#canon typical death

[eclecticmiasma]

I kept thinking what if Chilchuck or Laios had been kidnapped by the monster! reader, how the reader saw them hurt or mistook them for chicks and saved them from being killed by another monster.. Now the reader monster is taking care of him in his nest/house, as if they were his own chicks (reader is a gentle monster who doesn't want anyone getting hurt or dying), and the reader being a sentient monster where she knows the dungeons are dangerous...

Note: the reader's appearance is similar to that of a human but with some animal characteristics, thus confusing the adventurers, who may think that she is a human cursed by the mad wizard and thus has the monster part... But the reader is a cool and conscious monster

Large brained thoughts, honestly! Perhaps reader could be the ghost of a creature that lost its young and uses shape-shifting to lure dungeoneers and other monsters to her nest as replacements? I would imagine that she would become extremely protective of her targets especially once they have been tricked into becoming one of her offspring. We don't see any examples of monsters being benevolent per se, but there is a benevolence/kindness to reader's selfish desires.

I think reader would appear very different to Laios and Chilchuck, and their reactions would be completely 180 degrees. Some slight anime spoilers ahead! SFW, canon typical violence.

Laios

Reader appears to Laios in a form that's nearly identical to her original. She has thick claws and black, wet eyes. Her teeth are sharp but framed by soft human lips and her ashen hair is silken and braided like a Northern maiden. She might have a long scaly tale and feathers on her abdomen and thighs because, due to Falin's current condition, it's a form that Laios finds subconsciously comforting.

She lures Laios while the others are asleep. A monster that he's never seen before is too intriguing to pass up- the party is safe enough where they are. Just a peak, a chance to learn-

Before he knows it, Laios is somewhere wholly unfamiliar. The thick dungeon bricks lining the walls slowly give way to moss and grass. The air is warm and smells like petrichor.

Despite a small, nagging anxiety, he presses further. The creature smiles as she leads him farther into the jungle atmosphere, a smile so sparkling and human that is makes Laios blush.

Before long, he's walked right into reader's nest. It's a cozy hovel carved into the base of a tree. Laios is delighted to find smaller monsters of all sizes in a daze, lounging around on the thatched flooring. As he steps inside, he feels a veil of calm close around him and vaguely realizes that its why the monsters aren't hostile towards each other.

Laios succumbs, at first. He lets reader take him into her arms, drag her long claws through his hair and sing a tune that numbs his mind into a pleasant mush.

Reader feeds him, gives him her milk (a high he'll never reach again until the day he dies), lays out the comfiest spot for her newest treasure and goes on her way to find the next target.

Genuinely, if Laios wasn't on a quest this would be his life for eternity. His own mother wasn't very loving, so a meld of monsters and mothers is more than a guy could ever ask for.

It could be hours, it could be days, but eventually Laios begins to remember that this isn't where he's meant to be. He sees a monster that reminds him of Falin, and all at once knows he reluctantly has to return to reality.

Once reader realizes Laios is gone, only killing her will end her crusade to get him back. While the others simply see a deranged monster, Laios sees a terrified mother desperate to drag him back to the safety of her home. Laios hesitates before killing her, too torn apart by the tears in her eyes. Marcille has to take the final blow.

Senshi and Laios briefly consider cooking the inhuman parts of reader into a sort of beef stroganoff as tribute, but Chilchuck's screeching reminder that they are not to eat humanoids leaves them to bury her instead.

Chilchuck

Is just off the heels of grumbling about being treated like a child when he spots what looks to be a small figure huddled in the darkness.

He calls out to the others but doesn't hear a response, only the soft whimpers of whoever has managed to get themselves into this state.

Chilchuck is much more on guard than Laios would ever be. He immediately assumes that it could be a trap or an illusion, so he calls to the figure from afar.

She answers, desperation coloring her tone as she sobs, relieved that someone has come across her.

"Th-they're dead, I don't know where they are but they're dead and I..."

As Chilchuck gingerly steps towards her, he realizes that what he sees is another half-foot. A small archer that's bloodied and bruised. Something about her reminds him immediately of his wife.

All logic leaves Chilchuck as he finishes approaching her, asking what's wrong and tearing off a piece of his sleeve to prepare to bandage the deepest of her wounds. When he goes to wrap the material around her forearm he stares in confusion. The wounds are gone.

He doesn't even have time to react before reader cups his small face in her. "You're lonely," She says, a matter of fact. The half-foot can't deny it, "It's time you stop doing these dangerous things. The only end for a half-foot in the dungeon is in the mouth of a monster. Let me take care of you."

Her words are like honey, her touch even moreso. Feeling the touch of a woman isn't a luxury Chilchuck had been afforded in many moons. But even in the fog of reader's touch, Chilchuck feels that something is off. Her hands are too cold, eyes too deep and dark- almost like black pools of liquid.

The sharp tips of her teeth set him off, and he knows he has to get away. She's no different than a mimic, he tells himself. Even if part of him desperately wants exactly what she has to offer.

Chilchuck mimes as if he is going to fall into her allure, cupping his hands over her own and giving her the most smitten look he can muster. All before kneeing her in the face and dashing at speeds only half-foots can muster to get away.

Reader chases him desperately, form filling the room as she wails in sorrow. "Can't you see they're using you? You're going to end up as bait. You're going to die down here, you'll never see your family again!" Chilchuck mentally bats away at each assertion even as they hook into his skin.

The others finally come running, proximity close enough to hear the commotion at last. With a few well-placed blasts and a slice to the throat via Kensuke, reader is felled and left for good. Even in death, she seems to be in mourning.

Chilchuck doesn't sleep well for weeks.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide darker content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[steddieas-shegoes]

the wrath of gareth

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event prompt 'wrath'

rated m | 1313 words | cw: temporary character death, grief/mourning, canon-typical violence | tags: everybody lives (by the end anyway), eddie comes back wrong (or right if you're into that kinda thing), gareth is maybe the best friend ever

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When Eddie dies, Gareth doesn't react with tears the way everyone expects. He sees Dustin crying his way through an explanation and he sees Jeff and Frankie both welling up. Even Mike is trying to hide the fact that his eyes are swollen and red-rimmed.

Gareth just looks between them all and wonders why he isn't feeling what they're all feeling.

Eddie is-- was-- his brother, his best friend, someone he would die for.

He just feels...nothing.

He goes home and tries to work through emotions, but he still just feels empty. There's nothing there for him to unpack. He doesn't feel loss the way everyone else so clearly does.

Maybe he's just broken. He remembers crying when his grandpa died a few years ago, but maybe that was because it was family? He doesn't know and he falls asleep before he can try to figure it out.

When he wakes up, he's angry and he doesn't know why at first. He thinks it's because his mom is using the vacuum on a Saturday morning until he remembers Eddie's fucking dead.

He still doesn't cry, but now he has an emotion to tie himself down with, to hold onto when he heads to Dustin's house for answers.

Dustin shouldn't have been the first to know. Why was he the first to know? How was he the first to know?

"He's not dead," Gareth says instead of hello when Dustin answers his door, still looking exhausted, red eyes swollen nearly shut.

"He is." It's raspy and hollow, like all of Dustin's emotions have finally gone.

"He can't be."

Gareth stays angry as he demands the exact story again, and again, and again, until Dustin finally tells him he can't go through it anymore. Dustin was there, but why? How? How did he live and Eddie didn't? Nothing makes sense and it's not fair.

As the days pass, anger sits heavy in Gareth's chest. He doesn't even try to play his drums even though his mom insists it might help. Eddie's uncle hugs him at the small service they hold for him, something secret because half the town still thinks he was a murderer. They don't even have a body to bury, but Wayne insisted all his friends come by his new trailer for some lunch and to listen to the music he liked.

It's a nice sentiment and everyone is there to support Wayne, who is barely hiding his pain.

That night is the first night Gareth has a nightmare.

He chalks it up to the anger and sadness of the day before, and goes about his business. He meets up with Frankie to talk about Hellfire's future. He doesn't even want to continue, but he knows Eddie would be pissed if they didn't.

Then he has another nightmare. Eddie with black eyes, claws, ripping and tearing the ground, fighting to reach someone.

He tries to chalk it up to his discussions of DnD the day before, but it's hard to explain how real it felt.

They try to have band practice and it doesn't work. They just aren't Corroded Coffin without him.

He has another nightmare.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. He's not angry anymore. He's determined.

It's only two in the morning, but he's banging on Dustin's door. Dustin's mom is working nights at the hospital so Dustin answers in flannel pajamas, looking just as tired as Gareth feels.

"He isn't dead."

Dustin blinks at him. "Have you been having the nightmares too?"

"He's not Eddie, but he's not dead."

Dustin pulls him inside, slams the door closed, and rushes out of sight. He's back before Gareth can even consider following him holding a radio and a walkie.

"The hell are you doing?" Gareth asks. Is he still asleep? Maybe he's sleepwalking and dreaming.

"Code red," Dustin says into the walkie.

Gareth expects silence, and he thinks he should call his mom because now he's finally lost it.

But then there's noise, Lucas and Mike come through the line, a girl's voice he doesn't recognize, Steve Harrington for some reason? What is happening?

"We have to get down there."

Down where? Gareth slaps his own face to make sure he's awake.

Dustin looks at him like he's grown two heads. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I know we all joked Eddie was going to hell, but I don't think they have visiting hours down there?" Gareth feels like he's losing it. This is an obvious fact, right?

"It's not hell, dude." Dustin turns back to the walkie as Steve says something about picking everyone up and meeting at some cabin. "Did you drive here?"

Gareth points to himself. "Me?"

"No, the other guy in my living room at two in the morning."

"Dude, your attitude." Gareth sighs. "Yeah, I drove here."

"He's gonna drive me," Dustin says into the walkie. "See you all in 20."

"Who are we seeing? Why are we going to Steve Harrington's house? What's happening?"

"I can explain when we get there."

And he does.

They arrive before Steve gets back with everyone, but Dustin has a key to his house apparently, so he lets them in. He knew Steve used to babysit Dustin, but he didn't think they kept in contact still.

Dustin makes him sit down-- never a good sign-- and starts to talk a million miles an hour about another universe, monsters, impossible things like mind powers and government secrets. He's pretty sure he isn't supposed to know any of this, but he's not gonna say a damn thing to anyone. No one would believe him anyway. He's not sure he even believes Dustin.

"So...what? Eddie might be alive in this other Downside place?"

"He wasn't when we escaped, but-"

"But he could be?"

Dustin looks nervous as he nods. "It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen."

"Clearly."

He sits quietly while everyone else arrives and starts devising a plan. He doesn't really involve himself in anything until the end, when Harrington asks if he's coming with them or staying behind.

He's too angry to stay behind. He wants to kill this Vecna guy himself.

It's worse than he thought when he gets down there. Up there? There.

Everyone seems to silently agree, just from the look of sheer panic on all their faces. For people who have dealt with this multiple times, you'd think they could hold it together better. Maybe they're just worried they're wrong.

Steve leads them to what looks like Eddie's trailer before it got destroyed and torn down. It's covered in vines and black mold and it occurs to Gareth they probably shouldn't go inside.

They go inside.

It's musty and decaying, just like everything else down here. Gareth hears Will and Mike arguing about something behind him, while Dustin is telling everyone to shut up.

He looks where Dustin's looking.

Eddie isn't dead. He definitely isn't Eddie.

Vecna is standing behind him, using him as a semi-human shield. Gareth can't look away from the sharp teeth and claws, the dark eyes, the fucking wings. He has fucking wings!

And Vecna is ugly, part of the rot surrounding them. Gareth steps forward, ready to help Steve and Robin and Nancy and the other semi-adults that took the lead on this.

He's only 16, but he misses Eddie. He's angry. That's enough for him to be useful.

He's holding a sword, something Dustin got from a ren faire last fall. It's surprisingly hefty, durable, strong.

He just has to be strong enough to use it.

He lets every last bit of the wrath he feels surge through him as Steve yells the code word they agreed on. Eddie is frozen in place, but they work around him. Gareth swings his sword and beheads Vecna. Like it's nothing at all.

It's enough.

Vecna dies. Eddie lives.

Gareth isn't angry anymore.

[bigassmoonchild]

Hoops

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: None of your squad was ready to be a part of a mission. You knew they weren't, they were just kids who were getting ready for a life of misery. So you went instead. Missions never go right with the 141, and as much as Simon didn't want you to join you had to. It seemed you couldn't stray from an argument with him for too long.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Missions Gone Wrong, Mentions of dead bodies, Medical Inaccuracies, Arguments, Simon Realizing His Feelings For You, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: Here it is! Chapter 9 of Maple Syrup! I would've thought you guys would prefer the smut, but it almost seems like you like the angst more?? Here y'all go, enjoy! As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"Is anybody on your training squad ready to be placed in a mission yet?" You sighed deeply, running your hands down your face. Shaking your head, you looked up at the man leading the operation. You didn't know his name, and quite honestly you didn't want to.

He looked away, thinking. "My last squad? Maybe there would've been one person strong enough for it, but this one? They didn't even know how to go about placing a tourniquet, let alone stitching someone up on the battlefield," you told him. You didn't want to be sitting here, busy with trying to make sure you didn't send any of your squad out too soon to be ready for the actual fight.

All you wanted was to be curled up in your nest, trying to figure out where the hell Simon had run off to this time. For the last two weeks Simon had seemingly disappeared, not even having lunch or dinner with you.

"Do you think that you're capable of going on this mission?"

"I'm not allowed on missions anymore, I thought?" You were appalled. Stunned. You hadn't ever thought of returning to the field, not since you'd become mated. "Aren't there a bunch of hoops to jump through if you wanted to have me return to the field?"

He shrugged. "I have enough of a reputation that I'd be more than capable of getting this through the hoops," he told you.

The next morning, as you were just about to take a sip of the coffee you had oh so carefully made, the door slammed open and made you jump, spilling it just between your legs. You stared at the coffee splattered on the floor before looking up.

Simon. You went to talk, opening your mouth to say something when he interrupted. "You're not going on that mission," your brows furrowed. Of all things he could've fucking said to you, for the first time in weeks, that's what he chose?

"I don't recall you having a say, considering you come and go in my life," you snapped at him. He looked almost taken aback at your words. "When you finally make a decision about whether you want to be in my life or not, then you'll get a say in these things," you told him.

He looked away, closing his eyes tightly before opening them and staring at you. "Last time I checked I was your Alpha,"

"Last time I checked an Alpha didn't abandon his Omega because he wasn't good at talking," you snapped, standing up. "Now, if you'd ever so kindly leave, I have work to do. If you come back, I'm expecting an apology, explanation or both," you pointed at the door.

Mouth agape, he stared at you, blinking rapidly. You pointed at the door again and he turned, not looking back as he walked out and shut the door softly.

You sat down, hands holding your head as you gave little gasps, trying to breathe through the panic you felt. Tears were dripping through from your eyes, throat burning.

Jesus fucking Christ, Simon Riley was going to be the death of you.

Being back in a plane was a little unsettling, even if you had gone through a quick two-week training session, to get you back up to speed, they said. They taught you basic combat skills, got you comfortable with simple weaponry. Made you a soldier, at least once again.

The bumping of bodies together because of how close everyone was. You could feel the weight of the gun you were holding and the packs you were holding, filled with medical supplies.

People were speaking loudly, some through their radios and some just between each other. You could see Soap and Price sitting just across from you, Price leaned in to listen to what Soap had been saying. Ghost and Gaz were on the other flight, with another squad who had another medic.

