#but i think the idea of losing control of the self haunts me more than ANYTHING as a control freak lol

[stormbabylore]

Ooh, I have a few!

I've an AU in which Aeryn just stops after StB. She is shattered, exhausted, unable to cope, and truly convinced her closeness to the Scions causes them more harm than good. So she walks away. She returns to the Ruby Sea (the first and—at the time—only place she's experienced a true memory of her former life), where Tansui convinces her she is allowed to make selfish choices—she is allowed to stop. Even to stay. Despite never officially joining the Confederacy, Rasho makes an unspoken exception for Aeryn that no one seems to question, especially not considering how useful she makes herself. But emotionally, she is an utter wreck. She tosses her linkpearl into the ocean but frequently has nightmares about receiving desperate calls for help from the Scions. She is haunted by the voice of Hydaelyn and the fear that she has done the wrong thing, but she can't find the courage to abandon her perceived freedom from the bloody, ceaseless struggle she has left behind. She may not be happy, she reasons—she may never feel happy again. But everyone is safer without her, she is sure, and... And she is free.

(Two more "bad ends" behind the cut, but beware: they are EW spoiler-heavy!)

In canon, Aeryn begins losing herself to despair as the Scions, one by one, make their sacrifices in Ultima Thule. The breaking point for her is when Urianger chooses, willingly, to give up his life alongside Y'shtola. But at Urianger's parting behest, G'raha manages to pull Aeryn back from the brink and give her the hope she needs to press on; and when he, too, then goes, she is able to maintain her composure for the twins. That said... I could easily imagine G'raha failing to break through to her, resulting in a bad end. Aeryn would lose herself entirely, willingly releasing herself to Dyanmis to become a blasphemy. G'raha and the twins might try to get through to her, but I don't think she'd have the capacity to hear them any longer and would flee toward the Endsinger's song of despair. Meteion might take pity on her (given their past connection) and attempt to grant a swift end to her strife. But because Aeryn's inner power is so strong, it's more likely that they would fuse into something even stronger than the Endsinger. The sheer magnitude of all their suffering would trigger Aeryn's star magic, which she/they would unleash (as stars do) to bring an abrupt and explosive end to everything—even the Final Days.

Finally, my screenshots from this challenge really got me thinking about what Aeryn would be like as an Ascian. There are several ways she might have gotten to that point. Maybe post-HW, if she found herself in the position assumed in canon by Urianger... or perhaps in ShB, had she managed to manifest her past self's empathic abilities and forged a different connection with Emet-Selch. Truthfully, though, I'm kind of stuck on the idea of her offing Fandaniel (without truly killing the Ascian) and getting sort of possessed by Amon. It would be a split situation in which her soul (plus Azem power plus soul of a literal star) can't be fully controlled, even by the Ascian's methods, so she'd probably be a little bit bonkers. But I think her empathy for Hermes's situation would have made her uniquely suited to an odd kind of soul symbiosis with one of his shards, helping to subdue a little bit of Amon's madness, as well as his desperation to end. In that way it would be a bad end for the WoL, but perhaps not the worst end, story-wise. I could still see Ascian Aeryn working to avert the Final Days: reaching out to Meteion with both her own and Hermes's memories, pushing through the nest to find the Endsinger, even summoning Hades and Hythlodaeus… and possibly even some of the other Ascians? Defeating the Endsinger alongside both Ancients and Ascians would be pretty poetic, all things considered, and so delightfully circular thinking back on ARR. I'm not sure much about the fight itself would change, with Ascian Aeryn finding herself in the odd circumstance of being gifted strength beyond even her means by the prayers of the Scions who don't want to see their friend defeated, perhaps hoping they can somehow bring her back...

(Do I need another AU? No. But I'm a teensy bit obsessed with the notion of EW driving Aeryn to willingly play host to an Ascian... annnnnnd I'll probably end up writing some of this. Oops, I guess? Here we are.)

Bad endings? Bad endings anyone?

What if they got consumed by the light? What if they became a primal? Any and all bad endings!

I think mine most likely would've become a lightwarden because she didn't get to Emet-Selch fast enough. "Obsession" would be its name, due to the fact it would be obsessed with the idea of saving others and changing the world, probably leading to either the Scions killing her or to her consuming the First in Light.

.

[maxellminidisc]

Its interesting to me how the concept of possession or even "leaving the body" without dying exists across so many cultures. Something about us since who knows when has known that we exist in some sort of shelled state, huh?

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, ��it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[ganymedesclock]

Tell me more about parasites and their hosts. Do you think the dynamic works if neither is aware of the other?

Before all else, any simplified dynamic has nigh infinite potential and how you explore it depends entirely on what you personally are looking for.

In my own case, a lot of my relationship with the idea of parasitism comes from my own mental health being strongly dependent on where I live- being able to return to home like a save point in a horror game. This sense of constantly being dependent on comfort, not merely as a normal person is but to the extent that I've felt like I'll be unable to cope if I can't get home in time or haven't built adequate mini 'safe rooms' (e.g. my car or a hotel room) to recharge, has formed a lot of my relationship with the idea of parasitism and the idea of haunted houses.

Both, to me, centrally focus on the idea of dependency on equilibrium. A house can't really chase you down- while there's certainly haunted house stories that give it the power to trap or pursue, to me, the most compelling angle is often one of necessity. Someone weighing the ghosts, the violence, the blood on the walls, and having to ask themselves if this is really worse than being homeless, or losing some advantage or shelter that you have here that can't be found elsewhere.

In the case of parasitism, the host is the haunted house. It may be simply indifferent to the parasite's survival; it may be actively hostile to and trying to rid itself of the 'guest'. But both parties have to weigh the odds- is it worth tearing into your own walls just to get at the interloper, is it worth staying in a place that unknowingly tolerates your existence at best and hates you at worst if the alternative is being laid barren in the world?

As a child, I remember reading the Animorphs books and one thing that always struck me as an unexpected source of pathos was how bleak and miserable the yeerks' default existence was. While we mostly experienced them from the horror of their would-be victims, people terrified and paranoid that those around them were being controlled, made prisoners in their own minds... the book where Cassie is briefly host to a yeerk and the first thing said yeerk does is, rather than focus on their agreement or advantages, start running around wildly and making use of Cassie's morphing power for the sheer wild euphoria of being able to.

As much as they are the Bad Guys in the story- invaders, body snatchers, sometimes sadists- there's something to be said about the torture of a fully sapient and intelligent being living as a nearly senseless, barely mobile creature by default. A tapeworm is perhaps lucky it cannot evaluate its existence in comparison to other life forms.

And, yeah, sure, parasites trip a particular contrarian reflex in me that I always want to root around and play with things that are seen as too icky or evil to be 'worth exploring', whether or not there's even any actual morality attached to things. Parasites do nothing on a basis of sadism- 'parasitism' is how they survive just as much as herbivory is how a rabbit survives.

It's instead on a basis of need.

