#i insisted on raising only one type of monster

[dragonsong17]

I'm playing Monster Rancher Advance 2 again and am just now realizing that I did literally everything wrong in this game as a kid. Did I have fun? Yes! Tons of fun and I have nothing but fond memories of this game. But was I also the World's Worst Rancher? Absolutely!

[annwrites]

⸻ sons & daughters. aemond | king's landing outtake. ⸻

· pairing: young!aemondtargaryen x niece!reader · type: outtake from this series · summary: aemond comes to you for comfort after his brother & yours gave him a new mount: the pink dread. · tw: grooming (sort of), incest · word count: 1,037 · ꒰a/n꒱: gif

"My Prince, I should take you to your mother, the Queen—"

Aemond ignores the knight's insistencies as he turns down yet another hall, bringing him closer and closer to the only door he wishes to hide behind... While being held in one particular's arms.

"She will have to wait," he mumbles.

He does not so much as bother knocking when he turns the handle, leaving the man to wait outside as he swiftly turns the lock.

"N-Niece," he calls, to no answer.

He steps further into the room, praying you are here.

With it being midday, however, you may be with your septa. Or in the library, the gardens, with your family.

Your brothers.

He will tell you what they've done and you will abhor it, he's sure.

"Niece," he calls again, glancing to your made bed, a cloth doll lain atop the comforter.

"Aemond?" Calls a sweet, quiet voice from the balcony.

He turns, tears brimming in his eyes. But even in his distressed state, he must insist it.

He does not know why he does sometimes. It is almost a compulsive habit now, more than anything. Nevertheless, he says it.

"Uncle," he replies, coming closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

He begins to quietly weep.

"What's wrong?" You ask, snuggling against his chest.

Already he feels in better spirits. He always does when he's with you.

He knows not what he would do if the two of you were ever parted.

He chooses not to think on such horrible prospects now, however. You'll always be together, he's sure of it.

You have to be.

Are meant and supposed to be.

"We were in the Dragonpit. Me, Aegon, Jace, and Luke. They..." He pauses, sniffling, holding you tighter. "They told me they'd found me a dragon."

A beat of silence.

"It was a pig."

Your brows furrow.

"They tied wings to it. Called it 'The Pink Dread'. They laughed at me."

"I'm sorry, uncle. That was very cruel."

You pull back, smiling softly up at him, so he kisses your forehead.

"We could always keep it? Make it a pet. I think that would show them."

His lip twitches in amusement, but he still shakes his head. "I don't think a pig would be welcome in the Red Keep, beloved niece. Not unless it's meant to go to the kitchens, at least."

You nod, considering what you will do when you next see Jacaerys. Give him an earful, that much is for certain.

Aemond holds the back of your head as you continue gazing up at him. "I'm—I'm still a true Targaryen. Whether I have one or not. Just...just like you."

You know he is wanting for your reassurance, so you give it gladly.

"I know you are."

You hug yourself to his chest again. "You are very intelligent. I always liked when you read to me, before I myself could. And you're brave. Like when you practice in the yard. Even if they're only wooden swords, you're still very..."

"Adept," he finishes.

You nod. "Yes."

He smiles, resting his cheek against the crown of your head. "You always loved when we played as a knight and his lady."

He loved showing off his swordsmanship skills then, so as to try and impress you. It filled him with pride when you would clap excitedly after he saved you from a fictitious monster.

"It was fun."

You're silent for a moment.

"Do you...do you think one needs to have silver hair to be one?"

He raises his head, gazing down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "No. I like your hair perfectly the way it is."

In truth, he does wish it matched his own—only because it would serve to further make the two of you even more alike than you already are.

"All you need be is my niece."

You nod slowly.

He glances to your bed, then back to you. "Do...do you want to?"

You blink up at him, nervously shifting on your feet then, chewing your lower lip.

He watches you closely, misliking your hesitation. You are supposed to be the same in all things. His wants are meant to be your wants. Especially this. These times are the ones he most enjoys spending with you.

Their purpose is many things, but foremost of which is to bring the two of you impossibly closer. To have a secret between you that only the two of you can understand.

Your parents wouldn't. They would tell you it's wrong.

Aemond knows otherwise.

"It would make me feel better," he tells you quietly, hoping you'll say yes to that.

And then there is a sharp knock at the door, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

"Prince Aemond, I should escort you to your mother's chambers. She should be informed of today's incident."

Aemond groans in irritation, resting his chin atop your head, keeping his arms wound tightly around you.

He wishes the two of you could be together during all hours of the day like this. Never apart. If he were your husband, it would be so. Everything would be as he wishes for it to be.

You would be like his mother is to his father: doting, and docile, and pretty, and affectionate. And he would be strong, and fierce, and wise, and would instruct you in all things.

And you would listen, like you always have. Because he knows best.

He is older, after all, so it makes sense that he does. That, and he is a boy. Son of the King himself.

"I wish he'd leave," he grumbles. "So we can be alone together."

You remain silent.

Finally, he takes a small step back and you feel a tightness in your chest—which you'd only just become aware of—loosen.

Aemond leans down one last time, cupping your face in his hands, and he kisses you.

"I will see you later, niece," he says softly, and with a warm smile.

You nod happily. "Alright."

You turn, watching him leave, his guard close at his heels.

You're unsure why you lock the door behind him...when there is always the hidden passage.

[teecupangel]

I know we’ve had allot of Desmond turning into animals but have we done dinosaurs? I know there is the titanaboa one, plenty of normal animals and a good helping of legendary and monster type creatures. So I propose Desmond turn into archaeopteryx.

He’d have little claws and he’d be able to fly/glide pretty easily. He’s also small enough to climb and hang onto ancestors shoulders like a parrot.

I think he would be cute like this. Otherwise velociraptor would work with the pack hunting. He’d have his own hidden blade with that claw and the ancestors could be reborn as raptors too and make a squad to hunt Templars down and give them nightmares.

Here’s T-Rex Desmond for those curious.

Since we already have a velociraptor Desmond, let’s turn him into an archaeopteryx and act more like a reconnaissance type partner. He’s small enough that he can hide around his ancestors’ neck, appearing more like a lizard wrap around their neck.

When they get into fights, Desmond will fly out and surprise the enemies, flying around and scratching their eyes to help out.

Desmond only rests on their shoulder when they’re in a safe location like the bureau.

When Altaïr first started raising him, people assumed he’s some strange bird that the crusaders brought with them.

By the time the Templars are like “Oh god, no, we thought that thing was one of yours!”, the Brotherhood is too used to Desmond to even care what kind of strange animal he is.

Any shouts of “it’s weird! It might be evil!” are ignored because of the Brotherhood knew about the story of Desmond getting chased by an angry hen because he touched one of the eggs.

When Altaïr dies, Darim takes care of him because Sef insisted (“You need someone to look after you, brother. Especially when you insist of continuing to do missions at your age” “You’re two years younger than me.” “Yes and I am no longer doing any missions, unlike a certain idiot I know.”) so Desmond takes the role of a partner and a minder (not that Darim would admit the latter).

It’s during one of their travels that Desmond’s first ‘fledgling’ is born.

Darim and Desmond just stares because…

Uh…

Everyone honestly thought Desmond was a dude.

(Desmond doesn’t understand any other animals but he does understand human speech and his offsprings. The fact that his first son is Altaïr is a very strange experience for him especially whenever he remembered how he fed Altaïr when he was a fledgling and taught him how to eat)

[feministmetalgreymon]

The reality behind the Palworld vs Pokemon contreversy

I have been a lifelong Pokemon fan. And one thing I have observed is there are two kinds of Pokemon fans.

One type of Pokemon fan is what I call the sane fans. They acknowledge Pokemon is one game in a long line of monster taming games. They may like or prefer Pokemon over other monster taming franchises but they acknowledge those franchises legitimacy rather than dismissing them as Pokemon clones and rip offs.

The other type is the insane Pokemon fans. These are the people who will insist, despite evidence to the contrary, that Pokemon is the first and only original monster taming game. And accuse any monster taming game of being a Pokemon rip off. If a monster taming franchise looks like it might be become popular they immediately lie about it and slander it. And if it doesn't become a "Pokemon Killer" they deride it as a failure that wasn't as good as Pokemon.

I have seen these insane Pokemon fans attack any monster taming game including franchises that predate Pokemon like Shin Megami Tensei and Dragon Quest. When Tem Tem came out they swarmed social media with accusations that Tem Tem was just a lazy Pokemon clone. And now they want people to take them seriously when they call Palworld a Pokemon rip off. Yeah sure.🙄

Palworld isn't even in the same game genre as Pokemon let alone being a Pokemon clone. Palworld is a survival crafting game with a monster taming mechanic. The Pals you tame aren't just used for fighting like in Pokemon. They are also used for chores like crafting, farming, building and gathering resources. The only similarities Pokemon and Palworld shares is a small number of vaguely similar parody designs.

The only thing that has changed is that now that the Pokemon games have declined in quality. Fewer people are willing to take the insane Pokemon fans seriously. When Game Freak released Pokemon Scarlet and Violet and it was a broken buggy mess. That was a wake up call to the Pokemon fandom. They realized that blindly worshipping a billionaire dollar corporation was a bad idea. And so they started trying other monster collecting franchises like Digimon, Nexomon, Cassette Beast, Dragon Quest Monsters and now Palworld.

They realized that they were missing out on a lot of good games by worshipping Pokemon and insisting it's the best just because it's more popular. And that's when Palworld came along.

You want a monster taming game where you fight alongside your monsters. Palworld has it. You want to use your monsters for more than just fighting. Palworld has it. You want a large and challenging open world. Palworld has it. You want to play with your friends. Palworld has it. You want to build a base and watch as your monsters perform tasks. Palworld has it. You want creature breeding mechanics that aren't slow and tedious grinding. Palworld has it. You want deep creature raising sim mechanics. Palworld has it.

Despite all of the attempts to accuse Palworld of "plagiarizing" Palworld. Palworld has improved drastically on the Pokemon formula and has added more interactivity and depth to it. This is why insane Pokemon fans hate Palworld. They can't argue that Palworld has worse gameplay than Pokemon. So instead they make the issue about "originality".

"Originality" has nothing to do with how good or well done a game is. But it works as a distraction from debates about quality. By making the Palworld debate about originality they don't have to discuss how broken and buggy the Pokemon games are. Nor acknowledge any of the improvements and advances Palworld has made to the monster taming genre. Instead the debate becomes about who did what first.

The reality is it doesn't matter who did what first, what matters is who did it best.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 38 ~ Worries and Apologies

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 5k

In this chapter ~ After Andrea left the mere second she could, the rest were forced to think over what she had told them. It all led to worry breaking out among the group, affecting Rose the most as she thought of the different scenarios of what could happen to the people she loved. However, Daryl was right by her side to calm her nerves and assure her of the things she feared the most. Not only that, but she also received a long and overdue apology from a certain someone.

About an hour had passed after the heated conversation, before Andrea finally made her big decision to head back to Woodbury. I wasn't exactly surprised in the slightest however, and it's safe to say everyone was feeling the same way as we watched her gather her things. She squirmed a little uncomfortably under all of our gazes, but I thought it was well deserved, watching her visibly turn her back on all of us.

Though Rick insisted for her to take one of our cars to drive back there instead of walking the whole way, which I thought was a little too generous, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. Though I quickly offered to get one of our cars and drive it up myself so she could take it, only really doing it so I could bring back the shittiest one we had. Rick was an idiot if he actually thought I was about to bring back one of the nice ones just for her to take it away and ruin it.

I pulled up far enough so they could open the gate for me as I drove in, veering it off toward the side and putting it in park. Andrea was right by the door as I slightly stepped out, staying in place as I told her how to work this one.

"Okay, this one's a little testy so go easy on the breaks and...oh, you see those wires?" I asked as I gestured to the loose ones under the steering wheel, seeing her nod in return, "Don't touch them." I concluded with a bitter smile before fully exiting the car.

Walking back over to the others, I stood next to Rick who only gave me a pointed look as he noticed what I had done, though I only shrugged in response.

Andrea then glanced around to every single face as we waited to send her off, nodding to herself as there was a little sympathy in her eyes. "Well...take care." she muttered before fully getting into the vehicle, closing the door to take off.

My eyes followed the car, watching Merle pull open the gate for her before I raised my hand up to flip her off as one final goodbye. But Rick quietly scoffed as he reached to push my arm back down, sending me another disapproving look.

"Oh, come on." I muttered, "Take care? Really?" I asked in slight disbelief.

He shook his head, "I know."

Everyone silently watched the car drive further and further away as a new feeling washed over us all. It was uncomfortable and tense and I could tell some were losing hope. After the things that Andrea informed, her begging us to just cooperate so we wouldn't lose this battle, it affected us in some way. Almost like another harsh reality check just like the monsters that were still left in the field.

Once the car completely disappeared from view, I quietly offered to take watch for a little while so Maggie and Carl could rest and have a break. I also found I just wanted a little time to myself, to sit outside and feel the sun on my skin, allowing myself to think over the things we were just told.

Night had eventually fallen but I was still outside watching everything around me even after hours of being out there alone, keeping my eyes peeled for any type of threat. Well, besides the obvious ones that were still snarling on the fields. It was quiet though as I sat by myself, though I didn't mind because of how many more things I was still thinking about over and over again like some kind of broken record.

Andrea showing up mixed in with the conversation I had with Merle left me feeling empty. I wanted to believe that we would win this, that we would get through it, but I honestly wasn't so sure anymore. With my eyes focused on all the walkers in the field, it was just a reminder of what The Governor was capable of. It scared me so badly thinking about the possibility of losing my family, but it was all I could seem to think about. I would rather sacrifice myself a thousand different times before accepting the loss of anyone else. We had already witnessed too much death, experienced so much grief, we didn't need any more of it.