The flight shook, tremoring with the turbulence, shaking like you almost felt like you were. Your hands were grasping at the straps holding you in place, and you saw Price press into his radio to be heard on the team channel.

"Alpha Team, drop in 5, be ready," he spoke and you nodded at them, listening to a few others give their affirmatives. The plane shook, you could hear from inside the shots it was taking. Hopefully, it would remain intact enough to get you to the landing point and be okay to extract you if need be.

Alarms began blaring, people stood and moved, seeming to try and run away. You stood yourself, glancing over at Price and Soap to try and figure it out.

"We're jump-" Black. Everything was black and as you came to it felt like your body was on fire. Everything hurt and you could feel that sticky wetness covering parts of you. You moved your fingers and toes, trying to make sure nothing was wrong.

As you sat up, you looked around, feeling for your in-ear mic. It was there and you smacked at it a few times before it turned back on, albeit slightly staticky.

"-nyone there? I repeat, is anyone there?" Gaz?

"I'm here, we went down," you spoke, struggling to your feet as you looked around. "I'm going around to find any survivors or see if people are dead, send for extraction. I'll let you know the injured count," you tossed some rubble off of a person, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing. The next person was cut through the abdomen, their eyes glossy as they stared into the smoking sky. From what you could see on his uniform, he was just a boy.

The next person was blinking up at you, their leg sliced all the way through, nothing but flesh and blood splattering it. You slid on a tourniquet, giving the soldier a small smile and some reassurances.

You hadn't been out for too long, you'd realized. If that soldier was still alive, even with a lost limb, it had been seconds or minutes at most. You reached for you mic before hearing a voice.

"Sit still, I'm coming to give you backup," Ghost. You shook your head, crawling through more debris as you found Soap.

"You're going to want to bring as many people that know how to treat severe wounds," you told him. For what seemed like seconds, you worked to stitch up the major wounds on Soap, closing up an artery.

When you found Price, you became horrified. There was rubble covering him, his body limp, blood surrounding him. You moved to pull the rubble off of him, unable to do it because of the weight. Instead, you jumped to stitch up the wounds you could see, listening to the calls of Ghost and the others.

"Over here!" You shouted at them, waving your flashlight. When they were finally able to get there, you started ordering people around. "I need at least two people helping me search and fixing people up. Price is here, someone needs to get the rubble off of him," you watched as Ghost and Gaz pulled the rubble off, moving it away and you jumped in to tourniquet the wound.

With each stitch, you could feel yourself falling more and more into fear. His artery was almost severed, and you needed to spend more time on him. You looked up and found Ghost hovering over you.

"How far out is extraction?"

"Few minutes, maybe 10 max,"

"They need to get here faster, or there are going to be a lot of deaths," you told him, watching as he reached for an actual radio, talking into it and nodding. He'd ended up getting them to arrive not five minutes later, their speeds picking up with the knowledge that there were survivors.

As you boarded the flight with the worst of the wounded, which ended up being a young girl not too much younger than yourself, you watched Ghost fight his way on. He stood in the corner as you ordered the people around and trying to fix her up.

He watched, intently, as you moved in your natural habitat. He could see the blood pooling down the back of your head, as much as you tried to ignore it.

When you moved too quick around a corner, you had to catch yourself to keep from passing out. Lightheaded, you stood trying to bring your vision back from tunneling. There was nothing short of panic in your body as you turned to say something, vision fully blacking out before you felt yourself falling.

Your head was throbbing when you came back to, the bright lights burning your eyes as you opened them. You could smell fear and stress all nearly fully coating the tobacco, leather and little hints of smoke from the last mission. You lifted your head as much as you could, glancing over to where the scent was strongest.

"Are you finally back to deciding I'm worth being in your life?" You whispered, voice hoarse from all the screaming. You could hear Simon sigh heavily, a groan coming from his throat.

"Can we please do this another time? You nearly died," he whispered the last part, moving closer to you. You shook your head vigorously, trying to bite your tongue to keep from snapping at him.

You looked at him. "I've told you already. I can't do this up and down with you, this back and forth. It's ruining me," you whispered, feeling your eyes watering. He shook his head, cupping his face in his hands. "Either you figure out how to talk to me, or we get rid of this," you watched as he rubbed his eyes, you could smell the distress and sadness overtaking his scent.

He looked up. "I don't know how to do anything but retreat," he whispered to you. Shaking your head, you looked up at the ceiling. Glancing at him shortly, you had to close your eyes.

"Then you need to leave until you can figure out what it is you want," you told him, hearing him stand and the door opening and shut. With him went his scent, the only thing you could smell was the distress and hurt.

You could feel the tears pouring down your cheeks, your knees bending in an attempt to curl in on yourself. It had felt like hours until your tears dried, your chest hurting and the little gasps you gave out slowly became hiccups. It slowly turned to little breaths, your eyes blinking slowly as you stared to the side.

It took about a week until you were released, the concussion having healed through the week, large bruises and scrapes were slowly healing, a few stitches scattered on your body. You found yourself in your room, the area feeling too clean for your opinion.

The nest had lost its scent, leaving you to re-make it with materials that were better scented.

You took out the one last hoodie of Simons.

The not knowing was what hurt the most. Not knowing if Simon was going to keep you as his mate, not knowing if he was going to try and help himself and help you.

With a deep breath, you started a bath. Your thoughts would be the end of you, and you needed to take some time to just not think. Maybe have an orgasm or two, by your own hands this time.

Simon left. He just completely left the compound when you had made your comments to him, still lying on that bed and slightly bloody. Hair a mess, mud (or blood) splattering it. He put in his leave request the minute he left your hospital room and then booking a flight home.

Home. What a strange concept. Was home just a building, the place you laid your head down to rest at night? Was is the place that you went to when you had nowhere else to go?

Was it a person?

Simon didn't know. He didn't want to know, to be completely honest, and all he could do was run. Just like he always did. Either way, Simon needed a minute to think about everything that happened. Everything he did, everything you did and the things that were caught in his mind.

He hadn't even told Price he left, not yet at least. Not to his face. Sure, he left the note, but Price had been off doing things when he went there.

There was nothing that was good when he got into his apartment. The area smelled stalely of him, and he felt this weird sense of longing lodge into his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, he had never felt something like that, at least not for a long time.

Little whines escaped from his chest, and all he could think about was the scent that was missing. The voice that was missing, the person who was missing.

You. You were missing, his little Omega who was oh so good when he had you. Who was oh so patient with him, the little Omega who gave him love. He didn't want anything short of you, even a little pup or two. Make yourself a pack, create a life with you.

And the only thing Simon could think about was getting back to you. It eventually turned into trying to think about how he would explain everything to you, how he would tell you everything. Give you an explanation, no matter the hoops he would have to jump through.

You deserved it.

Next

Taglist:

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar

(I definitely forgot to add the taglist for my initial post, but I added it only minutes after posting)

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 10

“the lone moose”

A/N: disclaimer before we get into this chapter, this is a very emotionally/mentally heavy chapter that might not be suitable for everyone. The main topic of this chapter and the next is focused around Joel’s attempted suicide and Tommy’s C-PTSD. This content maybe triggering for some, and if that is the case, please do not read if you feel triggered. Warnings will be marked appropriately. Take care of yourselves first. And as always, a huge thanks to my beta @angelofsmalldeath-codeine 🤍

~word count: 6.9k~

Summary: the wolves of Jackson are lurking

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: !DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! thoughts of suicide, semi-graphic depictions of attempted suicide, brief moment of stigmatizing suicide (Tommy’s reaction) canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of an injury, semi-graphic depictions of childloss (and the trauma that comes with it) angst, grief, guilt, anxiety, heavy topics, anger, overwhelming emotions, C-PTSD responses, fear responses, no age gap, readers nicknames is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors DNI! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!

Slow Hands Masterlist

Two days had passed since Joel and Ellie took the steps together to make up. Joel already had a visible pep in his step, and a lightness in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in his brother for over 20 years. Joel’s back still ached, but the pain was subdued.

Patrol was long and uneventful. The two brothers only had a handful of evidence gathered to present to Maria, but neither would give up hope. After untacking Tex and Timber, Joel and Tommy turned both horses out in one of pastures just outside the stables. Tess was grazing alongside the fence when Timber and Tex went to greet her.

A wave of melancholy washed over his features as he watched Tex and Tess nuzzle one another affectionately. He thought of you, of course.

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy asked alongside him with his arms resting along the wooden fence. “Y’wanna have a drink with me real quick at the Tipsy Bison before y’head home?” He rasped softly.

“I’d love to, but I promised Ellie we’d have a movie night tonight. Can’t go and let her down, y’know? How about tomorrow?” Joel suggested with a grin.

“Ah, movie night with the kiddo. Hey, I think that’s great that y’all are movin’ forward. Tomorrow sounds good.” Tommy responded with a genuine smile. It was a relief that he and Joel were growing close again. He missed his brother terribly.

“Yeah, and Beanie as well. I let Ellie pick out the movie. Think she said we were gonna watch Curtis and Viper 2.” Joel stifled a chuckle as he glanced down at the toe of his boots.

“Aw shit, that’s a good one! Well, you enjoy yourself, okay? Adios, big brother. See ya in the mornin.’” Tommy reached over and gave Joel a side hug before he pushed himself off the fence.

“See ya in the mornin, Tommy.” Joel mumbled to himself with a smile slowly creeping over his lips. Truthfully, he was rather excited for this movie night with you and Ellie. He couldn’t picture a better way to spend his evening than with his two favorite girls.

“Hey, Tex? Y’keep a good eye on your gal tonight. Y’hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’, pal.” He spoke softly as his horse lifted his head from where he was grazing. He let out a snort in response as his tail swished away at the pesky flies.

The weight of Tommy’s letter in Joel’s pocket felt ten times heavier than when Joel first had written it. He thought about making a quick pit stop at the Tipsy Bison to give it to him, but tomorrow was a new day. He’d give the letter to Tommy first thing in the morning.

Ellie’s carved wooden fawn was tucked away in the inside pocket of his flannel. He brought it on patrol to show Tommy, and because he liked having a piece of his baby girl with him. Tonight he’d give her the gift, and to you, his precious star, something that twinkled like the night sky; matching charm bracelets. Two golden hearts dangling from the chains. Appearing brand new, untouched. The names Peggy carved into one, and Steve into the other. Lovers from the past, and now lovers in the present.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on your pretty face when he would present the bracelet to you. He said one last goodbye to the horses. He’d pass by your home en route to his own as he usually did every evening after patrol. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a figure looming in the distance. He squinted his eyes through the harsh rays of the setting sun. He approached the figure with cautious steps.

As far as he was concerned, no one ever hung around your home like this. It raised suspicions immediately. His boots crunched under loose dirt as the figure stopped their pacing and seemed to pause in thought.

“Cody?” Joel’s tone ran cold, edged with a sharp suspicion as his footsteps stopped a foot away. A balmy breeze sifted through his salt and pepper streaked tendrils.

The younger man looked around for a moment as the gears in Joel’s brain began to work on overdrive. He knew Cody, or so he thought. He believed Cody was a good man. They shared many meals, conversations—

“Have y’seen Beanie around by chance?” Cody asked casually as he ignored the obvious suspicion that Joel was facing.

Joel’s hackles raised on instinct as he watched Cody lean up against your fence with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Haven’t seen her since this mornin.’” Joel responded flatly. He knew right then and there that he had to play this cool for the time being. He didn’t need Cody knowing that he was onto him.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway, old man.” Cody muttered the last bit as he turned on his heel to walk away.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ around her place anyway? Y’know I could have you—”

“Reported? Yeah, sure you can. What would you even report me for, Miller? Cody scoffed. “All you had to do was not get yourself involved. Coulda just kept your nose out of things, but that’s not how you play your game, right?” He turned to face the older man once more just as a distinctive crash was heard from inside of your home.

Joel moved quickly, but Cody was quicker. Stronger, and trigger happy.

Cody was pouncing on the older man like a predator does to their prey. They tousled in the dusty dirt before Cody had him pinned down. His fists rained down on Joel’s face and the pained groans only seemed to spur Cody on further.

“Just had to go and get yourself involved with that fuckin’ cunt, huh?!”

Joel tried to fold his arms over his head to block out the swift punches to his face. Cody was ruthless, and Joel wasn’t as strong as he once was. Years ago he would have snapped Cody like a toothpick, but his age was beginning to catch up with him and this was the result.

Through gritted teeth Joel attempted to use his weight to throw Cody off of him, but it was no use. “I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of you. I’ll rip you limb from fuckin’ limb and scatter your remains to the wolves—”He growled.

“Yeah? And how do you propose you’re gonna do that, Joel? Y’ain’t the one with the upper hand here, old man! You’re not takin’ this from me! Imagine how proud he’ll be when I not only bring in the moose, but your precious Beanie too.” He sneered conceitedly.

That’s all Joel needed to get a second wind of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He growled between his teeth as he used what little remaining strength he had left to force Cody off of him. He was reaching for his concealed pistol tucked in his belt loop under his shirt, when Cody kicked it from his grasp just as the two men inside of your home came rushing out.

“Jesus! fuck, Cody! What the hell are you doin?’ This wasn’t part of the plan!” The one man, a burly fellow with scarred tissue from third degree burns that covered nearly half of the left side of his face yelled urgently. Through the rushing of blood, and pain stabbing every inch of Joel’s face, he recognized this man too. He recognized the man next to him as well, smaller in stature, but stocky. Alex and Oliver.

“Fuck the plan! I’m not gonna waste this opportunity!” He sent the heel of his boot right into Joel’s gut causing him to double over into the crimson speckled dirt with a pain ridden grunt. “Well?!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Was she in there or not?!”

Alex and Oliver slowly looked over at one another before their shoulders simultaneously slumped inward. “No, but—”

“FUCK!” Cody snarled out of sheer frustration. He couldn’t let him down. He was told he couldn’t show up empty handed. It wasn’t an option.

Just as Joel’s fingers weakly grasped the handle of his pistol, that lay only a short arms distance away, Cody sent his boot right into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound of bone matter and cartilage being crushed as Joel’s body stilled. He was knocked out cold from the impact as blood leaked down his face and soaked into the dusty earth beneath him.

Neither men moved as Cody began to pace in contemplation. He paid no mind to the consequences he would face for his actions.

“Cody, we need to get the fuck outta town right fuckin’ now! If anyone sees—”

“And show up empty handed?! Fuck no.”

“Cody, she wasn’t there. We have no fuckin’ clue where she could be. C’mon, let’s just go back and regroup before someone shows up and finds Joel layin’ in a pool of his own blood.”

Cody ignored his counterparts as he continued to pace in a tight circle. He suddenly stopped when the lightbulb went off in his sick mind. He turned towards the two men, with a smirk that could only be described as sinister, “Angie.”

Ellie was curled up against your body with her cheek pressed gently into your shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards the windows in the family room. She watched the last bit of sunlight dip behind the horizon as a warm summer breeze blew through the beige curtains.

Joel should have been home by now.

She waited with alert ears for the sound of the front door to squeak open any minute now. It never came.

She shifted against you before your gazes met. “Beanie, he should have been home by now.”

You understood full heartedly that this movie night was important to Ellie. This was the first time that she and Joel were going to be spending some quality time together after everything they had gone through. This was a big deal.

“Kiddo, I’m sure he’s on his way now. Maybe he and Tommy just got caught up in something?” You wanted to reassure her and yourself that Joel was in fact on his way, and maybe he was just running late.