And the point where we need others- especially imperfectly, reluctantly, warily, always hesitating on these dynamics of exploitation- and especially when it comes to the body which we often see as the most private bastion of the self- is where some really juicy dynamics can spring from.

[connorjared]

there are so many things I could say and back up with my annotations but there are some things I want to say

- connor is an unreliable narrator, but in an interesting way. unlike evan, connor's text is purposely written like he's trying to seem WORSE than he is. that's why I think rereading the book as an adult (especially if you have worked with kids) is so incredibly tragic. it's easier to see every way he was utterly failed both personally and systemically when you are no longer the child being failed personally and systemically

- connor is canonically a victim of the troubled teen industry and says it was BETTER than rehab. this genuinely breaks my heart because you can catch little pieces of CPTSD throughout his text and dialogue—he becomes extremely defensive and assumes evan is "tricking him into looking crazy," he states relief there's no longer anyone "waiting around the corner to catch him or check for red in his eyes" this child was treated like a criminal and the one place he felt safe in was removed when he chose to take the blame for something that he didn't do (see below)

- connor taking the fall for his... situationshipfriend miguel because he knew his parents were rich enough and he was white enough to get a more lenient punishment for WEED (which. the criminalization of that and the stigma is a whole OTHER thing) this haunts me. the act itself is noble, unhealthily self sacrificing, but that's not what gets me. his proclaimed friend not only allows him to do this, but even after connor GOES TO REHAB FOR HIM miguel doesn't tell his own mom the truth, causing her to ban the two of them hanging out and connor LOSES his only safe space right after undergoing rehab that he never even needed

- connor canonically has been put on and off multiple medications , we unfortunately don't know when this started but we DO know it was not in his control. SSRIs take a long time to work and shouldn't be switched quickly even for adults, let alone teenagers, and they ESPECIALLY should not be used as stand-ins for accommodations of a disability. there's far more I could say about other medications this might have been such as an SNRI (which connor has said to have less than favorable opinions of) and this is possibly even MORE concerning

- there has been a BUZZ on tiktok about how zoe was a girl icon for being forced to mourn her "abusive brother" and while they definitely had a toxic sibling dynamic fed by their toxic parental dynamic, the idea the toxicity was one sided is just... wrong. not even subjectively, the narrative WANTS you to know this is wrong, at least in the book. the musical... lets just say, im glad they wrote the book. it doesn't undo the honestly pretty shit messaging of the musical, but it adds context that helps derail claims like the one above that add further stigma to victims of suicide. zoe is verbally degrading to connor in recollections and in the small amount of time we hear her speak about him (though, this does change as her character develops throughout the book and she begins to mourn him properly.) zoe is a glass child. she resents all of the negative attention connor received because she didn't get any attention at all. so, she often sides with larry through the book, who is said to have more or less gotten tired of connor and considered him attention seeking, which would be something INCREDIBLY validating for a glass child to hear. zoe is, unfortunately and ironically, often written with detail but no substance. evan, who I could talk about at length and very angrily, constantly prattles small things he notices about her—but, and im not sure if this is the author's intention or not, she barely gets any true characterization outside of her interactions with others, which strangely almost makes her a side character (which i suppose she is) but there are some core parts of HER identity and her character alone that can be picked up throughout the book and i could go on for hours about that and i will not now but i will

- i didn't even touch on cynthia and larry and their abuse (yes! people can love their children and be abusive) but by god i will. by god

dear evan hansen fandom please interact. if u disagree i will probably point an autism beam at you in the form of a personally crafted video essay on why I am right and you are wrong. I have read this book inside and out

[typingcorgi]

sanctuary; part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no y/n) warnings: tw for mention of blood, mild gore, violence. no smut yet but honey have you met me? it's coming (and so is joel, and you, ey-ohhhh) word count: 1600 author's notes: canon divergent aka no ellie I'm sorry kids cramp my style

i feel like this is 80% character study and 20% plot, but these ideas have been gnawing at me like a hungry ass clicker and i needed to get them out of my brain and onto a google doc. please feel free to reblog, share, leave a comment, tell me what you like, tell me what you want to see more of, I'm so excited to be writingggg also not beta'd so here we gooooo if there is a typo I'm sorry but please understand i dumped this onto the internet and didn't look back

The car you drive is a target on your back. It’s a good thing your partner in crime is such a quick shot.

You’re not even a fourth of the way to Wyoming, yet you’ve outrun and outdriven more thieves than you can count. It’s unsurprising, considering the dismal state of the world. You used to think more often about what life was like before Outbreak Day. Before New York shut down, before subway cars crashed below Canal Street and even the damn rats seemed to have greater control over their faculties than most human beings.

You couldn’t get out of the city fast enough.

It’s been twenty years, and while the memory of it all occasionally haunts you like a looming ghost, most of the time, you’re just thankful to be alive. And whether you like to admit it or not, your survival is owed to the man you think of now as your companion, your partner, your…something.

You just don’t know what he is to you, even if your impact on one another is indisputable.

You’ve hardened. Where you have grown a thicker skin, you’ve softened his, even if just by the smallest amount. You can see it in the way his eyes linger on you for a moment too long when you return from a run with a fresh cut or bruising eye. You can sense it in the way he talks to you like he’s toeing the line between wanting to respect your autonomy and independence and knowing he might tear the goddamn city apart if he were to lose you.

At least, you tell yourself that. It’s self-indulgent and flattering, because while you’ve spent years learning how to exist in this new and unsafe world, your understanding of human interaction and behavior hasn’t completely gone to shit. And Joel Miller behaves like cares about you.

“Turn here,” he says as you approach what probably used to be an intersection, but now appears to be a blurred line of a dirt path. Most paths are like that now. The only clearcut routes from any place to another are the main highways and frequently used roads, but those are so closely monitored by FEDRA that you don’t dare to cross them. No, you and your partner opt for the scenic route to Jackson, if only to spare your lives.

That is, if you aren’t taken out by clickers or thieves or gang members first.

You don’t say anything, you just keep driving, eyes locked on the path in front of you. It’s late afternoon and you must be driving west—good, you’re headed in the right direction, at least—because the setting sun glimmers along the horizon, and while you’d normally find such a sight to be one of the rare moments of beauty in this fucked up world, right now it’s downright annoying.

His eyes are locked on the road, or at least you think they are. You can’t tell because if you catch a glimpse of him in this golden sunlight, you might actually melt behind the steering wheel. So you keep your focus on the path before you while the radio plays in and out of static.

And then it happens so damn quickly. Joel yells at you to watch out! And his arm stretches out toward your side of the car, and his hand is on the steering wheel, jerking the car in a sharp motion toward the left.

You brace yourself for then inevitable crash. The muscles in your legs squeeze and freeze until you collect your breath, exhaling while your hands tighten along the steering wheel.

“What the fuck was that for!?” You demand, the shock filling your tone with more anger than you intended. Joel doesn’t say anything back. His breathing is heavy, though slowing to a more normal pace, and he scrubs a hand over his features.

