#anyway this could have gone worse because. well. anyway. i survived or whatever. i need to stop oversharing ❤️

[lighthouseas]

killing myself immediately bye guys

[misguidedasgardian]

Wild Cats (Part XIII)

XIII. The promised land

MASTERLIST

Summary: The light at the end of the tunnel… you don’t know if that is good or bad 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, mentions of rape, might miss some warnings 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I was planning on rewatching (I’m on season 6), to write this, but like I said, I want to separate a bit from this, so… I’m narrating with a bit of mistakes, but, since I got three more people playing here that weren’t here before (Tyresse, Beth and Reader), things are bound to be different, right?.

This was surreal

You were on the way to a community that had walls, 800.000 dollar houses on it, running water, facilities, dance groups, families, you name it.

After being on the road for months, after executing a man that was trying to rape Carl and then another who was going to beat up Daryl to death, after being offered Sanctuary only to be a trap set by literal living cannibals, only to be throw back in the wild, making your group turn completely feral you believed

(the turning point being when you ate those dogs)

If this was another trap, you didn’t think you’d survive it.

You were so tired, not only physically, but also mentally, your brain had gone into survival mode too many times already that you were exhausted, a type of exhaustion that didn’t went away with a good night's sleep.

And now it was worse, not because you wanted to prove yourself for the team, but because now you cared so much for them that you were terribly stressed not only for yourself but for Daryl, Judith, Carl, Rick, and all the others.

But if this was real…

Gods please let it be real

You needed this, you deserve it

Well, did you?

You felt a light squeeze on your shoulder, you looked up at Carl, who smiled at you

“We are going to be fine”, you chuckled, ruffling his hair and wrapping an arm around him

“I should be the one telling YOU that, little dude”, you said with a soft smile

“Why do you always walk behind the group?”, he asked softly when you released him, you realized you didn’t quite have a good chat with Carl since the first days of you meeting him

“Well…”, you started, “It’s a position from where I can assist if someone needs me, and have a complete view of what is happening…”, he only hummed, “I can make sure nobody is left behind…”

“Well except you”, he said

“Right”, you conceded, “also from there I can…”

“Take care of everybody”, he said, you only nodded

You were concerned, to say the least, when things seemed too good to be true, they probably were, they probably were a lie, and you were betting your lives on this one

Well, you weren’t gonna last anyways if you kept going out there in the wild, and you had two kids to think about, so, for Judith and Carl was worth to try…. But Rick… was a bit mad… 

itw as understandable, after everything that happened, whatever you felt he felt it ten times more, as he had kids, and he was the ringleader, the one that made decisions 

So yeah, you could understand him… how he reacted when you met the man who was going to take you to Alexandria. 

Maggie and you had to coerce Daryl to get a good sleep after spending most hours of the night fighting against the strength of walkers and a storm, and then he stood watch for the lot of you to sleep

You stood on each side of the archer until he leaned into you and sneaked a couple of hours of sleep, Maggie smiled at you, nodding and leaving the two of you, you cuddled him against you, under your arm as he had done, and once he had closed his eyes, you took the liberty of actually, caressing his hair softly, lulling him to sleep

“I’ll keep watch for a couple of hours”, you promised, him only humming in response.

This is the second time he slept this close to you, and he realized, he never slept more comfortable since this shit show started.

He was the hunter and main protector of the group, and he deserved his rest more than anybody. Maggie looked at you and nodded, and accompanied Sasha outside of the barn, to see what was going on out there.

You catched Rick staring at the both of you, and you shared looks, he only smiled at you, it was a smirk more like it, he barely nodded at you, like giving you permission. And with a subtle smile he took Judith from Carl and cradled her against his chest.

You felt his calm breath on the side of your face, and you thought about how nice it felt, how nice he was. How much you liked him

You barely knew him, but at the same time, you felt like you knew him for forever, how he accepted you and took you in, how he always made sure you were alright, trough being a bit mean, and frustrated, but Maggie was right, he cared for you… his soft demeanor of the past days, his pretty eyes… and you wondered if you could ever… if he would… if he would like you as much as you liked him…

Your thoughts were interrupted, when Maggie entered the barn back

“Hey guys…”, she said, Daryl stirred awake. Behind Maggie came a man you didn’t know, “This is Aaron, we met him outside…”, in a second, everybody was standing to attention, and guns were being unlocked. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and pointed right at the unknown man. “He’s by himself, we took his weapons and we took his gear”

“Hi!”, he greeted. “It’s nice to meet you”, he was weirdly clean, he looked like he was out here for a trekking experience in a easy path, not in the middle of the apocalypse

“You said he had a weapon?”, asked Rick, Maggie passed him his gun, he checked the ammo on it and then he looked up at him, “There’s something you need?”

The group became hostile towards this guy, he looked all too well kept and you didn’t buy it either, that he was alone, this might be a trap

“He had a camp nearby”, said Sasha, the look in her eyes told you he wasn’t buying it either, “he wants us to audition for a membership”

“I wish there was another word”, he said, raising his hands, proving he meant no harm, “Audition makes it seem like we are a dance group, that is only friday nights”, he was terribly nervous, perhaps because all of the guns pointed at him at the moment, “and it’s not a camp, it’s a community”, you looked at Rick, who did not seemed impressed, “... i think you all would make valuable additions, but it’s not my call, my job its to convince you all to follow me home”, he saw the faces of the group, you were not buying it, and Rick seemed positively rabid with the look he had going on 

You were all weary of this stranger, sharing concerned looks amongst yourselves, he was weirdly calm, like he was some sort of messiah 

“I know, if I were you, I wouldn’t go either…”, he explained softly, he seemed weirdly nice, if anything, “Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into. Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack? Front pocket, there's an envelope”, Sasha weirdly did as he told her, “There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community. That's why I brought those. I apologize in advance for the picture quality. We just found an old camera store last…”

“Nobody gives a shit”, interrupted Daryl

“ You're absolutely 100% right. That's the first picture I wanted to show you because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be. Each panel in that wall is a 15-foot-high, 12-foot-wide slab of solid steel framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing. Nothing alive or dead gets through that without our say-so…. Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival. The people. Together we're strong. You can make us even stronger. The next picture, you'll see inside the gates. Our community was first construc…”, Rick had walked over to him and punched him in the face so hard he left him on the ground 

“So we're clear, that look wasn't a "let's attack that man" look. It was a "he seems like an okay guy to me" look”, protected Michonne

“This wasn't a very good start”, you muttered, watching him 

“We got to secure him. Dump his pack. Let's see what this guy really is”, commanded Rick, Daryl took his pack and turn it over into the ground, many items fell out

“Everybody else, we need eyes in every direction, They're coming for us… We might not know how or when, but they are”, you didn’t know who he was talking about, but you took your gun out of your holster and walked to the back of the barn towards a small window to see outside 

“Me and Sasha, we didn't see him. If he had wanted to hurt us, he could've”, Maggie tried to explain, and you were glad you weren't the only one who thought Rick was taking things a bit… cray cray

“Anybody see anything?”, he asked, ignoring Maggie, and Michonne for that matter

“Just a lot of places to hide”, said Glenn, that, as Daryl was right there with Rick, checking the other glassless window of the barn

“All right, keep looking. What did you find?”, Rick asked Carl

“Never seen a gun like that before”

“It’s a flare gun”, he said back, the man who identified as Aaron groaned, waking up

“That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick”, he smiled, he actually smiled 

“Sit him up”, you walked towards the man

“You’ll have to forgive us”, you said more calmly, Rick looked back at you, “the last time someone offered us sanctuary, they tried to eat us”, Aaron frowned, not really getting the main gist of it.

“You're being cautious. I completely understand”, he said lightly, he was good at his job, if it was in fact recruiting people 

“How many of your people are out there? You have a flare gun. You have it to signal your people. How many of them are there?”, asked Rick

“Does it matter?”, you could tell he was getting frustrated 

“Yes. Yes, it does”

“I mean, of course, it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say... eight, 32, 444, zero... No matter what I say, you're not going to trust me”

“Well, it's hard to trust anyone who smiles after getting punched in the face”, said Sasha

“How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you on the road?”, he tried then

“How long have you been following us?”, asked Daryl

“Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other. You're survivors and you're people. Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world”

“How many others are out there?”, asked Rick

“One”, Rick didn’t buy it, neither did you, “I knew you wouldn't believe me. If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real? What if I drove you to the community? All of you? We leave now, we'll get there by lunch”

“I'm not sure how the 18 of us are going to fit in the car you and your one friend drove down here in”

‘We drove separately. If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home. There's enough room for all of us”

“And you're parked just a couple miles away, right?”, asked Carol, who, as the rest, was not convinced.

“East on Ridge Road, just after you hit Route 16. We wanted to get them closer, but then the storm came, blocked the road. We couldn't clear it.”

“Yeah, you've really thought this through”

“Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit. You can trust me”, it amde sense, what he said, but Rick, again wasn’t buying it, who were though, was Maggie, Sasha, Tyresse, and Michonne 

“I'll check out the cars”, Michonne said softly

“There aren't any cars!”, insisted Rick

“There's only one way to find out”, she said softly

“We don't need to find out”, he said, and your stomach growled on protest 

“We do… You know what you know and you're sure of it, but I'm not”, she said

“Me neither”, Rick then looked at you, and you nodded, accepting Maggie’s words 

“Your way is dangerous, mine isn't”, insisted Rick

“Passing up someplace where we can live? Where Judith can live? That's pretty dangerous. We need to find out what this is. We can handle ourselves. So that's what we're gonna do”, said Michonne 

“Then I will, too. I'll go”, said Glenn. Rick then seemed to see reason

“Abraham”, he called, the ginger understood inmediatly

“Yeah. I'll walk with them”, he said firmly

“Rosita?”, he asked then

“Okay”, she said softly

“If there's trouble, you got enough firepower?”, he asked Glenn 

“We got what we got”

“The walkies are out of juice. If you're not back in 60 minutes, we'll come. Which might be just what they want. If we're all in here, we're a target”. He insisted, as the selected group exited the barn to go to their mission

“I've got the area covered”, said Daryl heading out as well, you followed im closely 

“All right, groups of two, find somewhere safe within eyeshot”, Rick commanded as the rest of you followed you to take a lap around the barm. Tyresse and Beth stayed back, Noah, Carl and Carol went one way, youw ent with Daryl

“Was that necessary?”, you asked him, “the hostility?”, he turned towards you, he seemed on edge

“Remember what I told ya’ in Atlanta?”, you thought long and hard, and you nodded

“That I’m part of the family, and that I can’t go around trusting people”, you said softly

“That’s right”, he said, “so you tell me what’s goin’ on in ‘ere”

“He seems nice”, you reasoned

“Yeah, that knocked up lady from Terminus seem’ alright too!”, he said quickly, you chuckled

“I know we have been through hell, he just… seems nice, you now, there are still good people out there”, you said softly

“I know”

“What if you had pulled a gun on me?”, you asked, “or you would have liked Rick to do it to me?”

“He did”

“Well yeah”, you said with another chuckle, “but… you get what I mean…”

“Those in there”, he said, pointing at the barn, “are the only ones that matter”

“I agree”, you said softly, you grabbed onto his hand, “you and our group, is the best thing that has happened to me since this started”, you said convincingly, “and I will do anything in my power to take care of you, alright?”

“You don’t need to…”

“I know”, you said with a soft smile, “we are badasses”

“It’s badass”, he said, you looked at him, “we are badass”

“Alright”, you laughed, “eyes on the treeline”, you mocked, as you kept watching the surrounding of the barn.