“Beanie..he—promised. What if he’s ditchin’ me? God, this was so stupid.” She went to bury her hands in her face, but you stopped her.

“Ellie, he’s not ditching you. He would never do that to you. He loves you. I’m sure he’s just running late is all.” Your own fears began to crawl up into your subconscious. What if something was wrong? What if something had happened?

Ellie wanted to believe you, she really did, but her own fears were making an appearance as well. It didn’t help the fact that her last conversation with Joel had been about his suspicions of Lucas..

“I’m gonna go check the stables, okay? You stay here. Lock the doors.” Ellie was up from her spot on the couch before you could even attempt to stop her.

“Ellie,” you started, voice wavering from the building nerves, “be careful, okay?”

The teen looked over at you with a small, yet confident grin, “Always am.” Her face twisted back to a serious one as she tucked her gun in her hoodie pocket. Joel surely would have scolded her if he had seen it.

You listened to the soft click of the door opening and closing. Your eyes drifted over to the unoccupied spot on the couch where one of the pillows was smashed down. Joel’s spot. .

Please. Please just be running late.

Please be okay, Joel.

Tommy found himself reminiscing on the good ole days as he nursed his glass of beer. Condensation dripped down the outside of the glass like tear drops on cheeks. The noisy chatter that encircled him was drowned out by his thoughts. Joel had always been the protector, the planner, the guardian. And as a young boy, Tommy viewed Joel as his hero. His own beacon of light through the darkness. And when Sarah died? It all changed. He was angry. At the world. At himself. And now, here in this peaceful community, he was getting to see those small glimpses of the old Joel that had laid dormant for so many years.

The Joel that he knew and loved so deeply.

He left his glass half empty as he said his goodbyes to some of the patrol guys, and the barkeep before he walking towards the door.

He was heading in the direction of the home he shared with Maria when he noticed a mass laying just outside your home. He thought that his brain was playing a cruel trick on him, and the approaching dusk might have also played a role in what he was seeing.

Gravel and dirt particles crunched beneath his heavy boots as he started his approach. As he drew nearer, he was able to make out the outline of a body. And, oh—god

Tommy remembers the moment he heard the shot ring through Joel’s house as if it had happened just yesterday. While he gathered supplies in the garage, his big brother was upstairs with the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple.

How could Tommy not have known? How could he have missed the signs? The indications that Joel was thinking of taking a drastic measure to end his life. How could he have missed it?

“Joel!” A younger Tommy Miller yelled in fear. He threw down the tool box in a haste. Tools of all shapes and sizes clattered to the concrete in a harsh crescendo.

“Joel! Please, no. Please.” He chanted weakly under his breath as his feet carried him up the staircase. He stumbled on the top step as a wave of nausea made its presence known.

“Joel!” He yelled again, more desperately than the last. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother so soon. He couldn’t. Not when just days ago they laid Sarah to rest. He couldn’t do this without Joel.

Sweat pooled at the back of his neck the closer he drew to the ajar opening of Sarah’s bedroom. He held onto the wall for support as his knees began to inevitably buckle from the dread crawling up his throat.

“Joel.” He croaked, “please. Please be alive in there.”

With a shaky breath, and through a mess of tears, Tommy pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door.

“I missed.” Joel murmured in disbelief. Disappointed that he couldn’t just do one thing fucking right. He couldn’t just follow through with his promise. His final wish to be with his daughter. His baby girl.

His palms trembled as his dull brown eyes flitted down to the revolver still in his grasp. He paid no mind to the blood slowly trickling from the right side of his head. Just a graze. Missed completely.

“Joel, what the fuck did you do that for?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, yell, all of the above? “You’re bleedin’, brother.”

“Oh.” Joel responded flatly. He brought his fingers up towards the right side of his head. He hardly flinched when his fingertips dragged through the flowing blood. He brought his hand back down to his eye level, fingers soaked in crimson. Then, the ringing started. Tommy’s voice started to sound fuzzy from the right side. “I flinched, Tommy. Thought I could do it. I was so sure—”

“Joel. Stop it, please.” Tommy nearly begged his brother as he cautiously moved in closer.

“I wanted to die, Tommy. I ain’t have anythin’ left to live for.” He refused to make eye contact with his brother purely out of shame.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—” His words were bitter, jaded, sharpened with intent to harm. “I fuckin’ need you, Joel. I need my big brother to keep us alive. Is he still in there?” He pointed to Joel’s chest, symbolizing his heart.

When Joel finally brought his chin upwards to face his brother, the look on his sunken features shattered Tommy right down to the core. A broken man, father, brother. The same man that helped Tommy with his homework. The same man that taught him how to ride a bike. The same man that Tommy viewed as his hero. Where was he now?

“He died along with her.”

“Joel!” Tommy felt his voice get lodged in his throat at the sight of his older brother laying motionless in the crimson stained dirt. Panic began to swell and fester like an untreated wound the second his eyes landed on Joel’s handgun just an arms length away.

“No. No. Please— what happened, Joel!” He sank to his knees alongside him. “We were just—talkin’ about how much you were lookin’ forward to the movie night with Ellie and Beanie, remember? You said that you would see me in the mornin’, dammit!” He yelled, slamming one of his fists in the dirt before he took a shaky inhale. “Remember?”

He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? The thought flashed through his mind briefly. He remembered finding Joel in a pool of his own blood after Sarah died. Tommy brushed away strands of Joel’s hair that were congealed together with blood. His brows furrowed intently when he found there was no bullet hole in Joel’s skull before he pressed his middle and pointer finger right against Joel’s pulse point.

Please. Please. Please still be in there, Joel.

When the faintest pulse was detected, Tommy let out a visible sound of relief. His big brother was alive, but Tommy knew he had to act fast.

“S’alright, big brother. You’re alright. Gonna get you fixed up.” He murmured to himself just as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Tommy?..” It was Ellie. Her voice wavered at the sight of her uncle and father on the ground. “J—Joel?!” Her eyes were wide with oncoming tears brimming when she locked in on Joel’s unmoving body.

“Tommy, wh—what the fuck happened?!” She blinked away her tears just as Tommy stood up from the ground. “Is he fuckin’ dead, Tommy?!”

“Ellie, I don’t know what happened. I was on my way home and—found him like this. He’s alive, kiddo. He’s alive, but we gotta get him to doc right away.” Tommy never felt like he was all that great at taking on the protective role, but his niece needed his comfort and reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Ellie wasn’t listening to a word Tommy was saying. All she could focus on was Joel’s bloodied face and still body. Her emotions were consuming her entirely before she felt Tommy’s warm embrace wrapping her up. She let her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him for dear life.

“Ellie, I know you’re scared, kiddo. But I need ya to be strong for me, and for Joel. We gotta get him to doc right now. I need you to help me carry him okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s gonna be just fine. Your old man has always been a fighter.”

She squeezed her uncle tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She wiped what remained of her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ll—I’ll take his legs?” She questioned rather than suggested. Seeing Joel like this, bloodied, weak, on the verge of—

“Ellie, he’ll be okay.” Tommy firmly reassured her again. He bent down over his brother and gently hoisted him up under his armpits while Ellie lifted him up by his legs.

Joel felt like dead weight, but his brother and daughter’s determination helped them power through the dull ache and strain in their muscles.

Tommy hated hospitals just as much, if not more than his brother did. The pungent stench of bleach, the droning hum from the overhead fluorescent lights. It was unappealing, cold, and overall a dreadful experience. But out of all of the late night visits to the ER after another bar fight, this by far was the worst of all to see his brother unconscious, dried blood crusted on his skin. Yet appearing peaceful while Doc checked his vitals and any signs of internal injuries

Ellie was seated next to her uncle nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her leg was bouncing up and down frantically, until Tommy gently placed his palm over her knee in an attempt to soothe her.

“Well, he might have a bit of bruisin’ to his ribs, and his nose is definitely broken, but it’ll heal. There’s a chance he might be concussed, but I won’t know that for certain until he wakes up.” Doc said while tucking his clipboard under his armpit.

“I’ll stay here till he wakes up. Don’t want him wakin’ up alone.” Tommy said with a slight nod in Doc’s direction.

“I’m staying, too.” Ellie was defiant, of course. It was in her nature, and she couldn’t fathom not being by her dads side—

“Ellie, I’m gonna go and find someone to walk you home, okay? One of the guys on patrol..maybe a couple, given the circumstances.” He needed to make sure his niece got home in one piece, first and foremost.

Ellie clenched her fists, lips pressed tightly together as her eyes met Tommy’s in an intense stare. He could see residue of dried tears on her cheeks, and fresh ones beginning to brew like an oncoming storm. “Tommy,” she started, voice low, yet stern. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving him. I’m not. You can’t—”

“Ellie, I know you want to stay here with him too, but somethin’ about this ain’t right. You and I both know that there’s been some suspicious activity happenin’ as of late. Joel is goin’ to be okay, kiddo. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Her lower lip wobbled under the bright fluorescent light. She wanted to be angry at her uncle for telling her what she needed to do, but he was right, and there really wasn’t another second to waste. “Don’t you dare even think of leavin’ his side, Tommy. Don’t you dare.” She wiped her eyes along the back of her hand before making the final decision to get up from where she was sitting.

“I won’t, kiddo. I promise.” Tommy reassured her.

She walked over to the right side of the bed where Joel was lying and gently ran her fingers through a few stray curls that were stuck to his forehead. Dried sweat, dirt, and blood littered his hair and face. She leaned down, whispering something while she pressed her lips to his temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

Please don’t die.

Tommy left the room to give Ellie a bit of privacy. He flagged down a nurse in the hallway and quickly explained that he needed someone to ensure Ellie safely got home. It was decided that two patrol members would escort her home.

When Tommy returned, he was with Jesse and Liam waiting outside the open doorway.

“Ellie?”

Her head snapped in the direction of Tommy’s voice as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“Jesse and Liam are gonna make sure you get home safe. Okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” She muttered. Agreeing with her uncle didn’t mean that she had to act happy about it. Despite her feelings, she made a point to hug her uncle before she left the room.

Don’t leave him. She reminded him.

Sunlight warms his skin, birds chirping in the high treetops, a soft breeze rustles through his hair, kissing his temple. He knows this place, where he stands. It’s—

“baby girl?” He chokes out, stumbling forward in an uncoordinated motion.

She’s there. She’s alive. She’s got daisies in her curls.

“Dad?”

He nearly drops to his knees right at the spot where he and Tommy dug her grave all those years ago. He stops in his tracks as she turns around to face him. She’s wearing the same clothes that she died in, except there’s no blood. No bullet wounds. She’s untouched. Bright, glowing under the rays of sunlight.

“Are you really here? C-can I hold you? Are those daisies in your hair? Baby girl, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble past his lips like an avalanche of word vomit. His heart lurches in his chest, leaping from the confines of his ribcage.

Sarah’s feet carry her swiftly to her father before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m really here, dad.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Joel’s arms wrap around her immediately, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he can, he’s trembling, tears blurring his vision, dripping down his cheeks and landing softly on her head of curls. He pulls away only to gently cradle her face in his strong, calloused, gentle hands.

She’s here. She’s alive. His baby girl.

“Dad..you—you remembered our favorite spot?” Her smile is beautiful, radiant, full of life.

“Of course I did. Our hikes, the fresh air. We—we loved it out here. I—I never forgot. Baby girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I—I think about you everyday. I’m so sorry. I miss you..I miss you so much.”

Her hands come to rest against the patches of his now graying beard. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize. I’m okay, I’m happy. I miss you too, dad. I miss you so much, but Ellie, she needs you. I’ll always wait for you, I promise. I’m always going to be right here.” She drops one of her hands from his face to then point to his heart. “I’m always with you.”

His face falls as his thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones. He’s not ready to leave, not yet. Not so soon. Too soon. He needs more time. Time. Time. Time.

Ellie.

“You—you would have loved her, baby girl. She reminds me so much of you. Her smile, her laugh. I see you in her. She’s—she’s my blessing. My second chance..my light in the darkness.” He sniffles, leaning down so he can press his lips to her forehead.

“And she needs you more than ever now, dad. She needs you. You have to forgive yourself, okay? Please promise me that one day, you will forgive yourself, dad. Promise me.”

“I promise you, baby girl. I promise. Daddy loves you, okay? He loves you so much.” There’s so much more he wants to say, so much more he wants to tell her, but there’s not enough time. He knows it.

“Dad, I love you so much. Tell Tommy I miss him too, okay? I’ll see you again one day, when the time is right.” She hugs him one last time as he buries his face into her mess of curls, holding in his sobs as more tears begin to fall.

“When the time is right, baby girl.” He murmurs.

—

“Well, brother. Guess it’s jus’ you and me now, huh?” Tommy wants to laugh, but he can’t. His emotions are all fucked. Everything is so fucked.

“That kid of yours really loves the hell outta ya. You’re like two feral cats.” He continues, forcing himself to stand and walk over to his brother's bedside. “And I know how much you love her.” He murmurs as he glances down at the nightstand where the contents of Joel’s pockets are laid out.

The two charm bracelets, the wood carving of a fawn for Ellie, and a folded piece of paper now tarnished with blood and debris.

“One of these for Beanie?” He asks while gently picking up one of the charm bracelets. “I’m so happy you listened to my advice and went to her coffee shop. I jus’ had this feelin’ that you two would hit it off.”

“You love her, huh? Like..really love her? I’m glad, Joel. I’m glad that you’re finally allowin’ yourself to love, and be loved. If anyone in this fucked up world deserves that, it’s you.”

He sets down the charm bracelet alongside the other before he picks up the wood carved fawn. One of the delicate ears had broken off during the fight, but it was fixable. “Ellie is going to love this when she sees it. You’ve always been..a giver, Joel.. Always thinkin’ of others before yourself. Puttin’ your heart out on the line. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so grateful that you met Ellie when you did. You saved her, but she saved you just as much. Turned that cold heart of yours into somethin’ good again.”

He placed the fawn down gently before he eyed the folded piece of paper. “Y’still writin’ those letters? Have they been helpin?’ Y’know, I thought about writin’ a couple myself.”

Something in his gut tells him that this letter..is meant for him.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat as he reached for the piece of paper and picked it up with trembling fingers. He sees his name written on the outside, and his vision goes blurry with tears. “You..were gonna give this to me tomorrow when we said we were gonna meet at the Tipsy Bison?”

He slowly sinks down along the side of the bed, unfolds the letter and begins to read it silently.

Tommy, this is the third letter I have written thus far, so hopefully this comes across the way I have intended it to. Ever since we were just two little boys scraping our knees up on the playground, telling each other secrets, and holding each other tight when mom and dad would argue into the odd hours of the night, I always found myself being protective over you. I ain’t even sure if it had anything to do with age, and more to do with the fact that it’s been instilled in me since birth that I'm a natural protector. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

I’ve never told anyone this, but the day you told me that you wanted to join the army, and make a difference in the world, I wept. I soaked my pillow with my tears that very same evening cus’ I realized I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were eighteen, and ready to take on the world. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to go, and I know that war changed you. I know what it did to you, and you were no longer the little boy hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightning. You were molded into a man right before my eyes, but you’ve always been my little brother, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.

I know you blame yourself for the night that we lost Sarah. I still remember the grief in your eyes. You tried so hard. So fuckin’ hard, and I’m so sorry for what I became after she died.