You turn back and see nothing at first. But as soon as you spot the culprit through the truck’s rear view mirror, you’re stunned.

“A fucking deer?” You ask incredulously, spotting a doe picking her way through the brush. “Really, Joel?”

He’s softening.

“Could have damaged the truck,” he contests, voice considerably lower. “We’re already taking the long way to Cody Tower. I don’t need any more setbacks.”

You scoff but say nothing, replacing your foot into the accelerator and continuing your trek along the back roads.

It’s dark by the time you pull over. You’ll have to refuel first thing in the morning, though the source of said fuel is to be determined. Siphoning gas isn’t hard, but it’s tracking down another functioning automobile with an oblivious operator that’s the hard part.

You’ve started sleeping in shifts. The bench seat in the back is about as luxurious a bed as you’re going to get in the middle of the apocalypse. Somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to collect a flimsy blanket that does little by way of insulation, but at least it’s comforting. 

Joel locks the doors while you settle into the back. He’s caught your eye in the rearview and you feel your stomach twist. Every night goes like this—he lets you sleep first, and you usually agree because you’re so fucking tired, but because he’s too damn polite to wake you up, you end up sleeping uninterrupted. He sneaks in sleep when you’re on the road the next day and he thinks you won’t notice.

“You know what?” You say, climbing back over the center console and into the passenger seat. He’s taken the driver’s seat in case you need to make a quick getaway overnight. “I’ll take the first watch. You sleep.”

He shakes his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow. “Because it seems like you need it. You look like shit, Joel.”

Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Excuse me if i don’t look my greatest at the end of the damn world.”

You hadn’t said that. Even when Joel looks absolutely exhausted, he still looks good. His rugged handsomeness isn’t lost on you, and for the first time all day, you actually look at him. You take him in. Moonlight catches along the graying ends of his unkempt hair, his wrinkles along the corners of his eyes are pronounced, and you eat it up like a woman starved. If you’re blushing, you’re thankful Joel can’t tell in the darkness, placing a comfortable distance between him and your growing vulnerabilities.

You hold up your palms in friendly defeat. “All I’m saying is I’m not tired yet. If you want the first round, I won’t complain.”

He doesn’t budge, though. And neither do you. You both wind up falling asleep in your respective seats once you are positive the other isn’t looking.

–

It’s not the clicking that wakes you up, though as soon as you’re half-conscious, you hear it right away.

Your stomach lurches. Fuck. When you’d pulled over hours earlier, you hadn’t noticed any semblance of life other than the deer you nearly ran over. But now, tired and bleary-eyed, you make out the deformed, eyeless head of something that used to be human.

There’s three of them, and they’re approaching your truck fast.

“Joel,” you urge, shaking his shoulder. “You gotta wake up. Joel, baby, we have to go.” The urgency in your voice hopefully outshines the petname you go with. You blame it on nerves, on the chance that this is the moment you and your partner actually fucking die. Baby. That is a choice. With any luck, Joel’s too drowsy for it to register.

He’s up like a shot, the strained, nearly silent cry from outside the truck jolting up into consciousness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, starting the truck and slamming his foot on the accelerator. One of the clickers narrowly misses colliding into your door. There’s less than a quarter of a tank left, though if you both don’t get out of here in one piece, that really doesn’t matter.

“I need you to shoot them,” Joel says over the roaring engine. He twists and turns in an attempt to lose them, but they’re on your trail, ganging up on you with each passing step.

You don’t challenge him, but you hesitate. His pistol is in the glove box, untouched since the last time you got into a dangerous situation—probably a day or two ago; every violent clash starts to bleed and blend together with the last.

“You can do it,” he says, though his tone is more urgent than encouraging . “They’re getting close. The closer your target, the easier it is to hit. Just do it—now!”

There’s no more time to waste. The clickers are a half step behind the truck. One of them places its grimy hand on the truck, holding on for dear life, if only to take yours.

Joel shouts your name to shock any remaining fatigue from every cell of your body. You do it—you reach for the gun in the glove compartment, lower your window just enough to hang your arms out of the side of it, cock the gun, and shoot.

Three fires. Three clean shots, each of the clickers blown back onto the dirt ground. Blood splatters on the side of the truck, some speckles across your forearm. Joel audibly exhales through his nose.

He keeps driving until you run out of gas.

[taeyamayang]

MORE THAN WE COULD EVER BE

a/n: a very personal piece. close to crying as i sip on the tea he gave me.

PAIRING: Oikawa Tooru x reader

THEME: angst, hurt, confession

Time comes tailed with unwanted thoughts. You find yourself unconsciously halted by realizations that was once never there. They, the thoughts, were new, yet a sense of familiarity ominously haunts you like a predator behind tall grass waiting for its chance to grapple you, unaware and whole. A gradual and torturing realization of losing grip of your meticulously crafted life. A path weaved by your self-centered desires and inhibitions, all of it ruined by a simple nod. A nod of recognition; a greeting of “hey, we meet again.”

It was a harmless reunion but somehow you were made to believe that it was something more. Perhaps, you are a fool for believing in a higher order. A lover of destiny and soulmates–a hopeless romantic, if you must. But how could you blame your naive mind when his touch effortlessly eroded your edges? His words reminded you that you are more than your rigid plans and achievements, that you’re more than just a person living up to other people’s expectations, and that you, too, are allowed to feel affection, warmth, and possibly, love. He carried your worries like he was part of you, invading your enclosed world as though he has always meant to be in it. And before you know it, you’re searching for him.

He’s raw. He feels, he cries, he laughs, and he loses his mind over the simplest things. He’s human. In the moment he let his guard down and shows you a side of him he protected from the keen eyes of the watchers, he became the person you longed for; a person who expresses in a way you couldn’t and accepts your irrational thoughts and vulnerability gently like a shattered glass in his hands.

All he is is what you lacked, and all you are is what he sought to be, 

and instantly, you were each other’s person.

You recount the nights you both sneaked out just to see each other. Dinner with him was the best, and you remember it so well. Stolen glances turned to long yearning stares. You remember the night you had it rough and he was all you could think of. He went out of his way to give you comfort and walked with you under the moonlight and behind the shadows, watching you with unjudging eyes as you crumble in defeat. 

How he pulled you close under an old tree and embraced you like no one ever did. He was careful, words whispered in your ears to remind you that you have him. His hands were on the small of your back and the side of his face pressed to your cheeks. You remember getting lost with him, unexpectedly traveling to the other side of the city and to the countryside with no idea how to get there and home. You can still feel his damped button-up polo that you wore when the rain wouldn’t stop. He was intent on keeping you warm despite him being equally drenched and cold. It was the first time you let loose of control, letting the present decide for you. You can still remember the taste of the donut you had on that same day. It was sweet, nothing like any pastry you had before. 