My mind seemed to continue to stay on this loop for what felt like forever as I spaced off. That is until I heard quiet footsteps coming up from behind me and I turned over my shoulder to see Daryl, with a small smile on his face as he made his way over. Though I couldn't find the strength to smile back.

He plopped down next to me with a sigh, "You been out here a while." he stated the obvious.

I only shrugged, "...Just thinking."

"Thinkin? About?" he asked while nudging me.

I sighed as I turned to look out at the fields once more, "Everything."

He nodded and stayed quiet, as we let the calmness of the night do all of the talking we needed to fill the silence. I slowly moved to rest my head on his shoulder while the gun laid lazily in my lap, my eyes watching the walkers move back and forth like clockwork against the gates as they growled. He rested his head on top of mine and delicately moved to place a hand on my thigh, rubbing his thumb lightly over the fabric of my jeans.

I let my mind wander back to The Governor once again and let my anxiety take over as I started to fidget with my hands a little. I couldn't stop. It was like a constant spiral of thoughts were just spinning around my mind, taunting me almost. Seeing how far they could push me before I would just completely break down. But Daryl noticed almost immediately and gently placed his hand on top of mine to get me to stop the moment he realized.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

I slowly lifted my head to look him in the eye, taking in a soft breath, "I'm scared." I admitted, letting the words come out only above a whisper as if I was dreading to admit the defeat out loud.

He his face drastically dropped, bringing me into his arms as he hugged me and pulling me closer to his chest. I squeezed him tightly, as if I were to let him go, he would slip away from me again. The thought of him leaving scared me, but the thought of losing him for good terrified me.

He slowly let go of me and place his pointer finger under my chin so I would look at him, "M' gonna protect ya no matter what." he assured me.

I shook my head, "That's what I'm afraid of."

His expression morphed into confusion, "What do ya mean?"

"I know you would protect me; you would take a bullet for me. But that's what scares me. I don't want to lose you again."

"I ain't gonna die on ya-"

"You don't know that." I was quick to defend, "Daryl, it was hell when I lost you the first time, and that was when I knew you were alive. I don't even know what I would do with myself if you..." I trailed off suddenly.

He shook his head, "Don't think like that."

"I'm just trying to be realistic. After Merle and I talked-"

He huffed out a breath that made me stop in my tracks, "I fuckin knew that's what this was bout, Rosie he's just tryin to get in yer head. It's the only thing he's good at."

"No, he's not." I quickly said, "Believe me I thought that too at first, but he was right...and that scares me too."

He sighed heavily as he tried to think of the right words to say to me. His eyes held so much emotion and all I wanted right now was to get a peek inside his mind and get even a glimpse at what he was thinking. Know exactly the things he wanted to say and piece it together myself.

"I dunno what's gonna happen." he finally spoke, "I can't sit here and tell ya that everthin is gonna be alright cause I don't know that. But I do know that all of us together are strong as hell. We've all been fightin left and right since the beginnin and always had each other's backs, that's somethin that won't change. I think we can beat this as long as we have everyone else, and that's all that matters."

I was taken aback for a second at his words, feeling myself smile a little, almost in pride. "When did you get so wise?" I asked teasingly as I nudged him.

He rolled his eyes, "When my girl started to freak out about all of us dyin. We protect each other. We survived this didn't we?" he asked, gesturing to the field of walkers.

My eyes followed to where he pointed, silently nodding my head in agreement, "Yeah... and you're right. We just have to fight like hell."

"Yeah...and m' more than ready to do it." he stated.

I tilted my head as I looked back over to him, "Why's that?"

His gaze then ducked down a little to try and hide the redness in his cheeks, but I still saw. I always did. "Cause I finally got something to fight for." he said quietly.

A growing smile spread across my face as I stared at him lovingly, "Me too." I whispered.

He looked back up at me and smiled, gently cupping his hand on the side of my face to pull me in for a sweet kiss. I now found I couldn't stop thinking about what he said to me, and how safe I felt in his arms. How he was able to calm me when all I could seem to do was worry. Flipping it completely like a light switch. I was so deeply in love with this man.

He then broke away after a moment or two, pecking my lips once more before fully pulling back, "Alright, come on, let's get ya inside. You need some sleep."

I didn't argue with that, mostly because I could slowly feel the drowsiness sneaking up on me and I knew I had stayed out there for far too long. Though I silently knew in the back of my mind that if he hadn't come out here to drag me back in, I probably wouldn't have for the rest of the night.

As we walked back into the prison, Beth's soft and gentle voice filled the air as she sung, echoing around the cement walls as we made our way through. We walked into the cellblock to see it being lit up by a few candles with the group sitting around just enjoying Beth's harmony along with each other's company. I found myself trailing in slowly, leaning up against a wall next to Hershel and Rick, Daryl following right by my side as we all stood in silence for a moment.

"Andrea's in a jam." Rick suddenly whispered over to the three of us quietly, bouncing Judith lightly in his arms.

"We all are. Andrea's persuasive, this fella's armed to the teeth. Bent on destruction." Hershel said bluntly.

Daryl tilted his head a bit toward him, "So, what do you wanna do?"

"We match it," Rick said, "I'm going on a run."

I looked towards him, noticing how tired he looked, "I can head out tomorrow." I offered instead.

He shook his head, "No, you stay here. You and Daryl keep an eye on Merle for me." he spoke before looking directly at Daryl, "I'm glad you're back, really...but if he causes a problem, it's on you."

He nodded his head in understanding, "I got him."

"I'm gonna take Michonne with me, and Carl. I think he's ready. I'm counting on you two to hold down the fort for me." he nodded to Daryl and I.

"You got it." I assured him with a small nod.

The conversation ended there, all of us just tuning back in to listen to Beth while we embraced each other's company. I truly wanted to cherish each moment I had like this, not knowing when it would be the last. Even after Daryl's reassurance, there was obviously still a little worry I had in the back of my mind, though I had hope we would all make it through just like everything else.

But I also grew to think about if and when we moved past this, what would be the next obstacle? What would be the next thing that threatened to tear us apart? I didn't want to waste it, any time I had left with the people I loved and kept the closest to me, I would hold it near my heart forever. Never wanting to take any of it for granted.

My eyes then scanned around the room at everyone and paused briefly on Glenn who was surprisingly already looking at me. We hadn't spoken a word to each other all day besides the little argument we had earlier. He had no idea how badly I just wanted this to be over, to be able to apologize to each other and actually stand to be within the same room without tearing each other apart. But I knew I should at least wait until tomorrow.

Right now, I was enjoying this peaceful moment with my family. A moment that I really needed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~THIRD PERSON POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning everyone woke up early and Rick kept his word as he packed up and headed out on a run with Michonne and Carl. Though the real reason he wanted to bring the woman along with them was because he simply didn't trust her to be at the prison with everyone else. He would've much rather her come with the two of them so he could keep an eye on her, see how well she would do with scavenging, how well she could watch their backs. How well she could potentially fit in with the rest given some time.

But with that, they gathered their things and all hopped in a car and took off down the gravel road, hoping to find the weapons and ammo they so desperately needed. With how low they were running recently, they would need everything they could get in order to make it through this sudden reality.

Silence fell over the prison as everyone kept to themselves for most of the day it seemed like. All of them just did their own thing, but still helping out in some way. Someone would watch Judith, two or three people at a time would keep watch, and some others would help with making food or doing a weapon check.

Daryl was currently keeping watch in the silence, and that alone gave him some time to think. He found he was slightly stressed even though he would never admit it out loud. Rick leaving him and Rose in charge of the whole group made him feel uneasy for some reason, especially when they had to watch their backs twenty-four-seven now. He never really liked the idea of leading a group and was always somewhat glad Rick stepped up to fill that position because he knew he could never do it himself. It was truly too much responsibility, and worry filled him at the thought of something happening while he was out.

But he quickly reminded himself that it was just for the day, and that he had Rose looking out for everyone too. He wasn't in this alone; he never was. It was something he was still getting used to.

His mind then began to wander to the conversation him and Rose shared last night, mindlessly glancing over to the spot they sat. It hurt him to see how worried she was about everything, even though she had a very good reason to be. Worrying about everyone else around her as well as him.

Though he didn't think she quite understood just how much he cared about her. Yes, she knew, but did she actually understand? It was like ever since he laid eyes on her, he felt the sudden urge to protect her. No matter what it was. He would protect her from the whole goddamn world if it were possible, wanting to shield her from anything that could hurt her.

Though these feelings of overprotectiveness confused him in the beginning of it all, not wanting to get attached, he found he still did with just a snap of her finger. But he wouldn't want it any other way.

The man truly meant it when he thought she brought out the best in him, because it was nothing but the truth. It was like he became this whole entirely new person when he was around her. He was soft and kind instead of cold and distant like he used to be. But he soon realized he wanted to be a better person for her. It now all made sense on why he was feeling these different things for her, even in the beginning. He was so in love with her, but his heart knew it before his head could even comprehend it.

Though now that he was thinking about it, his face scrunched up a little as he wondered what she was doing right now. He had gotten up earlier than she did and slipped out of their cell quietly so she could sleep a little longer, and he's been outside ever since.

"Hey Daryl!" he heard a voice suddenly call.

He turned around to see Maggie standing there with one hand blocking the sun from her eyes, "I can take over if you want to relax a bit?" she suggested.

He nodded his head, "Thanks." he said before switching places with her, turning to head back into the prison and out of the baking sun.

When he made it over to pull open the heavy door, making his way into the common room, he stopped dead in his tracks with furrowed brows as he almost didn't believe what he was seeing. Merle was sitting down at one of the tables with Rose placed right across from him, playing cards together peacefully. He stood back for a moment in complete silence, watching them with a small smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest as he was almost curious to see the interaction.

Rose sighed in defeat as she glanced up, "Alright what do you got?" she asked the man.

Merle gestured out to her, "Please, lady's first."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, laying down her cards that clearly weren't a very good pair. Daryl couldn't really tell what they were from where he was standing, but just by seeing the look on Merle's face, she had clearly lost terribly.

Merle started to chuckle, placing his cards down flat on the table right after her, "Ace of spades little lady." he bragged.

"How?" Rose questioned, with shock clear in her voice.

He shrugged, "Years of practice. Give up yet?" he asked while gathering the entire deck in his hands.

"No...I'll win one game, I can feel it." she said oh so confidently with a smug smile.

Merle chuckled at the girl before taking a brief moment to really look at her. There was no denying that there was something about her that drew him in. Though not in any romantic way, he couldn't really pinpoint what it was. She radiated a very good energy that he desperately needed, and he couldn't help but wonder if that was part of the reason Daryl was with her.

She made him somehow feel warmer inside even though he hardly knew her at all. It was a little concerning to him considering Merle didn't really care much for anyone, but as he spent more time with her, the man grew to care the smallest bit for Rose. But he would rather die than say it out loud of course.

He then snapped out of his thoughts and started to shuffle the cards expertly on the table, "Alright suit yourself. But just know this will end with me winning the twelfth game in a row." he spoke cockily.

"Well, it's a good thing we aren't betting on anything then, isn't it?" she questioned with a tilt of her head.

He chuckled quietly to himself as he started to pass out the cards. "Careful, he cheats like there's no tomorrow." Daryl's voice suddenly spoke from the entrance.

Their heads turned towards the right as they looked at him and Rose instantly smiled, "Hey, where have you been?"

"Been out on watch for a few hours," he muttered as he moved across the space to take a seat next to her, "What're ya playin?"

"Playin rummy, and your girl here hasn't won a single game." Merle stated.

Rose placed a hand over her chest in mock offense, "Wow, you know in my defense it's been a while since I've played, okay? No need to get cocky."

The brothers chuckled quietly, while Daryl then spotted some soup Rose had been eating right beside her, reaching his arm around to take a spoonful into his mouth. Rose never took her eyes off of the cards she was dealt, but she wordlessly pushed the bowl closer to him so he could have as much as he wanted. Daryl mumbled a quiet "thank you."before taking another huge bite into his mouth, while Merle looked at them with a scrunched up face.

"Y'all make me sick." he said.

"Shut up." Daryl muttered as Rose peered over her cards to send him a glare.

He chuckled to himself before perking up a bit to watch the two closely. He didn't know if he liked the idea of his baby brother being in a relationship let alone watching it unfold in front of him. He thought relationships were a waste of time and always ended badly, at least they always did for him. But what Merle really couldn't wrap his head around, was how Daryl was able to get her in the first place.

He knew how awkward his brother was around women, so when he saw their interaction as they tearfully parted ways just days prior, he was truly shocked. Daryl was never good with women and had never really been in a serious relationship before, so Merle thought that they wouldn't last long at all.

But as he watched Daryl help her put her cards in place, seeing her laugh quietly about whatever he was whispering in her ear, a thought crossed his mind that maybe they would be okay.

"Put that one down." he muttered to her as he ate another bite.

She glanced at the card before raisin an eyebrow toward him, "Isn't this kind of cheating?" she asked.

"Nah." he shrugged, watching her place down the card anyway.

After a few more long rounds, Rose was finally successful as she had won a game all by herself and feeling quite proud about it too. The Dixon brothers were amused at how happy she was, clapping her hands excitedly with a wide smile on her face. And although Daryl would never admit it, he liked seeing his brother and his girl get along. He didn't want them to get too close however because he knew deep down that his brother wasn't the best person, but he still wanted them to get somewhat comfortable around one another considering the man was still his family.

Rose then got up from her seat after the last game came to an end, "Alright, I'm going to stretch my legs, do you know who's on watch?" she asked Daryl.

"Maggie took over for me, but I dunno if she's still out there." he informed.

She just nodded and headed out for some fresh air, practically skipping out of the prison to talk to Maggie about her fantastic win against Merle.

Daryl watched her walk all the way outside, before turning back to his brother and raised an eyebrow at him in suspicion, "Ya let her win." he said.

Merle only shrugged, "Don't know what you're talkin about."