A stray teardrop fell along the thin paper as the word ‘died’ began to blur from the sudden moisture.

You literally had to pry her cold body from my arms because I refused to let go. Even when we dug her a shallow grave near the woods she loved to hike in, you had to stop me from crawling into that goddamn hole with her.

24 hours. 1 day since the outbreak. 1 day without his baby girl

“She’ll be happy here, Joel. She gets to rest in her favorite place.” Tommy murmured as he set the shovels down next to the grass covered earth that would soon be dug up to create a shallow grave for Sarah to finally be laid to rest. The younger Miller brother hid his grieving behind a stoic face. He didn’t want Joel to see how much pain he was in. He wanted to be the strong one for once in his life, especially since he blamed himself for Sarah's death. If only he had been there sooner. If only he had acted quicker, maybe she would still be alive.

Joel was unmoving as he held his deceased daughter, who had long since grown cold and stiff in his arms. She was wrapped in a sheet, as Joel couldn’t bear to see her unmoving eyes any longer. He had shed his last tears, as he watched his brother begin to dig a shallow grave. As the minutes ticked by, Joel was realizing that after Sarah was to be buried, he no longer would be a father, and the thought made him feel queasy. What did he have to live for if he was no longer a parent? What was the point?

“Tommy..” Joel croaked, “I–can’t let her go.” He choked up as the weight of the world was beginning to press down on his shoulders. He held Sarah close to his heart where his chin came to rest upon her covered head. “Tommy, we–”

“Joel, we have to let her go. Brother, please. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back. I’m sorry.” He was. If he could go back in time and take Sarah’s place, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Joel’s eyes began to glaze over with fresh tears as he began to frantically whisper to Sarah as if she could hear him from the other side. “S’okay baby girl. You’re okay. Daddy has you, and he’ll see you soon. I promise. I’m coming for you, baby girl.” He pressed a firm, promising kiss to her covered head before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees along the edge of the hole in the dirt. He could feel stomach acid rise up his throat at the thought of the earth, and mother nature consuming his baby girl. He wanted to go with her.

Tommy watched with a heavy heart as he watched his older brother gently place his baby girl into the shallow grave. His own tears began to silently fall as images of a newborn Sarah flashed in his mind. He remembered the pure joy and love that radiated from Joel the moment he got to hold his daughter for the first time. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

As Tommy willed himself to begin shoveling the dirt he dug up into the grave, he watched in horror as his grief-stricken brother nearly had crawled into the hole. He dropped the shovel in a haste as he grabbed ahold of the underside of Joel’s shoulders and yanked him back.

The soul-shaking, torturous, anguished sound that cascaded from Joel’s mouth, was one that chilled Tommy’s blood. It could only be described as a grieving parent refusing to let their only child go.

Tommy still has nightmares of it.

I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t just fuckin’ pull myself together for both of us. I know how scared you were, Tommy. I was scared too. I was terrified. I was supposed to be the big brother then. The one who had all the answers. Who could come up with a plan at the drop of a hat to keep his little brother alive. Instead, you had to fill that position. You stepped into that role because I gave you no other choice. If you didn’t force me to leave that spot where she died, I would have rotted there with her. I never thought for a moment about the pain that you were feeling. I lost a daughter that night, but you lost a niece, and a brother all in one night.

48 hours. 2 days since the outbreak. 2 days without his baby girl.

It was Tommy’s idea for him and Joel to return home to gather up as much food and supplies they could get their hands on. Joel was apprehensive, but Tommy reassured him that they wouldn’t have to stay long. So, Joel reluctantly agreed. Their neighborhood was dead silent with no signs of life to be found. The bombs that the government had dropped only impacted the major cities, and left the small neighborhoods untouched from their destruction. It would have just been another day if it weren’t for the familiar bodies scattered in the street. Both Tommy and Joel avoided looking at the deceased body of Nana Adler as they crossed their front yard.

“I’m gonna grab what I can from the garage, and then I'll meet you inside? Grab a couple of backpacks and stuff it with clothes, and anything else you think we might need. Okay, Joel?”

The older Miller brother could only meekly nod as a non-verbal response. He was too focused on remembering that he had stashed a revolver in his office drawer for safe keeping. At least it would be quick.

Tommy was unaware, clueless to Joel’s plan to end his life. He knew his brother was mourning, but he never had thought about the drastic measures he would take to be reunited with Sarah.

As Joel ascended up the stairs, memories of his life before the outbreak leaked into his mind. A five year old Sarah running down the stairs to avoid bath time after playing outside all day. Sticky with sugary sweet syrup from a popsicle, and dirt and twigs stuck in her head of curls. Joel patiently demanded that she needed a bath. Well, Sarah had other plans of course and Joel would have to catch her first.

He could hear her gleeful giggles now; almost sweet music.

Soon, baby girl. I promise.

His footsteps were soft, and undetected as he padded down the hall to his office area. His hand grasped the handle as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open with ease. Everything was right as he left it. Blueprints for a new project he and Tommy were working on. A school paper from Sarah that she had left for him to proof read. A stale cup of coffee. Tommy’s note tacked to the corkboard that Joel kept from when they were kids. A life preserved in time. He reached for the note as he gingerly plucked it from where it was pinned. He folded it carefully before slipping it into his pocket. He wanted to have a piece of his brother with him, always.

Joel didn’t feel nervous as he opened the file cabinet drawer that contained his concealed revolver. He greeted it like an old friend as he grasped it firmly in his palm. The coolness of the metal diffused his clammy skin. He could do it here, he thought silently. No, he wanted to be closer to Sarah. To be comforted by her familiarity. So, he left his office and went straight to her room.

As he brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, he felt calm. He felt ready. More ready than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt sorry for leaving Tommy to fend for himself, but he knew that his brother would survive, and he’d be better off without him anyway.

As his finger hovered over the trigger, he observed Sarah's untouched room. From the crumpled sheets along her bed where he had tucked her in for the very last time, her discarded backpack, her posters, trophies from soccer, and all of her photographs. Photos of her and Joel. Her and Tommy. She was the happiest kid ever, and that’s how Joel wanted to remember her.

As his finger gradually applied pressure to the trigger, he flinched. The bullet missed, and grazed the right side of his temple. His right ear was profusely ringing as he dropped to the carpet like a bag of bricks. He could faintly hear Tommy’s shouts and footsteps racing up the stairs as blood slowly trickled down his face.

Tommy, I was selfish. I was selfish for wanting to take my life and leave you to fend for yourself. My baby brother. The same brother I swore to protect till my last dying breath. I was a coward, Tommy. A weak, selfish, pathetic coward. I wanted to take the easy way out. The cheap way. I just hope you still don’t hate me for it. I hope you don’t hate me for putting you through the trauma and pain of almost losing me too. Sometimes I wonder if my attempted suicide triggered your thirst for blood. As if I am the direct cause for the carnage you partook in when we joined Tess and her raider group. Sometimes I wonder if all those times that we murdered people, that you pictured me on the other end of the gun. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brave big brother that you always believed me to be. I’m sorry that even over twenty years later, I’m not me. I’m not the Joel that you looked up to. I’m not sure if I'll ever be that version of myself again, but I am ever-so grateful that I am still your brother. Your flesh and blood.

I hope that one day you’ll be proud to be my brother again. Till then, I'll always have your back.

-Your big brother, Joel. The one that held you when things went bump in the night.

Tommy isn’t even aware of how much time has passed while he reads Joel’s words over till they're practically burned into his brain. He doesn’t feel the shifting of the coarse sheets, or see Joel’s fingers twitch at his side.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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[babblingbonnabel]

🪡 + 🔨 | more yapping!!

NOTE: because so many bigger members of the Avarice Battalion are from the Omega clan, a big portion go to The Garden to celebrate the Omega Tree every Spring (a large symbol of longevity and legacy for the clan...before they burned down lmaooo!!!).

[oopsbirdficced]

Traitor's Waltz (Overture the the Fall of Gondolin

Art by @jaz-the-bard / JazTheBard (AO3)

Story by @oopsbirdficced / ingenious_spark (AO3)

Fic rating: Mature

Warnings: Torture, canon-typical violence, canonical character death

Relationships: Idril/Tuor, Idril/Maeglin, Idril/Tuor/Maeglin

Characters: Idril, Tuor, Maeglin, the Lords of Gondolin, Námo, Irmo, minor cameos by Aredhel, Turgon, and Celegorm

Tags: Music, opera, dreams and nightmares, haunting, ghosts, trans characters, drama, romance, angst with a happy ending, temporary character death, embedded audio

Word Count: 12,817

Summary: Tuor and Idril find themselves haunted by the music of an old love gone by. The only reprieve is to follow the music to its crescendo.

-

A collaboration created for the 2023 Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang, @tolkienrsb! It’s been wonderful working on this with Jaz!

Collection/link will go live on September 6th!

[shnowyfox]

tfone au nonsense

cogless Magnus design. trying REAL hard not to make him look like pax but honestly im pretty sure magnus was supposed to look like op. i love his big wide eyes

was working on maskless soundwave. traced his kayou card for the first one just to have a baseline :p

and a one version of blaster. i had the idea of maybe his panel was similar to soundwave's but due to damage he eventually salvaged the glass(?) and ended up with the iconic tiny window we have in g1

battle scenes ft the girliepop i need to learn to draw tfone quintessons

i need to collect size references. bro lookin tiny. references in general would be nice actually.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Prisoner (Mizu x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mizu had spent all her life on a journey for revenge. After reconnecting with her mother, she is brought into a new situation. Though when the outcome is being the bodyguard of a soft, selfless woman. What is a samurai to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, I'm back at it again. I recently watched Blue Eye Samurai and felt my heart break for Mizu. She needs someone to care for her and stay by her side. So this is my heart felt blanket to wrap her in. Hope you enjoy.

Side note, Mizu is referred to male and female. Until the reveal that is.

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

After being reunited with her mother. A feat that she never would have dreamed of. Mizu hopes had soared. This was the start of something new. A way to give up her old life of revenge. To move forward and be happy. If only she knew how short that laughable notion would last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A foreboding sensation crept down her spine. Following her mother down the dark alleyway, her eyes couldn't stop darting back and forth. She hadn't been in this town long, but knew that they were in the seedier part. The occasional person would be slumped against a random wall. Though she never stopped long enough to see if they're chest was still moving. It wouldn't do to involve herself in something right now. She needed to keep up with the surprisingly fast older woman.

Another movement out of the corner of her gaze caught her attention. Long enough for her to collide into her mother. The woman scowled up at her. But her expression quickly softened as she brushed herself off.

Patting the younger woman's arm, she gave a thin withered smile. “It's not much further.” Continuing forward, she knew her daughter would follow.

True to her word, after a few more turns she stopped. It was a larger building than most of the others in the area. Still not in the best shape, but a proper structure. It didn't have any obvious signs of what may be inside. Which was odd for a building of this size.

That was until a man was thrown out the front entrace. He was short, his bones showing prominently through his skin. He had the same far off look on his face that her mother had after lighting her pipe. It was a an expression she had grown wearily used to.

A hard visage took over Mizu's face. Of course, when did anything urgent not involve her addiction. Facing her mother, the irritation only deepened. She didn't even attempt to look apologetic. Instead turning to the other man.

He was muscled, as wide as he was tall. And as she looked up at him, that seemed a feat. He glared down at the pair of them.

Her mother was quick to scramble over. “We have an appointment with the master of the den.”

He grunted, but moved the curtain aside. Stepping into the front room, they were met with a billow of smoke. It wasn't enough to cover the room, still noticeable all the same. She had to refrain from covering her nose. Without the knowledge of why her mother brought her here. She did know that annoying their host wouldn't be a good thing. Especially if her suspicious of what this place could be was correct.

The man led them up a flight of stairs and down a hall. All of the doors were closed, yet the same acrid smell wafted from them. Coming to the last door, she was quick to size up the man standing guard. He wasn't as tall as the first. Though muscled all the same. After a few whispered words, he allowed them to pass.

The room was smaller than she expected. But was well furnished to make up for the fact. Many brightly colored banners lined the walls. Depictions of flowing landscapes and floral arrangements were an odd decor choice. You would think that the boss of an opium den would want to display power. Not the softer, more delicate things in life.

He sat behind a solid looking desk. It was free of clutter and meticulously organized. The man was smaller than the others he employed. The hunch in his posture revealed a life of hardship.

Though this did nothing to to sway Mizu. She wanted out of this place as quickly as possible. It was not a wonder to her why her mother was being so secretive. The only question on her mind was why the woman brought her along.

Gesturing to the chairs before him, the man spoke. “I assume you're here to settle your debt. I can't help but notice that you have brought along someone.” Leaning forward, a slight smile slid onto his face. Eyes taking in the younger person, pausing at the sword on their side. “That's not supposed to be a threat towards me is it?”

A shifting sound was obvious outside of the door. A promise of violence to come, if this man saw fit.

Quickly sitting in one of the chair, her mother glared when she didn't follow. As much as she hated the loss of a tactical advantage. She didn't want to make an enemy out of this man in his home turf. Sitting down, she tried her best to split her attention between the man and door.

Shaking her head at the man, the older woman smiled brightly. “No, I would never dishonor you my lord. I come with a payment and propositions." Scooting forwards, she lowered her voice. “I have heard hearsay of your daughter needing protection. My son is an excellent swordsman that has taken care of many clients. They are just the person for the job.” She sat back proud of the solution that she had laid out. Perhaps this could curry her enough favor for a line of credit.

Not realizing the holes that were being bored into the side of her head, by her daughter. Hot anger course through her. Would she ever stop being a commodity to her mother. They had only just reunited. Yet she was shoving her off somewhere else to suit her needs.

Needing a moment to calm herself, she turns her gaze on the man. He met it steadily, seeming to consider the offer.

Narrowing his eyes he scowled. “You are confident in your skill?” His calculating gaze shifted to the mother as she nodded. “And you are willing to vouch for him?”

Smile widening the woman nodded feverishly. Glad that her half cocked plan was working out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their first meeting was as tense as expected. Mizu stood next to your father. Silent as he explained how he had hired them to be your bodyguard. You looked down at the ground, only glancing up for introductions.

Your tone was soft and sweet as morning dew. Just as your plush body was. It was a stark difference to the hardness in your eyes. Though it was this that made her curious.

Dismissing the both of you, she followed you down the hall. It was a grand home. More rooms than your family needed. That is, if you weren't also housing the people from your father's business. It was easy to tell the difference between the household staff and the others.

Especially when it came to your interactions with them. You were always kind and gentle with your words. Until you were met with someone from the trade. A steel mask would slide onto your face in a moment. That didn't stop their attempts all the same. Many of the men would approach you with salacious smiles. But between your coldness and the hand resting on Mizu's blade. They never tended to linger.

Your relationship was a bit different. You weren't aware of his full situation. But your father rarely came by things in an honest or legal way. So it was hard to judge to harshly about why this man was chosen.

In a way, it had actually brightened your life. You had an easier time traveling the estate. Making your expected rounds, you found yourself enjoying the company. Even if it was usually a silent presence, it was still comfortable.

Your time spent painting was especially lovely. Most people would talk your ear off. What are you making? When will you finish? Is this really how you want to spend your time? It always seeped the joy out of the activity. Not with Mizu, he just watched patiently. It was nice to see him admire the pieces as you worked on them.

It was one of the days that realization came to her. “Are you the one who did the painting in his office?” It came out as more of an accusation than a question. Causing her to internally cringe.