But at the back of your mind, you also remember how Oikawa thanked the heavens and the gods for meeting you again but only promised you today. How he thanked you for bringing out his inner child but at the same time telling you how much he hated who he was in the past. How he was so sure of you the night before but forgets about it when the morning rises. How he looked back on memories from two weeks ago as if he was reminiscing on something lost when you are still there, under the tree on the night of July, between his arms, and with only his voice breaking the stillness of the night.

Were you the only one who felt it was real?

Your thoughts circled in your mind in a leisurely and painful way, slow and dragging as though you are supposed to feel every inch of the knife stabbed in your chest. A long sigh is all you could muster as the voices from the group of friends you came with drowned beneath the anchoring waves you long stared at. You watch the sea pull and crash repeatedly in an unending cycle and somehow you empathize with it.

The sand buries Oikawa’s feet as he uninvitingly sits next to you. He might have finally noticed your disappearance after enjoying himself with drinks and chats. 

“What are you up to?” He asks innocently, cheeks flushed from alcohol.

“Wondering if I have a place in you.” is not what you said, instead you masked it with a generic, “Enjoying the view of the ocean. It’s breathtaking at night.”

“It is,” he responds, hiding a cheeky smile behind a can of beer as he takes a gulp.”It’s breathtakingly dark. I can’t see shit!” 

His laugh is contagious enough that even your agonizing realizations were pushed back momentarily. Until hurt came tenfold, gripping your chest. You couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Oikawa,” you utter, tears pooling on your lids.

It’s a mistake to be so honest and bold. Yet, for the last time, you let yourself lose control, 

With him, you’re not in control.

The waves crash.

“I’m falling for you.”

a/n to x: you were and are amazing. thank you for being my muse, but is that all you could ever be in my life?

a/n: heck, this a depressing way to say i'm back to writing lmao but i hope you guys liked it! -pea

MASTERLIST | HQ MASTERLIST

[ollies-headcanons]

AND YK WHAT? I LIKE YOU. Allow me to give you every single headcanon I have on Leo’s “genius and madness” whole thing.

-

1. Unrelenting Creativity: Leo’s mind is a whirlwind of ideas, constantly creating and inventing without pause. He barely sleeps, staying awake for days at a time while working on multiple projects. His workshop is littered with half-finished inventions, a chaotic manifestation of his relentless drive to create. The madness comes when he can't stop—the need to solve problems or build something is insatiable, even when it’s unhealthy.

2. Isolation and Genius: While his friends see Leo as the heart of the group with his humor and charm, there's an underlying loneliness that stems from his intelligence. He often feels isolated because others can’t keep up with his thought processes, leading to moments of frustration where he retreats into his work. In these times, Leo’s genius crosses over into madness, as he speaks aloud to himself or his machines, (as I mentioned before) desperate for some form of understanding.

3. Obsessive Perfectionism: Leo can’t stand imperfection in his creations. A tiny flaw or a slight malfunction sends him spiraling into a cycle of obsessively fixing and rebuilding things, even when everyone else thinks the invention is perfect. This perfectionism pushes him toward the brink of madness, as he will forgo food, rest, or even safety to make something “just right.”

4. Flashes of Inspiration (and Breakdown): Leo experiences moments of sudden, blinding inspiration—epiphanies that hit him like lightning. These flashes give him the solutions he needs but leave him physically and emotionally drained afterward. After a particularly intense burst of creativity, Leo may break down, muttering incoherently or becoming jittery, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of ideas in his mind.

5. Playing with Fire—Literally and Figuratively: His control over fire is both a gift and a curse. When Leo is calm and focused, he can wield fire with ease, crafting with it in ways that no one else can. But in moments of intense emotion or mental strain, the fire becomes uncontrollable. His genius has given him mastery over fire, but his madness threatens to consume him in a literal blaze. Does he have burn marks from these breakdowns? Yes. Yes he does.

6. Disregard for His Own Safety: Leo's genius often leads him to take dangerous risks, throwing caution to the wind when working on new projects. He doesn’t care if an experiment could explode or if a prototype is volatile—his curiosity outweighs his self-preservation. His friends constantly worry about him getting hurt, but Leo shrugs it off, joking about how many times he’s already almost blown himself up.

7. Machines as Friends: Leo’s machines are more than just tools or creations to him; they are his companions, particularly when he feels disconnected from people. He talks to them, gives them personalities, and even argues with them. It’s both endearing and unsettling to his friends, as they wonder if his genius is driving him to madness, blurring the line between reality and imagination.

8. Haunted by Failure: Leo is plagued by the fear of failure, stemming from both his mother’s death and his perceived mistakes during the *Heroes of Olympus* journey. This fear drives him to obsess over his inventions, refusing to accept anything less than perfection. The madness comes in when he starts to second-guess every decision he’s made, worrying that one small error could lead to catastrophe.

9. Inventing as a Coping Mechanism: Whenever Leo is overwhelmed emotionally—whether it��s guilt, sadness, or anxiety—he turns to inventing as a way to cope. His mind races with blueprints and designs, blocking out the pain. The problem is that this only works temporarily; as soon as the invention is done, the emotions come crashing back, and he’s left even more exhausted and mentally strained.

10. Fear of Losing Control: Deep down, Leo is terrified that one day his genius will push him too far, and he’ll lose control—of his powers, his mind, or both. This fear sometimes manifests in his humor, as he jokes about being “crazy” or “unhinged,” but it’s a defense mechanism to mask his very real anxiety about losing himself to the madness that comes with his brilliance.

But yeah, that’s all :p

how about you just run the acc

how about we get married /j

I LOVE YOU RANDOM PERSON YOUR HCS ARS SO AGHHHH

[shaikzpeare]

12:52 a.m.

I’m terrified of not working. Here I am, staring at my laptop through one eye, face down on my bed. They say sleeping like this can make one eye smaller. How else do you look at an inherently unequal world?

I've been fixated on the word "heart" on my laptop screen, peering through my one open eye (whether it’s smaller or not). It fascinates me more than anything. The heart is so beautiful. I love learning about it and feeling it pump in my body.

I hate that the room light’s on, but I’m too lazy to get out of bed to turn it off. That’s how I handle most things in my life—unbothered, indifferent, I guess.

I care about my eyes but not enough to stop sleeping face down. I’m still staring at the word "heart" on the website of the lab I’m applying to. I don’t understand the mechanisms this lab works on.

Why is it so easy for me to write all this but not understand complex scientific concepts? Every time I write without expectation, it feels easier than publishing a paper for a lab in my prospective future. Is it my insecurity or my gut? Is there a difference?

Are inhibitions self-imposed, like inhibitors in molecular biology? In molecular biology, inhibitors are molecules that bind to enzymes or other proteins, blocking their activity. They prevent certain biochemical reactions, ensuring that processes within cells occur in a controlled manner. Both biological inhibitors and life's inhibitions function as regulators. In biology, inhibitors ensure that cellular processes don't go out of control, much like inhibitions in life keep us from making impulsive or reckless decisions. Yet, an overabundance of inhibitors can stifle essential biochemical processes, just as excessive inhibitions can prevent personal growth and fulfillment.

