of the manor, you've lived through all the wars between the elders that he's lived through, you know vampires that he also knows and by talking to you he realises that you even lived in certain royal courts at the same time. This allows you to remember some rather amusing anecdotes together.

[fanvoidkeith]

holy shit the hazbin hotel show. wow. incredible. very neat that they went for an almost-musical style because they had so much lore

BY THE WAY! this is a going to be a LONG, ramble-y, spoiler-filled post, so i'm going to put a readmore here and my thoughts on the show will be under the cut. if you don't want to be spoiled for the Hazbin Hotel Official Show TM or don't like hazbin hotel... probably don't read the rest of this post lmao

anyways. here's all my thoughts on it, pretty much. enjoy! :]

i need one of those cat creatures immediately KEESHEE IS SO CUUUTE AWWWW. oh they're called keeshee because that's the. the key. to the hazbin hotel HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT UNTIL I FINISHED WATCHING THE SHOW

oh fuck there's just been a huge massacre. rip. this happens every year. i guess charlie isn't really allowed to mourn or grieve for long though? which is weird because it seems like she cares the MOST about her people (demons), so she should at least be allowed to cry about it. maybe sob and wail a little bit, y'know? also be ANGRY ABOUT IT. it'll give her more oomf if she gets to be angry on screen, y'know?

there's kind of a lot of songs but besides the very first one- "a happy day in hell", i think- i like them. the first one kept moving the "camera" around too much, so it was hard to focus

i think something is deeply wrong with niffty, but assuming her connection to alastor is voluntary... yeah i can see it. they're allies (maybe friends?) for a reason

angel dust my boy

SIR PENTIOUS MY BOY!!!!!!!!

sir pentious taking a small chunk out of alastor's coat and alastor getting PISSED was cool. especially because apparently "no one's gotten this much before". damn, dude

poor charlie trying to help these people who have no idea how to accept help because she's demon-born, one of the highest-ranking people in hell, and the rarest sort of person in hell- kind

"let's do trust falls!" charlie says, as most of her little group doesn't do the exercise and niffty uses it as an excuse for her masochist tendencies

angel dust taking them to a night club is kinda funny. sir pentious probably hasn't seen ANY of this shit before. neither has charlie, probably. idk about vaggie, but she's obviously uncomfortable. and oh my god niffty WOULD love being a dom, but honestly probably not for the sex reasons. i don't see her as that kinda person lol, considering she spends most of the show talking about pain and killing bugs with a knife

charlie's mom has been missing for seven years

how is adam an angel if he's an asshole and he hates women? genuine question. of course heaven's judgemental and shit- helluva boss's angels proved that- but like, why is the guy who's basically in charge THAT much of a dipshit

wait alastor's been missing for seven years too??

COINCIDENCE: I THINK NOT. alastor and lilith connection???

valentino is a bitch, naturally. and so are his cronies. and that tv guy. "the vees" or whatever

oh is the tv dude hating alastor a reference to the song "video killed the radio star" because that'd be funny

"he tried to recruit me and now he's mad i said no :)" and y'know what, alastor? slay

"hey, how did you miss me guys?" "we didn't, but i guess you show up anyways" "..." great job alastor, disappearing for seven whole years didn't make you more famous/infamous lol

AN ANGEL EXTERMINATOR IS DEAD AND BEHEADED. WHAT. HOW

there are demons older than alastor??? i mean. damn. that's crazy bro. lol

nooo angel not everyone thinks you're a crackhead!! :(

oh gods, angel dust's trauma. oh god. oh no

ANGEL. ANTHONY. ANGEL DUST MY BOYYYYY 😭

sick ass song though, reminds me of addict (his previous song that's not in the hazbin pilot or hazbin show but is probably still canon anyways)

angel dust and husk's rivalry-turned-i-guess-you're-alright-now thing was neat AND THEY HAD A SONG TOGETHER YESSSSS THAT WAS AMAZINGGGG

WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE HUSKER WAS ONE OF THE OVERLORD HIGH RANKING DEMONS AT ONE POINT WHAT THE FUCK????????

guess we know kinda why he owes alastor "a favor" now, because he was a chronic gambler

why did vaggie get a random duet with this random lady (carmilla arms dealer woman)

okay sir pentious (my boy, i love him, he's my son) calling vaggie "vagatha" was kinda funny

are we SURE that carmilla isn't a former angel? she probably isn't, but she sure is knowledgeable of them

charlie going to heaven to try and bargain with the angels and then using The Orb to cut to the B plot was pretty smart, actually. fucking LOVED that idea. heaven is literally watching, everyone :)

angel dust protecting his friendssss aughhhhh

FUCK valentino. FUCKKKK VALENTINO I HATE HIM. i hate that his moth demon design thing is cool because if it wasn't i could fully hate him

okayyyy SO vaggie's previous backstory as a pop star who committed suicide has been retconned. alright then. they said "what will give our beloved fans the MOST heartache? i know! let's make charlie's girlfriend with an underdeveloped sense of character in this show because the pacing kinda sucks a FORMER ANGEL. A KILLER ONE. THE MURDEROUS ONES THAT WE'RE TRYING TO STOP"

girl. vaggie. it's pretty obvious now that i'm looking back that everyone knows you're an angel. EXCEPT FOR ME, APPARENTLY. BECAUSE SHE HAD A DIFFERENT BACKSTORY PREVIOUSLY. WHAT

NO ONE KNOWS HOW ANYONE GETS INTO HEAVEN?????

andnfjfgjsjdn the pacing again- i was laughing at a joke they made in the show and suddenly they cut to charlie sobbing 💀 i had to rewind to be able to process that- augh

didn't love charlie getting stressed and sad- poor charlie- but LOVED charlie telling alastor FUCK YOU. that was awesome

"oh, alastor, i know you're an ace in the hole" "i'm a what now?" rosie's telling you you're asexual, alastor

vaggie telling the hotel residents that she'd understand if they left

nooo charlie and vaggie fighting actually means something now :(

OMG CARMILLA GOT HER OWN SONG YESSSS i love it

charlie yelling "FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH" at that lady in cannibal town was awesome

VAGGIE AND CHARLIE COME BACK TO THE HAZBIN RESIDENTS TRYING TO FORTIFY THE HOTEL AAAAAWWWW

charlie getting vaggie a souvenir from cannibal town and vaggie immediately tearing up because she knew charlie forgave her was cuuuute

FUCK YEAH GIRLFRIENDS KISSING!! WHOOOOOO LET'S GO GAY PEOPLE!!! I LOVE IT

*smash bros ultimate announcer voice* EVERYONE IS HERE!

except for like... most of hell lmao

at least the vee's are watching lol

THE FINAL FIGHT WAS SO COOL OH MY GODSSS

charlie's war gear being a dress that looked like an APPLE CORE LIKE HER DAD AAAAAAAAAAA

NOOOO ALASTOR!! oh he's fine actually. thanks vox for confirming that alastor's not dead lmao

aww sir pentious actually got to show his interest in cherri bomb without chickening outttt awwwww

NOOOO MY BOY SIR PENTIOUS NOOOOOOOOOO HE SACRIFICED HIMSEEEELFFFFFFFF FUCK DUDE NOOO

fun fact: i actually had to pause the show for a few seconds to put my head in my hands because NOOO SIR PENTIOUS MY SON BOY BABY BOY

FATHER'S HERE TO SAVE HIS DAUGHTERRR

i love how easily lucifer dodged adam's attacks lmao

"TASTE MY MERCY, BITCH" another iconic line from mr. duck-collector king-of-hell himself

niffty coming in and stabbing adam a bunch of times was awesome

"charlie told me to stab, so i stabbed :)" niffty. love her. weird little freak. epic

alastor coming back to the hotel ONLY after a breakdown and being like "i'm fine now guys :)" is... uncannily relatable LMAO

"ugh, this guy" lucifer. he nearly died, calm down with the sass for a second, sir

"i will never understand your taste" me neither, alastor. i don't think anyone quite understands niffty

the news describing it as "lucifer's pathetic daughter saved by her daddy" makes sense but. jeez what an asshole way to put it. she's an adult! and the PRINCESS OF HELL no less!!