His eyes narrowed for a moment as he saw right through his lie, but said nothing as he nodded in response, before dealing the cards again to play a round with him. Though he couldn't stop the knowing smirk from forming on his face as he thought about how his brother was becoming a little soft for the girl he loved so deeply.

Rose made her way outside and went up to where Maggie usually was when she kept watch but she scrunched up her face slightly when she wasn't there. Her eyes then panned around before her face fell slightly at the person she saw standing on the other side instead. It was Glenn, and by the looks of it he hadn't seen her walk out yet.

She didn't want to be in this constant fight with him anymore, but at the same time didn't know if he would be willing to talk to her, and she didn't want to get him all riled up again. She then just decided to look out at all of the walkers surrounding the fence, avoiding looking in his direction as she got some sunlight on her skin. This all felt so stupid, fighting constantly about pretty much nothing when the both of them knew they should be cherishing these moments instead.

Ever since the first few incidents with The Governor, the reality check being thrown in their faces, they shouldn't take anything for granted. Not anymore.

"Hey." his voice suddenly spoke from next to her, nearly restarting her heart.

She jumped slightly at his sudden presence as she didn't even hear him walk up to her, "Jesus...Christ." she enunciated as she held her chest, feeling her heart pound beneath her palm.

He laughed lightly, "I-...sorry." he spoke a bit sheepishly.

"It's okay." she reassured.

The two seemed to stand in awkward silence for a few long and lingering moments, before Glenn tried to keep the conversation going, "So...what are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I just...needed some fresh air. I felt like I was inside for too long..." she trailed off.

There was another silence and it was clear neither one of them knew what to say. Glenn for one wanted to apologize for being such a dick to her recently, he wanted to explain that it wasn't her, and it was just because he was angry about everything that had been happening around them. One thing on top of another. He truly missed her a lot, catching himself a number times the past couple of days trying to look for her to tell her something. But then remembering that they weren't really speaking.

Rose on the other hand, just wanted to talk to him like normal again, whether he apologized or not. She understood in the back of her mind why he had been acting this way, and it wasn't his fault. He had every right to be angry about the situation and what The Governor did to both him and Maggie. She just wanted her best friend back.

The two of them then both inhaled suddenly as if they were going to speak at the same time, laughing quietly to themselves as they seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Rose gestured to him, "You first."

His eyes softened as he glanced towards her, "Rose I...I just want to say I'm sorry. I've been such an asshole to you recently and you haven't even done anything wrong. I'm just- just so angry at like... everything. And I just want this to be over- The Governor I mean, and the things I've said to you recently...I didn't mean any of it. I'm just sorry. You think you could...forgive me?"

She didn't say anything as he finished speaking, only bringing him in for a tight hug almost instantly. He was shocked at first at the quickness of her actions, but then wrapped his arms around her with a growing smile on his face. A wave of relief washed over him, knowing she wasn't upset anymore and wanted to be done fighting just as much as he did.

"I'm sorry too." she spoke gently as she pulled away, "I'm pretty sure I've said some fucked up things to you too and you didn't deserve that. I just miss you."

"I miss you too." he expressed, "God, you have no idea how hard it was to not talk to you, I have so much to tell you." he said.

She laughed lightly at his excitement, "Well, tell me everything."

He smiled brightly, "Okay, okay, so there has been one good thing that's been happening in the midst of all this bullshit..." he stated before pausing for some dramatic effect, "...I'm going to ask Maggie to marry me."

Her eyes widened and a huge grin was plastered on her face, "Oh my God!" she pushed his shoulder lightly, "Oh, that's so great, I'm so happy for you!"

"Do you think she'll say yes?" he asked sheepishly.

She scoffed, "Are you kidding me, you guys are so in love it makes me want to vomit. And that's coming from me." she gestured.

He laughed at her words before reaching down and fishing through in his pocket for a moment or two, pulling out the ring he had seconds later to show her. She gazed down to look at it and her smile got even wider if that were possible, watching it glisten in the sunlight.

"Wow this is so crazy. You're proposing." Rose almost squealed.

"I know." Glenn squealed back and took her hands in his as they jumped up and down a few times from their excitement, laughing loudly together as they did so.

They then spent the next few hours together on watch, talking constantly the entire time. There was never a dull moment as they sat out there together, not once. Both of them felt utterly relieved to have each other again, especially when they didn't really know what the future looked like for them. The two hoped that everything would work out, but nothing is guaranteed these days. All they knew right now however, is that they had each other again.

~ Thanks for reading!

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 14

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Joel's alarm woke the two of you up the next morning and you let out a big yawn.

"Sorry," he whispered, turning it off before rolling onto his back with his eyes closed. "At least it's Friday."

"Yeah." You agreed, not yet opening your eyes as you pulled the comforter up toward your chin. "I have to be in at ten."

"It's only seven," he said quietly. "Stay in bed."

"You're going in for eight?" You asked him.

"Mmm hmm." Joel let an arm fall lazily over you and you brought his knuckles to your lips. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah." You finally let your eyes open and glanced over at him. "I was overreacting last night.. about the pumpkins."

"No, you weren't."

"I have to admit though," you told him, "I was a little sad to see them all smashed up like that after our contest."

Joel pulled you against his chest and hugged his arms around you. "We could always do a second round of carving. Double or nothing?"

You smiled. He had a way of making things better without even trying. "I guess that means the joke was on them. Because I'd love a repeat of last night."

"Is it too much to ask for your company again tonight?"

"I'm available." You grinned and shared a short series of kisses.

"I have to shower and get into work," Joel told you.

You raised your eyebrows. "Want some company?"

..

"Thanks for covering my shift last night," you said to your coworker, Molly, as the two of you wiped down the handful of tables scattered throughout the coffee shop.

"Oh, no worries," she insisted. "More times than not I'm dying for extra shifts. I take what I can get."

"Well, thank you."

Customers paraded in and out regularly until about noon when things began to slow down for the lunch hour. You were sure it would pick up again around two when people were in need of a mid afternoon pick-me-up.

You cleaned up some more before finally checking your phone. A smile formed on your face when you saw a text from Joel that had come in twenty minutes or so earlier.

'Thanks for washing my back this morning', the text read.

You typed something equally silly and fresh back to him and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

There was another message from a number you didn't recognize that addressed you by your first name and said simply, 'Just taking a chance and reaching out.' You partially assumed it might be Steve and didn't bother replying.

A pair of college-aged guys came in and you quickly shoved the phone back into the apron tied around your waist.

"Can I help you?" You asked the two of them with a smile.

"Umm.." the first guy in line adjusted a backwards hat as his eyes moved back and forth to read the menu board. "I'll have a medium caramel latte and a slice of the lemon bread." He added, "Please."

"You got it." Your eyes drifted toward his friend. "And for you?"

"I'll have large iced coffee with cream and sugar."

"Is that all?"

They both nodded and the first guy handed over a debit card. You completed the transaction and handed it back over. "Your order will be ready in a few minutes"

Molly began to make the latte while you tackled the iced coffee and sliced a piece lemon cake into a small baggie.

"Here you go guys." The two of you glided the beverages across the brown countertop and handed over the pastry. The guys then sat down by a table beside a cork board that full of pinned ads and cards left by local businesses in search of work.

You hadn't paid any attention to it. Not just that day, but really ever. It was just part of the wall that you walked by a hundred times without taking a second look.

But right then, as you glanced toward the two young men, you noticed something on the wall beside them. It was a pinned there to the cork board by a blue push pin.

You felt your breath catch halfway up your trachea and you walked slowly at first and then rushed the rest of the way to make sure you were seeing what you thought you were seeing.

"Hey, are you alright?" Molly asked. Her short, blond curls bounced as she hurried after you.

The customers looked in your direction when you ripped a paper off the wall and held it in front of your face before burying it against your chest.

"What is it?" Your coworker asked.

You shook your head in disbelief and then held out the green flyer in front of you again. As much as you didn't want anyone to see it, you needed someone right then to confide in. As a close, female work friend, Molly filled that void.

"Look at this." You turned it so she could see it as your hands practically shook.

"What the hell is this?" She asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Who put this here?" You asked. "Did anyone come in today and pin something up on that board? Before I got here?"

"I.. I don't know." She shook her head, "I got here right before you did."

"What about last night?"

Molly looked helpless for you and frowned as she continued to shake her head. "I didn't notice anyone in particular over there."

"I need a minute to think." You took a deep breath and wandered into the back by the sinks. From back there you heard one of the guys ask Molly if you were okay.

You hadn't realized you placed the flyer against your chest again until you held it out in front of you again. It was real. So were the images of you and bare-chested Joel, mid-embrace with your lips locked and eyes closed.

Beneath the picture was the caption: Find love at PsychoMeetUp.com. Below that was your name and phone number along with Joel's. Now the random text message made sense.

You knew it in your gut. The night the police came to the house after a phone call. The rustling in the patch of woods by Joel's driveway. The smashed pumpkins. It wasn't all just a coincidence.

You ripped the flyer in half and crumpled it up before throwing it angrily into a green garbage pale.

Vic. You knew it had to be him. He vowed to run you out of town and what better way than to embarrass you in such a way that felt so personal and unredeeming.

Your first thought was to go to the police, but were they even on your side? You had to try. They had to do *something*. And if not, you'd take if a step further and go to the state police. They had no ties to your small town bullshit.

"Go take care of it," Molly told you, scampering around back. "That's so messed up, I'm sorry."

"You'll be okay?"

"Don't worry about me or this place." Molly shooed you with her hands. "Go."

"Thank you, Molly." You hugged her and retrieved your purse before hurrying out the back door.

Once in your car you started typing to Joel, explaining as best as you could about what had happened. You even warned him not to go home. If someone would do this, what else were they capable of?

When he didn't immediately respond you felt your anxiety climb, but you knew he was safe at work with Ronnie for the time being. You kicked yourself for ripping up the piece of paper as you began to drive toward the police station. Still, you could tell them exactly what happened and even have Molly get the torn flyer for you if need be.

Your ringtone came through the speakers and your eyes frantically scanned the center stereo to see if it was Joel. When you saw Jessie's name instead you picked up.

"Hi, Jess." You couldn't hide the tense nature of your voice.

"Whatever you're doing, you need to sit down."

"What?"

"Can you come home? Or can I meet you somewhere? Are you at Joel's or at work?"

"I just left work."

"Okay, I'm coming to you."

"Jess-"

"Someone left something in our mailbox," she said frantically, speaking a mile a minute. "Something I think you need to see right now."

Fuck, you thought and your whole body went numb.

"Tell me it's not the green flyer."

There was a silence on the other end of the line and you knew this was bigger than you originally anticipated.

"I'm on my way to the police station," you told Jessie. "Meet me there."

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 15

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee

[eldritch-spouse]

Giving Mother Miara a titjob while you're lactating...

I shall return with more profound wisdom soon

[Hhhhhh anon, your brain is so wrinkly and pretty. Fem reader.]

TW: Unrealistic lactation (no pregnancy); Cultish/religious themes; Mild exhibitionism.

It was all new.

This entire dynamic. This world you had been thrust into. From leading such an ordinary way of life to becoming an actual goddess'... What did he call you again?

Chosen? Yes, Jonesy says that word a lot. You're Miara's chosen. Chosen something. You're not too sure what you are to her yet, which should be more worrying than it is honestly. Even more worrying is the way your memory seems to fail you when you try to recall certain aspects of your life before... All this, really. She's always there to tell you it doesn't matter, that you're overthinking what's natural.

You're her charm, and that's all there is to it.

See, your current place of residence is, for lack of a better word, an island. Fairly secluded, Miara raised it herself. This is, as far as you can tell, her home here on Earth. And it looks nothing short of a fairytale, you'll have to admit. It's always mildly sunny. That type of morning warmth you can feel on your skin when you step outside to catch some air before getting ready for the day. Harmless, elegant greenery sprouts everywhere, though neatly enough to never touch paved paths and only ever coil cozily over rudimentary infrastructures. Wildlife is scarce for now, but Mother says that is something to dwell on later. That's fine, you don't mind the silence, it's comforting for once, you feel coddled here, safe, wanted.

The residents, apart from yourself and the Lady, are almost entirely comprised of angels who come and go. Celestials of the three casts as she has told you before, workers, warriors and worshipers. One such worshiper, the one you'd consider to be Miara's right hand -More of a shoulder parrot really- is Jonesy, a somewhat insufferable stickler of a throne that's often in charge of ensuring you're "properly taken care of" in Mother's absence. You're very glad he's occupied right now.

In fact- You rise from your squat over the petunias, glancing up to check if he remains where he was. Yep, still a far distance away, you can vaguely trace the angel's figure, playing a harp for a group of lower-rank angels and one or two monsters, rare sights around here. Satisfied, you resume perching over the plants.

Having been stripped of addictive commodities, such as your phone for example, you don't have too much to busy yourself with nowadays. Miara oftentimes will refuse your requests to work with the low-rank angels who usually do maintenance around the island, insisting you remain well-rested and find graceful hobbies. Problem is, you like working, you enjoy getting your hands dirty every now and then. And, with enough pestering as well as some choice words, you've gained the ability to work on the Lady's main garden, the one surrounding an altar made mostly of marble. You're no grade-A gardener, and some guardians definitely seemed to pale a bit once they witnessed you work, but you know this is a skill you can master if you put your mind to it!

And really, with nothing better to do these days, that's mostly what your mind is on anyway.

Alright. You think you've trimmed more than enough right now. Plus, your back is starting to hurt. Groaning, you set down the shears and stretch onto the very tip of your toes, arms to the sky as your spine pops pleasantly.

It wouldn't be so tiring to hunch if your breasts weren't always so full.

You still remember how light they felt on your first few weeks here, how normal they were. You're not even too sure what compelled you to accept when Miara suggested you begin lactating. Maybe it was her reassuring tone, or the way she described the many uses it could have, it could have just been the way she almost huffed luridly when describing how safe the procedure would be, how you'd always be tended to.

You know this is a thing for Miara.