If I wasn’t meant for this world, why does my brain understand these things? I spoke to a friend today; he thought of the cosmos in terms of energy and time in terms of seconds and physics. I found it fascinating how the same turmoil can be expressed in various ways of science—equally haunting, equally soothing.

I’m still staring at the word “heart” as the screen light turns off. Why does it do that? I realized I know nothing of how a computer works, yet I spend most of my existence on it. Why can’t I think of the world like that? Running on mechanisms I might not comprehend.

I think of beautiful things when I sleep, too lazy to write them down, too scared to lose the comfort they bring. Maybe I should talk out loud and record instead. Sanchu’s sleeping. I’ll wake her up if I speak too loudly. Do we stop listening when we sleep? Will what I say affect her dreams?

I told her I loved her and that she’s the smartest girl I know. I hope that affects her dreams. I hope she’s in a field of flowers in her dreams, a better place than she is physically. The idea of dreams is funny. We all have them. Are all innovations born from dreams? Are all discoveries inherent? Aren’t all inventions just discoveries if the idea already exists?

Did Edison—or was it Tesla—think of broadcasting electrical power without wires in his dream? But it was his DREAM to do so. It's funny how "dreams" can describe both our waking aspirations and the involuntary visions we experience while sleeping, intertwining our conscious desires with the mysteries of our subconscious.

I’ll walk past the downhill and look back at the person who understood me, only to see them disappear behind me. I’m going down.

My laptop’s dead.

[suguwu]

omg omg bee

!!!

okay so i've thought of this before, but your aventurine and soulmate horror thing brought it back to me

i would also like to take this time to say i have no idea who he is and i don't play hsr or genshin and don't plan to but i'm holding your hand and following you blindly like a little duckling trusting your judgement you've never steered me wrong

cw: physical harm to oneself but not self-harm if that makes sense

anyways ever since i found out about soulmate au's and soulmarks and things my little black heart that can't let anything just be and must make everything ✨angsty✨ and hurt-no-comfort-y has always thought about a soulmate who burns their soulmark off or to be less gory maybe tattoos over it for whatever reason

like maybe they're undercover and can't risk it being used against them or maybe they decide that this way they can side-step the whole 'being forced' to love someone thing or maybe they have really bad trauma surrounding it or whatever

anywayyyyysssss yeah 👍🏾

sigh i feel like my brain gets more wrinkly everytime i see you on my dash i have so many ideas and no where to put them

sending kith-es <3

hi anon!!!

okay this time you should not trust me do not hold my hand and walk with me on aventurine he is a life ruiner. he gets his lil blond claws into you and never lets go. he haunts you. let go of my hand and run i will be the sacrifice for this (for him).

anyway yes yes yes! i think there's a lot of room in soulmate aus for this kind of rebellion and this kind of angst! i think the real question is does the soulmark make the bond? do they do it and it leads to nothing because the soulmate bond is more than that? bc then i'm thinking about people who lose their marks and therefore their soulmates in accidents too. that however is a whole different ball game!!

i think in the scenario you've mentioned there really are endless potential reasons to destroy your soulmark and it would be absolutely cool to see! it's definitely under-examined!! i can especially see it with people (like aventurine) who might want to regain control and/or freedom, which again begs the question of if destroying the mark destroys the bond!!

there's also how society would view it, etc., etc. maybe it's even considered acceptable or the thing to do in certain scenarios! i think i have a post somewhere where jing yuan cuts out his soulmark because it's what is required of cloud knights.

there's just a ton of room there to play and i'm enamored with it!!! it's so fun!!

sending many many kithes back to you <3

[greensaplinggrace]

4 for the ship question meme! darklina, malina, malarkling, and malarklina :)

Ahhh thanks for the ask!! I'm putting it all under the cut lol.

Darklina

When I started shipping it if I did: As much as I love the ship now, I actually didn't start really shipping them until I joined the fandom and saw all the hate lol (I'm a Malina girlie at heart 😔). It was kind of a spite ship lol.

My thoughts: It's one of the most intriguing ships in SaB when it comes to potential and complexity. For all that I love the Darkling, that doesn't necessarily mean I would like him with Alina (he has harmed her and those she loves quite a bit after all), but I've really fallen in love with the ways their relationship could have gone, especially in regards to Alina and her own development in terms of reclaiming agency, self actualization, and a progressive character arc instead of the canonical regressive one. Even canonically, there is something so compelling in the books about the moments they have together and the dynamic they possess. I like that Alina has so many conflicting thoughts on him and I like that the Darkling clearly cares for her but his idea of love is so skewed. Mostly, I just love the push and pull power exchange of their dynamic a lot.

What makes me happy about them: They're adorable in the show and compelling in the books. Not to mention there is a mutual obsession between them that is absolutely hilarious lol. And I love the mind bond a lot I think it's really interesting and allows them to have so many fascinating scenes together in the books. I also really love how they can understand each other on a fundamental level others cannot.

What makes me sad about them: The tragedy of it all, not just in the nature of their dynamic, but also in what Aleksander's death means for Alina. Alina's character arc makes me so incredibly sad, and it's saddening to think about everything she loses at the end of the books. Not just in terms of innocence, but also in the fact that she loses her powers and loses what is essentially the only person on the planet who can understand her. Also, what makes me sad, but that I love, is the haunting aspect of their relationship. I've said it before but the way he haunts her in the second book is very 'she is haunted by the ghost of his inevitable death at her hands' 'she is haunted by his memory'. the darkling always exists first and foremost as a memory to Alina. all of his actions have more of an impact on her after the fact, which I think is interesting.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Lots of things lol. I'm not too fond of Aleksander being the Super Dominant Man while Alina is like this poor wilting sub, although there are some fics that actually strike a decent balance. I don't like it when Aleksander is british or christian or catholic or something instead of russian and jewish, the same going for Alina. Most fics that have Alina too innocent or stupid aren't appealing because she's not. Most fics that treat Aleksander as if he's nicer or meaner than he is aren't appealing either. If it's a fic that indicates this is sort of a study on if things were different, I don't mind it. But if it's a fic that goes 'this is how they canonically are and that's why I'm writing it this way'. Then I just nope out of there lol. Anything that says Aleksander is being redeemed is something I am peaking into with one eye closed hoping for the best like a skittish animal ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Also anything where Aleksander is born into power and wealth instead of having to claw his way to the top or Alina is super sheltered instead of someone who has experienced the worst of the world. Basically I struggle a lot with Darklina fics.