You returned to the barn shortly after, after making sure there was nobody out there. 

“This, this is ours now”, said Rick, pointing at the little 

“There's more than enough. It's ours whether or not we go to your camp”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?”, asked Carl

“If he were lying or if he wanted to hurt us... but he isn't, and he doesn't. We need this. So we're going, all of us”, said Michonne

“Somebody say something if they feel differently”, said Rick, talking to all of the group 

“I don't know, man. This barn smells like horse shit”, said Daryl

“Yeah. We're going”, said Abraham

“So where are we going? Where's your camp?”, Rick looked at each and every one of you, and you all silently agreed, so he only nodded, turning to Aaron, who was grinning happily

“Well, every time I've done this, I've been behind the wheel driving recruits back. I believe you're good people. I've bet my life on it. I'm just not ready to bet my friends' lives just yet”, he explained softly

“You're not driving. So if you want to get home, you'll have to tell us how”, every step of the way was going to be a discussion, a struggle, you could already see that

“Go north on Route 16”, he said simply

“And then?”

“ I'll tell you when we get there”

“We'll take 23 north”, sometimes, Rick was a prick, “You'll give us directions from there”

“That's... I don't know how else to say it... That's a bad idea. We've cleared 16. It'll be faster”

“We'll take 23. We leave at sundown”, he sentenced 

“We're doing this at night?”, you asked, Michone got close to Rick again

“Look, I know it's dangerous. But it's better than riding up to the gates during the day”, insisted Michonne

“If it isn't safe, we need to get gone before they know we're there”, said Rick, and he had a point, but it only makes sense if you knew the area you were going, otherwise… you only had the element of surprise on your side.

“No one is going to hurt you. You're trying to protect your group, but you're putting them in danger”, said Aaron, he was not making himself any favors

You didn’t look the best, if anything, you look like mercenaries who had deserted their army, turn roge and forced to roam over in a dessert for the last months, and you had proven to be anything but friendly to this guy, and yet… he insisted, if I were him and saw us coming, I would have run in the opposite direction.

Was this a trap? a group sent this guy to make us fall in their trap, but why? to protect their territory? to eliminate possible threats? made sense. You caught Rick staring at you, and you realized you must have looked concerned. 

“Tell me where the camp is, we'll leave right now”, insisted Rick, but Aaron got quiet, he didn’t say anything, only looked down “It's going to be a long night Eat. Get some rest if you can”, he said to the group.

You felt cooped up in that barn, you wanted some fresh air, and Daryl was right, it did smell like shit in here, so you stepped out of the barn.

Michonne and Maggie followed you, surprisingly

“What are your thoughts on this?”, asked Michonne, and you cursed yourself, because your face was sometimes really transparent

“I don’t know”, you confessed, “I wanted to believe him, I do, but then… Why us? we look like shit, and we have treated him as such”

“He said it, he said he was watching”, said Maggie carefully

“Look, it adds up, but still…”, you said, “if it is a trap, I’m not sure we can fight it, we are so tired… dehydrated”

“Rick listens to you”, said Michonne, “we want to know what you think”

“I think it's worth the risk”, you assured them both, “because if it's real… it sounds pretty damn awesome”, they smiled, and left you alone.

You sat on a fallen tree, and looked at the beautiful day ahead of you, you took a deep breath, these moments, where you could actually take a breath and not smell the dead… were appreciated.

Nightfall came pretty quickly, and soon, you were walking towards a couple of cars, one of them was a big RV, the other… an old thing, cadillac maybe?

“Michonne, Glenn and I will drive with him”, said Rick, “you go on the RV”

“Where's your partner?”, you asked Aaron, he looked everywhere frantically, but there was nobody out there.

“He probably went back when you took the cars”, he said with a nervous smile, “let’s go”

They got in one car, you all entered the RV, Abraham drive, nobody fought it on it

You opened the emergency gate on the roof, and you managed to stand on what was supposed to be a kitchen table, to look ahead from above, and that way, see possible threats, you grabbed a rifle with a silencer and a telescope. You felt pretty cool, like some sort of sniper

You started the journey when it was already late, and the car was in front of you. As you took the road Rick had said you would, Abraham got a little behind them, as he should, keeping distance in case of an emergency, or if they hit the breaks for any reason 

“HEY!”, you slammed the roof, as the signal you had agreed and Abraham stopped. You saw a huge herd of walkers and the car in front of you crashing against them

“I saw it too!”, Abraham said, he turned the camper away and returned

“We need to go get them!”, fought Carol

“That is not what we agreed on!”, said Abraham, who had received clear instructions from Rick, you had his kids, so homemade sure they were going to get out of this safely

Abraham returned to an intersection, and took the road Aaron first told him to take, you were mounting guard again, as you took the new street, the night sky was lit up with a red light

“Who fired that?”, you asked, slapping the roof again

“It’s them!”, said Rosita, from inside. 

“We’re going!”, demanded Abraham, and the RV took speed down the road.

It was a small town, the bengal was set off by a water tank. From your oint of view, you saw a small herd of roamers, surrounding a car, they had definitely found something… or someone, from there, you took out a bunch of them, before Abraham hit the breaks and everyone got out, you jumped out of the RV, landing dangerously close to broke something, but you didn’t

A man was hiding under the car

“Help!”, he asked, once he saw the threat had been diminished pretty quickly, “I’m Eric, I’m with Aaron!”, you took out your ax, and took out the rest of them, as ROoita and Daryl helped you 

Maggie slipped in and help the man to get out of under the car

“I think I broke my ankle!”, he said. Like Aaron, he looked like he was just out on a hike near a fancy town, he looked clean, and well kept.

You helped him up, and towards an old supply store, where Maggie tended to him. Daryl waited outside for the rest of them. Eric had been the one to fire the flare, so, it was a matter of time until they saw it and came too.

Because they were sure to be back, soon

You kept Carl company, as he was terribly nervous, in an alley, waiting for Rick with Daryl and you, and soon, they came in, running down the street, on foot. 

Daryl whistled, and they whistled back, that is how you knew it was them. 

Aaron came running looking for Eric, you guessed he was his partner, and not only for this run. 

“Is everyone alright?”, asked Rick

“Yes”, said Maggie, “everything is fine”, it had been a good scare, but you were all fine, and that is what mattered. Aaron came out of the room where Eric was soon after

“Excuse me. Everyone”, he called your attention, he looked at you quickly, and nodded, “Thank you”, he said, “You saved Eric. I owe you. All of you. And I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community. When we get to Alexandria. Now, I'm not sure about you, but I'd rather not do any more driving tonight. Maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning”

“That sounds fine, but if we're staying here for the night, you're sleeping over there”, demanded RIck, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes

“You really think we got to do that?”, asked Glenn

“It's a safe play. We don't know you”

“The only way you're gonna stop me from being with him right now is by shooting me”, said Aaron, you smiled. Glenn grabbed Rick, and whispered some things to him. 

“All right”, he said relented.

You didn’t realize how tired you were until everybody started to look for places to sleep for a couple of hours. You went to the second floor, the whole building was crappy, but from there, you could keep watch.

Daryl followed you

“It seems that if I want to sleep I need to be close to you”, he said, surprising you

The night was calm, a bit warm, and the skies were clear.

One of the best things about the apocalypse, if it was any, is that there was no more “pollution” of any kind, not light, or noise pollution. So you could see the stars

“I’m flattered”, you said softly

“You are a good lookout”

“I’m just trying to play my part”, you said softly, he stood by your side, in a kind of balcony, made of steel tubing, like emergency stairs from the old buildings of cities

“Yeah, me too”, he said, you felt his gaze on you, and you tried to look away

“This community…”, you started, “sounds great”

“Yeah”, he said, “if its real”

“I think it is”, you said surely, “and if it's not, we can keep going”, you assured him, “as long as we are together… we will be fine”, you really believed that

“I dunno why…”, he said slowly, “I keep coming back to ya”, you looked at him, Daryl was a man of short words, and despite it sounded a bit bad, he said it so gently, that you understood what he meant, you were drawn to him too, in a way you couldn’t began to understand

“I like it”, you confessed with a shy smile. You shared smiled and looked away immediately, feeling a bit embarrassed, “Whatever happens tomorrow, or any day”, you said, “you can come back to me”, he only hummed approvingly

You both took turns to sleep, without saying much else, sometimes with Daryl, you didn’t need to say anything. 

The very next day you woke up and were ready to leave, you ate canned beans as breakfast, as Aaron was telling everybody that they had manage to have chickens and ate fresh eggs everyday, that sounded amazing, and most of you climbed into the RV, to start the journey to Alexandria

It was a ride for a couple of hours, that wasn’t the issue, you liked road trips, or at least, you used to like them…

You got seated in an area that was supposed to be for eating, and Daryl had gotten inside just behind you, he was going to follow you

“Daryl”, Carol called him, signaling for him to sit with her on the other side of the camper and he did, so you just smiled at Eugene and Tara, who got seated by you side

“Have you ever played Seven-card stud?”, he asked you both, and you immediately engaged with him

“Stack ‘em”, you mocked

“You don’t say it like that, you say rack ‘em when you want to play pool”, teased Tara, you laughed

“So what do I say when I want my cards dealt”

“Deal me in”, says Eugene

“Yeah, if you are from the south”, and a fun argument ensued while you started playing cards 

“Stares and squares. It's aces, cuatros, neeners, and two-eyed jacks”, you chuckled as you tried to understand what he meant

“So there's 14 wild cards? Are you serious?”, asked Tara, who was not impressed, you also believed Eugene was teaching you something where only he could win

“Serious as two copulating dogs”

“Copulating dogs are serious?”, you giggled, and you started laughing again, it looked like you were drunk, laughing at anything funny you said. 

“Look! DC!”, you jumped at the window like a simple tourist, you had never gotten to see the capital of the United States, and even from afar, and in the middle of the apocalypse, it looked great. 

You kept driving, amongst giggles and nervous laughs, the three of you tried to keep it light, but you could tell the environment inside the RV was a bit tense, nobody knew what to expect. 

“We are here”, the camper went to a stop and you came back to your senses, watching over the window. There were some abandoned buildings, you got out of it, to see the promised land, the big walls, and a huge gate.

When you saw the gates and the people there to open them, your social anxiety of old came back, quicker than you expected, and you felt dread… and suddenly it hit you… not because they might kill you, or try to eat you, but because you didn’t really wanted to meet more people, or talk to them… or care for them… you took one last look at your group, and wished you could stay the same as you were now, all eighteen of you.

18, such a nice, round number, could be divided by 9, 6, 3 or 2, you liked those numbers, even. 

You sometimes were certain that you had an undiagnosed OCD to some degree. 

When all of you walked towards those gates, you took a step back, Rick noticed, immediately, as did Daryl

“Hey”, he said softly, “what’s going on?”

“I dunno”, you muttered, you didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want to meet new people, you were getting so tired by this point… 

“It’s fine”, he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine”, you nodded. And took a step forwards, signaling that you were fine, you just had a bit of cold feet.

As you stood there, waiting for them to open the gates, you heard a loud noise that made all of you jump and point your guns, but it was only a possum. Daryl shot it, killing it instantly. You all turned to the man who opened the gates, who seemed… horrified, to say the least.