Siadar, the former gods of humanity, do have kinks. You'd say you're surprised, but if humans are creations made ever so vaguely in their image, then it only makes sense. Sins of the father, or so they say. There's more nuance to this, you know you can pick it apart further, but you'd rather not go mad any time soon. It's imperative your frail mortal mind stay untouched right now, or rather, minimally unmolested- Because you're well aware you've already suffered changes. Nonetheless, the Lady decidedly enjoys the sight of your chest swollen with milk. You're very sure this isn't the standard rhythmn of milk production for a pregnant woman, but then again, you've never been pregnant before- And you've never induced this process for the sake of it... Still, you don't want to believe this is what moms have to endure. It feels like it's too much.

Feels like she wants it to be too much.

You remember having asked the goddess about it once. You were peeved at her, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly the recurring one, that you're not allowed to leave the island. Jonesy was helping you drain your breasts, something that was initially very humiliating for you but eventually became trivial. The irritation and desire to lash out manifested in a very petty question- Why don't you have tits, you remember snarking bitterly.

Jonesy immediately gave you a terrifying glare, but Miara sat next to you as calm and jubilant as she's always been. Laughed even, as if your question was so frivolous that it shouldn't be dignified with any offense. In retrospect, she might get that question a lot from humans.

Breasts are for lessers, she simply said, and the subject was left at that. Who are you to question a goddess... But then, does that mean none of them have breasts? You find that a bit improbable. It can just be a matter of pref-

" Haven't you worked enough? "

ACK-!

Humans aren't capable of flight, but you sure jumped a good distance in the air. Ow. The ensuing bounce of your boobs is thoroughly unpleasant.

Miara stands beside you, height dramatically decreased. She still towers above all others in this form, but less jarringly so. You could even take her for a particularly tall monster. It always bothers you how she can just appear. No warning, no sound, one blink and she is physically present. Unnerving.

" M-Mother... "

The siadar observes your work, something about her gaze is superficial, dismissive almost. Her arms are crossed in front of her robes and she looks placid enough to be mistaken for a classic painting.

" I think you have, charm. "

You're not even sure what she's talking about. " Well I- I like to keep busy, y'know? " She does.

The goddess finally deems it time to glance at you, once warm eyes becoming very intense. You don't like it, you hate the burning pressure of those golden colors, how the radiating shapes around her irises swirl with focus- It's as if you're getting sucked into a blinding heat and it's dissolving you inside out, demanding your full regard, your everything.

Horrific.

" You require draining. " She comments after a bit.

Looking down, you note the small yet nonetheless present stains of milk on your gown. You hadn't even felt it, you could have sworn it was dry seconds ago. Your arms raise to cover the mess, defensive maybe, or just ashamed of being in this state in front of a being like her. The goddess frowns, it's an alien expression for her perfect face.

" Did Joakeel not- "

" I told him I didn't need to. "

It was the truth.

You don't want strangers touching your body at her behest. It makes you feel... Dehumanized. You already allow Jonesy to do far too much for you, and with this permissiveness comes the feeling of uselessness, the biting lack of autonomy, and a sense of loss. Loss of skill perhaps. What if you stop being able to take care of yourself because you're used to having everything be done for you at the drop of a hat?! You need moments of insignificant defiance, if only just to feel like a tenth of a normal person. It's already concerning that you feel bad when Miara is away. This strange sentiment of... Longing. You miss her. You miss her warmth and her voice and you feel like a puppy wagging its tail as soon as she comes back. When the Lady is away, you find yourself falling into foul moods, and it's possible that you've been taking it out on the poor throne lately.

He doesn't deserve your attitude, he's just doing what he's told to, he doesn't know better. You're not going to fuck him over further and claim the angel simply didn't show up to drain your breasts at the exact same time he does everyday. Not that she'd buy it anyway.

Silence rules all for a couple of seconds, even the petunias appear to stop swaying softly in the wind. It's hard to read her face, until she cracks that same old smile.

" I see, you would rather I do it... That pleases me. "

That wasn't... Well, it's not a baseless assumption, but.

" I- N-No, my Lady- " You're not sure how to de-escalate the awkwardness that just rose from the dead.

The creator tuts. " Lying doesn't suit you. " For some reason, even if you know damn well that wasn't the point you were trying to make, you still feel bad for disappointing her. " Besides, I just cannot let you roam freely in that miserable state, dear. "

" It- It's fine, I can- "

" It tempts me. "

The thoughts in your mind evaporate, the first instinct is to look down from Miara's face. Your eyes bulge, but not nearly as much as her robes.

Oh.

O-Oh.

This isn't exactly entirely new to you. There have been a handful of tense, sensual episodes between yourself and the goddess- She's touched you before, made you feel heights of ecstasy that rendered you dysfunctional for entire days, and you've seen her bare as well. Had the privilege to place your hands upon a body never meant to be yours to know. You've brought an entity older than you can guess to orgasm.

And it was nothing short of gorgeous.

But it's never gone further than that. Miara never made attempts to sheathe herself in you, even if it was the only thing going through your mind when she had you ride her hand like a feral creature. You're not sure whether to be glad or frustrated- Because every interaction that's mildly sexual between you two is forever marked by that ever elusive "what if...?". What if it'll go further today? What if she decides now is the occasion to go all the way? What will happen to your mind when your brain is flooded by an avalanche of pleasure it can't hope to ever process?

You're distracted again by the twitch of her cock beneath the pink fabric of her outfit.

" I'm... Sorry? " Lame. Lamest thing you could have said, but you're getting sweaty and you can't bare to look at her face, not after you've been caught gawking.

" Do something for me, my chosen. "

Oh fuck, come on, did she have to use that tone?

" ... Yes? " Your face heats up.

" Oh come closer, when have I sought to hurt you? "

Perhaps not physically, but you've gone through a myriad of emotions in her care. It's oftentimes hard to tell if you're truly happy here or just repressing distaste. Eitherway, you do as she says, fiddling with handfuls of your light white gown in suspense. Miara's hands, more akin to paws given how warm and big they are compared to you, fall onto your hair. She strokes strands away lovingly, sliding some behind your ears and humming at the sight of you.

You can tell she's happy, because Miara's joy always spreads to the world around her, colors become more vibrant, the sun shines brighter, and there's always that signature warmth as if you're being held from all sides. It makes you want to keep her happy, do anything in your power to please. Is this what angels feel?

" My lovely, stunning little charm. " She purrs. " Take your gown off. "

There's nothing beneath it. You both know this. In your moment of hesitation, you stretch once more to look beyond Miara, in the direction where you had last spotted Jonesy, and- He's still there. However, you're fairly certain he's observing you two, the crowd previously hearing his performance now absorbed with what appears to be light conversation. That unwavering eyeball sees all, fixed on you and the creator.

Your chin is guided back to Mother with a harmless claw. " I am here. "

" Forgive me, it's just- "

" Observation doesn't mean judgement, dear. " She cautions, as if reading your mind. " Now, bare yourself. "

And you do, with no real attempt at being seductive. Part of you wants to check if the throne is still watching, but you've already been warned once. So, all you do is step out of the cloth pooling around your feet, somewhat put off by the way you're still leaking, slowly. Gross.

The goddess seems to think differently of the sight however, an audible sort of swoon leaving her. When you dare meet her hues again, she's lifting her robes, heavy garbs dragging on an impressive length that pops free much too close to your person. She's... Well, perhaps massive is a bit of grotesque adjective, but you have no other way to describe it. Miara is hung, -Which you suppose is fitting for someone as connected to fertility as she is- And pretty, and every single time you glance at that girth you can feel yourself biting your own lip with a fervor, salivating. But also eerily humanoid.

You're willing to bet that's a modification she applied to her own genitals, though it boggles you why Mother would want a phallus like that of a human's. Is that not... Inferior, by siadar standards?

" Am I really that much of a conundrum to you? "

Ah, caught again. You must be really easy to read for her. " Well, a bit. " You figure honesty can't hurt that much.

The siadar nods. " Dwelling on it will do you no good. You're not here to unveil mysteries, my sweetest dove. "

It's hard to care about the nature of her words when she makes you feel so wanted. Maybe being wanted by a goddess is more important than anything else human society has told you should be prioritized. Maybe your core values are nothing but rubbish that this holy entity will now replace, correct.

Maybe you have to stop thinking so much.

So, when a pale finger curls invitingly, you get even closer to the huge being, coming almost face to face with the pallid thing standing at attention this whole time. Oh, she definitely calculated her height for this. No doubt.

Your tits are held up, and before you can ask what's happening, her cock slides between them, tip parked right at your chin. The position is lurid enough to have you stunned in silence, allowing Miara a couple of quick, experimental rocks. She squeezes your breasts greedily and you moan, pain turning to mild relief, milk drooling between you and onto her twitching length.

This shouldn't be as hot as it is.

" Hold still for me. " Miara murmurs.

Flustered beyond measure, all you can do is nod and stand slightly on your toes to accommodate the goddess' grasp of your oversensitive breasts. At the very least, she's always considerate with you, starting slowly. With each grind of that oddly hot girth, the Lady rolls your tits generously, draining them at the same time that she squeezes herself. The sensation of her dragging against your skin sends shivers to all the wrong places, your hairs stand on end and you pant quietly, noises overshadowed by your Lady's own melodious ones.

Some gross side of you is taking immense enjoyment out of this. A petty, validation-craving voice that claims you're special, this proves you're the best- Because, if a god tittyfucks you, then clearly you must be doing something right, no? The fact that she seeks you out, takes pleasure from you, tells you how good you feel, they're all indicators that you're cherished and loved and so much more than just a regular Joe. You love that. Silently, but you do.

The more milk she pulls from you, the louder each slap of flesh on flesh becomes. Lurid, gross plaps ringing amidst irregular breathing. Droplets of your own extract slide down your front, tickling your arousal when they pool between your legs, teasing. With a more slippery surface come harder, longer strokes. You're almost jostled by the motions of Mother's hips, a milk-coated cock knocking into your chin awkwardly.

You don't know what- Oh, who are you kidding? You know exactly why you're going to do what you're about to. It's because you want her to praise you, to tell you how good you are and how proud she is of her little lesser. So, leaning your head back a bit, you allow your lips to brush against the tip of her dick on its trip back forward.

Miara looks thrilled by the initiative, eyes widening for a brief moment, before she lids them and huffs, nodding at you in silent encouragement. Enjoying her approval way more than you'd care to admit, your lips part, allowing a small tongue to sample her glans from time to time, swirling beneath it, teasing the giantess. You can taste your own milk on it, mingled with the intense flavor of her precum, it's a foreign, lewd mix that'll imprint itself into your mind forever.

You really, really don't have the guts to meet her intense gaze, but her smile- That pretty, glowing grin... The tint on her cheeks. It makes you so happy in an almost instinctual way. You want to do more, trying to catch her tip between your lips. Unfortunately, she pistons too fast and ends up dragging herself across your cheek. It's like trying not to drop soap in the shower, you miss again.

Embarrassing.

Joyous, amused laughter rings from above- And even though you were considering crawling into a hole mere seconds ago, you find yourself giggling quietly as well now.

" Try again, charm. Slower. " She cautions.

To her credit, Miara helps by sedating her pace as well, allowing you to finally pop as much of her as you can into your mouth. There's too much of your own milk coating her to be sure, but there's something almost sweet about her taste. You find yourself swirling your short tongue all around, trying to sink onto her further in this awkward position, feeling her balls knock against your upper body- Her growled, unintelligible expletive is thrilling.

A groan of disappointment almost makes its way past your lips when she retreats, sliding out of your warmth with a loud pop.

Drunk from your own arousal, you attempt to slide the goddess' hands off your soaked tits, she gives you a mildly ponderous look before allowing it, that dark grin stretching up pale cheeks, unfiltered glee that you're now willingly kneading your breasts against her length. One paw reaches for the back of your head, gently edging it forward on her next thrust.

Miara vastly stops moving after that, panting in place, throbbing in your mouth while you do your best to vigorously titfuck her- Moaning around her cock with your eyes closed. Some part of you knows this probably constitutes as worship. Mother says she doesn't care much for it anymore, but it definitely still pleases her. You wonder why, a mystery for another time...

Nonetheless, the realization makes the act a lot more intimate than it already was.

You've never really declared love to Miara, while the goddess has been nothing but affectionate to you. While you never did tell her off either, you never returned that fervor. Never dignified her with those three little words Jonesy tries to coax you into admitting.

You wonder if that hurts her.

Ultimately, it's not something you want to simmer in with Miara's dick sitting hot on your tongue, so you focus on sucking her off while she grinds lightly. You know she's getting close, the odd whispered murmurs, the way her head cranes to the side, spare hand rising, finger caught between teeth- They're all signs. You glance up, finally meeting her blazing golden hues.

" Beautiful, precious darling- I knew you'd come around for me. We can be so happy together. " She huffs.

It's hard to resist.

It's so hard to resist.

" ... I- I love you. " You say, near soundless in your timidity, not even sure if you mean it. But it feels like the right thing to say here, now.

And she comes.

Jarringly fast, with a snarled cry, an ugly face full of fervor and triumph, almost smug. Ropes of pearly cum hit your face before you have the composure to suck on her again, dripping down your chin in hot, gross globs. You can't even try to swallow everything, it's pooling back around her flexing cock in mere moments. Her load is always heavy and generous, too much and too soon.

Miara pulls back slightly, you're coated in whiteness, unsure how much of it is milk or her seed. Does it matter? You're too focused hearing her sing in orgasm, milking -Hah, the irony- Her dry.

Several silent seconds pass as your motions slow to a crawl, the siadar catching her breath. You're not sure if you should say something, standing there feeling like a melting wax candle, but oddly content. Mother smiles lovingly at you, then rolls her eyes.