Without turning a sad smile settled onto your face. “Some of them. My mother is the one who taught me.” Pausing you faced him. “So he decided to put them up in his office. He says they help bring brightness to a dark place.” Your smile had thinned by the end of your explanation.

Nodding at the turn in the conversation, she looked back at the canvas. “They are beautiful pieces.” She was afraid she had spoken out of turn. Until a soft smile graced your full face. An action that had her stomach flutter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had been a bit surprised to find out that your father wasn't expecting you to marry. It was a much less traditional way for a family to lean. But after seeing his attachment to you. One of the only reminders of his dead wife. It was hard to argue with his logic.

The day she met your brother cemented the sentiment. He was everything you weren't. Cold and ruthless, as large and muscled as your father's hired hands. You were so gentle and soft. It was a shock to see you near each other.

He was often away to tend to business. Leaving his wife and son at the house. Though it seem that she prefered his absence as much as you did. You stepped in as a helping hand, as you often did.

Even if the family had lost your mother. They did not go without a matriarch. You easily stepped into the responsibility of such. Your motherly nature and grace was something Mizu admire. It was as if you were everything she lacked in femininity. She thought it would be something she might envy. But as she watched you play with your nephew. A feeling of warmth filling her cheeks was the only reaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This hadn't been the first time she had caught you sneaking out. You often carried a few painted scrolls to the night market. Her following in your shadow. You were decent, but she had the experience of someone who could die if found out. Her past had been hard, but it had shaped her into a weapon.

You would peddle your wares and head back home. So she felt no reason to take away the only independent thing you did. Even noticing the repeat customers you had. Always refusing their coins, while you pushed a few extra back into their palms. It hadn't escaped her noticed what you were doing. It made her shake her head. How lucky did she have to be to meet such a selfless person. You were a goddess among mortals.

But your peaceful nights out didn't last. She had followed you back like any other outing. Only to get distracted by a hair clip. It looked so much like the cherry blossoms you often painted. You would always jest that you would be a master painter. If you could capture the beauty of the tree outside your window. They were your mother's pride and joy. Just like her memory, you nurtured and loved them.

As she approached the stall, she heard a scream. It was a woman, that much she was sure of. Sprinting towards the sound, she hoped that her gut was wrong. Heart pounding, she raced through the streets. Not concerned with what damage she may cause. Knowing that you weren't involved was her only concern. But she was wrong to get her hopes up.

Tossed to the ground, your kimono hanging from one shoulder, torn. Your face was red and your gaze steely. Glaring at the two men in front of you, you spat on the ground. A thick glob of red saliva landed near their feet. "That's all I have. Take it and leave me be.”

The smaller of the two nodded and began to turn. Stopping when the taller man rested a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it's not just money we’re after.” His other hand reaching down.

Having assessed the situation well enough, she rushed forward. Her blade made quick work of the two fingers closes to you. They all looked in her direction. The two men sneering and you admiring awe.

Tears of helpless gratitude shown in your eyes. Scrambling towards her, you were nearly grasped by the injured man. Tucking you behind her, she glared at the men. Challenging them make a move.

The smaller man shook as he stood before the swordsman. He recognized a skilled opponent when they were in front of him. Eyeing the man beside him, he cringed. It would have been hard to tear his brother away from a lady as fine as yourself before. But add an injured body and ego on top of that. He didn't like his chances of getting him out of here alive. That didn't mean he wouldn’t try. “Apologies sir. We didn't realize the lady was your’s.” He bowed his head low, tugging on his brother’s sleeve.

The other man grunted in pain. Staring down the samurai, he seethe.

Shaking her head, Mizu glanced down at you. She could feel your grip tighten when he claim you belong to her. Yet another example of you having no say. She wanted that to change. For her to be the reason for your freedom. “She belongs to no one, but herself.”

Widen moist eyes shot towards him. Did he really believe that? You had never heard a man say such a thing. Waves of warmth spread through you at the statement. Shifting your plush body a bit closer to him, you spoke softly. “We should go. The night watchmen could get suspicious soon.” If they changed shifts before the two of you get back, it could spell disaster.

Nodding, she turned to leave the pathetic men. Not noticing the glint in the larger man's uninjured hand. The sting of the blade seared across her back. In an instance she reacted. Tossing you away, as her blade caught his throat. Falling to his knees he gurgled. Reaching towards the smaller man, not realizing that he was already speeding off. His own brother, leaving him to bleed out in the street. His last glimpse of his attacker being pulled away by an angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Climbing through your window was hard enough on your own. Throw a wounded bodyguard into the mix. Let's just say you were hoping your luck didn't run out. Setting him against the wall, you went to fetch some water.

Taking this lull in the night to calm your racing heart. It wouldn't do to be caught out so late, especially flustered. It was quick work heading to the kitchen and back. This late in the evening people rarely roamed the halls.

Shutting the door behind yourself, you faced him. Surprised to see his bright gaze was already on you. You had always found his eyes intimidating, yet alluring. They burned with an intensity that you yearned to learn of.

Shaking the thoughts from your mind you went to work. Only to be promptly halted. He wouldn't allow you to undress him. You quickly became frustrated. “I need to see the wound to clean it.”

“It's fine.” Attempting to stand, he shifted back to a seated position, groaning. Narrowing his eyes, he sighed heavily. Allowing the top to slid down her shoulders? Oh! She folded in on herself as she felt your gaze burn into her body.

Soft fingers slid along her skin, warm and delicate. Just how she thought your touch would feel. It helped relieve some of the tension. Silently the wet cloth was dabbed against her wound. Pressed into the mared skin with care. Thankfully it wasn't to deep, so a wrap would do.

Finishing up, you couldn't help the sad look lingering in your eyes. “I understand. The life of a woman comes with many choices. Most of them not for us to make.” You slipped the sleeves back up her strong shoulders. Trying not to let your touch linger to long. Even if you longed to feel her skin, if only for a moment more. “I have been fortunate in some ways. My life has offered me more opportunities than I can recall. While I stay within this house that is.” Emptying the red tinged water out of your window, you sighed.

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “Why not escape. You have left multiple nights, helping others. Yet you always return.” She was surprised when you sat in front of her. Grasping her hands with your own. If she could bottle your warmth, she would never shiver again.

Your gaze softened, while your resolve hardened. “It's not that simple. I have so many that rely on me. Not just this household, but the citizens of this village. I refuse to turn my back on them.” You tightened your hold on her hands. “Any of them.”

She became overwhelmed with emotions. If she thought you made her warm before, she was burning up now. Grappling with her racing heart and fluttering stomach. She made a rash decision. Leaning forward, she tentatively brought her lips to yours.

They were as luscious as she imagined. Molding with hers like a dream. So supple, though not as plush as your thighs settling in her lap. You cupped her face with a gentleness that she knew she didn't deserve. It was as if she'd died and been given a glorious afterlife. One were she could wrap herself within your euphoria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you two lie, limbs tangled together in an exhausted heap. She smiles down at your bare sleeping form. Plush body fitting against her own like a puzzle piece. It was pure and made all her worries melt away.

In this moment, your warmth seeping into her. She knows that her mission for revenge was over. Staying by your side and protecting you was what she was made for. Taking care of the person who always put others first. It had become her sworn duty and she wouldn't want it any other way. Especially knowing that you would stay by her side.

[wompcod]

I've never posted here before so TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: I found this post by the lovely @call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes and got the urge to expand on it a little. THANK YOU LIZZY YOUR POSTS ARE SO GOOD!!! 🙏🏻 ❤️ I also hardly ever write angst and I have never posted before so if you see any typos, naur. Ficlet starts here ⬇️⬇️ Mind the tags!!

Price, for the first time in a long time, didn't know what to make of this situation.

It started three weeks ago, Ghost was acting differently. At first Ghost was less talkative and it was clear he was becoming more and more exhausted—to Price at least, Gaz too. They chalked it up to the constant work of trying to put Makarov down once and for all. They all were, none of them had been this tired in a long time, Ghost especially.

But then it got worse. Ghost would refuse to speak unless spoken too, his eye bags were visible through the black eye paint if he even bothered to put it on, and he became violent. Ripping people to shreds when on missions. It was understandable but it wasn't necessary, and he knew it. He was being sloppy. Uncalculated. They had only been on a few missions since the incident in the train tunnels but it was clear a pattern was forming.

Two nights ago, Price decided to go to Ghost's room to talk. It was late at night and it was one of those few recent days where they had the opportunity to get a full night's rest, but when he made it to the stairs with Ghosts quarters it was barricaded with the couch and the table from the 141 rec room. When he pushed past, his door was blocked by the nightstand and desk.

It was Simon who let him in and broke down. Price had never seen him like this in a long time, it was almost uncanny. The lieutenant was doing his best to hold back tears but was failing. He struggled to get his words out but eventually told he he was seeing things.

Seeing Soap. "He won't stop trying to crawl into my bed at night. I've tried everything," he cried. "Locking the door, barricading the stairs—" he waved his arms in the air, not knowing what to do with his hands—"I don't know how he does it."

Price wasn't upset about the fraternization, he knew the moment Simon and Soap met they would be something. Kyle caught on soon after he was introduced to them. What he was upset about was the fact that Soap was dead. He died three weeks ago in the train tunnels. The day Makarov blew the bullet into his head and got away.

Simon spread his ashes himself.

Price had no choice but to take him to get a psych eval. He never wanted to think that Simon would one day go crazy but he didn't know what else to do.

The on-base doctor said that, aside from saying he was crazy, he wasn't exhibiting any other behaviors that would support these claims. He had been seeing a therapist for a while before this whole mess, he didn't have any history of mental illnesses or any disabilities that developed or ran in the family that would give him these problems. At the most, depression all those years ago after his father and Roba. The doctor said it was because he was grieving and sent him back saying he was clear to keep working after a few days of on-site leave. Price didn't see it. Simon would never act this way simply out of grief. He didn't when his family died. Why now?

Price was sitting in his office yesterday when he got a visit from Kyle. It was clear he was crying but made the effort to stop himself before entering the office.

Before he could speak Price guided him to the spare chair and asked him, "Kyle, what happened?"

"I saw Soap."

Both Simon and Kyle are saying they saw Soap. In the flesh.

They talked. Kyle said he was leaving the firing range when he saw him. Soap was apparently just standing there, looking at him. Kyle said he was wearing the gear and clothes when he died. There was blood on his left temple and his nose was bleeding.

A soldier asked him what was wrong, when Kyle blinked Soap was gone. Kyle didn't respond, he made a bee-line to Price's office.

It was too coincidental, both Kyle and Simon are saying they're seeing Soap within two days. It can't be psychological.

Price told Kyle he would do his best to keep him and Simon from going off the deep end. That he was there when they needed to talk. Don't go to the doctor, they can't do anything.

Now, the next day, the sun had set and he was filing the last of his paperwork and the reports regarding the most recent mission in his quarters. A weapon shipment in London was being escorted by Makarov's men—since the incident, he hasn't shown his face, the coward. Things were fine in the first half, the cargo was small and minimum security, but given their luck recently something just had to go wrong. Kyle had gotten shot in the leg, Simon went ballistic, it's why they aren't on the field now. By the time it was over they were dirty, covered in blood, surrounded by dead bodies, and beaten tired, but they were able to keep Makarov from building his arsenal bigger than it already was. It was just disappointing it was such a small dent, if it even made a dent.

A knock interrupted Price's thoughts—ramblings, really.

The sun was setting, everyone knew to not bother him so late into the day unless it was an emergency. Only his boys had that privilege of visiting him when they wanted. "Come in," he rasped. He turned away from his paperwork, finally finished, and moved to grab his cup of water from the nightstand. He'd hardly spoken to anyone all day aside from Laswell. She said she would comb through the boys family medical history to see if there was any possible undiagnosed problem, but that was all she could do.

The door handle jiggled and the door creaked open. A moment of silence entered the space. Price turned around. The door was ajar, but no one came inside. "You can talk to me," he said, maybe Simon or Kyle got cold feet and didn't want to be a bother. No one answered. Price abandoned his water on the nightstand.

He opened the door, but no one was there, odd. He stood there for a brief moment, waiting to see if either of him men would turn up but it didn't happen.

He shut the door. The draft made the room cold. He opened the closet and pulled out a pair of pj's and tossed them on the bed.

Something flicked his hat, tilting it forward and down his forehead. He whipped his head around, no one was there. The room was dead silent. A thought weaseled its way into the forefront of his mind. Soap was the only one who would do that. 'The only one on base brave enough to flick the captain's hat,' other soldiers would say. Simon and Kyle wouldn't get in any trouble, but they knew it was Soap's thing. He'd do it whenever he needed to get John's attention, or when he felt like it. It was endearing.

John's heart ached. Soap was always like a son to him, just as much as Kyle and Simon. He wanted to stop himself from thinking about it, but he couldn't. John is not crazy. Neither is Simon. Neither is Kyle.

A creaking sound from the floorboards cut through the silence, but John hadn't moved. The creaking turned into squeaky footsteps. He stood as still as a statue and listened to them.

They circled around the room, the supposed draft from just a moment ago seemed to come back, it circled him along with the steps. It wasn't a draft. It was just cold. What is happening?

"Captain?"

John whipped his head around, he's sure he gave himself whiplash this time but gave the sudden, sharp pain in his neck no mind.

Soap. Soap is standing there. He looks pale. Confused. Hurt. Hugging himself tightly. His mohawk was a mess. He looked the same way Kyle described him. Except, a closer look tells him it wasn't just blood on his temple. It was the bullet hole. John adjusted his hat back in place, as of it covering his eyes slightly was the reason this was happening.

"Why is everyone acting so weird," Soap asked. His voice was hoarse and his eyes were red and puffy. He stepped forward

"Soap..." John stepped back.

"Ky's been ignoring me for weeks, and Si...Simon," Soap started crying and hugged himself tighter. John wanted to cry too. Soap, his sergeant, his boy, has been suffering even after he died.

"Simon keeps shutting me out," he sobbed, "I don't know what I did! He won't tell me! Kyle won't even look at me!"

John's body moved on its own. He wrapped Soap in a tight hug, Christ he was freezing.

Soap latched on and sobbed into his shoulder, but the tears didn't stay for long.

After a few minutes Soap pulled away and wiped his face, the blood that spattered on his eye smeared. John looked closely at him, he was partially transparent. He could see the light from the lamp behind him shine through his skin just barely.

"Captain," Soap asked, "my head hurts...what happened?" He rubbed the palm of his hand on his right temple.

John didn't answer, he couldn't. What was he supposed to say, 'you died three weeks ago'? Is this even real? It's a nightmare, it has to be, but it feels too real.

When John didn't answer, Soap held back a whimper in his throat and walked around. When John turned around, Soap was gone. The door didn't move.

John didn't sleep that night. He's sure Simon and Kyle didn't either. Laswell gave him an update, neither Simon nor Kyle have any plausible mental disabilities or illnesses that could cause any severe stress or hallucinations but John didn't care about that anymore.

Simon watched the sunset. Johnny loved watching it with him. Watching the vibrant hues of the sky, orange and gold, turn to deep purple and blues kissing the green grass until only the stars shined in the sky. Simon loved it. The stars shined in Johnny's eyes so brightly.

It's why he's here, on the outskirts of the property maskless. He could still hear the firing range but the base was far away enough that no one would think to sneak out this way and get away with it, no one as skilled as them. Simon twiddled a dandelion between his fingers. He never blew wishes, didn't think it was real. Johnny did though.