“We brought diner”, said Daryl, raising up the dead possum, you chuckled

Post chapter notes: I realized… because I rewatched… that I really downplayed those weeks on the road, they were completely feral by the point they met poor Aaron. I would have liked to have a couple more chapters with my eighteen, but… this story must go on, I already had them jumping through hoops, jejeje

taglist! @crazyunsexycool

[cheese-water]

Charlie is right.

Bolas Rojos won today. They got their revenge after yesterday’s beating. They’ve proven themselves as real competitors. They have literally won the battle today.

But they themselves have orchestrated the war.

Peace is no longer an option. All bridges have been burned for the red team. Any sympathy or pity from the other groups was gone as soon as they cemented first place. And even worse, there were many witnesses to their carnage. Primarily ElQuackity on green, who faced them head-on (so much for blaming the base raid on Bad), but Pol and Tina on blue saw those same chat messages. Like Charlie said, in situations like these, people will never forget. These are how grudges are formed, how small decisions lead to larger repercussions, and how consequences end up mattering after all is said and done.

The Bolas can’t go back now. They’ve made their bed of destruction and warfare, and now they have to lie in it. While the actions of the others may have led them down this path, do not get me wrong. They were not backed into a corner. There are many opportunities to do something different. For instance, the trader village or going full-on cult mode were genuinely viable options. Due to the lack of players on today and the players that were online’s motivation for the competition visibly waning, the red team could have easily isolated them each and indoctrinated them into the group.

To be honest, the Reds’ resistance to joining general vc only furthered their “us against the world” and “peace was never an option” mentality. Disregarding everything pre-purgatory, the only person who actually has positive relationships with the others is Foolish, who made an effort to interact outside of the team (1v1 with Étoiles, chatting with Tina and BBH, etc.). Unlike his teammates, Foolish really has set himself up well for the future, be it for trading, secret alliances, or if, for whatever reason, teams switch. And in games like these, that's how you gain credibility; that’s how you end up being pitied; that's how you survive.

And today, guess who won in that regard? The team in last place, SoulFire. Which thank god they did, because steamrolling the competition two days in a row is how you get majorly targeted. Their lack of progress (which was definitely unintentional lmao), the gen vc basically being BadBoyHalo’s “apology” tour for a bit (which again, very unintentionally focused the blame off of the six kills from their equally bloodthirsty leader), but most importantly, keeping Étoiles, the skilled and need I mention literal leader of the enemy team, company when his team was gone has more impact than even they might not realize. I mean, talk about damage control lol. Like going into Day 3, my bets on who’s group will form an alliance first are solely on green and blue.

Anyway, I am happy not only about the Reds getting the win they rightly deserve but also about the fact that they are aware of what they are doing. The moves they have and will make are purposeful, self-aware of their own “let’s all be peaceful” hypocrisy.

On Day 1, Blue and Green got to be the bad guys.

On Day 2, Charlie can’t help but question his own morality while doing the same terrible things that sent him down this spiral to ElQuackity tonight.

But I guess it's the burden that first place has to bear. I’m sure they’ll all get used to it eventually :)

[2demondogs]

I Was Just A Girl, Then | Arthur & John

Tags: John/Abigail, past Eliza/Arthur, and referenced VanDerMatthews; (CW) teen pregnancy (Abigail), canon character death, whole lotta brotherly angst, does it count as comfort if it doesn't work?, vignettes Words: 1.5k A/N: I think a lot about the fact she was only around 18 when she gave birth to Jack. Good grief.

Abigail is too young to look at Arthur with this much— pain. Pain is what it is, and he'd like to think his hesitancy to call it that is entirely because John is his brother, and men should always think their family is innocent.

Her hair is dark and long; her face is round and soft. In the light of the campfire, she looks like a woman he once knew. Shadows cradle her, fall harsh on the side of her belly that's facing the night. Grimshaw will need to alter her dresses a second time, and soon.

"He's your brother," Abigail is saying, throat thick with emotion, and he feels so very uncomfortable. He knows he is. He holds her hands, anyways, the knuckles rosy and chapped with the chill coming over the air in the last month, rough against his palms. She's never had soft hands, none of them have.

The seasons are changing, and so did John. He's been gone for six months.

"You know him. You know the way he thinks, don't you?" She's moved on from hoping, because he's not answered any of her letters. Now, Abigail is grieving. She doesn't know what she's asking, but Arthur does. "Why did he—?" A choke cuts her off before he can.

His face feels tight, almost as tight as his chest. "I used to know him," he says.

This grief is worse than when Abigail began to show, because now it is shared.

He thinks of Eliza, and if some other man held her hands, entirely enclosed in his, while she cried because she was unwanted, because her life had been decided for her by a wanderer who hadn't had to hold up the same burdens. Condemned to what so many girls dream of playing house, but— girls should never be with child. He looks down at Abigail's hands instead of at her face, how the fire catches the tears welling up in her eyes.

She's a strong girl. She wouldn't have survived as long as she has if she weren't, and he knows she will go on for much longer, too. It feels wrong to see her cry, and to feel the shards of heart pulsing through the veins along the backs of her hands whenever he gains the consciousness to stroke a thumb over one.

He's not used to comforting people. Not women, especially, who expect so much more than a clap on the back and a companion to sit out the silence with,the way Hosea taught him was proper for a man to offer, lest he be misunderstood. Never stopped him from treating Dutch how he treats Abigail, now. It seems so much kinder than silence.

Arthur is walking over those shards, and whatever he says could crack them into more. Abigail squeezes at his fingers and he lets her.

"It ain't you, Abigail," he says.

It's John.

She misconstrues what he means, and lets out a small sob of: "I know, Arthur."

Yesterday, Arthur wished they would've hanged him with his father before he had a chance to grow up mean. Today, he told John they should've hanged him when he was still sprouting.

After giving him that nasty, black ring around his eye, of course. He supposes it'd only be fair to give him one in return, brothers in bruises. Hosea seems more sad than anything and Dutch, more or less disappointed. Arthur thinks both are unwarranted, even if they are — as far as he knows — less severe than the anger he deserves for acting out as their son. Lyle would've given him a fresh scar along his face. His chin stings at the thought.

His son is dead.

Eliza, too, but not even grief can lie to him enough to think that they would ever spend a life together. He has little to mourn besides a woman that he wronged and his own pathetic attempts to redeem himself in her eyes, which he knew wasn't possible.

She cried when she saw him at the saloon, wandering through, all those months ago. When he had recognized her and taken her into his arms, she slapped him harder than he thought a woman their age could ever hit. They had dinner. She said he ruined her life and that pregnancy was her worst fear as if it were the weather, all over weeks-old bread that he thought tasted just fine as fresh before she spoke, and started to cry again. Then, it all seemed stale.

Issac's absence hurts differently.

Only men are supposed to die. Not boys, lest they open their mouth the way John has. Mocking him. Can't even shoot a gun let alone— and he's mocking him for trying to be a man.

It hurt because Arthur told himself the same things. He had a handle on things until he didn't, and now the reins have slipped from his fists again.

Issac's fists. They were so small, even though he was growing like a weed. Another month, he would've needed new clothes that Arthur could have stolen the fabric for. He wonders, now and then, how tall Issac would have gotten.

Much worse is another voice telling him that Eliza wouldn't have missed him had he died, because John had spoken it into reality. He had drawn it from the pit of his thoughts the way he always does — how Hosea and Dutch are able to, too, because apparently sleeping in the same camp makes your dreams intertwine and writhe around one another just enough — and he had given it life.

It's the first cigarette they've shared since John returned.

Arthur said they should've hanged him, and then said it twice more in the same week. Old habits die hard. John hadn't found it quite as funny as Dutch had, and neither had Hosea.

Dutch doesn't often realize when Arthur is capable of fratricide.

He's older now, but he isn't. John's nose still has that mean crack to it, scraggly old beard at his jaw, and he looks as much like a kicked dog as ever. Always has looked defensive, and sad. Arthur doesn't like to consider that he's picked it up from him, and that he picked it up from Hosea. The chains that bind suffocate the most when he yanks at them.

John's an ugly sight against the setting sun. He misses when he could tell him as much and John would laugh instead of saying it wasn't very fair. Fair, fair, fair— that's all men care about: fairness. Life isn't fair, so maybe John really is all grown up, because he expects some kind of civility out of a world where people like them die in the streets everyday.

He dreams despite it all. Arthur does not, and that is why they aren't the same.

Surely, they cannot be the same. Eliza cried at the sight of his face, and Abigail fell to her knees. Arthur is nothing like his brother.

He misses John terribly. He misses when he could tell him he was ugly, and when he could push him into the water and feel good about calming the panic in his eyes.

Isn't that what brothers do? Torment and save, over and over? This only feels like one or the other, day after day.

John asked to bum a goddamn cigarette when he proposed a smoke, though he must have his own pack. Arthur was handing it over filter-out before he even opened his mouth. The instruments are out of sync, but the music still plays.

He misses adding onto one another's insults of Dutch's operas, when he first began listening to them. That was only two years ago, but the memory tells him they were both boys yet.

It seems warmer than this summer evening. John's hair is shifty and blue-black where once it looked like it could've been brown when he was born, merely darkened with age. The sun used to show some part of the man that the night couldn't. Anymore he's all midnight, all of the time. And when he looks at Arthur, his eyes are full of shame that he knows intimately and yet not at all.

"She's jus' happy you're home," Arthur says, before he can speak.

John grimaces. "I know."

Arthur likes to think he is not all nighttime himself. Every loathing thought dissipates when he must confront the issue of John Marston, and he finds himself a better man in every way. Beneath the jealousy, he knows he's better in no way at all.

The creek is still from where they sit. Arthur feels the anger build up, and he can hardly swallow it down enough to even his voice.

"I held her hand while she gave birth," he says. Turns to John, and lets the hatred seep into his eyes. "It should'a been you, Marston."

John looks away, and grimaces. "I know."

He could say that she screamed unlike anything he'd ever heard before; that he found very little beauty in the newborn, like Susan had, that he thought maybe he should visit his mother's grave, if he could find it, he hadn't thought of her in over ten years; that he had seen the look on Hosea's face while he wiped the cool cloth over her forehead: disappointment, and not in Abigail.

None of it would change anything.

[fornassau]

He knew Charles would be home shortly. After having been informed that his ship was spotted on the horizon, bearing Nassau, James, himself, headed home to finish preparing. Preparing what, exactly? Charles’ favorite tea, all set up in the new set James purchased for him during his time away. He’d likely want to relax after some long several days away, as well as discuss whatever the fuck happened out there, so James wanted to make sure everything was perfect for him. He hoped all had gone well but he was prepared for a pissed off Charles, too.

He even had some food prepped for him. An early dinner or late lunch depending on how one viewed it, but he was more excited for Charles to see the new tea set. Matching cups and saucers with a world map painted on them (what could fit on them, anyway) as well as the word “Captain” on both. The only difference were the ships painted on just below the title. They were designed to be their own ships - The Walrus on one and The Ranger on the other. Of course being in a relationship, they were practically Co-Captains of both, sharing the ships when needed, but it was for sentimental purposes. Matching teacups with their titles and ships painted on them. It was easy to tell the difference in ship designs also because of the emblem James made sure the artist added.

“He better fucking like these.” James mutters to himself with a small smirk, quite excited for him to see them. Quite excited to spoil him, this time, upon his return home. Because there would be more to it then tea and snacks.