" Jonesy, do come out of the bushes now... "

A sweaty-looking throne scrambles out of- OH COME ON, you spent all morning working on those!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

I think AFO being the one giving Tenko Decay is just a very lazy way to resolve Tomura's inner conflict about being born to destroy and that he can't create anything just because he has a quirk that destroys. The idea is that the quirks people are born with don't define them, no? And that would nicely parallel Izuku, who believed he's defined by the fact that he was born quirkless. Now, the idea that AFO did something to Tenko's quirk...

I think that the "I'm a villain because of my quirk" storyline belongs more with Toga, in fact.

I don't think Tomura believes that he was born to destroy just because of his quirk. At least as I see it, Tomura doesn't judge people for their quirks at all. He never saw Spinner as weak just because he had a weak quirk. He thought Toga was creepy for her personality, not because of her quirk either.

There's even a point during My Villain Academia when Redestro implies that a person's quirk is directly related to one's character. He insists that it is the same for Tomura, since his quirk is "solely for destruction".

Hmm, I think it's chapter 234 of the manga, on the very first page. Here's how it goes:

Redestro:

" ‹ Good little children don't judge people by their quirks! ›

It's a good message. I was raised the same way. However! One's special ability is directly linked to their character.

‹ Whatever you touch with all five fingers will decay ›

It's the same for you too, isn't it!? "

Tomura's reaction doesn't give away if he believes what Redestro said is true. Actually, I would say that he believes the contrary. He doesn't want to destroy because of his quirk. His quirk manifested because he wanted to kill his family.

His conflict lies in the fact he believes he wants to destroy. He believes he is in total control of his quirk, so he killed his family because he wanted to and not simply by accident.

With Toga, we do have the conflict of the way she was forced to believe she was a monster because her quirk was related to blood consumption. She was made a villain, a criminal. Her storyline tells us that she started to hide behind a mask what she thought were her monster traits, including her quirk. Especially her quirk.

That's why the resolution of Toga's conflict came from Ochako saying "hey, I do not fear your quirk, I believe you are human and not less beautiful for your quirk. I don't believe this persona they made you into".

Decay only defined Tomura because AFO made it so. He even gave Tomura a name that means "to mourn". He renamed him completely, appearance and name. AFO rewired Tomura how he best liked and then convinced the kid it was in him all along.

Tomura's conflict is one that was kinda explored in the Vigilantes manga with an antagonist similar to him. I won't say more, as to remain spoiler free.

The difference with Tomura and the identity crisis that the story expects from him, it's that Tomura has a very strong sense of the self. No matter how many times AFO tried to erase Tomura's identity to take control of his body, Tomura didn't cave in. He doesn't define himself solely for who he was before AFO or who AFO made him into, but for what he feels and what he wants.

The problem is that his conviction is also playing against him. Does he really want to destroy it all because he hates everyone? Or there's something else he feels that he has been protecting, isolating from everyone else?

AFO planting decay on Tomura fits thematically, but I agree that there's something about it that made the story a bit predictable. Common, even.

Who is Tomura without AFO?

First of all, he's not Tomura Shigaraki and that's for sure. The kid we knew before AFO was not the type to obey when people told him to do what he knew was wrong. He resisted Kotaro the best he could by constantly acting as a hero would and loudly proclaiming his dream.

We know Tomura was compassionate too. He'd be punished for his actions, but soon he'd be back playing with Mon-chan, laughing. He would ask a kid to join him to play, even if those kids left him out of their games all the time. He admires and loves his older sister, his mom. He liked sweets. He liked train toys. All of that means that he was not particularly inclined to take revenge on the people who hurt him

If you want more examples of why I believe so, there's the fact that after he got decay, he refused to touch at first the two punks who kicked him. When no one helped him while he wandered the streets, his first thought was that it must be justice acting on him for what he did. Only after AFO made everyone look like a villain for not helping Tenko, Tenko started to resent them.

What else do we know? He was straightforward. Asked his mom if his dad hated him, knew that his family was wrong for telling him to stop crying instead of stopping Kotaro. He knew he would not get a quirk, probably. Knew when he was being excluded. When Hana went to apologize to him, he knew she was wrong from running away from the villain attacking them (what he believed at the moment) instead of protecting him.

A self-centered kid too, in Tomura's words. It's not something bad, but actually pretty expected from a child.

Tomura is also every decision we saw he made after AFO got captured and before he came back. Tomura's attitude with the League of Villains, his commands against Overhaul and Redestro, the moments when he interrupted AFO or the heroes and took control of his body during the War arc and during the big final battle.

This are our options:

1) AFO planted decay on a quirkless Tenko.

2) AFO planted decay after taking Tenko's quirk.

3) AFO messed with Tenko's quirk to repress it until the time was favorable to his plans.

4) AFO messed with Tenko's quirk so to make it awaken that particular day.

I like option 3 because that means the agony of not having a quirk could have been generated by AFO, who had been in contact with the Shimuras for longer than anyone thought. AFO could have done that to generate situations where Kotaro was angry with Tenko and abused him, so as to accumulate hatred within Tenko.

Option 4 means that Tenko could have awakened his quirk in a less violent way. My only problem is that AFO must have expected something to go wrong so Tenko would unleash his quirk, right? Chances are he had studied the Shimuras and he knew Kotaro would punish Tenko for playing hero. Was it enough for Tenko to react so strongly?

It's said in the manga that quirks normally awaken until the kids are 4 years old. Tenko was already 5 years old, but for the way Kotaro spoke there was still a minimal chance for Tenko to have a quirk.

Assuming Tenko was too old and he was evidently quirkless, we must discard options 3 and 4.

Option 2 is particularly evil.

You would think that Tenko having any other quirk could have been better, right? The problem is that having decay sort of saved Tenko for getting more abused by his family. In the worst way possible, but it was an escape and that's why Tenko felt joy when they died. He was free.

There are no guarantees that Tenko would have reacted differently with other quirk. He also didn't know that his mom had finally faced his father to put a stop to his abuse. If Tenko hadn't killed his family that night, would things have been better? Could he have been happier?

It also implies that Tenko's quirk was somewhere within AFO, which I found highly improbable since most quirks left a vestige inside AFO.

Option 1 is the one who better fits the canon.

Tenko was already 5 years old and quirkless. He felt particularly bad that day after the mysterious man took him home. There's that scene of Tenko's hand hurting, to the point he left the ball he was playing with Mon-chan.

AFO could have planted a quirk on Tenko so that it would awaken at a moment of accumulated stress and not before. Something extreme had to happen for it to activate. An insurance, to make sure it'd have devastating consequences.

The parallel with Izuku would then be that Izuku was accidentally found by All Might, while AFO had actively sought Tenko. While Izuku was given a quirk he at first hadn't asked for but wanted, Tenko was forced to take a quirk he knew nothing about. All Might prepared Izuku for months before he gave him OFA, making sure that Deku's body could survive the quirk, that Izuku could handle the effect and consequences. Tenko was young, clueless, he didn't even know it was first causing the damage at first.

That's the difference between asking someone to help you and using someone to your benefit.

Everyone around Deku worried about him and helped him figure out how to control OFA. There are several arcs dedicated to him getting support. In contrast, Tomura had multiple breakdowns and survived because he's too stubborn to die.

Thematically, the protagonist and the main antagonist were in the same position at first, with the only difference being that one got "good" or "bad" luck.

It's also ironic how Tomura had everything to be the chosen one. He was the quirkless grandson of Nana Shimura, who insisted on being a hero even against his family wishes. Meanwhile, Deku had everything to be an antagonist, the boy rejected even by his greatest hero for being quirkless, the nobody no one but his mom would miss.

Idk, I might be overanalyzing it. For me, any of the options are interesting. It's just that I don't agree that AFO giving Tenko decay is such a let down.

[queer-irritator]

A New Neighbor | Kratos x GN! Reader | Chapter 18

Content Warnings: Adult language

Word Count: 773

Chapter 17

A/N: Welcome to the (probably) final chapter! I want to thank you all for how much love and support I’ve gotten on this story! There may be an epilogue in the future, I just can’t promise a timeline at the moment!

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

You could feel Kratos melt into your kiss; his lips began to move against yours. You couldn’t stop the smile that made its way onto your face as you kissed the man you’ve become so fond of. But your smile soon dissipated when you felt Kratos pull away from you and place his hands on each of your shoulders as he stood up. 

“You do not want this.” Kratos told you.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yes, I do.” You argued. 

“No.” Kratos stated as he took a step away from you. 

“You… You can’t tell me how to feel.” You persisted.

“I am not good.” He insisted, looking away from you.

Your confusion only grew. You were searching his face for any type of hint that this was a joke.

“What?” You took a few steps back to sit back down on your bed.

“You should go.” Kratos suggested, but it sounded more like a demand.

“What the fuck? No!” Your voice raised slightly with your last word. 

Kratos turned his head to you. 

“Can you please talk to me?” You pleaded with him, but annoyance still prevalent in your voice. 

“You should go.” He repeated himself, but more sternly this time.

It felt like your heart was starting to crack. 

“No.” You told him, your voice almost a whisper. 

You stood up and took a step forward, “You are a good man, Kratos. You are a wonderful father and protector. A loyal friend. You are kind and selfless.” You explained to him. 

“You do not know me.” Was his only reply. 

“Then tell me. Tell me why you’re such a bad person so I can decide for myself if I want to leave or not.” You crossed your arms. 

Kratos glanced at you. If you weren’t going to heed his warnings, the truth would surely have you running. 

“I am a monster. A killer.” He began to confess.

“Kratos, we all kill those monsters-“ you were cut off.

“People. Innocent people, children, villages.” He elaborated. 

“What are you talking about?” This doesn’t sound like the man you’ve come to know. 

“My past.” Kratos clarified. 

“Our pasts don’t define who we are now.” You tried to explain to him. 

“I am… irredeemable.” He slowly sat on his bed. 

You let out a sigh and took a step closer to him, “No one is irredeemable… Tell me about it.” 

Kratos had confusion spread across his face. You should have been gone by now, horrified that he was capable of such acts and calling him a monster. You sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me about it.” You repeated yourself, guiding him back so he was laying down. 

“I wanna hear.” You coaxed him on, lying next to him on your side on the tiny bed. 

Kratos was looking at you, debating in his head what to say next.

You placed a hand on his chest, “I’m not going to leave.” You assured him. After a few moments of silent debating, Kratos spoke. 

“I am a god.”

You had spent the entire night listening to Kratos tell you about his life. How the greed of war overtook him, becoming enslaved by Ares, then being consumed in hate and a need for vengeance. He had just finished telling you of the journey he and Atreus took to scatter Faye’s ashes. 

All the candle wax had melted into a puddle long ago, and the light from the window signaling daytime had emerged. You took a few minutes in silence to think over everything he had told you. You shifted to raise your head and look into his eyes.

“You are a good man, Kratos.” Your voice was stern, ready to shoot down any protests Kratos came up with. 

But none came. 

He nodded his head the slightest bit, you would have missed it if you blinked. You nodded back at him and leaned closer to his face and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

It took Kratos a moment, but he kissed you back and lightly placed a hand on the side of your face. His touch was so gentle, like those same hands hadn’t torn apart draugr like they were a piece of paper. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss as you heard some commotion coming from the main room. “Well, now you can touch my butt and not feel weird about it.” You poked fun at him as you got out of his bed. 

An annoyed grumble was music to your ears.

You smiled to yourself as you exited the bedroom to see what was going on, feeling a new chapter of your life begin.

[mushiewrites]

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This is a request from this prompt list from @wishitweresummer (find the ask here!). I accidentally made it an almost 5K fic when I wanted it to originally be a lil ficlet or drabble. I can never ever control myself and one day I will realize that. But until then - surprise! Another dnf fic. Do you ever expect anything different though?

prompts 10 - “I suggest you run” / 25 - “I’ll give u 5 seconds to escape”  / 26 - “here comes the tk monster”

(lee!George / ler!Dream : 4.7K words)

warnings: romantic dnf! (just some kisses, cuddles and lots of tickles)

George never dreamed that he could be so lucky. Laying next to Dream was something he had always thought about but wasn’t sure if it was something obtainable for him. He never expected for the two to confess their feelings on a cold winter night in December, huddled together for warmth while their heat was out. But here they were months later, still finding themselves tangled up in each other at any chance they got. No matter what the two had going on in their busy schedules, they always made time for cuddles, Dream insisting it was necessary for both of them to get their daily doses in. But George would never complain; why would he? He gets to shove his face into Dream’s neck while he tells George how important he is, how lovely he is, how he’s Dream’s. “Mine” he would always say, and the elder was always quick to respond - “yours, all yours”. George knew he’d never get tired of it. 

There was something else that had made its way into their everyday routine. Something that George never expected to adore so much, but found that he couldn’t handle going without it, not even for a day. It didn’t matter if he was on the receiving or giving end, all he knew was that he needed it; he needed the way that it would end with both of them in a messy pile of giggles and panting, each one trying to catch their own breath for different reasons. But still, they both craved it enough to work it into their day to day schedules. 

This something was tickling. 

It was kind of embarrassing, George had to admit. He was shy about this particular thing with anyone else, always finding ways to escape when his other friends would attempt to start this type of play with him, finding that he really only had a taste for it when he was with Dream. He couldn’t explain it, but it made me feel like he was floating, essentially up on Cloud 9 anytime one of them initiated it. Especially when it was Dream. 

He could be doing anything - sleeping on the couch, watching a movie in the theater room, making food, cuddling - and he was always surprised when Dream’s hands would appear seemingly out of thin air, never hearing the other approach from behind him. Dream’s hands always landed in one of two spots; his hips or his ribs. 

George had been in the kitchen, searching through the cabinets for a snack, his arms raised as he reached for the chips on one of the higher shelves. He grabbed the bag with his pointer and middle finger, barely reaching but somehow coaxing the chips to fall into his hands. He quickly dropped them on the counter with a squeal, arms shooting down to his sides when he felt two squeezes in quick succession to his ribs. 