AAAAAAAAAA MY BOY SIR PENTIOUSSSSSSSS AUGH

"uhhh.... where am i?"

emily's face being ":D!!" and sera's face being like. horrified. was amazing

[aleck-le-mec]

Pagan ways to honor Palestinians

Like every other respectable human being these days I feel absolute terror, sadness and guilt seeing what’s happening to the PEOPLE of Gaza. Paganism has always been a way for me to deal with emotions and difficult things so I’m here to share what I’ve done and what I will continue to do to honor the people we have lost.

Of course donating funds, signing petitions, voting, protesting, talking about the genocide and boycotting is all a given but these are my spiritual/ grieving ceremonies. It’s important to balance both activism and the human need to grieve/ process in order to keep one’s humanity, avoid burnout and desensitization to this kind of violence.

Veiling

Veiling is a thing that some pagans do for all of their own reasons but I’ve found it to be a good way to honor others. If you veil with a kufiya, a historic scarf of Palestine this is also sending a message of exactly what and who you're standing for. I veil with a scarf that I inherited from my grandmother, like the martyrs of Palestine I never got to meet her, I never got the chance to know what she feared or what she loved. That symbol of loss and what could have beens’ remind me that we are all united in loss, we all are losing something through this genocide family, friends, lovers, coworkers, doctors, students, peers. Because of that loss we have to keep fighting we don’t have a choice, this genocide is everyone’s problem, it’s evryone’s loss.

Veiling in public spaces as a pagan can also help others feel more comfortable and like they have a friend in otherwise foreign places. I’m always reminded of what I heard a Sikh man say about his turban. He said that he wears it to let others know that he is there, someone you can pick out of a crowd at a glance and find easily if you’re in need of help. I always thought that was a simple beautiful sentiment that anyone can follow regardless of religion or spirituality.

Conscious grieving and candle light practice

Sometimes all you need to do is to sit down and think about things, cry a bit and be angry. Candle light visuals are important in almost every culture, they’re a universal sign of grieving and honoring someone so why not hold your own? If you have a coven/ group to do one with that’s cool but it isn’t any less honorable to do a private visual, hold that space to remember what you’ve lost and what you’ve seen. Think about what could have been, think about it and let it burn, let it hurt then promise yourself never again. Promise that this will never happen again, not if you have anything to say about it. Promise that as long as you live you will not stay silent as anyone feels this pain no matter their race, religion, or beliefs. Decide once and for all that this isn’t fair.

Displaying the palestinian flag and having one with you

It’s not uncommon for pagans, especially witches, to carry charms with them or on their person, it can be a sign of devotion or protection. So if you keep a symbol of Palestine with you it will remind you gently throughout your day that this will not go away. It's also a call to others to remember. Personally I have a bracelet that I made at the beginning of the genocide and I haven’t taken off since. I’m 50% irish/scottish and follow a lot of celtic paganism, knots are really important in celtic beliefs they’re strong, complex and can symbolize an everlasting devotion or connection. Having a knotted bracelet I made specifically with the intent of remembering Palestine in the flag’s colors is important to me and I will not take it off until I see a free Palestine.

Offerings to the wild/ learn

In general a lot of pagans make offerings to the wild without it being for a certain reason but it can’t hurt to put an intention around it. By offerings I’m not talking about blood sacrifices or anything crazy, tough people do that sometimes and honestly respect that level of commitment. I’m just talking about food scraps or planting seeds in your garden, you must remember to take care of your local wildlife too. Plant some wildflowers and as they grow remember that life finds a way, remember that the people we have lost live through you. Try and learn about Palestine before the occupation, learn about what they loved, what they feared and carry that with you, share it with other people. As long as you live and as long as you continue to speak, let it be for those who couldn’t make it, say their names and never stop growing your garden.