Charles was tired. It had been a rough one out on the sea this time. Yes, they captured their prize. They’d captured many in fact, but he’d been out on the water when a brutal squall hit. Hurricane, really. The Ranger sustained some damage, but they did survive it because she had a good captain and a crew that followed orders. But that storm was enough to tense every muscle in his body. So once he had docked he set it away to have repairs get started on the ship. They’d done what they could at sea, but some things needed full repair on land. Some were saying he was lucky he got home, but Charles had been stuck in storms more than once in his life. The sea once again let the battered dog live.

So right now the man wanted nothing more than relax in his own house. Maybe a hot bath, but that would require hauling water and building a fire which he didn’t have the desire for right now. Maybe some tea, and his feet up on the couch? That sounded good. And he wondered if Flint was at home as he’d seen The Walrus in the bay.

As he got closer to their little ramshackle home, he could smell something. Food. Something delicious too and after days at sea on hard tack real food was a fucking blessing from Poseidon. Flint must have been home, but it wasn’t often the man ever cooked anything. So to say he was intrigued was an understatement. He might’ve even been smiling a bit just as he opened the door. He looked a little worse for wear when he came in, hair more matted than usual from the storm he’d been in. And his eyes widened when he got the full view and smell of what was coming from inside. He practically drooled. “ .. is that roasted pig I smell? “

Oh Charles, you haven’t even seen your little tea set yet. But he had just come through the door.

[weirdlyfitting]

I actually wanted to put this in the tag at first but then like- yknow what i'll just write it here

LOVE AND THUNDER RUINED A LOT OF MCU'S WORLDBUILDING.

Like i swear i wanted to leave the movie alone out of everything but when i see people mentioned these stuff???? I can't i'm sorry i just CAN'T.

-The whole stuff with INFINITY CONES ice cream store???? Just why the fuck would there be a store that's based on an apocalypse for all species and humanity???? 5 years filled with grief and loss and everyone still needed to survive and seriously an ice cream store??? wandavision, shang chi, fatws, hawkeye, mom, gotg 3, list goes on and on they're dealing with the lost of what thanos had taken and then this existed JUST WHAT???

Plus with what happened in secret invasion just made it so much worse, in the middle of gravik's plan and many skrull's suffering, SERIOUSLY??????

-(i don't really mind this too much but i think it's worth mentioning) not having a heart to heart talk about jane with peter and thor, like peter would DEF understand what it felt like cause he, too, had ever lost a loved one due to cancer. I get that the guardians left early but ngl thor could've messaged peter about it or sum???? Like man :((((((

-GOD BUTCHER PLOT AND GORR HIMSELF. Look, i LOVE moon knight, i ADORE it very much, and the show explained the egyptian gods pretty well imo. I care for taweret, for khonshu, hell even ammit, i'm interested in these characters and what could happen next on their stories. Then a few months later love and thunder came in and it had A GOD BUTCHER AS THE VILLAIN. This sends me in a genuine chill dude like what will happen to the enneads??!?!? What will happen to moon bois?!?!?! It's like A WAR IS COMING, THE STAKE IS REAL HERE, PLUS IT'S CHRISTIAN BALE MAN!!! But then only to get disappointed with whatever the fuck they did with gorr :(

Does the enneads even matter anymore? Do they even know about this??? Like goddd you have decent worldbuilding establishments with previous thor movies, black panther and moon knight and then have a villain that could eradicate all of what those previous projects had established AND THEN HAVING THE WORST TAKE POSSIBLE ON THE VILLAIN????

And yet biggest let down is the fact that moon knight and love & thuder released in the same year. So it's like marvel set moon knight to expand the universe and love & thunder can embrace it so much more....which is a really cool fucking idea right????!?!? But oh well-

-and then this stuff with asgardians and skrulls?!?!??? Ngl if i didn't try to look out for some secret invasion stuff on tumblr i wouldn't even realized asgardians had their own town just fine!!!

But anyway like it really made the tone from secret invasion just.....kinda gone????!!! Like hell why the fuck no asgardians have a scene where they talked about this?!?!??? Why's there no establishment for what's going on with the skrulls??? It could make sense that the asgardians didn't even knew skrulls existed like DUH THAT'S WHAT THE FIRST EP OF SI WAS ALL ABOUT. But the thing is, having not a single character talked about a glimpse of the skrull is really sad to me, a bit of val knowing about this at least?? Like both asgardians and skrulls having ended up on earth is because they had no home, no safe place to stay anymore....

Why explore these places and cool stuff then just....abandon it after you establish it????

I bet the Skrulls really hate the fact that the Asgardians have their own town and government while they are hanging out at abandoned nuclear plants. Asgardians are just as dangerous, jut not "scary".

Gravik's villain origin story is probably watching Valkyrie's Old Spice ad.

[luffyrose]

Alien or Ghost?

I am once again offering random ideas that pop into my brain. As you can tell, the brain rot is strong for DC x DP.