“Dreheam!” He whined, leaning his head back against the taller boy’s shoulder as he dipped down to wrap his arms around George’s waist. Although Dream had stopped the tickling, the feelings still lingered, a few stray giggles bubbling up his throat and into the small space between them. Dream squeezed tighter, resting his chin on George’s shoulder as he swayed back and forth slightly, eyes closed as he smiled against the smaller boy’s ear. 

“Yes, my love?” Dream answered, his voice low, almost a whisper as he attempted the worst British accent George had ever heard. He rolled his eyes at the nickname, knowing Dream was kidding but feeling the butterflies erupt in his stomach regardless. The brunette whined again, Dream’s arms loosening around him briefly when George turned to face him, looking up into the bright green eyes he could finally admire up close. He was able to see the specks of gold throughout the iris, along with the little brown dot that made its home in Dream’s right eye. 

“What?” The blonde asked nervously, eyes now looking to the side as his cheeks turned a dusty pink, embarrassed at how intensely George was studying him. 

“Nothing, just fawning over you. Can I not adore my boyfriend in peace?” George giggled as Dream let out a groan, leaning forward and placing his forehead against the older boy’s shoulder. George giggled a little harder at the action, wrapping his hands around Dream’s waist and rubbing a soothing hand along his upper back. “What’s wrong, puppy, is there a problem?”

“Oh just…shut up, you little idiot.” Dream mumbled against the shirt he was currently buried in, hugging him tighter with a giggle escaping him even as he tried to sound annoyed. But George knew better - Dream was never annoyed with him. No matter how good of an actor Dream may think he is, George always knew better. 

“I’m an idiot, am I?” George lowered his voice, matching Dream’s tone from the minutes before when he was purring out his words into George’s own ear. He made sure to turn his head so that his lips were pressed against the shell of Dream’s ear as he spoke, smirking when the blonde’s shoulders came up to try and protect it. “Well, I guess you don’t want the surprise I had in mind to cheer you up.” 

“No! What surprise?” Dream stood up quickly, straightening his back and moving his arms from around George’s waist to grip his shoulders, squeezing slightly. The blonde was pouting, looking down at him with the biggest puppy eyes George had ever seen. 

“I don’t know! I’m just an idiot, remember? I forgot what the surprise was.” 

“George!” 

“What?! You’re the one who insulted me!” 

“You know I didn’t mean it!” Dream let out a huff of air in frustration, somewhere between a groan and a growl before leaning his head back against George’s shoulder, landing a little harder than intended and breaking out into bright giggles when the brunette let out a yelp. “Come on, baby, please? For me?” 

The brunette let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning his head to the side to rest against Dream’s. He hugged the taller boy tighter to him, finding it hard to keep his affection in check when he was acting this adorable. George knew that Dream knew that his little pleas always got to him, and hated that he was being molded by Dream like he was putty to get what he wanted. 

George hated that it always worked. 

“Alright you big cry baby, stand up then.” He pushed at Dream’s shoulders, chuckling when he let out a scoff at the name George had called him, the elder always using it on him whenever he was being pouty. Dream adjusted himself, reaching up to fix the Techno cat beanie that seemed to be sewn into his hair with how much he wore it. The blonde was staring down at the smaller boy, bouncing up and down on his toes as he waited for George to continue. 

“You wanna know what your surprise is?” 

“Yes please.” 

“You really wanna know?” 

“Yes! I just said I did!” 

“Are you reaaaaally sure?” 

“George!”

Dream was smiling through his words, trying to press his lips together in a straight line to seem more intimidating but failing miserably. How could he not smile every time he saw George smiling? It was contagious, spreading as easily as the common cold, and Dream caught it every single time. 

“Okahay okay! Here, you can have your surprise.” George was giggling at Dream’s impatience, wanting to drag it out more but knowing that he would be knocked down a peg or two if he tried. And he wasn’t about to open up that can of worms, at least not in that way. George was a planner, and he had already mapped out the idea for retaliation in his head. It was time to set it in motion. 

George leaned forward on his toes, pushing himself up with his lips parted slightly, puckering them when Dream’s lips moved to meet him halfway. When Dream’s eyes slipped closed George made his move, using both hands to quickly scribble into the blonde’s tummy with as much pressure as he could. 

Dream’s eyes immediately shot open, not expecting the tickly fingers against his stomach and doubling over as he laughed loudly, the cackles bouncing around the walls of the kitchen and flowing back into George’s ears. He was smiling as he continued to tickle him, leaning his head to the side and listening to Dream’s laugh like it was the best symphony he’d ever heard. 

But getting lost to the sound of Dream’s giggles was dangerous - George had learned this the hard way many times. It seemed as if he’d have to learn once again as Dream’s hands were suddenly gripping the smaller boy’s wrists together in one hand, successfully stopping the tickling as he straightened up, panting through his remaining giggles as he tried to catch his breath. The look in Dream’s eyes was intense, staring into George’s with the intent to attack. The brunette pulled at his wrists, whimpering when Dream held onto them with a tight grip. 

“D-Dreheam, let go!” George pulled at his wrists again, this time a little harder. He was surprised when he felt Dream’s grasp loosen, allowing him to pull his hands back and hold them against his chest to protect himself. Dream was still staring, looking as if he could swallow George whole if he really wanted to, but a chill ran down George’s spine as the blonde began to smirk. 

“I- Dream I’m-”

“Save it.” 

“What?! Dream, what are you-”

“George,” Dream’s stern tone of voice stopped George’s train of thought, causing his jaw to drop slightly when he saw the blonde lean in close, almost touching his nose to George’s as he continued to speak. “I suggest you run.”

The elder didn’t give himself a chance to pick a destination within the house, only worrying about getting away from Dream, letting his feet carry him wherever they go. He was sprinting towards the steps, frantic laughter exploding from him as the taller boy chased behind him. 

“Oh Geeeeorgeee~!” Dream called as he followed George up the steps, watching the brunette disappear down the hallway at the top of the steps. The blonde was chasing him, but he wasn’t in any hurry - he wanted George to think that he actually had a chance at escaping. That was one of Dream’s favorite things to do - make the lee think they have a chance, just to tear them down into tickly little bits to show them how wrong they were. 

“NOHOHOHO!” Dream heard his blaring screams echoing down the long corridor as he finally reached the top step, just in time to see George’s door slam shut. The younger man chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way down the hallway with minimal sound. 

George was panicking now, looking around his room for places to hide, knowing Dream was going to burst through his door at any second. His eyes landed on the bed as he contemplated squirming his way underneath, but he quickly changed his mind. He knew it was too obvious and he’d be found immediately. Another look around the room and he briefly thought about hiding under his desk as well, but ruled that out when he thought about how exposed he’d be. One last look and George suddenly found a worthy hiding spot - his closet. 

“Here comes the tickle monster!” 

“Shit!” he mumbled under his breath as he heard footsteps getting closer and closer to his room, surging forward and flinging the doors to his closet open before stepping inside. He made sure to close the doors softly, slowly releasing the handles until he heard them lock securely in place. George sat on the floor of his closet, crawling backwards until his body hit the wall. The sudden sound of his bedroom door opening had him flinging a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he tried his hardest to listen and pinpoint where Dream was within his room. 

“I know you’re in here, Georgie…” He heard the blonde’s voice coming from somewhere across the room, presumably checking under the bed. A second later he heard his blankets ruffling, followed by a loud “AHA!” coming from Dream. George thanked his lucky stars he didn’t settle for his original thought for a hiding spot. 

“Looks like someone got a little smarter at hide and seek, huh?” 

George could practically hear his heart beating, feeling it pounding in his chest as he moved to clamp his free hand over his mouth as well. He was aware of his breathing and how loud it was, and tried to adjust accordingly; every inhale was shallow, and every exhale was shaky as he tried to keep the noise to a minimum. 

“I’m gonna find you, baby. You know you can’t hide from me for long.” He rolled his eyes as he heard the smirk in Dream’s voice, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly at the comment from the younger boy. George sat up slightly, trying to look through the crack of the door to see if he could see any movement when suddenly the closet doors flung open, allowing the light to pour in and reveal the brunette in his vulnerable position on the ground. 

“GOTCHA GEORGIE!” Dream was cackling like a witch, lunging forward and grabbing at George with both hands, laughing harder when George’s limbs kept evading capture. He was flailing against the carpet, kicking up and thrashing his arms in every direction to keep Dream from getting a good grip. 

“D-Dreheheam no no no! Don’t, pl-pleheHEASE DOHON’T!” 

The blonde had successfully captured one of George’s ankles, pulling it towards himself to allow his free hand to grab onto the other ankle. Dream stood up, dragging George out from the closet as the older boy shrieked and clawed at the carpet, even going as far as to grab onto the doorframe of the closet so Dream couldn’t pull him out fully. 

“So that’s how this is gonna go, hm? You’re gonna be a brat?” Dream sighed in faux disappointment, shaking his head slightly as George watched his movements with wide eyes. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, the smile never leaving his face as George tried to regulate his breathing, adjusting his grip on the wooden frame as he shrugged his shoulders at Dream. 

The younger boy giggled and shrugged his shoulders back at George before using his middle fingers of both hands to trace along the arches of the smaller boy’s feet, making him kick and immediately lose his grip from the door. Dream used this opportunity to yank at his ankles once more, successfully pulling George completely out of the closet and into the center of his own room. Dream smirked down at the boy beneath him, poking a few times at the tummy that was now on full display due to his shirt being pulled up to just under his ribs from being dragged against the carpet. 

George was smacking his hands against the ground, trying to push himself up on his elbows and kick himself free, but it was all for nothing. Dream made his way from George’s ankles to straddling his hips, laughing when the elder pulled his arms back and folded them across his chest as a way to try and keep Dream from taking them. They both knew this was useless. They both went along with it anyway like it wasn’t. 

“I’ll give you five seconds to escape.” 

“Wh- Dream, what?! You’re….You’re holding mehehe down!” George looked up at Dream, seeing the mischief sparkling in his eyes as he moved and wrapped both hands around both of George’s wrists.

“Five.” 

“Dream! Nohoho! Lehet me gohoho!” 

“Four.” Dream pulled George’s wrists away from his body, chuckling quietly as he tried to keep the stern look on his face. 

“Three.” 

“Nohoho no! No, baby, Dream, plehehease!” George was squealing as Dream moved both wrists above his head, pushing them into the ground to show George how stuck he actually was. No matter how hard George yanked his arms or squirmed side to side, he made absolutely zero progress in defending himself. 

“Two….” Dream moved both of George’s wrist into one hand, using his now free hand to wiggle his fingers in a claw shape above his boyfriend’s torso. 

“Nohoho! D-Dreheheam, nohot fair!” George squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the taunting hand, regretting it a second later when he felt that same hand vibrating into the right side of his ribcage, fingers making their way down the bottom set to give the sensitive skin there some attention as well. 

“One! The tickle monster is here George, I tried to warn you!” 

“NAHAHA!” George was lost in a world of hysterical laughter, the sounds of his screams and squeals making it hard to even hear Dream’s teases.

“You only have yourself to blame, babycakes!”

“EHEHEW WHAHAT?!” George scrunched up his face through his laughter at the pet name, shaking his head as Dream began to laugh along with him.

“Oh come on, it fits! You’re my baby, and you’re sweet! Like cake,” Dream knew that if George didn’t already have his eyes squeezed shut, he would’ve received a huge eye roll at the cringey remark. “Which is why it’s just so tempting to just…take a bite out of you.”

George squirmed to the side when he felt a nibble against his neck, just below his ear, making him shriek before breaking out into giggles. The brunette shook his head again, making Dream switch to wiggling a finger under his arm, making quick but light circles over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Nohoho! Nohoho Dream! Dohohon’t!” He was pulling at his wrists, kicking behind him as he tried to squirm his way out of Dream’s grip. The blonde noticed and stopped briefly, using both hands to readjust the hold before pushing them down against the carpet.

“Dreheam, come on-!” George’s words caught in his throat when opened his eyes briefly, being met with the sight of Dream’s face, much closer than he anticipated. He swallowed thickly, eyes flicking down to watch the younger boy’s smirk spread across his face. George could feel his face getting warmer, not knowing what to say now that Dream was so close. His eyes squeezed shut once more when he saw Dream lean down, feeling lips grazing against his jaw before stopping right below his ear. George squirmed with a squeak when he felt Dream press a kiss there before he continued. 

“Come on, pretty boy, you didn’t think I’d just let you get away with that, did you?” Dream’s voice was almost a whisper, sending George into a tiny fit of giggles at the feeling. He didn’t have the chance to respond, screaming out when he felt Dream’s hand scribbling against the side of his tummy, the left side of his body this time. George flung himself to the right, squealing again when the tickling hand followed his every move. 

“Dreheheheam! Nahahaha plehease!” 

George was thrashing, his fists opening and closing on their own accord. Dream’s hand never seemed to stay in one spot for long. As quickly as the tickling started on the side of his tummy, it was gone not even ten seconds later, now exploring the stretched out ribs. He felt Dream spread his fingers as far as they’d go, slotting all five finger tips between the sensitive bones before shaking his hand as fast as he could. George shrieked at that, somehow bucking his hips up enough to actually disturb Dream’s balance for a moment. 

“Oh my God, George! You just lifted me!” The blonde was laughing, stopping the tickling as he pulled himself together, allowing George to also get his breathing somewhat regulated as well. Dream sat up on his knees, scooting himself up a little higher on George’s thighs before lowering himself back down, situating himself before deciding he was ready to continue.  

George’s eyes were still closed, his head tipped back as he took in jagged breaths, when he felt a kiss against the base of his throat, making him curl in on himself. He quickly attempted to put his chin down to cover the area, but instead came to a stop against the side of Dream’s neck, unable to protect himself. George shook his head from side to side as his boyfriend shook his head, rubbing his stubble from his chin against George’s collarbone and sending him into a frenzy of frantic giggles.