He closed his eyes, blew on the small weed, and watched the tufts of white drift off in the cool breeze. He hopes his wish will come true.

The air in front of him got colder. Before he could open his eyes he felt a pair of familiar lips on his, no longer warm. The kiss was slow and tender, and despite it being so cold Simon had missed this desperately. He lifted his hand and touched Johnny's cheek, tilting their heads and deepening the kiss.

Johnny pulled away first, "Thought I'd find you here," he whispered. He adjusted himself and sat at Simon's side, looping his arm around his and locking their hands together. Johnny rested his head on Simon's shoulder. Simon felt the tell-tale lump building in his throat and did his best to swallow it down. He couldn't speak.

When he didn't respond, Johnny continued. "We confessed to each other here, shared our first kiss and our first time together here, too. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget," Simon breathed. He didn't dare look to open his eyes. He doesn't know if he could handle seeing Johnny in the state he's in. But when Johnny asked him to he couldn't help it.

Simon could feel the tears roll down his cheeks while his nose became stuffy and warm. Johnny lifted his free hand and wiped the tears off. He was so pale. Simon missed his sun kissed skin. The stars weren't shining in his eyes anymore. He still had the hollow wound in his left temple. It wasn't bleeding but the blood on his face and under his nose was still fresh and bright red. The gear, unmoving.

"Whatever happened between us, we can fix it," Johnny quaked. "We always do."

Simon feared this. Kyle learned from his parents all things paranormal. They always loved the investigations and scary stories, saying that sometimes certain ghosts get stuck in a loop. They don't know they died. It's why Simon was here. A 'trigger' for the ghost in question. Kyle said it would trigger Johnny's memory and help him possibly move on.

Johnny, poor Johnny, sitting here with tears matching Simon's as he tries his best to understand what's happening, doesn't have a clue of what's really going on. Hell, he doesn't seem to even remember Makarov.

Simon had to say it. Tell him he was dead, help him move on, it has to be him. He would've done the same. "We can't, Johnny—"

"Why? Why won't anyone tell me what I did—"

"Johnny," Simon interrupted, "don't freak out when I say this but," he could feel the words mingle with the lump in his throat, he forced them out with a sniffle, "you're dead."

Johnny's eyes widened. "I.." he stumbled over his words thinking of what to say next. When he couldn't, he asked, "Si, what are you saying?"

Simon twisted in his spot and cupped Johnny's chilled face in his hands. "I need you to remember. Vladimir Makarov? The train tunnels three weeks ago? What Makarov did to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Johnny held his hands over Simon's.

"We all split up, you and Price were alone, Makarov got the jump on you and—"

"Stop it." Johnny demanded firmly pulled away from Simon and turned around. "Stop saying that." He sniffled.

Simon stopped. Saying what in particular he couldn't tell, but he had to push. He recalled his words just before. There was one word that persiste, he tested it slowly, "...Makarov?"

"Stop it!" Johnny stood and backed away, "It...hurts. Makes my head hurt. Stop it, Simon please." His presence flickered faintly as he held his head in his hands.

Simon wanted too, he hated to see it damage his Johnny so badly but he couldn't live with himself if it meant Johnny would stay trapped. A never ending loop of visiting the firing range, the training grounds, the demolitions area, their spot, then Simon's bed that inevitably one day wouldn't be his anymore. The thought of Johnny wandering aimlessly years down the line, confused on where they all went, what happened, and why things were changing. Alone. The thought felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

"I know, love, I know" he reassured the Scot. He reached out and gently held Johnny's hand in his, giving him space but still showing him he was there for this. "But I need you to breathe, I need you to remember.

Johnny sniffled and wiped his nose with his free one. He froze when he saw the blood smeared on his hand. His gloved hand. "Why am I..." He looked down and looked at himself. He hadn't noticed he was dressed like he was being shipped out. Johnny assessed himself quietly. Going over the empty pockets on his tacvest. Johnny's eyes widened more than they already were, "The tunnels..." he trembled, "Makarov..."

"Love," Simon asked. He stroked Johnny's hand with his thumb but it didn't calm him down. The flickering was worse now, non-stop and he was becoming more and more transparent.

"No..no, no, no no," Johnny fell to his knees with his head in his hands. Simon tried to catch him but he just phased through with a sharp chill running up his spine.

Simon knelt down to his level and did his best to comfort him, but how could he? Is this it, he thinks, maybe Johnny is finally passing. Hopefully. It hurt that this was the last they would see each other. This was how they left each other. At least until it was Simon's time, he thinks. He isn't entirely sure how it works. He never took the thought of an afterlife into consideration until three weeks ago.

Johnny lifted himself off of his knees and shoved his way past Simon, and when Simon turned around he was gone. The night became silent aside from the crickets and the faint sounds of the base nearby. Simon crouched down and sobbed. He felt some relief but the deviation settled in his heart and attached itself to his lungs. He upset Johnny—no, well yes, but he didn't have a choice. He had to help Johnny move on. This was how it had to be.

He doesn't know how much time had passed when he started his trek back to the base. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore. He hadn't even cried that hard when his family died. He already felt less human back then but Johnny was the one who revived the Ghost. Now Johnny is gone.

The last of their leave flew by and none of the group had seen Soap since.

Ok that's all, bye 👋🏻 *runs away*

[sleepyfan-blog]

Older Brothers

Author’s Note:This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous. I have borrowed Brother Roland and Brother Arnault from @kit-williams with permission and Brother Petras from @gal with permission. Thank you!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Warnings: abuse of power, flashback, minor character death, canon-typical violence

Summary: Cedric is introduced to a couple of firstborn black templars by Captain Ash’val. 

Cedric silently follows after Captain Ash’val, his mouth dry and concern clawing it’s way through the depths of his hearts. If… Or more accurately, when it’s found out that he helped four teenage baselines out of the base, rather than bringing them to holding or to one of his older Cousins or Imperial Fist Brothers, he had no doubt that he’s going to be in more trouble. But the young apothecary truly felt that he’d done the best he could in a rather fraught situation. Even if Cedric had merely taken the four teenagers to holding, the fact that they were there would have caught Captain Petras’ attention, and…

The Black Templar Chaplain had a firm and heavy hand when it came to punishment, and while Cedric would like to say that he didn’t think that the older Black Templar would permanently harm baseline humans who had been born and lived on Holy Terra… Especially the young and adventurously foolish - 

Cedric was half-way through checking the inventory of the tertiary infirmary aboard the Sigismund when his vox was pinged. One of his fellow Primaris brothers was in critical condition and needed immediate medical aid, or it was likely that he was going to die. Considering the fact that the Sigismund was weeks from the last engagement and they had taken minimal casualties, the ping had startled the young Apothecary.

Dutifully he set down the medication he’d been counting, grabbing an emergency kit and sprinted out of the medication room, hearing the medication room door close automatically behind him. 

It took him five long, agonizing minutes to reach the location of his critically injured Brother, who continued to get worse and further injured by something. He’d also made sure to grab his bolter - they were flying through the warp and if the Gellar Field had weakened where the Brother was and had allowed a daemon or other sort of warp-predator onto the ship, they were potentially in much greater trouble.

Cedric skidded to a halt, staring in confusion at the entrance to the cathedral room, which was where his dying brother was. It was one of the most holy and sanctified parts of the entire ship, how could an agent of Chaos bear to stand in a place so entirely lit by His Holy Light? The young apothecary mentally shook himself and charged into the room to see-

Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras standing over the prone body of Alois, one of Cedric’s fellow Primaris marines, sneering down at the young marine, who had been stripped of both armor and clothing, and knelt before the older marine, head bowed low and arms crossed behind his back. Petras was wielding an electro-whip in one hand, the other was wielding a charged powerfist. The chaplain’s voice was full of disdain and wrathful fire as he thundered loudly “YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR MANY SINS, AND BE MADE TO BLEED AND CRAWL IN PENANCE!”

Alois was barely breathing, and was weeping silently but freely, shi shoulders trembling. He didn’t so much as flinch as Petras whipped him across the face, carving another bloody stripe from the younger marine’s body. 

The primaris Marine did go flying over the pathway between the metal pews, sailing towards where Cedric stood transfixed as Petras punched Alois square in the chest with his charged powerfist, a low wheeze of pain leaving Alois as the blow struck, and when he landed with a heavy, meaty thud on the metal plating of the deck.

The sound shook Cedric out of his shock-stillness as he rushed over to his brother’s side, his vitals worsening further. “H-Honorable B-Brother Chaplain Captain, this M-marine’s vital signs are d-dangerously close to death. M-May I suggest that you s-stay your h-hand of punishment until he is recovered enough to c-continue to endure the… The punishment without r-risk of dying?” Cedric asked, as his hands flew over his brother’s body, checking where Alois was most critically injured as he started to administer the life-saving medications and treatments that the other primaris would need in order to survive the brutal beating he’d endured.

“And what if I tell you that I have decided that he is Unfit to continue to serve as an Astartes, little Apothecary? What if I told you that I have decided that he should be culled for his weaknesses, for his sins?” Petras sneered, stalking down the walkway towards both primaris marines. 

Cedric didn’t dare take his eyes off of his patient, knowing that Captain Petras in particular saw direct eye-contact from an aspirant or a squire as a punishable offense unless he ordered them to look at him directly. “Th-there is a p-proper procedure for that, H-Honorable Chaplain Captain, that a-allows the Apothecarion to harvest certain useful critical organs from the to-be-culled marine so that those organs may be properly r-recycled sir.” He hated the fact that his voice was trembling, but was glad that his hands were stone-steady as he continued to tend to his barely conscious and badly injured Brother. 

Cedric mentally shook himself as he desperately tried to ground himself in the here and now. He knew of over a dozen Primaris Brothers who had been killed by the infamous temper of Chaplain Captain Petras and that was before he’d… Before he’d killed his own apprentice, Ramiel and had openly declared that he found all Primaris Marines to be heretical abominations unworthy of existence. He had reported the deaths of those primaris marines and who they had been kill-culled by to his mentor, who had responded by restricting Cedric’s movements on the Sigismund alone more and more until the near-schism had almost torn the Black Templar chapter apart. 

Cedric had never been able to save any of them, their injuries too severe and Petras’ orders absolute. The fact that Ramiel had actually been sent to Ancient Terra half-dead instead of actually dying was… Surely that had been an intervention by the God Emperor, as Cedric had been within hailing range and had been able to actually save Ramiel with proper supplies and firstborn brothers uninterested in seeing a Primaris brother slowly bleed out to death at their boots. 

Part of him silently hoped that he would be able to find more of his thought-dead primaris brothers having also been spared by Him on Terra and be able to patch them u properly, allow them to heal and prove themselves as worthy Astartes. 

Shit, Captain Ash’val was talking! Better pay attention. Cedric mentally reviewed what his ears had been hearing while his mind wallowed in past agonies. 

“We’ve been able to find a couple of older Black Templars who have expressed a desire to meet with you. Both of them also have bonds, and have been on Ancient Terra for at least a couple of years, if not longer.” Ash’val explained, a small smile appearing on the Salamander’s face. “You’ll be meeting them in the base, in one of the public rooms. They should be here relatively soon.”

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded with an obedient nod, making sure to stand in a spot that wouldn’t impede the foot traffic in the room. He briefly checked to make sure that the civvie clothes he was wearing was clean and in good condition. He felt woefully underdressed for meeting any of his older brothers, with no armor and not even a simple weapon on his belt… But he hoped that they would forgive him for that, as it wasn’t as if he’d wanted to be taken to Ancient Terra in his night clothes. 

The young apothecary immediately spotted the older Templar as he walked into the room, armor shining in the artificial light of the room. He was holding something in one of his hands, although what it might be, Cedric could only guess. The style of the other’s armor put his home timeline likely in the mid M-40s. Well before the rollout of the Primaris Marines. He nearly startled when the older Brother approached and spoke, offering him the sourdough loaf. “Thank you sir.” He murmured. It was slightly warm to the touch and it smelled delicious. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with the sourdough loaf, and would either be told or ask Pyrus later. 

Cedric’s eyes went huge as one of the Emperor’s Champions walked over to the two of them. He could barely breathe, awed and incredibly intimidated as the well-known and revered Champion Arnault Wach walked over and actually talked! To him and Brother Roland! Cedric felt his ears go warm at the light call out of him being embarrassingly unarmed unarmored and managed not to squeak as he murmured a meek “Yes sir.”

The young apothecary briefly lost the thread of the conversation - especially when the two older brothers switched to one of the local languages - one he was unfamiliar with. But Cedric was well aware of the Rule among Black Templars that younger brothers were not to speak unless spoken to, and stayed quiet, still holding the loaf of sourdough uncertainly in his hands. 

The Emperor’s Champion looked at Cedric directly again, which froze the air in all three of Cedric’s lungs. It took him a moment to process what Arnault asked of him. 

His… Favorite food? “N…Nutrient paste?” The young apothecary offered, deeply confused. Ration bars were drier and tended to be chalky. Nutrient paste could be heated up and had a couple of different flavors to them. Not that he had a definite preference. 

Then Brother Roland asked “Have you been allowed out?” clearly referring to the base.

Cedric shuffled his feet a little. He refused to apologize for attacking the Slaaneshi bastard and didn’t think either of them would punish him for following his training… But with him on-base, anything was possible “No sir… I attacked a patient.” 

He would be happy to explain the full details of what happened, but a look of understanding passed between the Emperor’s Champion and the Battle Brother as they said together “Right, unbonded.” 

Was there really such a difference between bonded and unbonded Black Templars? Just what all was involved with these bonds? Cedric had tried to ask before, but the explanations he got were confusing and didn’t make much sense… They also boiled down to you’ll understand when you get a Bond yourself. 

“Well, little battle brother, you’ve got Brother Roland and myself, Brother Arnault in the area to keep you company.” The Emperor’s Champion declared, a smile on the older brother’s face “Now let’s enjoy the brot that Bruder Roland brought.” He ordered, silently gesturing for Cedric to follow him.

Cedric nodded and followed after the two firstborn Black Templars, staying a respectful two and a half steps behind the others as he had been taught, surprised and honored beyond words when Brother Roland and Brother Arnault invited him to walk alongside them, as if they were equals. “I… I haven’t had sourdough bread before, sir.” The young apothecary admitted shyly, holding the item in his hands “How do we enjoy it? It smells delicious.”

“Have… Have you never had brot before? How long have you been on Ancient Terra?” Brother Roland asked, blinking a little in surprise. 

“About six months or so? The Older Brothers and Cousins have been keeping me busy in the base. Occasionally they supplement my meals with local fruits and vegetables, which has been a fascinating experience so far, sirs!” Cedric answered earnestly, careful not to look either of them directly in the eye. He didn’t want to seem as if he was challenging either one of them.

“What have you tried? What have you enjoyed most? Brot can be enjoyed a number of ways, but here, hand the brot over and I’ll tear off chunks for each of us to eat.” Roland instructed Cedric, who immediately complied.

The bread had a more intense scent when it was torn open, and Cedric took a cautious bite. The savory-tangy flavors were almost overwhelming to his senses, but in a very good way. He found that he devoured the piece of sourdough within seconds “This is really tasty, sir! Thank you for bringing it. I very much liked the pink apples and the little green tree-vegetables. They have a subtle earthy taste and take all kinds of spices really well.” 