Things I look for in fanfic: Alina is a solid human being. She is powerful, and even when she isn't dominant she holds a level of control. Alternatively, she starts out with no power or control and reclaims it, forcing a better and more equal dynamic between her and Aleksander. One of the best Darklina fics I've ever read is Absolute by TwilightToMidnight, and it is probably one of the only fics like it that I will ever read. I usually do not like unhappy endings or heavy power imbalance fics, but I came to love this one and I came to really like the ending a lot. In fics, I also look for power struggles where it is a back and forth push pull between them, and one of them is always struggling to get on top, succeeding, and then falling again. The best kind of this fic is one where they do it because it is in their nature, but come to hold a level of deep respect and love for each other regardless, or maybe because of this and because it is also in their nature, which is why The Empress, Robed in Sun is one of my all time favorite fics. And then of course my favorite favorite, because it feels as if it was written specifically to appeal to me and is my ideal fic in every way, is Power Corrupts by sweetlittlethirst.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: For Aleksander, I suppose Nikolai or Mal? For Alina, literally everybody lol. I love her with Genya and with Mal and with Zoya. She deserves to get all the love she can.

My happily ever after for them: One where Alina has more power and control in the relationship, even if it is a fluctuating and always changing thing. There are so many potential avenues this could happen, and I think any of them would be great.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: Alina is the big spoon and Sasha is the little spoon obviously 😔

Malina

When I started shipping it if I did: Immediately!! I love Malina and I actually really liked their meadow scenes. Every scene they had together was sweet and adorable. I think I really started liking the ship when she was at the little palace on her bed and they were reaching for each other even when they were apart.

My thoughts: This ship has such a real feel to it. I love the physicality of it and I love the way it brings the reader as well as Alina down to earth. It isn't a relationship without it's faults obviously, but a lot of that is miscommunication and the fact they are both struggling to reconcile their reality with what they want for each other and their futures. And a lot of it is also how Mal struggles to understand this part of Alina that he can't really know, but that he wants to support anyway.

What makes me happy about them: Every scene they have is so adorable?? Especially in the show?! I love it when they snuggle and kiss and touch and hold handsss. I love it when Alina goes to sleep on Nikolai's ship and Mal is sitting there watching over her just reading. They're so domestic and sweet. And I love how they always come back to each other and consider each other home.

What makes me sad about them: The divide between them that I think can never really be crossed or reconciled, even after Alina loses her powers. I think there is something within her that is just so far beyond Mal's reach and it's kind of painful to think about because everything else about her can know and touch and understand. And I think it's sad too that Alina always feels as if she's dragging Mal along with her and as if he doesn't want to be with her. And it makes me sad too that he thinks all he can offer is a service and his loyalty, as if he's not more than that to her. And aldjsflksd they need to communicate moreee. GOD!!

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: OOF. Fics that say Alina liked losing her powers or that it was good for her. Fics that don't acknowledge Alina's lost powers as basically a disability that was forced on her. It was a moment where she was stripped of agency and harmed irreparably. And instead of fics capitalizing on this and having Mal help her through her grief and the adjustment into a new life they just... don't? Anyways, fics where Mal is too mean or too understanding. Fics where Alina is too mean or too nice. Fics where Mal's trauma isn't really touched on or where Alina's isn't either (excluding what if things were different studies of course). And of course fics where grisha persecution is pushed under the rug or where Alina is shamed for her desires like she is in canon. Also fics where it feels like they're putting up with each other instead of actually in love. I honestly just have a hard time finding fics I like for any of my ships in this fandom lol.

Things I look for in fanfic: Alina and Mal helping each other through their trials and their grief! Mal actually acknowledging and supporting the parts of Alina that he doesn't understand. Alina being a complicated and complex person who is not wholly perfect or bad. Them finding better ways to communicate and open up to each other as time passes. Fics where Alina is super protective of Mal, sometimes fics where she's even allowed to be possessive, because I kind of love that about her and I don't see it nearly enough. Fics where Alina's darkness isn't brushed under the rug and Mal is allowed to be a bit of a bitch.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Mal probably with Nikolai or Zoya or Aleksander. Alina with everybody XD. Aleksander or Genya or Zoya.

My happily ever after for them: Honestly? If Alina had kept her powers and still retired to live with Mal. Like that's it for me. (also perhaps immortal mal too 👀)

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: aldjlfks Alina is mostly big spoon but occasionally Mal is.

Malarkling

When I started shipping it if I did: "My summoner" and "My tracker." The war room scene in the show where Aleksander and Mal have insane boatloads of sexual tension.

My thoughts: They have two brainells between them but it only works when they're apart because when they're together their braincells cancel each other out.

What makes me happy about them: They both suck at killing each other. There's so much sexual tension between them. They will take any opportunity to insult each other for literally no reason. Aleksander fucking keeps Mal alive despite logic and everybody else saying he should kill him.

What makes me sad about them: I think Aleksander sees Luda in Mal, which is sad but also so interesting. I think he sees Alina and Mal's relationship and knows what's going to happen, and I think his way of viewing Mal largely comes from that. Aleksander's connection to anybody that isn't immortal is eventually going to end in their death and his grief, which is just tragic.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Not much really? When it comes to this ship there's so few that it's hard to gauge. I suppose fics where Mal or Aleksander act too out of character in terms of being mean and cruel or hating each other is kind of annoying. But that's about it.

Things I look for in fanfic: Mal being a bit of dom and Aleksander being a bit of a brat. But also Aleksander being antagonistic like a smug cat and Mal suffering for it lmfao. They're just fun.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Alina 💕. And of course the people stated before lol.

My happily ever after for them: 😭😭 I don't know I don't really think about them having a happily ever after. Mal is immortal and doesn't die would be nice tho ngl

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: MAL IS THE BIG SPOON. but sometimes Aleksander will be the big spoon just to make sure Mal is alive.

Malarklina

When I started shipping it if I did: HHHH IMMEDIATELY. But also after the war room scene in the show lets be reallll. Also again "my summoner" and "my tracker". Like why are you so obsessed with them.

My thoughts: This is the ideal dynamic because they all balance each other and both Mal and Aleksander fulfill parts of Alina's emotional needs that the other can't. I'm not even lying when I fully say that Alina's character would be at it's most fulfilled and have the chance for it's best progression if she was allowed a relationship with both Mal and Aleksander simultaneously. I think they are both Alina's soulmates in different ways. I think they both represent the different and most crucial aspects of Alina's soul.

What makes me happy about them: How Mal and Alina are both clearly attracted to Aleksander and subconsciously appreciate many of the same things about him. Never forget their conversation about being comforted by Aleksander's confidence and praise in them lmfao. Also how Aleksander clearly has an attraction to them both. Also how they both clearly bring out his competence kink ngl. He visits them both in their dreams which is freaking wild. Also Alina has such fluffy and amazing moments with the both of them. I just love all of their interactions. Also of course Aleksander fondly remembering being penetrated by Mal and Alina. It never gets old.