Anyway, let's hop right into the idea for today!

~~~~~~

Halfas' as much as they share biology with ghosts, who in their own sense are a new species, are considered alien. Of course, not because they have human and ghostly abilities, but because Halfas WERE aliens. The origin of their race had been so uncertain, but seeing that they held a small planet close to Krypton, they were most definitely a species of Alien. They could hop between dimensions, though it seemed that this one and this planet was their home. No matter who left, they always returned. So when one day they didn't, it was believed the species was now extinct, seeing as they didn't know that Halfa have two ways of being "born".

Those who knew the most were the Kryptonians, being close allies to the friendly but powerful race. With Krypton destroyed, the only information that survived was that of a few estranged alien species' knowledge and documents in the Fortress of Solitude. Seeing as it wasn't important, being a deceased race and all, Superman paid his respects to the race but didn't spend much time looking over the details of the species. All he really maintained was their similar biology to beings referred to as Ghosts, and the ability to transform. It was also noted that Halfa, as strong as they were, developed powers in times of need or panic. Meaning the stronger the person, the worse they've had to protect themselves or others from.

Now, if he'd read a little more, he would have learned about how Halfa's had said before how, while they can have children, not every Halfa was born as Halfa's, it was something that made them special and made them care for one another so deeply. It was also why true Halfa were usually aligned to protect whatever it deemed family.

So when a group of young teens, led by Boy Wonder himself on a wayward mission, find a horribly ill-looking teen and are terrified. It does not help that the clothes he wore were tattered and through them, the team could see rushed and careless stitches. Nor did it make anything better that this mission was in a lab. A much too nice lab for supposedly illegal activity. And now the group knew why. So with chaos and teenage rage at seeing someone so young and so hurt, they absolutely destroy the lab in an attempt to get the other out. It goes as well as it can, but hey, they're out! Scolded by Batman, but out! And they took the kid!

The team is determined to help their unofficial new teammate, you could pry him from their cold dead hands this was almost exactly like how they got Conner and that had ended wonderfully- for the most part. Conner himself was very protective of the young boy, and Danny accepted that pretty quickly. It made most of them more than sure that he'd had a family, but none of them wanted to ask.

When Wally inevitably did, Danny physically freezes, sudden realizations hitting him like a truck. Danny's family was gone...for the most part. Jazz had been away for something, but his house had been attacked by the GIW, leaving Danny to expose himself to his parents before they tried to defend him. It didn't work. So the three Fentons were claimed dead, the house blown to pieces with nothing to find. Except, only his parents were actually gone. Sam and Tucker had no idea what had happened, Jazz probably knew he was alive...but that didn't make the situation much better, and Dani...she had been elsewhere, but surely she'd known by now.

Dan.

That was a much worse realization. Dan had been reformed after a long time out and very much taken an older brother role, Conner reminded him of that even if subconsciously, either way, he was the King of the Infinite Realms and he'd been missing. For months. Dan was more than definitely ready to tear the human realm apart.

With a tense chuckle, Danny said he was so dead when his siblings found him but never elaborated. They could tell it wasn't an actual danger to the boy, but it made the team curious. Either way, not his problem for now, so Danny just continues to stay with the YJL.

Eventually, Danny ends up sneaking with them to help on a mission and when the team is in danger, he snaps and near destroys everything around them, save his teammates, in a fit of rage. It's then that the JL realize their newest addition may be a bit strong for his age and control. So they plan to meet him. Lucky for Danny, Robin and Wally are allowed to come with!

The meeting starts with a lot of the JL, minus a well-known blue boy scout, he'd been busy working things out with Conner, his Ma had learned of the boy and really helped him figure out his issues(there was definitely a lot of yelling, and request to meet her grandson). Things are going alright, even with the boy's clear nervousness at seeing so many people. It's when Superman himself arrives that he freezes completely, staring at the boy in front of him as everything in his body screams this is another Alien. He doesn't quite know why, but the only non-martian alien who could possibly look this human that he knew of was meant to be extinct. Seeing how Martian Manhunter hadn't mentioned anything about the boy being possibly Martian, Supes was rightfully freaking out.

Superman, utterly confused and slightly happy: YOU'RE A HALFA

Danny, surprised and terrified out of his mind that he's been outed so easily: UHHH-

Obviously, the right thing to do in a panic? RUN AWAY. So off Danny goes, fleeing as if his life depends on it. I mean, who can blame him? In Superman's eyes, this is the last known being of his species, unless they were in hiding, and to Danny, this man just stated to a room full of possible enemies if he ever oversteps a boundary exactly what he is. Not to mention the whole Halfa hunted like sport when Pariah Dark was alive stuff he'd learned from Clockwork at some point.

His recent recklessness gave quite a few people, good and bad, a hint of his location. A mix of joy, worry, and anger is present from all sources alike.

[sparkling-moonbeam]

💜Scaramouche x Reader💜

A/N: This is an idea that suddenly popped out of my mind so I decided to write it. The reader is gender-neutral and this is a fluff. Enjoy reading and have a nice day!

Oh and there are some curse words cause it's Scara.

💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜

Being a harbinger is something you can’t be fully proud of. At least, that’s how you feel upon staring at the badge the Tsaritsa gave you. But you don’t really have a choice, you can’t just pass an opportunity of making your life a bit easier. Even if you try to deny the offer, your head would be a target for the Fatui. Surviving in the cold weather of Snezhnaya is already a pain in the back, you don’t want to make it worse.

Your job as a harbinger is really simple. You seldom cut someone’s throat as you’re more often assigned in “gathering information from the inside” type of missions. When it comes to highly secured territories, you’re the one to take the lead. You don’t need assistance or anything as you mostly take the act you also planned and set it in motion. Maybe it’s from the experience of once working in front of many people, wearing a mask to suit everyone’s taste, pursuing them to trust you.

As the Tsaritsa told you, you’re competent. A people pleaser like you can read people so easily that one look can immediately give you an inference on the personality you will need to portray on your target. When it comes to finishing someone, you do it quickly. As soon as you got their trust, it was also the time to sing them a lullaby to their own doom.

A sigh escaped your lips, being a harbinger sets you in the boundary of everything. It always felt like you’re in between of opposing arguments. It’s thrilling but also confusing, maybe it’s just your morals kicking you in the guts but it’s too late for that. The moment you bow down in front of the Tsaritsa’s throne, it was all gone.

“I never knew a deaf could be a harbinger.”

Your eyes shifted from your badge to the source of the voice. The sixth harbinger, casually hanging out in your office’s couch. He must have entered your office while you’re busy paying attention on your thoughts.

“Do you have any idea how many times I knocked on your door? I would’ve thought you’ve been killed in your office if I didn’t know you any better,” he continued.

“I’m thinking about important stuff, I didn’t notice.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to apologize, how rude.”

You blinked at him, staring to his eyes. Scaramouche, or also known as Balladeer has been the one to always barge into your office like it was his own for the first months. The first time you met him was just like this, except the fact that you’re working on paper documents that time and he didn’t knocked, he just barged in. You remember how he didn’t ask your name and where you from, just straight up gave the file the Tsaritsa wanted to give to you, informing you with a bunch of small insults here and there before leaving and slamming the door.

Your first thought was maybe he didn’t like you or your impression, not that it matters anyway. Until you found out that he also does that to other harbingers, especially when he’s having too much to work with in his plate.

“You know, no matter how long you looked at that badge, it won’t disappear.”

You look at the balladeer with his statement. He stood up, slowly walking towards your table as he crossed his arms. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since it’s disturbing my thoughts, are you really…chickening out? After being here for so long, that’s quite disappointing.”

You let out a scoff at his question, your eyes narrowing at his glinted eyes. You know how Scaramouche is, the way he works with his words to initiate tension. You won’t fall for it but still you wanted to admit how well he can cause tension and get away from it.

“You’re asking…me? What happened to your ‘good intuition’, the sixth harbinger?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “That’s more like you. I just hate how you always look at your stupid badge every time I see you, it irks me.”

“That’s more like your problem, not mine.”

“I hate it still, so I will need an explanation.”

“Wow, is this manipulation 101?”

“Y/n.” He sternly called your name, his eyes softening a bit. “I wanted to know if something is bugging your mind, I’ll help if I can.”

You remained silent as a sigh escaped your lips. You reached for the file you’re supposed to read a while ago if only you didn’t space out. “It was nine days ago..”

He hummed urging you to continue. He sat down on the chair opposite to yours, waiting for your next words.

“When I learned something about a certain topic, it’s…quite bizarre.”

You looked at him seriously, his indigo orbs meeting yours. You can see how his trying to listen…how his patience is slowly thinning out on your slow words and his own pretention.

A smile formed your lips. “Gaslighting. Oh, what a bizarre topic and thing to do, right Scaramouche?”

You dramatically placed your hand on your chest as you gave him a look of pity. He clicked his tongue before standing up, fixing his hat in the process.

“Fuck you and your stupid badge.”

You laughed. His visible frustration is entertaining, especially when he cussed. Something about his cussing words just hits deeply, you can’t help but laugh.

“I waste my time for this stupid shit. I should’ve known.”

As he took a step away from table, you quickly stood up, reaching for his hand to stop him. He looked back at you with an annoyed expression. He was about to slap your hands off him but he stopped as soon as he heard you talk.

“Wait, alright. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not half wrong but..I get the glimpse of what you’re trying to do. Just sit down. I promise, no more jokes.”

It took a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “No more fucking jokes.”

You nodded. He let out a sigh before he propped down on the chair again. You sat again too as you compose yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You bit the insides from your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling. That’s more like him, you thought.

“This badge isn’t mine, dumbass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it from an agent? A traitor perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll finish them off-”

“No need for violence, it was from a harbinger.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Did you…killed a harbinger? Y/n, that’s not how you raise your rank. You’re a trai-”

“I didn’t kill someone, why are you insisting that?”

He shrugged, leaning on the chair as he hums. He must have been playing with you as a revenge from earlier. What a child.

“It’s from a harbinger that’s been bugging me. Not in a bad way,” you cleared out before he can even decide to say a violent statement again.

“Bugging you but not in a bad way? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

You mentally facepalmed, of course he wouldn’t know. He probably never felt that way for someone too. Now, you’re rethinking your decisions on telling him. Time for a more direct approach.

“I think I like someone.”

Silence.

You were replied by silence for almost a minute before a chuckled erupted from him. You shook your head as you listen to his laugh.

“You like someone? And you stole their badge because you like them? What a creepy move, are you a stalker?”

You rolled your eyes before you stand up, holding the file on your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll need to submit this file before dinner time, bye.”

As you held the doorknob, you can still hear his laughter from your back. Maybe, you’ll tell him some other time but, you promised yourself. You even practice on the mirror on what to say, it’s ridiculous. Your eyes landed on the badge. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of the glint in his eyes then you’ll see your reflection, making you ask yourself on how did you get yourself into this.

“Hey, Scara.”

You turned around, his laughed slowly stopped as he looked at you.

“Remember the camp last month?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about such a horrible day.”

“Childe accidentally took your badge then replace it since you were pretty mad that day. It won’t be a good result if you’ve known he touched some of your belongings.”

He blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? That rascal, good thing he know what will happen.”

“I actually found it so here you go.”

You hummed, taking a last look on the badge before you throw it to him. He easily caught it with one hand, staring at it for a second. You saw how his eyes widen a bit before glancing at you again.

“This badge…is mine and what you said about it earlier…”

Your throat felt dry the moment you meet each other eyes. You tried to smile, forcing yourself to formulate some words your mind came up with.

“You’re making me feel complicated things, it’s unfitting for a harbinger.”

[brainrot-stitch]

😈😈😈 (also u can draw any of my ocs if u want woahh!!!)

Putting a cut actually cuz this was long whoopsy

M!heartbreak is an au of heartbreak but I just. Like this version more💔. There's a sp au called mirai park which has since been deleted and the person who made it wants no association with it btw. But I thought the general concept ("ur god is dead fight the other players whoever wins/survives becomes god) was cool and moved on. That's where i first heard abt it at least idk if there's like a show or smth it's based on. But anyways later on some of my little guys got snatched from their worlds and put in a killing game to become a god, and heartbreak was one of them!! I didn't do this btw sometimes events just happen I can't control sighhh.. but yea he's there now. Currently the mirai au is unfinished but I'm slowly learning what's happening to them and sadly heartbreak had a dead end :(( it's ok tho he js got sent back to his world (which I know very little about sigh). This is also a more humanized version of him, as all the contestants were given more humanoid forms bc they were either anthro or feral. (Heartbreak was anthro but I need to redesign it BAD). Anyways while competing he's really put together and is good at fighting. He's probably got the best um. Idk how to say it. Survival skill? Idk smth like that. Out of all of them. Bro knows how to survive and defend himself which is so odd he died before the final few. Seeing how he died I can guess who got to him tho :( anyways here's his ref!!!

Wooo mlp ocs!!

None of them have a lot of lore yet so I'll do all of them for now :3

Azure- basically 0 backstory idk what her deal is. When I was sick and like dozing off (like sleeping but I could wake myself up if needed) I saw her and woke up to sketch them rq before going back to sleep lol.

Greyscale- my first pony oc! Not much lore they js kinda chill :3 they have a bf I don't have a set design for yet but bro is a silly goose

???- don't have a name for her yet but it's from the equestria civil war au by @/captainzigo :D. It's an alicorn experiment oc and u can find out more abt those if u go check her out bc idk how to explain it well 💔. She's a very yapful yapper and real energetic and excitable. It's deal is that the scientists mixed her dna with not only a pegasus but also changelings so she's got like. Feathery bug wings. And also those funky holes in its back legs. She's silly I think :3

Their refs!! (Greyscales looks like ass bc I made the wings too big but I don't feel like fixing it so bros gotta stay like that

And finally axel!!! Ough I love axel he's my little freak creature..

Soo he's a funky little minecraft oc :3 hes an avian but he's got a sculk infection going on tho. Currently he lives in the deep dark, usually above or somewhere near the ancient city. He likes to hang around on ledges or in crevices high up in the caverns. He also really likes being in lush caves but always ends up going back to his place in the deep dark. He does sometimes go to the surface, but usually only at night. Bright light is starting to hurt his eyes (he likes the dim glow of the glowberries (: ). Wardens don't really give a shit abt him as long as he's quiet and stays out of their way. Due to his time in the deep dark (he's been there for years btw) he's learned to keep quiet by instinct. He's a silent flier and he speaks in a sort of whisper voice? That's not really a whisper?? Idk how to describe it. His voice is real quiet basically idk