[schoolbusgraveyard]

last question of the day... (I still appreciate you taking the time to answer, sorry if I'm bothering you too much)

How would everyone react if Ashlyn suddenly broke down emotionally in front of them? (you know... start crying desperately or let your emotions flow, we only saw her do that with her father, but... what about the others who she sees as her friends? they've only seen her angry or frustrated, but They have never seen her cry...)

(I insist again, thank you for taking the time to respond... Have a nice day)

Oh, trust me--there's no way you could bother me at all, I promise! I physically can't stop talking about SBG so this kind of thing is super fun to me. It's super fun.

Like you've said, we've seen her have a meltdown (when she was going off about the change of plans/Taylor, Logan, and Tyler saying they were second-guessing the plan to get the jeep and go back to Savannah), but never really cry or be upset in other ways.

Gonna put this under a readmore since this is a little bit longer!

Aiden: I think his priority would be to try and comfort her. Hug. Bump his shoulder against hers and sit like that for a little bit while she lets it out. Pull her into a hug. Anything that she didn't move away from or push him away with. He's big on physical comfort and affection, but he's not really sure how to comfort her in terms of what to say or do--he wasn't around a lot of people growing up. I think he would also try to keep his voice low while talking to her when she's upset/bawling her eyes out. I think he would hold her as tightly and closely as he could until it all passed and she felt better.

Ben: I think he would be so, so confused and not sure about what to do at all. I think he would prioritize sitting with her and listening, but like Aiden, not be sure about what to say. I think he would sit close to her, offer her a bottle of water or a snack, asked what she needed, and then when she kind of settled, write or type up a "What can I do for you right now?" message/ask what happened.

Tyler: I think that he would freeze up, actually, if she started crying her eyes out in front of him. He's responded to her "moping", but he's never seen her breakdown and actually cry. He's used to seeing his mother or his sister cry, not one of his friends--and definitely not her, of all people. Once the initial freeze passed, though, I think he would silently get her a cold rag/tissues/something weighted/water and offer it to her and just let her cry it out while he sat with her and listened to what she had to say. After she calmed down/after she was a little more okay, I think he would kind of bully her (not in a mean way), though, in a similar way to how he called her "carrot-top" when she was distressed about what had happened to him. I don't think he would tell her to stop moping in a case like this, though--I think he would just try to use the teasing as a way to make her feel even somewhat normal again. Especially if she apologized for or seemed embarrassed about breaking down in front of him, he would just "what do you think you're apologizing for? having feelings? wow, you expressed a human emotion, something nobody should ever do" sarcastically.

Taylor: If they were at someone's house (let's say Ashlyn's, just Taylor and Ash alone for a minute), I think she would grab the nearest blanket and bundle Ashlyn up, and from there, I think she would listen to what Ashlyn had to say, and then try to find the most comforting/reassuring words to respond with. She seems to have a bit of a knack for that at times, it's honestly probably a skill she picked up after watching what her mother grieve a lot. I think she would keep her voice soft, and even if she were also upset, try to keep her voice steady.

Logan: I think he would quietly sit with her and hold her hand, if she were alright with it in the moment. He would tell her that everything's going to be alright, that he's there for her--and if she needs or wants it, everyone else would be, too. I think he would probably get a little overwhelmed by her feelings, maybe almost start to cry himself, but try his best to reassure her in the moment.

[nautilusopus]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @subdee, may as well since it's been a while

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

40

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

590,973

3. What fandoms do you write for?

FFVII mostly, but none of that spinoff bullshit. I have some stuff for XV in the works despite hating XV and the characters having zero fucking personality because this is just my grieving process I guess??? They're basically all crossovers with VII except one though so ¯_(ツ)_/¯

I've also got a couple things for Spy X Family I'm excited for but unfortunately am a bit hamstrung due to certain reveals and lack of reveals so it's on pause.