Both Arnault and Roland smiled in response to Cedric’s enthusiasm, as the two lead him on a tour of the city, pointing out places that they liked to visit, as well as chatting about the different kinds of food that they liked - and disliked. Cedric listened closely to their words, doing his best to retain everything they told him, honored and delighted to spend time with two of his firstborn brother templars. The Imperial Fists, Ultramarines and Salamanders were almost distressingly kind, but it really wasn’t the same. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

crawl home to you

for @steddiesongfics february song 'work song' by hozier

rated e | 5,223 words | full tags on ao3

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Steve should never have kissed him. He knew that now.

While Eddie was dying, bleeding out on the ground of their version of Hell, the only thing Steve felt he could do to help him was kiss him. It was quick, just a peck on the lips, lingering only for a moment. Their eyes never even closed.

Steve wanted to take in every remaining moment that Eddie had.

There was nothing else he could do, just hold him, try to whisper comfort that may not have even been heard.

Dustin was yelling to save him, but there was no way to do that. His injuries were too severe, he’d already lost too much blood. Moving him now would just kill him faster and more painfully. Nancy and Robin were trying to hold Dustin back, but their tears were making it harder to maintain any control.

When Eddie was gone, Steve set him back down on the ground.

“We have to get out of here,” he said, biting back the sob he could feel in his throat.

“We can’t leave him! Steve, please,” Dustin begged.

“We can come back for him once we check on everyone else. I promise. I’m not letting him stay here,” Steve lifted Dustin in his arms, ignoring his protests.

******

When they finally managed to sneak through the safest gate, Eddie’s body was gone.

Steve fell to his knees, silently begging any higher power to make him appear.

But Robin’s hand on his shoulder and Jonathan’s voice by his side made him stand up and leave.

He was gone.

He couldn’t even bring his body back to bury it properly.

He’d made another mistake.

******

Nobody moved on quickly, but Steve seemed to feel the most guilt. It was written all over his face anytime someone mentioned Eddie, it was in the way he visited Eddie’s uninhabited grave every weekend to clean it and leave flowers, it was there when he wore the battle vest around town, still bloodstained and obvious.

No one commented on it. Only Robin ever saw him cry over it.

Only Robin knew that part of his guilt was from not saying how he felt before Eddie died.

The kiss was too late and the words were nonexistent, and now Steve had to live with the missed chance.

******

It was a hot summer day when things changed.

It was subtle at first, the sky darker than usual and the air stagnant.

He got ready for his day, skipping the vest since he’d be volunteering and “bloodstains scared the children.”

And then he heard a crash outside, followed by yelling and banging on his front door.

“Steve!” “Open up!” “Code red!”

Steve ran downstairs and threw open the front door.

“It’s time,” Dustin said.

“Now?” Steve asked, incredulous. How had they not had more warning?

They all thought El and Will would be able to sense more of the Upside Down leading up to Vecna’s return, even Dr. Owens had mentioned a possibility of signs for days or even weeks leading up to his return.

How could they all have been so wrong?

“Where are we meeting?” He asked, running through a checklist in his mind of everything he would need to bring with him. Most of the emergency things he planned on having were already in his car, but it helped him keep the nerves at bay to have something to do.

“The cabin. It’s closest to the gate we can use. El’s already there with Will and Hopper getting what they can done. We don’t know how long we actually have.”

“Do they feel him?” Steve had to ask, had to know.

“El said she’s not sure if it’s Vecna or the mindflayer, and Will thinks it’s just the entire hivemind, but yeah. They do feel something. They expected it to be stronger so Nancy thinks something is messing with their connection,” Lucas said.

Steve nodded and told them to load their bikes in his trunk while he finished grabbing some things.

Most of what they would wear was already at the cabin, but he couldn’t do this without a piece of Eddie.

He slipped the vest on and laced up his boots. He put the only ring he had of Eddie’s on his ring finger, the only one it would fit on.

He checked the mirror once to make sure he didn’t look like he was falling apart at the seams.

The black shadows under his eyes and greasy hair would have to be alright.

******

They split up, but differently this time. One group stayed with El, protecting her while she protected the world. One group stayed with Will in the Upside Down.

Steve insisted on being part of the group in the Upside Down.

He carried his nail bat while Robin carried a flamethrower. She had lessons and everything.

Joyce had a rifle loaded with special bullets that exploded into actual flames upon impact, something Dustin and Suzie had cooked up over the last month to try to gain any leverage they could.

Nancy and Jonathan were ahead of them, rifles in hand to fire warning shots if they saw anything before Will felt it.

Will was quiet, but he’d been pretty quiet since he’d arrived in Hawkins.

It was eerily quiet, more than they were expecting. They’d come in thinking they’d be fighting off demobats and demodogs constantly, but so far they were met with nothing but falling ash and the occasional sound of a tree limb breaking.

“Are we sure he’s still here?” Steve finally asked.

“He’s here. I can feel him. He’s just being quiet, waiting,” Will answered. That was the most he’d said all day.

So they continued.

A gunshot went off.

Everyone froze.

Jonathan yelled to them that something was nearby.

“It can’t be him. He’s still too distant,” Will said as Joyce stood in front of him.

“Unless he’s messing with you,” Robin whispered. “He knows we’re on high alert, right? He knows we’re strong and we aren’t just gonna give up. He’s not gonna let himself be known until he’s certain he’s got us in our weakest spot.”

Will nodded. “I don’t think he has that much control over what I can feel, though.”

“He has a lot more control over all of you than you think,” a voice said from to their left.

All weapons were pointed towards it except for Steve’s, who would recognize that voice in any situation, no matter how insane.

“Eddie?” He pushed everyone out of the way and moved towards the voice.

“Wait!” Eddie said from the shadows, barely an outline visible in the darkness. “Don’t come closer yet.”

“Why not?” Steve felt Robin’s hand on his shoulder, comforting and holding him back at the same time.

“I’m not…Steve.” Something in his tone told Steve to actually listen to him, to not push.

“Can you at least let me know if you’re alright?” Steve was scared to actually believe this was Eddie.

Eddie was dead. His body was missing.

If this wasn’t actually Eddie, Steve wouldn’t handle it well. He’d do what he needs to make sure everyone gets out of here, but after that?

Who knows.

Eddie sounded like he was cursing under his breath, which felt like such an Eddie thing, Steve couldn’t help smiling a little.

Maybe the world would end today, maybe he’d die, maybe everyone would die. But right now, Steve felt Eddie’s presence, and that was something worth dying for.

“Okay, this is gonna sound like a trap.” Eddie cursed again. “But I don’t know if I can be trusted near anyone except Steve.”

“Yeah, hard pass,” Robin said as she tugged Steve back. He’d already put one foot forward like he was actually going to get closer. “If I can’t see you, you’re not getting any closer to him.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Eddie sighed. “I just need you to not freak out if I come out there.”

“Why would we-” Steve started to ask as Eddie stepped out of the shadows.

It was still pretty dark, but it was easy enough to see the outline of him.

In many ways, he looked the same, still pale, still long dark curls, still wearing the clothes he’d died in. But there were things Steve noticed immediately.

His wounds seemed healed, which should be impossible. Well, he shouldn’t even be alive, but even still, there should be way more scars covering his face and neck. His eyes were nearly black, not the deep brown they’d been before the life left them in Steve’s arms. When he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth were pointed, sharp.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I haven’t been around anyone since-” He gestured to himself. “And I’m not sure how much control I have.”

“What…are you?” Nancy asked from behind them.

“I wanna say vampire, but nothing is really that simple, so blood-thirsting creature who hasn’t had blood since he discovered he needed it.” Eddie flashed his teeth. “I’ve got no heartbeat, which is weird. And I can hear what Steve’s thinking.”

“What?” Steve asked, almost too shocked by seeing Eddie to actually process what he was saying.

“Your thoughts have been like, the only thing keeping me alive. No blood yet, remember?”

“How does that even work?” Joyce asked, hand on Steve’s arm. “Did you feel anything strange?”

“No,” Steve answered, not taking his eyes away from Eddie. “So you…you know?”

“Yeah, Stevie. I know,” Eddie took one step closer and paused, closing his eyes. “I don’t wanna get any closer to anyone. But I know for a fact that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You know how that sounds, right?” Will finally spoke up.

“Yeah, Will the Wise, I do. Which is why I won’t push. But I think something happened when Stevie here kissed me while I was bleeding out in his arms and I’m pretty sure that I would actually die if I hurt him,” Eddie said.

Everyone looked to Steve, who could no longer think of a single reason not to go to Eddie.

Robin seemed hesitant to let him go, but he smiled at her and said to trust him. They all had plenty of weapons if something went wrong.

He walked closer, his only thought being able to actually touch Eddie again, maybe kiss him when he wasn’t dying.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Eddie said quietly as Steve stopped right in front of him. He seemed taller, just a couple inches, but definitely noticeable. “Gotta watch the teeth though. They’re pretty sharp.”

“It’s really you,” Steve reached a hand out to cup his cheek. Eddie nuzzled against his palm. “You came back.”

“I’ll always crawl home to you, Stevie.”

“How did this happen?” He whispered, his hand dropping to Eddie’s chest. He really didn’t have a heartbeat. “How are you here?”

“I don’t really know. I woke up and got flashes of your thoughts, and then my own memory kicked in and all I could think about was getting back to you.” Eddie leaned forward until his forehead touched Steve’s. “It killed me to hear how much you were hurting and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Why couldn’t you come through the gate?” Steve asked, fingers curling into Eddie’s shirt. “Why didn’t you come to us when we came to get your body?”

“Every time I tried to leave, I would pass out. One of those times was when I could hear your thoughts about coming to get me and I wanted to meet you at the gate, but I blacked out somewhere by Skull Rock?” Eddie sighed. “I didn’t get to you in time.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed.

“Hey,” Eddie cupped his face and shook his head. “You didn’t know. This isn’t your fault. If anything, you’re the reason I’m even alive-ish to begin with.”

It was like everything around them disappeared when Steve leaned up to peck Eddie’s lips.

It was even quicker than the first time, barely even a graze. But they both felt the spark.

Steve fell against his chest, his face nuzzling into his neck as he let out another sob. “I needed you.”

“I know. I’m here now,” Eddie said.

Steve hadn’t realized how much it was true, how much he did need Eddie this whole time. The grief he’d felt was beyond what he should’ve felt, more than what even some of the people closest to Eddie had been showing. It didn’t make sense to him why he felt so much for this man he barely knew.

“It feels like I have your heartbeat in my chest,” Steve mumbled. It didn’t make any sense.

“Maybe you do, sweetheart,” Eddie kissed the side of his head. “Must’ve stolen it from me when you kissed me.”

Steve smiled against Eddie’s skin. “Maybe I did.”

“Um, not to break up…whatever this is,” Robin started. “But Will’s hearing things.”

Steve whimpered as Eddie pulled away.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said as he laced his fingers with Steve’s. “I’m right here with you.”

And it turned out, he was more help than anyone could’ve expected.

He wasn’t exactly connected to the hivemind, but he could sense Vecna. He was almost certain Vecna was the reason he passed out anytime he tried to leave.

Which Nancy had explained probably meant Vecna would need to be severely weakened or die before Eddie would be able to leave.

If Steve had to kill Vecna himself to have Eddie back, he would. He would do anything.

But since Eddie seemed connected to him, he could give them more warning than even Will could when something was going to happen.

That warning is probably what saved them and ultimately helped El get into Vecna’s mind to finish the job she started in March.

It was obvious almost immediately when she won, when they won.

Steve’s first response was to hug Robin, her tears and sweat and a little blood soaking into his shirt while he cried into her hair. He could distantly hear everyone else crying and yelling, cheers coming from the walkie that Joyce was holding.

Everyone was okay.

Robin patted his back and pulled away. “You better get to Eddie before he rips my face off.”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked over to Eddie. He’d distanced himself from everyone, and even though he was smiling about their victory, he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Robin said, patting his cheek. “I’m happy for you. If he’s what you want, I’m glad you get to have him.”

“Thanks, Robs.”

Robin turned to pull Nancy into a hug and Steve made his way over to Eddie.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Steve started. “You made sure we got him before he could get us.”

Eddie’s wide eyes wouldn’t focus on him, darting from his face to his neck to behind him.

“Stevie, I-” He groaned. “I really need blood. Everyone smells so strong. I think Vecna was covering some of my hunger before.”

Steve paled. “Okay. Let’s just- okay.”

“Steve.”

“Bite me.”

“Steve!”

“No, seriously. You won’t hurt me. You can’t hurt me. And I barely even lost any blood today. Might as well let you have some.”

Eddie whined. “I-”

“Eds, look at me,” Steve guided his face towards him. “If you drink a little now, we can all leave here. You can come home. You can see Wayne. You can see the kids. You can stay with me if you want.”

Eddie nodded. “I just don’t wanna freak you out. I feel like you’re handling this too well.”

“Maybe,” Steve snorted. “But this is not even top three weirdest things to happen to me. I want you to feel like you have control again. You can be in control of your own body.”

“I don’t know what it will feel like for you. It may hurt,” Eddie said.

“It won’t hurt as much as knowing you’re suffering.”

“You would fall on a sword I’m holding if it meant I was happy, wouldn’t you?” Eddie asked, shaking his head. “How have you not died?”

“I almost have many times.” Steve cupped the back of Eddie’s head and pulled him in, tipping his head to the side so he had better access to his neck. “This won’t be one of them. You can’t hurt me.”

“Steve,” Eddie nipped at his neck. “You smell so good. I can’t-”

“Then don’t, baby. Drink.”

The moment Eddie’s teeth sunk into his skin, every surrounding noise and sight was gone from Steve’s mind. All he could think about was giving Eddie everything, whatever he needed was his.

He could feel Eddie moaning against his neck, but couldn’t quite hear it.

Eddie’s arms were around his waist, holding him up while he took the blood he needed.

Steve lost track of time, lost track of everything except the way Eddie’s lips felt against his pulse point. His tongue lapped up the blood leaking from where his mouth connected to his veins.

They both shivered.

Steve blacked out.

******

“If you killed him, I swear to god Munson, I will kill you.”

Robin’s voice was the first thing Steve became aware of.

And then he felt Eddie’s fingers on his wrist, probably checking his pulse.

“‘M not dead,” he managed to say.

He was definitely in a bed, though he couldn’t be sure if it was his own. He didn’t really want to open his eyes yet.

He turned his head a few inches and let out a small whimper at the sting in his neck.

“Can’t believe you tried to eat my babysitter,” Dustin’s voice said from somewhere across the room. “After he basically saved you by kissing you. I gotta call Suzie. There’s theories on a “sleeping beauty” kiss, but there’s no actual science to back it up. Yet.”

“Dustin, please shut up,” Steve groaned. “I’m fine.”

He finally opened his eyes to emphasize his point, shocked to see almost everyone surrounding the bed he was in.

“This wasn’t really an everyone needs to be here situation, was it? I just passed out.”

“Eddie was panicking. He thought he killed you,” Lucas provided.

“But he cannot. You are soulmates,” El said from a chair on the other side of the bed. She looked exhausted, but otherwise okay. “It is impossible for him to kill you.”

“Well that’s…nice.” Steve was feeling a bit exhausted himself. “How long was I passed out?”

“Long enough to get through the gate and get you back to your house. 30 minutes maybe?” Eddie said, pulling his hand up to kiss his fingers. “I was worried I took too much.”

“No,” Steve said, certain he hadn’t. “I think it was just overwhelming. It won’t happen next time.”

“Did I hurt you?” Eddie’s voice sounded broken and unsure, like he would crumble into pieces if Steve said yes.