He can leave the deep dark n all that, but the longer he's away the more effects it has on him. After recovering from the initial injury (will talk abt that in a bit) he tried to leave for good but ended up eventually going back. He tells himself that it's just because he wants to, not that he's being affected by the sculk growing on him. He knows he's lying. Anyways!! The longer he's gone the worse he gets btw. The symptoms of.. idk what to call it. The whatever, I guess? Can range from like irritability or homesickness to getting fevers or migranes and a clawing urge deep in his throat to get back.

Anyways how he got infected/stuck in the deep dark!!! He n some pals went to the ancient city bc they heard there was cool loot n stuff (despite their village leader specifically telling them NOT to). They didn't know shit about the deep dark tho and ended up eventually triggering a warden. They panicked obvi and the warden aggro-ed on them and they got their asses BEAT. While they were trying to run back axel got shot by a skeleton and then hit by the warden back into a uhhh fuckin like. Crack in the ground?? Idk how to describe it well but like a crevice. Anyways he passed tf out and was down there long enough for the sculk to infect the wound (which is on his left shoulder/bicep btw. It's where the X is :3). His friends were like "oh shit he's a fuckin goner" and ran! Bro got abandoned so sad sighhhh. He eventually got better but bro was sculked :( he still convinces himself his pals are gonna come back some day (they are not<3).

Sooo bro has been in total isolation for like. Years. Idk how many years tho I haven't found that out yet💔 bro is NOT mentally stable!! Also here's his ref :3

Ermmm haiii oc doodles :D

Might add some more later..

[andrea-lyn]

look at me, I am old, but I’m happy

(for @christchex because I truly believe her to be #1 Sanders supporter)

The damn kids are keeping something from him. None of them are good liars at the best of times, but every time Sanders shows up when Michael’s friends are around, suddenly they go real quiet. At first, he writes it off as stupid youthful hormone shit. It’s probably something to do with that Manes boy that Michael doesn’t want to talk about. Only, then Alex Manes starts coming around, Michael’s a lot happier, and the weird behavior keeps going. Something’s up, and it’s something Michael’s actively not telling him. “You know, I ought to fire you,” Sanders says one Sunday, when he and Michael are working on the sunflower fields. Michael scoffs, glancing up from the seeding mechanism he’s been working to fix, but he avoids meeting Sanders’ eyes. He’s known this boy since he tripped out of a pod and he knows when he’s about to be lied to. “I’d like to see you try,” he mutters, but his curiosity is sparked. “Why are you bothering to do that when most of my time is volunteered?” “Because you and your friends are keeping something from me.” “We’re not,” Michael lies. “You’re a terrible liar, boy,” Sanders warns, but he lets him get away with it. Just this once, he lets him. Michael waves him off and grabs his bundle of sunflowers to take back to the Airstream. He doesn’t say what or who they’re for, but Sanders knows. It’s the Manes boy, who’s been lurking around and grinning like an idiot all the time. With Michael gone, Sanders is left to consider what it is that’s being whispered about behind his back. There’s enough alien secrets in this town to fill a gossip rag, but Michael’s been fairly honest with him recently, even if he’s been trying to hide how gone he is over his thing with Alex Manes. The truth is this -- he’s an old man. The boy he used to be is a memory and a distant one at that. He’s taken Walt and locked him away behind mountains of bottles and liquor. There’s so much trauma related to those days that he actively works as hard as he can to forget it, and that’s why it takes him so long to realize that maybe he actually knows a bit more than he realizes when it comes to one of those alien secrets.

The secret they’re keeping comes to roost soon after. Well, roost ain’t exactly the word. “They still allow relics like you in this place?”

When Sanders had still been a child and had been happy with Miss Nora and Miss Louise, he’d always recalled their tension around the man they called Jones. They tried to keep it a secret from him then, too, and it’s irritating as hell that history’s repeating it-damn-self. “Relics like me belong more than you do around here,” Sanders scoffs, tossing the wrench into the toolbox. “I’m looking for Michael.” Sanders turns to take in the look of him. He blames his age on the fact that Max Evans never made him feel that icy chill down his spine to spark recognition. All those years with that face in front of him and he never remembered Jones, not until the alien himself busted out and started scaring Sanders all over like he’s a kid. He’s not a kid, though. He’s an old man tired of this bullshit and he’s not about to let an asshole push him around. “Michael,” Sanders says sharply, “ain’t none of your business.” “He’s none of yours either,” Jones says calmly. “Besides, you’re right. It’s not business. It’s family.” It comes back in fits and starts. Miss Nora’s discomfort with Jones’ hand on her shoulder, but the possessive way Jones held onto her. The way Jones had always seemed more occupied with one of the pods. The possessive and keen look in his eye when he’d looked at Walt dismissively, like a human child that Nora took a liking to could never pass muster. There’s only one explanation that Sanders sees, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s crap. “You’re not that boy’s father,” Sanders scoffs. “Or, you might be by blood or whatever alien junk flows through those veins of yours. That boy needed a father growing up and I sure as hell didn’t do the job well enough, but at least I’ve been here. At least I’ve been trying. That’s a hell of a lot more than you can say.” He’s an old and very stupid man, seeing as he knows how much Jones can hurt him. That raised alien hand glowing furiously red is a bad sign, but Sanders decides that if this is how he’s going out, defending Michael is the way he wants to go. “I might have been late getting my act cleaned up, but I still gave him everything I could. I’d die for that boy,” Sanders vows. “For my kid.” Jones scoffs, amused by Sanders’ loyalty like it’s a joke, but then, he always has been an ass, hasn’t he? “Funny you should say that, because today’s your lucky day for getting what you want.” He approaches swiftly, but before he can seal that glowing hand on Sanders’ chest, he just … stops. Sanders refuses to blink. He’s going to stare down his death as long as Jones wants to kill him, which is why he doesn’t notice that he’s being held in place by someone else’s alien powers. “Try,” Michael Guerin snaps at Jones, where he’s holding a bundle of sunflowers in one hand, and holding Jones in place with the other. “You’re not gonna like what happens to you.” Sanders is pretty sure Michael’s bluffing and that when it comes to these two, Michael’s not the one with the upper hand. Still, Jones is playing some kind of long game, because he steps back and lifts both hands up, stepping back and away. “Just two old friends catching up,” he insists, a look in his eyes that says he’s coming back to find Sanders when Michael’s not around. Still, he goes. He goes and he doesn’t look back, leaving Sanders to exhale, slumping over the pick-up truck he’s been working on. “What the hell were you thinking?” Michael demands. “Taunting him like that? He’s an evil dictator! He’s…” “Yeah, yeah, I got the gist decades ago,” Sanders cuts him off. “All I know is what he’s not, and that’s any kind of father to you. Because I might not be the world’s best Dad, but when it comes to it these days, he doesn’t get to swan in and make you feel like you owe him anything. He doesn’t get to make you feel like you belong to him.” This is all getting too damn emotional for him, but he wants to make one thing clear. “I know I didn’t manage the way I should’ve, but if anyone’s a father to you these days, it’s me.” With that said, he gives a firm nod, and hopes that he’s not going to do anything embarrassing like start crying about it. Well, he might not, but Michael’s struggling to keep it together, by the looks of it, so maybe that’s exactly what it is he needs to hear. “What the hell are you doing back here anyway?” Sanders grunts, when the awkward silence drags on too long. Michael clears his throat, gesturing to the Airstream with the flowers (and conveniently wiping at his nose). “I forgot some papers that I wanted to go over with Alex,” he says, “Lucky I did, or you would’ve been alien dust.” “I got a few tricks up my old sleeves,” Sanders promises, even if he doesn’t have them yet. “So. You and Alex Manes, huh? You ready to admit to me that it’s a thing yet?” Michael wrinkles his nose, but he’s clearly not thinking about Jones anymore, so Sanders considers it a mission accomplished. “How about you start worrying about how much of a thing it is when Alex needs to come get permission from my Dad to marry me,” Michael quips, and he sounds free and happy and brazen and goddamn high. It’s the most that Sanders could ever hope for. “That likely to happen anytime soon?” Michael shrugs, ducking back out of the Airstream with the papers. “You know I don’t do things slow.” “Don’t I ever,” he mutters. “Just warn me before I got alien grandchildren running around the damn scrapyard, will you? The place needs to be alien-proofed.” The look of sheer glee on Michael’s face settles something in Sanders’ chest. He knows he’s happy. He knows he’s settled. He might have missed too many damn years when he was younger, but at least he’s trying now. “Go on,” Sanders encourages. “Go be with your friend,” he teases. “You gonna be okay?” “I’ve survived worse,” Sanders promises. “Now, get,” he insists, and watches Michael leave the scrapyard, off to woo his paramour. As for him? Well, he’s got a hell of a long drive ahead of him to get to the reservation if he wants to pick up some pollen, but after tonight, Sanders figures he ought to protect himself. He’s got a family to worry about, after all. 

[blossom-hwa]

Lina!! While I stew over your title (well actually I'm going to sleep because it's like 1am here) I thought I'd give you one of mine to swap now so that you don't have to wait until I'm done lol

How do we feel about "lavender mist" ?

this... is likely not what you imagined when you came up with that title. unfortunately I’m not sorry :) anyway, check out casey’s original drabble here (it’s super fucking cute), and I hope you enjoy this reinterpretation of the title &lt;3

half inspired by a post apocalyptic universe @sleepyowlwrites shared with me some time ago - thanks for that, sleepy 💕💕

wc: 1.7k ~ no pairing (main characters: taehyun and beomgyu) ~ apocalypse!au ~ triggers: cursing, mentions of blood and guns, character death, zombies ~ txt masterlist

~ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on.

[ lavender mist ] The end of the world isn’t as barren as Taehyun thought it would be.

Every apocalyptic movie he remembers - and to be fair, his memory is a bit fuzzy after years of trudging along cracked sidewalks and empty streets - painted the world as something gray, dusty, bleak, as though with the collapse of humanity, the earth would collapse too. Taehyun would watch, heart in his throat as survivors did everything they could to continue living even though the warm embrace of Mother Earth had long turned cold as marble. With the loss of her favorite children, the human race, she had lost the will to live as well. 

What bullshit.

The earth survived perfectly fine by itself for millions of years before humanity decided to encroach on its territory. It never needed mankind, probably never even wanted it - one glance around at the overgrown grass and flowers and trees, weeds shooting up from sidewalk cracks and tangling around abandoned cars and homes, tells all. 

The earth never needed humans. Probably never wanted them, either. 

And if that’s the case, Taehyun doesn’t really know why he keeps trying to survive. 

But then again, there are a lot of things he doesn’t know. Why he isn’t dead yet. Why everyone around him is gone but he still stays. Why the sun beats so ungodly hot during the summer and the wind whips so unbearably cold in the winter. Why he keeps moving instead of staying in one place, running from ghosts that don’t exist. 

Why he keeps an empty can of lavender scented Febreze in his bag, its mist long since dispersed into the world from the day Beomgyu plucked it off a mostly barren supermarket shelf and, despite Taehyun’s raised eyebrows and obvious concern for the state of his sanity, shoved it in his bag. 

“I don’t know!” Beomgyu had said, hands raised in mock indignation when Taehyun asked him hours later after the generally unsuccessful supermarket raid. “Don’t interrogate me!”

“I wasn’t interrogating. I just want to know,” Taehyun had replied, deadpan as ever even as he tried to hide a smile. Things may have changed, but Beomgyu was always the same - loud-mouthed, chaotic, random, always fueled by some desire to care, even if he didn’t know it. 

The hands came down but Beomgyu’s smile stayed even as he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he’d repeated. “It was just there, so I took it.” Taehyun had snorted at that (that’s the most Beomgyu reply ever), but he wasn’t done. “I guess I just... didn’t want to leave with nothing at all.”

“Do you even know how it smells?”

“... Look, it has to be better than whatever the fuck is outside.”

It is better, but mostly because it’s hard not to be better than the stench of rotten corpses mixed with the tang of dried blood and coupled with the scent of blooming flowers in the wind that somehow makes it all worse. Strong, too - clearly a year of sitting unused on a shelf hadn’t done much to dampen its scent. The first time Beomgyu sprays it, more on accident than anything else, he and Taehyun have to stifle coughs and sneezes for too many minutes as the mist tickles their noses.

And yet they keep it.

Which is weird, because most useless things that Taehyun (and Beomgyu, despite his inner child) would put in the same category as questionable Febreze get left behind. There’s no space for luxuries in their bags, no jewelry or money or anything that would’ve had value before the world went to shit - even the two dingy string bracelets braided with five different colors that used to dangle around their wrists have since frayed to the point of falling off. Things like Febreze should never have held a place in their lives.

But Beomgyu carves a place for its too strong flowery sweet scent, a tiny puff into the air nearby when they’re finally safe from a zombie attack, a small spray to freshen up their latest shelter as much as they can after sweeping one too many piles of dirt out the door. And as they keep struggling through the barren world, emptying the can on their way, Taehyun has to wonder - when humanity has completely fallen and another race takes up the earth, what will they be remembered by? Will it be broken braided bracelets threaded in five different colors fallen by the side of the road? Will it be photos of the dead left in abandoned frames in abandoned homes, or stuffed in dirty bags and soiled by dust and rain? 

Will it be an empty can of lavender mist at the bottom of a survivor’s bag, the strong, sweet scent of home still a wisp in the air?

Beomgyu had always had more hope than Taehyun. He believed that maybe one day humanity would return, would learn from its previous mistakes of greed and fortune to create a world better than this one. Taehyun asks him about this more than once - it’s fascinating to him, Beomgyu’s patient optimism even as the world seems to grow harsher and more unforgiving of humanity’s transgressions with every day that passes. His answer is always the same. 

“I think we still have good in this world.” Taehyun can picture dark, playful eyes staring into his, the barest wisp of a smile on Beomgyu’s lips. Beautiful as always, not in spite of the dirt caking his skin and the exhaustion weighing down his face but because of it - the struggle that forged a diamond sparkling in the ashes of the earth. “We’ve survived this long, Taehyun. I have to believe that someday, we’ll come back.”

Relentless optimism, even where Taehyun only saw death and disaster in every street they passed, every horde they escaped, every undead life they took to ensure the continuation of their own. No matter what he said in his moments of despair, Beomgyu always gave him comfort in the weight of his hand in his, in the press of his body against Taehyun’s during cold nights, in the brief dusting of lavender mist into the air...

And one day, the scent isn’t too strong. It isn’t too sweet. It’s a break, a respite, a piece of the old world that miraculously wasn’t lost even in the wake of disaster. 

It smells like home.

When Taehyun looks at Beomgyu then - really looks at Beomgyu - as he sprays small bursts of mist into the air of their new makeshift shelter, it only takes him a minute to realize that Beomgyu feels this way, too. That he’s probably felt it for a long time.

Maybe that’s why Taehyun isn’t surprised to find the empty can in Beomgyu’s bag, long after he’d sprayed the last of its scent into the air. He blinks a little when it comes out in his hand and for a moment he thinks he should be surprised, given how the two of them had gotten rid of waste wherever they could, but somehow this souvenir of sentiment surpasses that. A reminder, however small, of home. 