“Staha-stohop!” George’s eyes flew open, laughing so hard he swore he would lose his voice after Dream was done with him. Dream sat up, leaning forward to give George a kiss when the brunette turned his head to the side with a loud whine in protest, giving Dream the angriest look he could muster up through his continuous giggles. 

The younger boy’s jaw dropped, immediately drawing butterflies out from the depths of Georges stomach, making them flutter like they were trying to force their way out of him. His giggles went silent, the two locking eyes as Dream continued to draw out the anticipation. 

When George opened his mouth to speak, Dream’s hand suddenly came back to life. Only this time, when he was expecting the hand to return to his ribs, his right hand made contact with George’s hip bone, squeezing and kneading into it with his thumb and making him squeal. His feet were stomping against the carpet, trying to push himself up by digging his heels into the carpet, but he was too weak from laughing. 

“NAHAHA!” His wrists were suddenly free and George flung them down against his sides, trapping Dream’s hands where they had migrated under his arms. The elder knew this game - it was one of his boyfriend’s signature moves whenever he got into tickle fights. No matter who it was with, he always somehow got his hands trapped under the other person’s arms. It was truly a talent George wished he possessed. 

“Oh no, baby! I’m stuck! You need to lift your arms!” Dream cried out in a fake panic, only making George laugh harder as a result of his idiotic act. 

“Y-You’re nohohot! Gehehet out!” George was squirming back and forth, head thrown back with his arms crossed over his chest, his hands gripping onto Dream’s wrists and pulling like his life depended on it. 

“Hmmm….” Dream sat back slightly, hands still kneading under George’s arms into the sensitive muscles by the fronts of them, smiling as he watched the smaller boy under him continue to laugh his heart out. “I think I’m gonna need you to lift your arms.” 

“Wh- Noho!” 

“Come on, just a little bit? I just need a little space! Then I could wiggle them free!” George let out a yelp as Dream wiggled his fingers to try and pretend to get free, continuing to poke and prod even as George agreed over and over again. 

“I said okahahahay! S-Stohohop I’ll do it!” 

Dream raised his eyebrows slightly, his hands slowly coming to a stop, no longer moving and giving George a chance to get used to the feeling for a moment. George brought his hands up to cover his face, giggling in embarrassment as Dream gave him a few words of encouragement. After a few seconds, George removed his hands from his face and squeezed his eyes shut so he couldn’t see Dream’s teasy smile. He made the jittery move of raising his arms slightly, his elbows barely above his shoulders, just becoming vulnerable, before flinging them back down when he felt fingers drilling into his top ribs. 

“DR-DREHEHE- STAHAHAP! WHY- I DIHIHID IHIHIHIT! P-PLEHEHEASE!” George could feel the wetness in the corners of his eyes as the tears started falling, his laughter finally sending him over the edge and bringing on the waterworks. Of course he wasn’t actually crying in distress, and Dream knew this, having experienced this countless times. 

“Awh baby, are you crying because of how much it tickles? My poor little kitten,” Dream teased over George’s hysterical laughter, falling forward slightly when George bent his knees, bringing them up and slamming them into Dream’s back. “Ouch okay okahay! No need to get violent!” 

“Sohohorry!” The brunette knew Dream wasn’t serious but decided to apologize anyway, hoping to give himself more of a chance of escaping sooner than later. It would seem his theory was correct, feeling Dream’s hands coming to a stop once more. Dream nodded his head and George took in a shaky breath, lifting his arms above his head slowly, making sure to use every ounce of willpower to keep them up. 

“Good boy, George. I told you that you could do it!” Dream moved his hands from under the smaller boy’s arms, grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling George up into a sitting position so the blonde could wrap his arms around him. 

“Nnnh…” The elder whined, wrapping his arms tightly around Dream’s waist and smiling into his chest when he felt two kisses placed on the top of his head. He leaned his head back, looking up at Dream and giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed from how exhausted he was as he continued to let out little squeaks and giggles from the leftover tickles still dancing over his skin. 

“You tired, baby? Did I go too far?” Dream’s voice lowered on the second question, letting out a sigh of relief when George immediately shook his head, letting him know that his boyfriend was truly okay. 

“I am very tired, you big bully. You just tickled me to death!” George continued to complain as Dream rolled his eyes and made a move to stand, gripping the smaller boy’s thighs and squeezing once to make him bark out a laugh before hoisting him up and moving both of them to the bed. He placed George down first, watching him make his way under the grey covers of his own bed before Dream climbed in after him. The blonde rested his head on the pillow, adjusting himself until he was in a comfortable position and giggling when George was immediately clinging to him. 

“I know I know, I’m sorry baby. You were really cute though!” Dream giggled again as George let out a whine at the compliment, hiding his face further into the younger boy’s neck. Dream ran a hand up and down George’s back, helping him calm down and allowing him to relax. Suddenly Dream gasped, startling George and making him squeak as he sat back to look at Dream with wide eyes.

“What?!” 

“I never got my surprise!” 

George broke out into giggles at the comment, rolling his eyes and lifting his left hand to run through the wild curls that were hanging over Dream’s forehead. He shook his head slowly, smiling wide as he moved his hand down to the back of the blonde’s neck, pulling him forward and connecting their lips in a quick kiss. He could feel Dream smiling against his lips, pulling back and opening his eyes to see Dream still smiling, looking at George like he was the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen. 

“There, you idiot. You got your surprise. Now cuddle me, I deserve it after that.” Dream giggled, pulling George back into the crook of his neck while he wrapped his arms around him again, holding him as close as he could get. 

“Alright grumpy. I’ll allow it,” George jabbed at Dream’s side, making him squeal before grabbing at the smaller boy’s hand. “Hey, don’t push it! You’re lucky I love you.” 

“Nn mmhn mm.” Dream heard a muffled reply against his neck, giggling and lifting the shoulder that George’s head rested on to get him out of his hiding spot. He of course knew that George returned the sentiment, but Dream wasn’t going to let him go that easily. 

“What George? What was that?” 

“NNh mmhhn m!” 

“Whaaaaat?”

“I love you! There, happy idiot?!” 

“With you? Always.” 

George let out a groan, pretending to hate how sappy the younger boy was. Dream just laughed, pressing another kiss on the top of George’s head before leaning his cheek against it, allowing his eyes to close as they both drifted off into a much needed nap. 

[cannedcrow]

Arbitrary Darkness (HC Monster Hunter AU) Part VII

A/N ~ Hiya all! Been working on this chapter for a little while. I do about a thousand edits of each draft. Anyway, here's some vaguely spicy content and Scott being an asshole for you :D

~ reblog if ya enjoy! <3 ~

Part VI - AO3

Grian and Mumbo sat in a booth in the Hermiton Arms waiting for Pearl, whom Mumbo had been so good as to introduce only by name. Grian had initially been surprised when they passed by The Foxhole, the little pub he and Mumbo usually frequented, but Mumbo insisted that it was in bad taste to bring a work friend to such a scrappy place. Grian was of the mind that the Hermiton Arms was far too posh - more of a cocktail lounge than their usual pub-quiz-live-music-house-beer haunt, but acquiesced to the change of scenery without too much whining.

“Shall we wait for Pearl or get a drink?” Mumbo asked, evidently rather lost in the etiquette of it all.

“Suit yourself, but as third wheel I’m going to get a drink,” Grian replied rather petulantly.

Mumbo rolled his eyes and sat back as Grian made his way to the bar. It was quite full, though the patrons here had a more delicate, quiet manner to them than those of The Foxhole. Shame, really. Grian always rather enjoyed watching a good bar tussle. Dark mahogany paneled the walls and furniture, dimly lit by oil lamps and candles. Cigarette smoke curled lazily in the air with dim chatter. Very posh indeed - though perhaps a little too reminiscent of the Eighth Circle.

He became aware that the bartender had asked what he wanted - “Er, Negroni please,”

The bartender nodded and moved into swift, practiced action.

“Negroni, eh? You didn’t strike me as the type.”

The voice was lightly teasing, and Grian turned to see a woman leaning on the bar next to him, touselled chestnut hair curling around her smiling face. She wore a simple open shirt and skirt and watched him with inviting grey-blue eyes, ink stained fingertips tapping distractedly on the counter. Undoubtedly very pretty.

“That’s your opener at the bar? Insulting people’s drink choice?” Grian replied amusedly.

“Well, I don’t really see the point of empty flattery. You can make a lotta assumptions about people based on their drink choice.”

She spoke in a soft Australian accent. The type of voice and temperament that invites friendship openly, and Grian appreciated it.

Grian raised an eyebrow. “Right. And what does a Negroni say about me?”

“Usually signifies a manly type with a touch of class. Less brusque than an old fashioned, less girly than a whisky sour, only a tiny bit pretentious.”

The bartender presented his drink just then.

“So, you think I’m manly huh?” Grian replied teasingly, “I’ll take it, but unfortunately for you it just means I like marmalade,” Grian retorted smoothly, sipping his drink. It was a good Negroni.

“Marmalade?” She laughed, “You’re off your rocker! Anyway, I did say you didn’t look like the type didn’t I?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve manned with the manliest of men,” Grian replied with mock grandiosity.

Pearl laughed again, “Not gonna touch that one.”

“So, can I buy you a manly drink with a touch of class?”

“Never. If you’re buying though …” she tipped her head thoughtfully, “French 75.”

“Girly drink,” Grian muttered slyly as the bartender went off again.

Before Pearl had a chance to reply, Mumbo appeared.

“Thought you’d gotten lost mate! See you’ve found Pearl though,”

Grian coughed on his drink rather indelicately. “I - what?”

Pearl blushed faintly, giving Mumbo a little wave, “We hadn’t got to names yet actually,” she laughed, “You’re Grian then eh? I shoulda known!”

Grian sighed with a slightly embarrassed smile, offering his hand. “Yep, monster hunter extraordinaire. Told you, manliest of men.”

The bartender appeared again with Pearl’s drink.

“5 diamonds for them two then,” he grinned.

Grian paid with a quick, “Cheers mate.”

“What, I don’t get a free drink?” Mumbo mocked.

“Shut it,” Grian growled.

They stayed at the bar while Mumbo ordered and returned as a trio to their table, settling down in the plush seats.

“It is nice here Mumbo, I’ll give you that,” Grian conceded.

“Right? Papa K took me here once, early on. Thought I was about to get fired, turns out it was a promotion!”

“Naw, he’s a softie,” Pearl said, “I reckon he’d let anyone stay on if he liked chatting to em. Hard to be intimidated by a guy who calls you ‘sweet-face’.”

“I’ll have you know I can be intimidated by anyone,” Mumbo replied sternly.

“That’s a point on your resume, is it?”

“Right between ‘am nice’ and ‘write good’.”

Grian snorted. “So, what’s the story you two are working on? With creds like that, I mean.”

“All business eh? That’s a change,” Pearl winked at him and he felt his cheeks warm slightly as he grinned sheepishly.

“Article on the dead guy they found in Hogshyde Park,"

"What happened to him?" Grian asked warily.

"Not sure really," Pearl replied, "We've been looking into it - funny thing is, cops don't think it was a monster - not that they have much idea - but usually the body would be a bit more ripped up, half-eaten, you know?"

"We saw the body," Mumbo added, "looks like a drug overdose if anything. Maybe he had a weird reaction or something, because it doesn't really look like the usual. His veins were almost black, and the mortician who autopsied him said his blood had basically turned to ash.”

Grian made a face. “Ew.”

“Right?” Pearl looked rather delighted by the whole thing. “We’re planning on doing a little poking around, see if anyone has any useful details. Could make for a proper interesting story.”

“Ought to ask some of the more unsavory group that hangs around there,” Mumbo pondered.

“You reckon they’ll talk to us?”

Grian zoned out of the conversation as it started involving a litany of names he didn’t know, entertaining himself by examining the other bar patrons vaguely. His gaze was drawn suddenly to a man with unmistakable aquamarine hair, a pale, sharp face he’d hoped not to see again.

It had to be him though. Scott sat at the end of the bar, in smiling conversation with a girl whose back was to Grian. He was dressed differently tonight - an elegant, tailed waistcoat of navy blue, draped over a pale shirt that lay open, lazily revealing a v of pale chest.

What the hell is he doing here? Who is that? Perhaps she was a monster of some sort too, but Grian had a nasty suspicion she wasn’t. As he watched, Scott slid a suggestive hand along her thigh. He didn’t like the look of it one bit. Temptation to intervene crept under his skin, but … it was too much of a risk to make a scene. He’d keep an eye on him, hopefully not be noticed. If -

“Grian?”

Mumbo’s voice took his gaze back - it seemed he’d missed a cue.

“Sorry, what?”

“Trying to find someone to go home with tonight?” Mumbo teased.

“Hardly,” Grian retorted. Not that I'd be opposed ... if he weren't a bloodthirsty murderer. That drink was definitely hitting.

Mumbo laughed, “Pearl asked if you knew any monster with venom that'd do that."

Grian thought carefully, shaking his head slowly. "No, doesn't ring a bell. Wonder if it’s a hybrid or infection we don’t know about.”

He wondered silently to himself if he ought to ask Joel. He’d know more than anyone about the shady underbelly of the city, but somehow he didn’t think Joel would want to help him with anything.

“I reckon I could ask about, see if I can glean any useful info,” Grian ventured.

“That’d be great. Shame about Tango, really. He’d have had some insight I bet.”

“Tango?” Pearl asked.

Mumbo met Grian’s stern gaze. “Ex-business partner of Grian’s.”

“I wouldn’t worry," Grian sighed heavily, "He wouldn’t have told me anything. We weren’t exactly confidants.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Grian saw Scott stand, offering an inviting hand to his companion. The two began to make their way towards the door, and Grian made a split decision, downing the rest of his drink.

“Going for another drink,” he muttered, pushing up from the table to follow.