What makes me sad about them: The fact that Alina has to end up with only one of them canonically. The ways they all hurt each other. The fact that Mal is mortal and will eventually die.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Not much? I usually like all Malarklina fics. This fandom rules 💕. Probably just the same stuff I stated earlier, where any of them act too ooc in terms of being cruel or nice. Or any form of redemption for Aleksander and especially any attempt at redeeming him the eyes of the law and royal family that persecuted his people for centuries. But I haven't really seen any of that in the Malarklina fandom because it's amazing so 🤷🏽‍♀️

Things I look for in fanfic: Mal and Alina being more dominant than Aleksander. Them all caring about each other instead of some of them caring for each other more. I really like fics where Mal and Alina get invested in helping the grisha, and I also really like fics where Aleksander tries to support Mal and Alina in their more down to earth endeavors. Also I love fics about them where all of the differences in their relationships with each other are acknowledged. Like how Alina and Aleksander would probably act more possessive with each other. They'd be tossing around "you're mine" like it's the word of law. Whereas Alina and Mal would be more fond of the "I'm home when I'm with you" statements. Aleksander would actually be pretty fond of poetry, though, and waxing poetic, which I think Mal would appreciate more than Alina. but Alina would love having vicious morally opposed arguments with Aleksander that Mal wouldn't. Mal would probably like having arguments with Aleksander about other things, though, and he would actually probably love physically sparring with him. And Mal would love taking Alina places that Aleksander would hate, and vice versa. Like idk I just love the unique ties developed within polyamorous relationships, especially the potential between all of them.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: As stated above. Basically everybody lol.

My happily ever after for them: Immortal cottage life until they reach the modern world, and then immortal city chaos.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: Alina and Mal are the big spoons and Aleksander is (the knife) in the middle. But sometimes they switch things up.

send me a ship (x)

[atlanticsea]

heya! I don't know if you've done this but would you explain the two results for ghost/haunted house (specifically haunted house) a bit more? I love your quizzes so much they give me so much to think about thank you for making them!! I've been having major brainrot over SPK

Hi omg I'd LOVE to I love that quiz.

So the base inspiration for that quiz is this poem I wrote (sorry for linking to my insta 😭) and my favourite character dynamic that I call "bound to disappear, bound to remember" aka character A is bound to be forgotten in some way while character B is bound to be the only person to remember them. Character A usually exits the narrative while character B devotes their life to keeping them in it. For examples of media where this happens, think Baricco's Novecento, Merlin BBC, Doctor Who, and to a certain extent Fleabag, The Bear, Russian Doll... Basically I really like characters who haunt the narrative and have it shaped around them despite no longer being there, and I really like sad lonely immortals. To this day Merlin BBC is my favourite TV show despite having watched endlessly better stuff just because of the ending. Free me from this hell. Anyways.

Now for the broader haunted house/ghost dynamic itself. On a literal level, I wanted to twist it on its head a bit and instead of thinking of haunted houses as houses that get inhabited by ghosts and thus become haunted, I wanted to consider them as haunted houses that exist as such regardless and create ghosts (= hold on to people) to exist properly. I thought it would be interesting to have houses without their own physicality, while ghosts do have a physicality and are losing it due to the houses holding onto them. It hurts the ghosts to be held back like this, because it dilutes them: if they lose all they are to haunted houses, they don't have anything anymore.

Metaphorically speaking, the haunted house is bound to remember while the ghost is bound to disappear. Haunted Houses live in the past and project their favourite memories on the wall while Ghosts do not get to exist in the present and are held back in the past by people's perception of them. Haunted Houses stay, Ghosts leave -- or, sometimes, Haunted Houses leave and take the Ghosts with them.

I will say that this quiz is a lot less balanced than SPK in that Haunted Houses are kind of explicitly built to hurt Ghosts - not on purpose, but as a consequence. This is why I stressed that this specific one should NOT be taken as a personality quiz 😭 Sorry to anyone I called a miserable wreck that took it personally, that was directed to Merlin of Merlin BBC fame who has been trapped in grief for over a thousand years 🙏 You can however relate to it in a non-damaging way haha I just built the quiz around characters in very specific dramatic situations, I personally think I'm more of a haunted house, and what that means for me is that I have lived in many places and left many people and sometimes get vertigo thinking about all of them, wondering how many remember me, wondering who they are now, wondering if they know the only living version of them in my head is from ten years ago. They're ghosts I more or less created for myself! Also you know. I have PTSD and am quite literally haunted by visions and horrors. That type of stuff. I think Ghost can be quite a relatable archetype too though, with the idea of not being in control of one's life/the way one is perceived, the idea of a true self being diluted in the perception fo others, etc. Lots of things to vibe with.

Hope this made sense!! This one is a bit harder to explain than SPK because it's not built around certain values or anything it's literally just me thinking of a concept I like and running with it, but I hope my explanation + the poem I wrote first can give you more context!!

[throatcoat]

//i thought i was maybe turning into something different this time//

i am falling back in love with self-destruction. i am falling back in love with how simple it is to rewind and reset, to get back the progress i allowed to leak out and away in the presence of feeling like i meant more than i thought. when that feeling dissipates, as it always does when they finally see what is really underneath the surface, the only thing that remains is how none of it really mattered anyways, and this was how it was always going to end. the miles in between the lack of sleep, i refuse to appear as weak as i actually am. fragile, wind me up, the music box broke and all you will hear is silence in place of piano keys. i hope that no one says a damn word as i slip further and further again, i want to rot from the inside out. i'll hide calories in smoke clouds, fill my growling stomach with hot water until it feels like it will drown. they won't say anything until it is almost too late, they never tried to notice anyways.

i can not control how people feel, but i can control how they perceive me. the damage is physical, and one day, i know it will make me the ghost i fear i already am. i disgust myself, and i need the disguise of not giving a shit. the only thing that terrifies me is that there is not a single person who knows me well enough to deliver that eulogy. the podium will be bare and it will be like it always was, someone who no one will recall in a few months once the snow dethaws.

the only thing anyone knows about me is how sad i am. it is an illness that eats you alive and spits out the sinew and bones and teeth it can not digest. sometimes, i wish i was more than that, but it is a constant companion, and sometimes, i think it may just be who i am. there is not a person who could tell you my favorite book, the one filled with poems my dad would read to me as a child. there is not a person who could tell you my favorite song, the one i always play when i first get into the car. my favorite flowers and the way they smell in the summer. the movies that felt the most real, in the worlds i always lose myself in. rewatching the same films constantly, i like knowing the ending, that everyone forgives and the antagonist was really the protagonist the whole time, albeit misunderstood. it feels like safety. the diner and how i always get the same meal, blackberry french toast and black coffee that never seems to get cold. how i like my coffee in the morning, or rather, 2 p.m. in the afternoon.