(Also Ever Crisis and Remake back to back have sucked all the fucking joy out of me in one fell swoop so I'm trying to remember why I even fucking like doing this when FFVII has effectively been erased.)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1)The Number I.

Go read it. I worked hard on it and it's very dense and heavily character-driven and a genfic focused on plot, and, most importantly, is complete. I'm going to shill this one directly I ain't give a damn:

Predominately involves Cloud, now four years out from Meteorfall, struggling to adjust to civilian life given he's still gene-spliced with an Old God, who begins losing control of his body to a heretofore seemingly unknown entity with inscrutable goals. As it gradually becomes clear that the events of the previous four years aren't as they seem in more ways than one, things start to go off the rails completely as Cloud winds up enmeshed in conflict between multiple parties: an international initiative studying cosmology and the two doctors leading it; the WRO, who has considered him a Jenova-based liability from day one; interpersonal friction with his newfound family stemming from the residual baggage of everything he went through; and reality itself beginning to deteriorate.

It's slice of life, it's cosmic horror, it's a character study, it's about grown men crying and legacies and grief and trauma and intimacy and autonomy and gender as a microcosm for broader truths about the nature of the self, it's got angry tearful fistfights, bottoms that haven't figured out you can take it in turn to service top, Cloud telling everyone his strong and correct opinions about magic and materia and bikes, found family shenanigans, and me talking about garlic for way way way too long. Something for everyone!

I wasn't kidding about any of that by the way, heed the warnings at the top of the chapters because I do NOT pull punches and we get into some heavy shit. Go hard or go home.

Originally it was a 500 word pee joke I was gonna show to two people in response to a terrible LTD argument I saw someone make and was sure I'd "wrap it up quickly". Oops.

2) An Idiot's Guide to Holding Hands. I wrote this in response to, I'm not kidding, the worst most hateful fanfiction I have ever fucking seen in my life. As big of a beef as I have with the Crisis Core fuckers treating the women like shit and being pretty hateful towards them as a whole, they're still at least clearly writing because they genuinely love Crisis Core and the characters in it for reasons that are presently unknown to me. This thing on the other hand was oozing contempt for the cast of VII and Evangelion and the women in particular and I genuinely don't know why someone would put that much fucking effort into making something like this and felt a sudden need to rebut everything it stood for. It's not super great as a fic tbh but y'all seem to like it so at least something came of it.

3) Don't Ask How The Job Interview Went. Harry Potter/VII crossover I shat out in like 6 hours on a whim because a Halloween prompt one year was "witches and wizards" and I hated all the existing crossovers (ugh again with the crisis core). Honestly had an entire multichapter fic as a sequel lined up that I was pretty excited for but as things went on I felt grosser and grosser about even making it. Maybe I'll do something with the outline one day, it was basically finished. Still kills me that this thing is so fucking popular but there you go.

4) What's Dead and Buried. This is literally just Chapter 18 of The Number I (which you should go read!). I wrote it, realised it worked great as a standalone fic and gateway drug, and published it as its own thing. If you're on the fence about TNI, maybe check out this oneshot. Features shitty gremlin child Cloud interacting with Vincent and a lot of grim implications about both their lives that Cloud is too young to really get. Very very black comedy.

5) Adjacent. I don't like this one sorry. It was a commission and while I like the individual headcanons of freaky shit Cloud is inclined to do and was chomping at the bit to use them somewhere I don't like how they wound up getting utilised. Feels like generic fandom fluff to me. I'd delete it but people seem to enjoy it and I don't want to take that from them.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always and as soon as I possibly can! I'm immensely flattered people actually take the time to comment on stuff and I enjoy getting to talk about the stuff I wrote in a bit more depth.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's Full of Stars easily. Fucked that dude up beyond repair. Also was considering a sequel for this one too so I could explore some of the stuff fueling what the fuck is going on here, though that might obviously ruin the ambiguity of said ending and what exactly was done to him.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm a big baby I actually almost always try for happy endings, or at least bittersweet. Probably Tidewaters, nobody even gets pulped in that one.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Basically no. I've gotten five negative comments in all the years I've been doing this:

Two were people whinging about how I made Aeris Jewish in a fic and how that was reverse racist against Christians (die mad about it lol).