He tries the valve, even though he knows it’s empty. Nothing comes out.

It’s been three days since Beomgyu has gone. Three days since he showed Taehyun the bite, three days since he guided the gun towards his head, three days since Taehyun pulled the trigger and watched Beomgyu’s body collapse to the ground, a final small smile on his face.

Only then, with the empty metal can in his hand, does Taehyun finally cry.

For his parents, who were at work when the outbreak got to them and never managed to get out alive. 

For his friends who passed first, three of the five strings that frayed over the years until the knotted bracelet fell off his wrist, one of them disappeared, the other two confirmed dead.

For Beomgyu, the fourth string, his only family left, his last thread of hope in this apocalyptic world.

For him, Taehyun, the fifth string and the last one alive, so far from home and never to return.

Taehyun cries for the hope Beomgyu carried that was destroyed three days ago with the bullet he shot with his very own hands. A bullet that took the last of everything he had, leaving him with -

Nothing.

(What will the world remember him by when he goes?)

When Taehyun wakes the next day, eyes red and cheeks sticky with tears, something in him begs to stay still. What use is there in forging on, in living when everything else has been lost, when there’s nothing left to survive for? 

(A crumpled family photo drenched by rain?)

Is there even a point?

(Or a braid of five frayed strings, buried under the dust by the road?

But he rolls over. Stands. Places the empty can back in Beomgyu’s bag, picks it up along with his. Slings them over his back.

And starts walking.

(Perhaps a can of lavender mist at the bottom of a beaten-up bag, a scent that belongs to loss, but that also belongs to hope.)

Maybe Taehyun does know why, then, why he has to keep going. Because while there is nothing left for him, there is still something left for Beomgyu. A hope. A dream. A wish. A prayer whispered on lavender scented air, too sweet and too strong and still smelling of home - a prayer that the world will come back someday.

And if it does, even if it’s only in the last moments of Taehyun’s life, he has to see it. For Beomgyu.

So as the sun beats harsh on his brow, branches catching on his clothes with the snarl of animals and the undead alike sounding faint in his ears, all Taehyun can do is forge on through the strangling arms of Mother Nature, slogging through overgrown grass with sweat in his hair, cuts on his skin, tears in his eyes -

And the scent of lavender mist in his nose, no matter where he goes.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day &lt;3

(1 reblog = 1 hug for Taehyun, also 1 prayer for some fluff thoughts bc I have too many angst ideas and I need some softness in my life)

[yhwhsdaughter]

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

[pitaparka]

when he’s sick headcanons

note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your  own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat

MANDO

- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time

- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either

- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard

- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know

- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night

- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you

- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better

- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested

- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else

- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong

- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet

- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick

- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest

EZRA

- you knew he would get it

- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over

- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy

- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return

- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible

- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating

- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times

- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep

- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery

- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain

- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep

- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him

- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better

FRANKIE

- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night

- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was

- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from

- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness

- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”

- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him

- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw

- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it

- he was fine last night, you remember

- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day

- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling

- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub

- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body

- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap

- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth

- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest

- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides

WHISKEY

- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong

- but you ask him anyway

- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”

- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?

- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart

- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4

- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead

- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day

- he’s definitely been overexerting himself

- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again

- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long

- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers

- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap

- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them

JAVIER PEÑA

- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that

- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick

- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual

- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted

- “wow, you look like shit."

- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling

- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you

- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket

- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette

- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you

- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway

- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body

- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch

- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”

- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you

- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit

- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse

- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds

- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch

MARCUS MORENO

- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor

- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”

- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is

- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”

- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it

- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing

- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest

- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be

- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep

- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call

- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him

- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed

- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake

- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing

- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result

- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep

MARCUS PIKE

- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus

- he's asleep on the couch

- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty

- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after

- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet

- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain

- "marcus, are you okay?"

- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it

- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."

- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists

- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in

- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable

- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him

- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud

- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on

- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair

- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow

- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend

MAX PHILLIPS

- a big baby

- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands

- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck

- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak

- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this

- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again

- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can

- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap

- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you

- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you

- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive

- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin

- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything

- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you

- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin

- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally

- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs

- looks like someone’s feeling better already

MAX LORD

- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover

- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven

- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges

- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie

- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck

- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead

- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past

- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned

- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“

- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug

- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms

- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead

- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes

- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt

OBERYN MARTELL

- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people

- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in

- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there

- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead

- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused

- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes

- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”

- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him

- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you

- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”

- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach

- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist

- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”

- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you

- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”

- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”

PERO TOVAR

- wants to be left alone for the most part

- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick

- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain

- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has

- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history

- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak

- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind

- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers

- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant

- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too

- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight

- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention

- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to

[emerald-chaos]

Congrats on 500 Sav!! 🥺

In honor of the ✨and they were roommates✨ vine, may I request a FWB situation w/ Roommate!Bucky? 🥰 full free range for you to write whatever you feel inspired with that <33

Lee, I am obsessed with this. Obviously, I had to go rated R because well.....reasons. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI); oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, explicit language, spit kink, praise kink, Bucky Barnes being a cocky bastard.

By clicking "Keep Reading" you agree that you are at least 18 years of age or older.

You sat at the table in your underwear and tanktop, too hungover to even consider putting more clothes on. You were 98% sure your roommate had gone home with someone else last night anyway, so you were free to traipse around the apartment in as little clothing as your heart pleased.

The breakfast you made yourself just wasn't cutting it for you but there were unfortunately no better options because Bucky had forgotten it was his week to get groceries. You should have known that getting into a friends with benefits relationship with your roommate was a piss poor idea, but the man could be quite persuasive. Now, anytime the two of you had an argument, Bucky thought he could just make it better with his tongue.

While he wasn't wrong, it wasn't necessarily the best way of settling arguments or qualms regarding living arrangements and the like. In fact, it was the reason why you were eating dry Cinnamon Toast Crunch right now. Fuckin' Bucky.

The familiar squeak of the front door opening signaled to you that he was home just as you were finishing your dry cereal. Perfect, an opportunity to talk to him about your desperate need for groceries. Bucky came into the kitchen, brunette strands sticking to his forehead with sweat and cheeks flushed with a pink tint. Bucky stopped as soon as he saw you, slowly dragging his eyes along the curve of your breasts and bare thighs.

"Where have you been?" You asked, looking him over. "You know what, I don't want to know. We need to talk about groceries."

It was painfully obvious that Bucky wasn't listening as he simply walked closer, eyes still hungrily drinking you in. He tossed his phone onto the counter top and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

You crossed your legs one over the other, knowing exactly where his mind was at. The way he looks at you makes the wetness pool between your legs, but you can't give in to him this time. Contrary to what he thinks, you can't survive off pussy alone.

"Bucky, this is serious! We don't have anything to eat!"

A low chuckle came from his chest and you instantly regretted your word choice for this particular moment.

"What are you talking about, peach? M'breakfast's right here." Bucky spoke, finally looking you in the eyes as he sank to his knees one by one, the grin spread across his face was one you wanted to slap right off.

"Bucky." You tried to give him a warning tone but it was useless. Bucky knew exactly what it was he wanted and he knew he was going to get it.

His hands rested on top of your knees as he uncrossed your legs and pushed them apart, once again licking his lips once he spots the wet patch already forming on your underwear.

You huff, exasperated at his inability to think about anything other than sex.

"Fine. If I let you eat me out will you please have a conversation with me about groceries?" You begged, hips sliding forward on the chair as Bucky pulls your them to the edge.

"Whatever you say, peach." Bucky's fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

Curse your stupid libido and Bucky Barnes' stupid handsome face.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, Bucky spread your legs wide for him as he blew cold air over your glistening cunt. A whine left your lips as you squirmed under his grip.

"I'd say she missed me." Bucky grinned as used two metal fingers to spread you, bottom lip becoming trapped in between his teeth once he saw you on full display for him.

"Christ, Bucky! Just do something alre--oh." Your thought was cut off by the flat of his tongue dragging upwards through your folds. Your hands immediately tethered themselves into his hair.

You could feel Bucky's grin against your core, but you were too blissed out to say anything about it. The man was a smug bastard, but God, did he know what he was doing.

Your head fell back against the chair as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. Bucky worked his tongue skillfully against your cunt, alternating between short licks and full on dipping his tongue into your hole. It was nearly impossible to not rock your hips against his face and whimper.

When the feeling of his tongue left you, so did a whine. You pushed yourself up to see what it was he was doing, only to catch him collecting saliva in his mouth and spitting onto your already soaked core. It felt like all the air had been pushed out of your lungs and you forgot how to speak.