the green room where i cried in the stall over saying the wrong thing again. the notes i keep from ghosts who do not think of me. how it felt the first time a girl kissed me. the details of every vehicle i have ever sat in. how my heart ached at being told i no longer had the privilege of using their full first name. how i still have his yo-yo, and i still give money when i have it to the charities for kids like his sick brother. how i felt in the dark of a room that smelled like every room where i lost pieces and parts. how it feels to notice that people all begin acting the same when they see through my ruse of convincing myself of some sort of permanence. they slowly stop texting you, and now they no longer care about your day. now, your promise of loving someone is only stifling, and the idea of laying in bed with me is suffocating. you ask if everything is okay, grasping for that reassurance that not everything will end the same, but it always does, and asking just makes the reality a thing to think about. like i put the idea in their heads when i grasp on with my fingertips, afraid of drowning in the columbia, falling asleep in the bathtub. the phone calls stop, and they slowly remove their presence from every facet you barely got to share. the texts go unseen and the letters unread. now, i am the nameless stories they share of a girl that can only haunt them when they can not sleep at night. the moral thing to do is put down the sick dog. keep me around for as long as i am needed, until somehow, you need more.

my feet hit the pavement, the shock sends signals through my ankles and my legs buckle. i do not believe the promises any longer, that there is something more to see in me than simply forgetting in the first place. i think about Jeremy, how he was the first to leave me alone and now i am just angry. i think about how i keep looking for the same person in everyone, but that person never existed in the first place. maybe, i just want to find myself. something untainted. somehow, whole.

i want to be beautiful, for it all to no longer hurt.

i want to be more than the bed you sleep in.

i want to be worth it.

i think i have given up on the idea of being worth anything at all.

i want to be the poem you read over and over as a child, something about being blue and being seen right through. a tree stump cut down, she gave it all and he only wanted more. the apples were never enough. the shade did not keep him from getting burnt. a monster in a cave sleeping in a pile of other monsters, maybe i can find a home there on that island.

all i ever am and will be is never enough.

i missed being sick.

at least i know what to expect.

[cherrieswithwhiterosemary]

resistance

maybe i used to struggle with self control. it’s the manic episodes and the bipolar disorder, and there’s one specific moment that flashes in my head where i was making out with someone in the lunchroom during school. usually we were outside, and i would do it then, too, but i didn’t stop myself. all the parts of my sexuality unlocked after that night with them, in the worst way possible. from then on, i was connected to sex in the most emotional way, yet i treated it like it wasn’t a big deal to me. it was. maybe i was trying to gain more memories of sex to wipe away what they did to me. but it follows and haunts me every time. i’m not a big crier, but recently, i have cried over my sexual experiences. i used to ignore those feelings. now i listen.

the thing about plum is that i cannot resist him. he knows exactly how i feel, that i would do anything for him, and i told him that i am in love with him. neither of us know the full extent of how he feels about me, but i do know one thing: he likes me enough to fuck me. i asked him to go on a date with me and he said one of his fears was losing our friendship; we survived a friends-with-benefits situationship, i believe we can survive one date that does not have to go anywhere. i just wanted a specific romantic context to where it is no longer a “will they, won’t they” the entire time we are watching his favorite movie. he still was play-flirting with me and teasing me, even after i told him we probably shouldn’t be ‘involved’ anymore because i deserve better. i asked him if i could kiss him and he only asked me if it was a good idea. i said probably not, but i kept thinking about it. right before he left, i asked him to kiss me again, just once, and he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip while grabbing my chin and tilted my face up to kiss him. we went back in for a second. i know we can’t resist each other. though i knew if we kept going he wouldn’t go, and when i broke off the kiss i said “you need to leave.” i didn’t mean it in a malicious way, but in an “i can barely control myself right now, if we keep going your hand will end up in my pants or vice-versa, and we said we wouldn’t do that anymore” kind of way. i know that we want each other more than he’s letting on, but it’s because he doesn’t want to hurt me if his ex comes back. also, it would likely be very short term, more of a summer fling, and he knows that i feel so much stronger for him than that. but i just ruffled his hair during the movie, and he laid his head on my lap. it’s not just the sex, it’s the sweet moments like that.

i just need him to go for it— to stop resisting.

[marcusrobertobaq]

Dude, i doubt this thirium thing is harmless to humans, at least when consumed. Idk if what makes the Red Ice powerful is the thirium itself or it chemical reactions with other substances but still. And I bet these Tracis don't even need thirium to simulate cum 💀 like, i know thirium can carry the android model information (and that's the only reason i can get why mfs make a kink outta this) but...uhhh '-'

This flavored thirium stuff haunts me in my sleep. They won't taste anything just identify changes. These androids are that human-like but i don't think they got technology for making 'em able to really taste yet. CyberLife wanna make androids look like humans but some features i doubt they wanna try to implement. Make it Detroit 2077 with black-markets so i can feel more safe xD

"Their owners or the android would have to clean out the food or drink manually."

Bro, imagine your android is malfunctioning cuz your silly daughter put a bread down 'em throat. Fucking hell 💀 (not for the technician tho $$$). I know mfs just wanna make 'em don't feel left out when with humans but they don't need that, really.

The AI is a good one. If they ain't got data corrupted (shot in the head) it's likely u can just transfer their memory and personality to another body or storage. Whether u consider it the real person or just a copy ain't with me 🫢

We can have some problems hardware-wise (memory, processing capacity)? Yeah, but still possible.

Somebody even gave me an idea about some androids "consciousness" being a shared cloud network instead of local. Like a main server with the bodies connected and sharing the same data. I can link if you want.

->But now the deviancy shit...

I think we got a lil different takes on this. What i understand of deviancy is just being about breaking direct orders from your absolute superior. You need a set of factors to be able to do this first. This Red wall is just a way of describing and making it...dramatic for the player. I don't think those androids-hacked-by-robo-jesus got something like that, but the ones that deviated for themselves probably have. I think some androids even can get/be totally self-aware without deviating (RKs) but we need a more positive environment so they're not in constant denial and know all 'em potential.

I got a theory about instability being cumulative and messing with 'em bytes, that's why the instructions and priorities can get messed up and inversed, losing the external input/handler system (they become 'em handler) and start rewriting themselves. By doin' this things get too complex and they can even lose control of some functions, which can make some reactions look more...natural?

In the end this is tied with being able to reject direct orders <- cuz if u can do that ofc you're rewriting yourself. Some models can accumulate more instability than others before being able to override 'em orders. The more u got programmed responses that cover some situations the harder is for you to just deviate. After all deviating is kinda doing something you ain't programmed to. If you're programmed to do something, you're not deviating.

Connor may be an example of this instability system: he's quite autonomous but still can't disobey direct orders (i got a link on this). This is the only main thing out of his programming. If they didn't put denial in his head, instability when doing something % negative for the main order would have less impact.

But yea, androids will always be machines. Humans are machines too, things ain't gotta be negative here. Ofc the game doesn't want ya to think this way but i'm a stubborn boah.

"all Androids have a Heads Up Display. It's a built in programming feature."

If it's what we see in the game. Like, dragonbane did some 1st pov mods and 'em HUD system looks kinda cool this way, better than in 3rd pov.

Anyone to discuss about dbh androids engineering and AI? No philosophical shit, just technical stuff (canon and theories), maybe even maintenance and laws.

[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.”