Two were someone that wanted an in-depth essay over my right to use a slur within the context of a character talking about people calling him that slur in a character arc partially about feeling alienated from gender and basically demanded I out myself to "prove" I could use it while missing literally everything about why that word would be used to where they felt the need to send that shit to begin with (gee thanks did you do it did you make the queers feel comfortable). Reading comprehension is so so important you are all going to kill me.

The last one was a long six paragraph rant completely unrelated to the fic in any way because I joked in the author's notes about not liking a video game that they liked(????), followed by an even longer ten paragraph rant about how actually the unrelated game was "95% perfect" (lmaoooo) and how "5% of it being bad isn't a good reason to hate it". The first half of it's on there, I deleted the second comment because my fanfiction comments are not the fucking gamefaqs forums dude. (Also die mad about it lol.) That remains to this day the only comment I've ever deleted from any of my fics and that includes the one that literally just said "penis" and nothing else.

9. Do you write smut?

If you squint lol. TNI has a couple sex scenes in it. They're uh

they're in it.

Boy are they in it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Hell yeah I do. Also I'm a purist about this term A CROSSOVER IS WHEN YOU CROSS THE TWO THINGS OVER BUT THEY ARE STILL THEIR OWN DISPARATE THINGS. A FUSION IS WHEN THE TWO SETTINGS ARE FUSED. WORDS MEAN THINGS. ALSO A DRABBLE IS 100 WORDS EXACTLY NO MORE NO LESS. I'LL KEEP SITTING ON THIS PORCH SHAKING MY FIST AT THESE CHILDREN UNTIL THEY FUCKING LEARN.

Anyway I'll dump FFVII on everything and nobody can stop me. FFXV. Mass Effect. Spy X Family. Aliens. Ellen Ripley can, should, must, and will fight Jenova with a power loader.   

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah I talk a big game but I ignore the Comp too hard to break into the mainstream. I'm small potatoes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah and no surprises why. Shit's too wordy.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind of? Fuck I gotta finish that thing.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

meh. Does Loid/Yor even count? Everyone keeps writing it wrong and we still haven't seen the penny drop but it's sweet in its extremely fucking dysfunctional way (which is the best way GO READ TNI COUGH COUGH).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Frame-Perfect. Should not have started writing before finishing the damn outline, don't know how to resolve this thing without it being a massive downer any way you slice it. This is why you should never pants VARETH.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue babyyyyyyy. I literally won an award for it once lol. Probably also psychological horror. Those two things combined means there's a lot of stream of consciousness shit in nearly everything I do, and if that's not your jam you probably won't like it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It is so, so hard to get a character from a location to another location. It shouldn't be hard. Why is it hard??? I should be allowed to just go And then he went, in exactly that cadence every time and everyone should just deal with it UGH 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Extremely hit or miss and you can almost always tell if the person in question doesn't speak it. Use sparingly because you are playing with fire.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FFVII. The Number I is technically my first fanfiction ever, actually!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Either TNI obviously, but also as a whole either Replacements or Tidewaters. Replacements I whipped up on the spot day-of in a few hours on a whim and it basically turned out perfect???? I've never been able to replicate that before or since. Tidewaters is Cloud Yuffie Nanaki shenanigans which I love, and I was shocked and horrified to learn I'm basically the entire tag of that as far as that's concerned (I'm working on rectifying that I promise shhhh).

Everyone I know that writes was already tagged basically uhhhhhhh

@varethinsilico, @denebolaleo-ffwriter, @spectroscopes, @terror-billie, @jenovacomplete, anyone else who wants to take a crack at this pretend I tagged you.