Bucky winked at you and dove back in to your cunt, devouring you like it was his purpose in life. Occasional hums would leave his lips, heightening the sensation you felt. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, Bucky began to shake his head back and forth.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, grabbing onto his head with both hands while you arched your back against him.

Bucky kept a tight hold on your thighs, ensuring that there was no way you could get away from him. While he took your clit into his mouth and sucked on it, he prodded his middle finger against your hole. The man loved nothing more than to tease you and get you worked up for him.

"Please." You whined, grinding against him.

"Such a polite girl for me, peach." Bucky hummed against your clit once more as he slid his middle finger into your tight cunt.

One of your hands went up and behind you to hold on to the chair as the other continued to grip onto Bucky's hair. The feeling was almost unbearable, but only in the best fucking way. The combination of his mouth alternating between suckling and swirling around your clit and the feeling of his finger curling up against your g-spot was pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Please, oh god Bucky, please! I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, legs beginning to shake.

"You wanna cum on my face, Peach? Hmm? Go ahead, baby. Cum all over my tongue."

His words paired with his skillful assault on your cunt were enough to cause the coil in your abdomen to snap. It felt as though your eyes were going to roll back completely into your head as you squeezed his head between your thighs, continuing to rock your hips against his face as he assisted you through your orgasm.

Your body collapses practically against the chair as Bucky gently lowers your legs back down to the ground. As your vision clears up, all you see is Bucky leaned back on his haunches before you, face glistening with your slick as he grins up at you.

"Alright, peaches. Let's talk."

waegrhetnyrhgn im going to hell.

✨join my sleepover!✨

[uvobreakmylegs]

Floor 200

I’m still working on part two of vampire!Hisoka but here’s a different, shorter piece with him

Warnings: threats of noncon, implied death, implications of smut

You yelped a bit as you moved out of the way of the two young boys who burst out from the elevator, barely managing to avoid them plowing you down as they sprinted past you.

The boy wearing green at least had the decency to call back a “sorry!” to you as they ran, and the rather messy-looking man with glasses that followed behind them also offered you a quick apology before going on his way. Just as quickly as those three had come, they were gone, leaving through a side entrance of Heaven's Arena while your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at how sudden and unexpected all of that had been.

The encounter was more confusing than anything. With the amount of dangerous characters that lived in the tower, it certainly wasn't a place for children to be running around like that. Some of the people here really didn't give a shit, and if those two ran into someone who was actually dangerous and bloodthirsty, you feared what the end result of that would be.

The elevator doors sliding shut brought you back to reality, and you pushed your arm against one door to hold it open as you slipped inside, pushing the button for the 200th floor.

Thinking about those boys again brought back memories of your own childhood, of running around and playing with your friends and getting into trouble. You sighed a little bit, thinking of the things you used to do and wondering where all that energy had gone now that you'd grown up.

….. Dear God, had you really gotten to the point in your life where you'd be reminiscing about your childhood and the fact that you'd grown up to be as miserable as everybody else? It wasn't like you were that old.

You didn't want to focus on that slightly depressing thought, so you turned your attention to the bags of groceries you held and the meal you planned to make. Tonight was special. After finishing up a few jobs and going through his Hunter exam, Hisoka was actually back and planned to stick around for a while. So to celebrate both his success and return you were planning on cooking dinner for the two of you. You couldn't help feeling a little bit of excitement at the thought of it. It was such a small thing to eat dinner together, but it had been a while since you had seen him last, and you wanted to make the most of it.

The downside of living on the 200th floor of the arena meant that the elevator rides were terribly long, so you usually let your mind wander as the car made its way up the numerous floors. At least the long ride helped you to calm down from that little bit of shock earlier.

The ding of the elevator and the sound of the doors sliding open alerted you when you reached your destination. You left the elevator car and veered to the right towards the hallway that lead to Hisoka's room.

“Hey you- Oh.”

A voice sounded from behind, and you turned around to see who had spoken, finding three men that you knew better than you wanted to. Though for the life of you, you could never remember their names. You only knew them as the one in the wheelchair, the freaky-looking one missing an arm, and the other freaky-looking one in red. Gido.... That one was named Gido. You were about 90% sure that was correct.

“Can I help you?” you asked them.

They all avoided your gaze.

“We were waiting for someone else,” the one without an arm said, “thought you were these two kids that made it to the floor.”

“Do I look like two kids?”

None of them responded to your question. It was clear that they wanted you to leave, but after the last time you had been confronted in these hallways, they knew better than to even say anything out of line.

Hisoka had been pushing you to move in with him, and while you weren't really sure you wanted to live at the tower full-time, you couldn't deny that the room he had on the 200th floor was nice. A lot nicer than anything you could afford in that city. And since there weren't any rent or utilities that needed to be paid, it would be a good opportunity to save up some cash. So you agreed, much to Hisoka's delight.

The incident occurred when you had been moving in; Hisoka had gone on ahead of you, carrying a few boxes while you were bringing up a few bags full of clothes. On the way to Hisoka's room, those three had stopped you, along with a fourth man, one who was covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It was obvious you weren't a nen user, so they'd demanded to know what you were doing up there.

“My boyfriend lives here; I'm moving in with him,” you told them.

“Boyfriend, huh?” the one with the scars asked, “what, you cozied up to one of the fighters here so you could live in luxury without working for it?”

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” you answered.

“No, but you'll do it anyway.”

“Fuck off.”

At that he grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the wall, the other three laughing behind him as he held you in place.

“It just isn't good for the arena's image if any random slut off the street can be living up on this level alongside the quality fighters,” he said, “so beat it, you stupid bitch. You don't belong here.”

“And a bunch of losers who barely survived their initiations do?”

Your words seemed to hit a nerve for all four of them, and the air around you grew deadly as the grip on your throat became that much tighter. But as he did so, the one with the scars smirked as a thought came to his mind.

“I've got an idea,” he said, “why doesn't your boyfriend make a wager with me? If he fights me and wins, you can stay. But if I win, my buddies and I get to have you for the night, and then you get the fuck outta here.”

“You want to fuck me? I thought I was a slut,” you spat, “is this about humiliating me or are you four just that desperate because no one is stupid enough to willingly get in bed with you?”

He reached with his other hand to grab your jaw and force your mouth closed. Egging him on really was so stupid, but the familiar figure you had noticed from the corner of your eye made you feel a bit more bold.

“You've got a mouth on you. But I've got a few ideas on how to shut you up and put that little smartass mouth to better use.”

The other three had grown quiet, but the one holding you didn't notice.

“So how 'bout it? Will you ask your boyfriend about that wager, or should I?”

It was hard to speak with how he was holding you, but you responded as you pointed to your right.

“I think.... He already heard.”

The scarred man's eyes followed where you were pointing, and when he saw Hisoka standing within earshot, you swore that man's soul just about left his body.

The other three had already noticed him, and were actively trying to distance themselves from their fourth.

Hisoka was smiling, but the second the man laid eyes on him bloodlust he had been holding back oozed from him, filling up the hallway and consuming all four.

The man who had been on your case backed away from you, holding up his hands in surrender.

“I-I-I d-didn't know,” he sputtered.

Hisoka didn't answer at first. He casually walked up to you two and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. With how Hisoka's nails dug into your hip, you could tell that Hisoka was well and truly pissed off. The man had stayed where he was, the murderous aura keeping him in place.

Hisoka looked to him.

“I accept your wager.”

The fight between them was one of the most gruesome things you had ever witnessed, and it went down as one of the bloodiest matches in the tower's history. The remaining trio didn't go anywhere near Hisoka after that, and they did everything they could to avoid you as well.

Whatever they were waiting for must have been important to them, seeing as they weren't turning around and leaving at the sight of you. They had mentioned kids, and you wondered if they were referring to the two boys who had come from the elevator.

But ultimately, it wasn't any of your business, and you motioned to the hallway you had been headed for as you asked “do you need me for something? I've got stuff I need to do.”

They shook their heads, their eyes still averted, and you continued on your way. The petty side of you wanted to throw back a quip of some kind, but you decided against it. They already didn't like you; there was no point in making things worse and have them resent you further.

Though it was probably hard for them to start shit when they remembered the way their old buddy was cut to pieces.

When you entered that hallway, to your surprise, you found Hisoka sitting on the floor at the other end. His eyes widened and he grinned when he saw you, flicking the card he was holding and throwing it into the wall. Reaching the end of the hallway, you found several playing cards that had been sliced into the wall at various angles. What the hell was he doing?

“.... What'd the wall do to you?” you finally asked.

Hisoka paused, a new card he was about to throw still between his fingers as he looked over to you.

“After we've been apart for so long, that's the first thing you say to me?” he responded, his eyebrow raised. Though he still had that teasing grin.

“You're making a nuisance of yourself,” you answered, “who exactly is going to clean this up once you're done here?”

“Who knows. It's not my problem.”

“I used to work in jobs like these, Hisoka. Trust me, cleaning up something like this won’t be fun.”

“The people who will clean this up aren't you, so I don't care,” he responded.

You sighed. You wouldn't be getting anywhere with this argument; better to just let it go.

“Is there a reason you're sitting on the floor out here?” you tried instead.

“I'm waiting for someone.”

“Hm. I'm guessing it's not me.”

“Afraid not.”

“Who then?”

“Two promising little fighters who've caught my eye,” Hisoka mused, “but they aren't quite ready to be up on this level just yet. And unless they can get past me, they won't be advancing any further.”

“So this is some kind of initiation thing?” you asked.

“In a way.”

“And how long is this going to take?”

“They need to be back before midnight, so possibly until then.”

Your eyes narrowed at that bit of information.

“Oh? Is something wrong?” Hisoka asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Haven't you forgotten something, Hisoka?”

Seconds passed by as he looked up at you, and you couldn't tell if he was just bullshitting you or if he had genuinely forgotten your plans for the evening.

“Oh!” he exclaimed after a moment, “we were planning on dinner, weren't we?”

“It seriously took you that long to remember?” you asked dryly.

“You'll have to forgive me, pet. I simply got caught up in the moment. You know how I get sometimes.”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I do,” you sighed, “so you're just going to blow me off tonight?”

“It isn't anything personal. This is just something I need to see through,” he explained.

“Oh, of course. At least I know how high I am on your list of priorities,” you responded sarcastically.

Hisoka frowned at that, and as he threw the card he had been holding into the wall, he said “you know I don't like it when you say things like that, even as a joke.”

'Just like you know I don't like it when you cancel last-minute,' was what you wanted to say to him. But as disappointed as you were, you didn't want to get into an argument immediately after seeing him again. And it was easy enough to reschedule a dinner.

“Whatever. We can move dinner to tomorrow,” you shrugging as you conceded.

“I appreciate it,” he said, smiling.

“I guess if I'm not awake by the time you get back, I'll see you in the morning.”

Hisoka nodded, and you began to walk forward, passing him and heading to your room.

A thought occurred to you then, and you turned back.

“When was the last time you ate, Hisoka?”

He seemed caught slightly off-guard by the question, and he looked to the side as his brain tried to recall the last time he had done something as basic as making sure he ate.

“You can't even remember, can you?” you asked him.

“I'll have something when I get back,” he said, shrugging.

You sighed again. Adjusting the bags so you held both on one arm, you rummaged through as you walked back to him. Hisoka looked at you curiously as you held out an apple for him.

“Eat something, idiot.”

Hisoka chuckled.

“If you insist,” he replied, taking the apple.

“I always appreciate the way you take care of me, pet.”

“Yeah, but maybe one of these days you could start to take care of yourself. Kinda sad you need me to remind you to eat, of all things.”

“I can't help it. I like it when you dote on me.”

“Idiot.”

A slight blur of movement from the end of the hallway caught your attention. Someone was listening in, it seemed. Based off the slight bit of red you had seen, it was safe to assume it was Gido. Why he was listening to you and Hisoka you weren't sure. And it didn't seem that Hisoka had seemed to care; if you had noticed him, than Hisoka definitely knew he was there.

“Something wrong? I wouldn't want to keep you out here as well,” Hisoka said.

“... No, everything's fine. I just need to do one last thing.”

“Oh?”

“Since you're blowing me off for dinner, I want something from you.”

You knelt down on your knees and set the bags to the side before you moved in to place a kiss on Hisoka's lips, resting your hands on his chest. He had seemed rather surprised at first and didn't move. But when you began to pull away he reacted, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pressing you harder against his lips. When you felt his tongue trying to force its way in you relented, opening your mouth and allowing him access. You weren't able to stop the groan that came out of you at the sensation of his tongue moving against your own, and to you it sounded like the noise echoed slightly in the empty hallway. Hisoka always made his kisses intense, and you were always left with flushed cheeks by the end of it.

When you pulled away again, he allowed it. His finger twirled a strand of your hair as he breathed “if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were using me to keep certain pests off your back.”

“Well, you have to be good for something, right?”

“Cheeky thing.”

You hummed as you stood back up, Hisoka trailing his hand down your arm as you did so, the sensation of his nails running along your skin giving you goosebumps. One glance back down that hallway and you could sense that there wasn't anyone there. Probably too awkward for even Gido to keep watching you two. Hisoka had already pulled out another playing card as you picked up the rest of the groceries.

“See you later, Hisoka.”

You began to walk away again, but when Hisoka called out your name, you paused and turned your head. There was a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Don't think you can rile me up and then get away with no consequences,” he told you.

“I don't know what you mean,” you said, feigning ignorance.

“Then I'll have to show you what I mean when I come back tonight.”

“It might have to wait until tomorrow; if you're coming back after midnight I'm going to be asleep. I'm not waiting up for you.”

“Trust me, pet,” he purred as he flung another card at the wall, “you won't be getting much sleep tonight.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the way he said it. It was hardly even that dirty, and he had certainly said much dirtier things to you before. But in a way that only he was able, Hisoka managed to leave you flustered and incapable of keeping eye contact with him. Turning your head away from him just made it worse, as he chuckled at your embarrassment.

“We'll see,” was all you could say.

It was a pretty weak response, and you were quick to head back to the room, trying not to walk away too quickly and show him how much of a hurry you were in to get out of that situation.

Despite all that, you couldn't help the slight feeling of anticipation from what he promised.

You'd probably end up waiting up for him after all.