“No. You didn’t hurt me. I promise. It felt…good,” Steve was hesitant to say more with so many ears listening in, especially young ones. “It was just a lot.”

Eddie watched him for a moment, determining if he was lying. But he could read his thoughts, knew he wasn’t, and eventually gave a nod and another kiss to his knuckles.

“Well, since we know he isn’t dead and probably won’t be anytime soon…we should go!” Robin said because she was a good friend who knew what Steve was thinking even without the mindreading superpowers.

“But we should monitor him and make sure nothing weird happens. We don’t know what Eddie’s got going on and-” Dustin started to argue.

“Yep, he’s fine.” Hopper started to nudge everyone out the door. “We have stuff to do anyway. Eddie can watch him. He’ll call if anything weird happens, right?”

“Right,” Eddie answered, not taking his eyes off of Steve.

As everyone filtered out of the room, Steve blinked back at Eddie, fond smile spreading across his face.

“You need any more?” Steve asked when the door closed.

“You’re joking,” Eddie laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “I could have actually killed you. I’d never drank before and you tasted so good, Steve. You have no idea how hard it was to stop. And then you passed out! I almost had them bring you to the hospital!”

“I’m fine! I passed out because it felt good.”

“Steve. No one passes out like that just because something felt good.”

“Well, it did! It felt kinda like having five orgasms at once. Except kinda different, too. Like I wasn’t quite over the edge?” Steve shook his head. “Either way, I’m okay and it felt good and if you need more, you can have more.”

“I don’t need more right now,” Eddie sighed. “But I know I will. We’ll figure out what to do to make sure you get enough vitamins so I can drink from you next time.”

“Mhm. Sounds good,” Steve closed his eyes and tugged Eddie’s hand to rest on his chest, where his heart was beating against his ribs. “Feels like you’re part of me.”

“Yeah. You feel it too?”

“El said we’re soulmates?” Steve opened his eyes again and found Eddie’s gazing back at him already.

“I don’t know, but there’s definitely a connection. A pretty strong one. I don’t think we can ignore it,” Eddie admitted, almost apologetic.

“I wouldn’t want to. I should’ve told you before how much I wanted to get to know you,” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “You didn’t deserve to only know after you were already dead.”

“I’m not dead. I’m here with you.”

“But I watched you die. I thought you were dead. I mourned you with the kids. Robin had to stay with me for a week straight because I could barely sleep, blamed myself for everything. You must have heard all of that.”

“I think I heard a lot of it. You tortured yourself. I wanted to come here and tell you I was okay so many times. I tried so many times,” Eddie kissed his forehead. “But I’m here now. You’re mine now. I’m yours. We can figure out what this means for us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Will you get in bed with me?” Steve asked.

“To sleep?”

“Eventually,” Steve smirked. “Remember when I said I was still on the edge?”

Eddie snorted. “I’m not fucking you tonight. No way.”

“Why not?” Steve pouted.

“Because it should be special and because you’ve already been through enough today,” Eddie chuckled. “You can wait a day or two.”

“Can we at least make out a little?” Steve tried to compromise.

“Will you get some rest after?”

“If you make me tired enough.”

“I didn’t know I’d end up with Steve Harrington, The Brat.”

“You’re the one who pointed out I was a spoiled rich kid,” Steve argued, turning on his side so that Eddie could climb into bed next to him. “I’m used to getting what I want.”

Steve hadn’t felt this light in a long time, maybe even years.

Eddie must have sensed it, his beaming smile lighting up the room, his sharp teeth glistening in the low lamplight.

His lips crashed against Steve’s, his arms pulling Steve closer and then on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

Steve moaned into his mouth, licking past his lips and across his fangs.

He could almost still taste his own blood in Eddie’s mouth.

He rolled his hips forward, cock already straining against his pants. The friction was perfect, just enough to keep Steve on the edge, but not so much to make it seem like he was pushing.

He was pushing though. He wanted to see how far Eddie would go, how far they could get tonight even with the events of the day behind them and the exhaustion sinking in.

Eddie nipped at his lip, just enough to break skin, and Steve whimpered.

“Shit, sorry. Forgot how sharp these things are,” Eddie pulled away and thumbed away the blood.

“It’s good, I like it,” Steve gasped out. He pulled Eddie’s thumb to his mouth and sucked on it. “Bite me anywhere.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Please, I’ll be good. You don’t have to drink. Just…bite me.”

Eddie held him still for a minute, his eyes searching his face.

“I have an idea.”

Steve nodded. “Anything.”

“Ever fingered yourself?” Eddie asked casually.

“Um, kind of? I mean I have, but I got frustrated with the angle pretty quick.” Steve suddenly caught up to what Eddie was suggesting. “Are you gonna finger me?”

“If you have lube.”

Steve sat up, nearly falling back over from a head rush. Once he managed to stay upright, he reached over into his bedside table and moved a couple things over to get the lube.

He handed it to Eddie and started to get off of him, but Eddie’s hands grabbed his hips and stilled him.

“Nope, like this. I want you to ride my fingers,” Eddie smirked. “You can find what feels good like this. Use me to get off.”

“Is that what your idea was?” Steve gulped. He’d never done anything like this before and wasn’t sure he’d do it right.

“No, but it’ll make my idea more fun,” Eddie squeezed his hips. “But we can stop anytime, okay? Even if it’s just because you’re too tired.”

“I’m not.”

“Love, you defeated an alternate dimension and its super evil guy today. Plus, I drained you of a pint or two of blood. You can be tired,” Eddie opened the cap of the lube. “You wanna get undressed?”

Steve rushed to pull his shirt off, and quickly stood up to remove everything else. Eddie tried not to laugh at his eagerness; It was honestly pretty endearing.

Once he was naked, he got back on Eddie’s lap. “Are you gonna get undressed?”

“Not right now. This is all about you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s blush went down to his chest, and Eddie was ready to proclaim his love to anyone who would hear it. He didn’t care how ridiculous it was; He loved Steve and his beautiful red glow.

He hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, but Eddie could hear the blood rushing in his veins, could hear his heart pounding even from across the room. He could almost feel every breath in his own lungs.

He spread the lube across his fingers as he helped Steve scoot up enough to make this easier for both of them.

Steve’s breath hitched as he circled his hole, and Eddie heat rushing to the places his fingers brushed against.

He pushed a finger in slowly, slow enough that it felt like Steve’s entrance was making his finger a part of him. Steve let out a long, low moan as he pushed himself down further, until Eddie’s knuckle was resting against him.

“You were made for me, weren’t you?” Eddie said in awe. He’d done this plenty, but never like this, and never with someone who wanted him this badly. “Taking me like you’re starving for it.”

“Am starving for it. Need you,” Steve moved his hips forward and back, barely riding Eddie’s finger.

Eddie pulled his finger out and replaced it with two, trying to take it slow, but Steve wouldn’t let him.

“Oh fuck,” Steve whined when Eddie crooked both his fingers inside him, brushing against his prostate repeatedly as Steve’s hips started moving again.

His cock was leaking, dripping precome down his length and onto Eddie’s stomach. He couldn’t wait to have a taste of it later. Soon, if the way Steve’s heart kept skipping a beat was any indication.

“You want another?” Eddie asked him, somehow feeling breathless despite the fact he may or may not even need to breathe.

“Please,” Steve begged. “Need to be full.”

“You want me to fill you up?” Eddie stretched him open around three fingers, going a bit slower this time when Steve tightened around him. “How much can you take? Think you can do four fingers? Think you can have my whole cock in there next to a couple fingers?”

Steve nodded, though Eddie was pretty sure he had no idea he was doing it. He wasn’t picking up any actual thoughts from him right now, which was definitely good for his ego, but a little concerning.

“Hey,” Eddie paused with his fingers inside him, his free hand against Steve’s chest. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Steve blinked his eyes open and Eddie was gifted with a few random thoughts about how nice his fingers felt and how much he wanted to come.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” Eddie asked.

“Mhm.”

Eddie thrust his fingers in and out a few more times before tugging Steve down.

The new angle caused him to nearly scream, Eddie’s fingers putting constant pressure against his prostate as his cock got trapped between them.

“Gonna test something. Can I bite you?” Eddie whispered against his ear.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve agreed, tilting his head to the side like the good boy he was.

Eddie stilled his fingers, but kept them as deep inside Steve as he could. He leaned forward and breathed in the scent of Steve, his sweat, the lingering smell of his body wash from his last shower barely clinging to his skin, his blood.

His teeth found their mark and he bit down, groaning as he broke the skin and tasted the first drop of blood on his tongue.

He didn’t suck, didn’t need to. He lapped at the droplets of blood as he felt Steve tense, let out a high-pitched whimper, and warmth coat both their stomachs and chests.

He pulled off immediately, pulled his fingers out so he could wipe them off on the sheets.

“Fuck, sweetheart, that was perfect. You were perfect for me,” Eddie kissed his neck, his shoulder, the side of his head. “Can’t believe I get to do that.”

“Mmm…again?” Steve’s raspy voice breathed out against his shoulder.

Eddie laughed. “Not tonight, beautiful boy. I need you to rest. You did so good.”

“Mhm. You too.”

Eddie laughed again. How did this become his life? Or death? Undeath? Whatever.

He didn’t have the heart to move Steve, but he knew they’d end up literally stuck together with dried cum if he didn’t at least wipe them down. He managed to lift Steve enough to wipe them off with the sheet, but it wasn’t perfect and they’d definitely need to shower as soon as they woke up.

Eddie had changed as soon as he got to Steve’s house at everyone’s insistence, but he had yet to shower, and he was pretty certain the only reason he didn’t smell worse was because he technically wasn’t alive to produce any body odor.

He turned his head to look into the bathroom.

Steve had a huge bathtub. They could share in the morning.

For now, Eddie ran his fingers up and down Steve’s back as he fell asleep on top of him.

“Thanks for kissing me, sweetheart,” he whispered before closing his eyes and letting out any of the tension he’d been holding onto.

Tomorrow, they’d find a way to explain his presence to Wayne, and he’d really be back home.

But tonight, he’d let the weight of Steve and his love cover him up.

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup Masterlist

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETED

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Total Parts: 17

Total Word Count: ~43.3k

Summary: A mission that was supposed to be easy doesn't go your way, but when does it ever when the 141 is involved? Aphrodisiacs that were incredibly powerful were used on yourself and Simon, and with one accident it took over your lives. Now, you need to figure out how to go about life as a newly mated Omega in a world made for Alphas.

Content Tags: Smut, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Heat, Rut, Angst, Knotting, PIV Sex, Biting, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kinda Pregnancy Loss, Teasing, Use of Pet-Names, Simon is shit at talking and emotions, He figures it out tho, Dropping of the L word, Near Death, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Task Force 141 is a Pack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I just wanted to make sure anyone who needed (or wanted) to have a one-stop shop for the Maple Syrup series (and drabbles pertaining to it) can have it. Please send me asks! Masterlist under the Cut!

🧼 = smut, 🧸 = angst, 💞 = fluff

Main Storyline:

Part 1: Maple Syrup 🧼

Part 2: The Aftermath 🧸

Part 3: Alpha, Please 🧼💞

Part 4: Feral 💞

Part 5: The Hearing 🧸

Part 6: Talk 🧸

Part 7: Lost and Found 🧸 💞

Part 8: Hot and Cold 🧼 🧸

Part 9: Hoops 🧸

Part 10: Thirteen 🧸

Part 11: Tags 🧸

Part 12: Ghost 🧸

Part 13: Tea 🧸💞🧼

Part 14: Meetings 🧸💞

Part 15: Tears 🧸💞

Part 16: Nothing 🧸

Part 17: Happy 💞🧸

Drabbles, Oneshots, Side-Stories:

Simons Rut 🧼

Headcannons 💞🧸🧼

[lgbtlunaverse]

I have been thinking on the nature of mdzs as a deliberately vague text that leaves many things up to interpretation, and how i've slowly come to understand "up for interpretation" less as "there is One True version of this story i must find" and not even as " Everyone has a different One True Version of this story inside their head be based on their interpretations and the differences don't make one wrong and the other right" but as "There is no One True Version. Even in my own subjective interpretation of the text multiple things can be true at once" specifically, in regard to Jin Guangyao and the many things which are left up in the air as to whether he did them or not, most notably killing his son.

There's evidence for this, but it's non conclusuve (jgy saying he killed him while also saying he killed Qin Su, who very much killed herself. The speculations on how he'd have killed him being sect leader yao just saying shit. ) it is, esentially, just up in the air enough that if you decisively fall on one side of the debate is probably says more about you and your general opinion of jgy than it does about the "true" events of canon.

I have, as a proud apologist, always fallen on the "he didn't kill him but felt in some way responsible for his death." Side but recently have become more okay with the interpretation that maybe he DID kill him, and that at the very least, that when he tells Qin Su their son "needed to die" he is being genuine. Which, once you look at it beyond. "Is jgy a poor lil meow meow who it is Okay to Like or an irredeemable baby murderer" becomes both INCREDIBLY tragic and deeply interesting. Because here is a man condemned for who his parents were and who wants nothing more than to live, saying that it is possible to be so cursed by your heritage that you need to die. There is no existence for you. The exact same thing that has been said to him.

Of course being born out of wedlock to a sex worker and being a product of incest are different things, but that begs the question: where is the line? What crimes of the father can mean death for the son? How cursed can you be until your existence is so incompatible with society it is you who needs to give? And if there is... where is it? Qin su clearly thought she was past it. Was his son really past it? Is he?

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Chapter Summary: The captain falls in battle. Mask has an item for that

[frooogscream]

Djenk:*holds EdIzzy a hand wide away while they desperately try to kiss* “I created a beautiful father figure”😌

Me:*pries them out of his lil straight boy grippers*. “You ruined a perfecly good toxic yaoi, that’s what you did! Look at it, it has character assassination & ‘straight Izzy’-heresy now!

[ishytori]

There is one thing I'd like to discuss.

I really don't like this panel. It's drawn to provide effect like Astolfo and unnamed vampire boy are equal. Like vampire boy was an innocent victim. But was he really?

First of all, vampire boy doesn't say: "Your dad killed my parents". He says "Paladin". It could be Gano, Ogier or even Olivier. But most likely not Astolfo's father (in that case I think it would be told). So vampire boy attacked innocent people that are not connected to his parents death. He attacked even children who helped him and saved him. It was not revenge because he didn't find his parents killer. Instead he found a defenseless prey.

Second: vampire boy and his adult friends get pleasure from torturing weak innocent children that can't protect themselves. Days by days. It's a very specific kind of personality. Torturing requires cold head and planning and getting pleasure from someone's suffering. It's not like some feature of character that everyone can have. It's a trait of maniac.

Third: were vampire boy and his parents really innocent victims of chasseurs rampage? Let's see what Vanitas says, when Roland asks is Noe really a vampire:

Vanitas isn't interested in justification of chasseurs actions so his words must reflect the real state of affairs. Usually chasseurs hunt real criminals. Why did they hunt vampire boy family? It's very hard to find some innocent vampire family that lives quietly in human world. They looks like average humans - like Noe who works in human café and nobody suspect him as a vampire. And it's much more easy to find vampires that attack humans: they have a trail of blood and corpses behind them.

In summary: I really don't think vampire boy and his family was innocent. Innocent vampires usually are not chasseurs target. Innocent people don't attack someone who helped them and don't like tortures. And don't have friends that can torture six years old child to death.