The night air was cool and fresh, in stark contrast to the warm, smoky air of the Hermiton Arms. He lit a cigarette as he leant on the doorway, taking a long drag and letting his quarry get a fair distance in front of him before following quietly.

They walked along the canal, brightly lit by lanterns and dotted with cafes and bars, patrons enjoying the evening air and chatting. Their quiet conversation was too muted for Grian to hear, skulking along a good 20 feet behind. He couldn't help but feel like the monster in this situation, stalking after them in the shadows like a cat. They walked for about five minutes, reaching a slightly darker, quieter part of the road, and the pair sat on the canal's edge. The moonlight glinted silver on the water, soft chatter wended its way down the breeze, and a nightingale was singing softly somewhere.

Quite the romantic, aren’t you?

He watched, fairly close behind them but enveloped in the shadow of the buildings, as they talked and laughed like any other young couple. Before long though, Scott cast a surreptitious glance around, evidently missing Grian in the shadowed doorway. He returned his attention to the girl, tenderly brushing her hair aside, and she looked up and him with a smile as he bent his head to meet his lips with hers, traveling a hand down her back to brace securely on her waist.

Grian predicted the next 30 seconds quickly and made his decision, taking another deep drag before stepping out.

“Ma’am?”

He made as though he’d just reached them, and she looked up, blushing furiously.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He started casually, tapping ash from his cigarette, “only I work at the Hermiton Arms - a bartender said you left your wallet at the bar.”

Please don’t tell me he bought all your drinks. And please don’t check.

Thankfully, it appeared she was too flustered (and tipsy, probably) to give it much thought, and she stood quickly.

“Did I? I’m sorry! Thanks for letting me know.”

Scott watched the encounter intently, standing, and Grian turned his back on him.

Stay away from him. Trust me, he mouthed to her inconspicuously.

It appeared she’d succumbed to his illusion of authority, and her face went from quizzical to a look of horror that glanced her face only briefly, and she nodded imperceptibly.

Thank you, Grian thought.

“I’d better be off then, I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly to Scott.

“No worries,” he replied in that melodious, easy tone, “I expect I rather distracted you.”

She blushed again, turning to walk down the street in the direction of the Hermiton Arms, glancing back nervously.

Now I’m the one alone with the psycho monster. Just what I wanted.

“The benevolent hero steps in again,” Scott commented idly, strolling towards Grian, who stepped back towards the building walls behind them, “Surely even monsters have a right to a quiet date. If you wanted a three-way, you only had to ask.”

“I think we both know that’s not what you had in mind,” Grian replied sharply, “and I prefer my threeways not to end with two of us being ripped apart at the bottom of a canal.”

Scott shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by Grian spoiling his plans, “don’t knock it til you try it.”

“I don’t think I will, thanks,” Grian replied cuttingly, “Don’t insult my intelligence by trying this game with me.”

A smile played on Scott’s pale face, and he moved directly in front of Grian, leaning one forearm against the bricks and caging Grian slightly. In these quarters, Grian could smell the floral gin on his breath, the slight scent of freshwater.

"Don't you like me?" He murmured, brushing a thumb along Grian's cheek and travelling his fingertips salaciously down his neck and chest. Grian's breath hitched unwittingly, and he was annoyed at the way his heart quickened. That damned drink.

He squirmed out of the contact, scowling. "I don't think you need me to tell you what I think of you."

The moonlight glittered on Scott's cyan hair in an ethereal way as he gazed down at Grian piercingly from beneath spiked lashes, smiling slightly. God, he was beautiful. No human could look like that. He was consoled only by the hand resting on the handle of his knife, concealed behind him in his waistband. With the other, he calmly continued with his cigarette.

“You know,” Scott breathed conspiratorially in his ear, “You could always join in on the ripping apart bit of my nights out.”

Grian scowled and shoved him away, hard, burning him with the cigarette end. Scott stumbled slightly and didn’t approach again, only cocking his head and surveying Grian sardonically.

“Thanks for the invite,“ Grian spat, “But keep your bloodthirsty exploits to yourself. I'll be there as much as I can to spoil your night."

"You really haven't got it yet," Scott mused gently, "We're on the same side. If you keep forcing yourself to be this ... farce, you'll only become an obscenity to all sides."

Grian bristled, striding towards Scott menacingly. "How many times do I have to say," he snarled, "I'm not like you. I've never -- I'd die before becoming anything like you."

He hated how the words stuck in his throat. Even here, even now, his tongue betrayed him.

“Why don’t you kill me then?” Scott asked sweetly, not waiting for a reply, “Oh, right, I remember.”

With that last jab, he turned, strolling away as though they’d just said a heartfelt goodbye, and called over his shoulder, “there’ll always be more bloodthirsty exploits if you want to have some fun!”

Grian watched Scott's graceful silhouette recede, hand curled into a fist around his knife handle. He threw his cigarette end to the ground, spinning around to return to the bar.

"Get lost?" Mumbo asked cheerfully when he returned, frowning when he saw Grian's face, "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter," Grian sighed, "I'm gonna get that drink I promised myself. Want anything?"

"Round of Montenegro?" Mumbo suggested, looking to Pearl.

"Go on then," She acquiesced cheerfully.

Grian grinned and navigated his way through the crowd to the bar, leaning his back to the wood after ordering.

The scene and his position reminded me of his night at The Eighth Circle. The last time he'd been in a place like this, he'd been offered a concoction of blood and liquor.

Can't they just drink a Manhattan like the rest of us?

...Us. The word was steadily becoming more uncomfortable for him. He hated letting them affect his mentality in this way. Blessedly, the bartender arrived then.

"A vodka, neat, too. Thanks."

The bartender acquiesced as he paid and threw back the shot, giving his head a slight shake. Enough of all that, let's have a normal night.

When he brought the tray of drinks back, Mumbo and Pearl gave a little cheer.

"Man, no one's ever that excited to see me unless I have a tray of alcohol," Grian grinned.

"Well, you're a bit broody. Puts people off I reckon," Mumbo contributed helpfully, taking his glass of Montenegro delicately.

"Thanks, I can always count on you to ease my sorrows."

"You're welcome. Cheers then, to friendship and drinks and business. And all three at once."

"You're a natural wordsmith," Pearl laughed, raising her glass to clink it to the others as they drank.

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

the adhd won't leave me alone so here is a list of Virgil headcanons same rules apply as remus' here we go headcanons number two electric boogaloo:

— was raised by goth parents basically Gomez and Morticia Addams over here they're all affectionate and loving and wonderful parents just goth

— was raised goth, found more comfort in emo styles/music (that sounds like a fucking religion LMAO) (he steals his mother's makeup a lot) (til she buys him his own) (his father buys some too for the hell of it)

— speaking of religion, they celebrate like the solstices. I'm not 100% on any specific religion but they're very "be good to the earth, she's given us everything" parents. Halloween is big though. Fuckin love Halloween.

— pumpkin smell. He just. Ya ever had a pumpkin candle? That's him

— has a general anxiety disorder that fluctuates. Sometimes he can go a long while with no panics, sometimes it's every few hours. He's learning to cope with it

— are anxiety tics a thing???? I swear I see some people say that anxiety tics exist, some others say it doesn't. But just. If not! Then he's got a tic disorder too and he tics when anxious. If so; anxious tics.

(It's a headcanon for both of them Can you tell I get a little self conscious about tics I had/have? /lh /j LMAO)

— really sucked at it at first but can now skateboard pretty well

— he has impulsive DIY piercings (his parents can pay for professional but he insists. They just make sure he's got antiseptic). Actually he DIYs a lot. Bro can sew his own clothes if he wants.

— has walked into the house with newly dyed hair FAR more than once and they're like "oh my darling it looks wonderful when did you do it?"

— mortician. I'm just gonna be so frank with you I have no other ideas.

— worked at Hot Topic from high school through college until he actually started a Career and kinda was sad to be leaving ngl

— only started going to pride when he met Remus

— the kind of guy to take in information really well in class despite looking half asleep the whole time

— he's naturally got bigger canines so he does look a little like a vampire it's not an addition or body mod he's just like that and he loves it

— speaking of him being able to sew, from earlier, his first gift to Remus is a Frankenstein's Monster of stuffed animals. All different body parts from different creatures in order to make a teddy bear. Like discord from my little pony. Remus fucking LOVES it. (Virgil sewed the rest back together so they're okay and now Remus has other plushies with missing limbs)

— okay I'm gonna say it he likes musicals. Normally it's like Jekyll & Hyde but I'm hellbent on him ADORING Chicago. I will fight everyone over this. And the show Adamandi (it's such a good show imo but it's got such a small fandom literally my fav musical it's a gothic tragedy)

— sometimes dresses up in specific outfits he knows Remus finds extra attractive in order to get his attention (he is insecure that day but will NOT be saying it because anxiety)

— had a stutter at one point and it really pissed him off he literally worked through it out of spite now he talks really clearly and consistently and it's terrifying

I tried to keep the HCs off his anxiety and the main function as anxiety in order to share my more "here's him if he was a person and not a function" ones but :3

— 👑

That is S O R E A L but I fucking L O V E these S O fucking much!!! Vee knowing how to sew is literally one of my favorite fucking things ever and him making Frankenstein type plushies for Ree is cute as fuck!!! Also I L O V E him getting better at Skateboarding overtime Skater!Vee my beloved <3 (Also Y E S he D E S E R V E S to smell like a pleasant Pumpkin and have loving alt parents Your Honor <3)

[theweeklydiscourse]

Aaron Warner: A Defanged Romantic Lead

Don’t get me wrong, I actually love Aaron Warner’s characterization in Shatter Me. I like his unhinged attitude and how at times he comes off as a little delusional with his fantasies of a fucked up future together with Juliette. He’s like an obsessed scientist who caught a mermaid and is both in love with her while also being fascinated with her supernatural qualities and wanting to exploit her for them…BUT.

There’s this trope I’ve noticed that I’ve thought about for a while, but I’ve never actually written about it. Have you ever noticed that in certain stories involving fantasy or dystopian elements, the story will begin with a dangerous and edgy male lead with dubious morals but as soon as the author considers them as a romantic interest for the female lead they are completely and utterly defanged?

What I’m referring to is the tendency to characterize a male lead as an unhinged individual who engages in violent and dangerous behaviours in the first book only to completely backtrack on that characteristic in the second book. These male leads are often extremely well-liked by readers and are involved in equally well-liked romantic sub plots in their respective series. However, there is a certain dissonance to these types of characters that I believe cannot be ignored and I have an unconfirmed hypothesis on why this trope has become so popular. Aaron Warner is a perfect example of this trope (among many) and to illustrate my point, I’ll use examples from Shatter Me and Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi.

To make things clear, I do enjoy romances with darker themes, But, I absolutely cannot stand the lack of nerve in both of these narratives and their refusal to truly lean into the subjects they raise and how they cower at the implications of what they’ve written.

Anyways, here’s a page from my physical copy of Ignite Me from a few years ago.

I hate how Aaron’s explanation for his actions in Ignite Me amount to him getting huffy with Juliette for expressing her grievances with the way he handled things in Shatter Me. It’s just one justification after the other in rapid succession. Some of it it plausible, like his efforts to establish Juliette as an intimidating force in the Sector by making a public display of her abilities (albeit against her will) as well as belief that he was lifting her out of a poor situation. But, this is all marred by the final line: "I had no idea you hated me so much. That everything I tried to do to help you had come under such harsh scrutiny.” Because…really? You had no idea that Juliette harboured any negative feelings towards you after what you did? That your actions would come under “harsh scrutiny”?

Let’s go back to Shatter Me, shall we?

“We will always be enemies.” My voice is cracked into chips of ice. The words melt on my tongue. “I will never be what you want me to be.” (Shatter Me, Chapter 13)

I push him hard, slamming his back up against the door. “You disgust me.” I stare hard into his crystal-cold eyes. “You disgust me—” (Shatter Me, Chapter 18)

I meet Warner’s gaze. “If you ever put me in a position like that again, I will kill you. And I will enjoy it.” (Shatter Me, Chapter 25)

“You’re insane.” My hands are shaking but I hold the gun up to his face again. I need to get him out of my head. I need to remember what he’s done to me. “You want me to be a monster for you—” (Shatter Me, Chapter 27)

All of these lines are preceded or followed by Aaron insisting that he is helping Juliette or that she should appreciate the work he’s done to make her flourish. So it seems ridiculous that Aaron suddenly shocked and appalled that Juliette thinks of him as a bad person. While I do think that some of Aaron’s actions were justified given the circumstances, it is still laughable that the narrative expects me to buy into Aaron’s argument here. I imagine that this conversation is meant to recontextualise his actions and give him a chance to explain things from his side, but all it does is give him full permission to go on a self-righteous tangent.

This scene encapsulates my point about Aaron being defanged. It exists to portray him as a well-meaning but unaware benefactor to Juliette (unbeknownst to her) and seems to let him avoid taking responsibility for his actions. His claims that he was unaware of Juliette’s initial disgust and hatred towards him even though evidence suggests the complete opposite. How could you “have no idea” that Juliette felt that way about you when she was throwing it in your face in all of your interactions? The answer is that Mafi wanted to do the whole “I was hurting you to protect you” deal but muddles her continuity due to her need to make Aaron a “good” person at all costs. It’s an especially baffling character decision especially when Aaron claims to have an intimate knowledge of Juliette’s true feelings several times.

But that’s not the only thing. Aaron’s shock about Juliette thinking he was an unhinged creep suddenly frames Juliette in a negative light. Suddenly, she is at fault for being too judgmental and jumping to conclusions about his motives when he had deliberately misled her.

“Was that all a part of your plan, too? No wait, don’t tell me”—I hold up a hand—“that was just a simulation, right?”

Warner goes rigid.

He sits back; his jaw twitches. He looks at me with a mixture of sadness and rage in his eyes. “No,” he finally says, deathly soft. “That was not a simulation.”

“So you have no problem with that?” I ask him. “You have no regrets over killing a man for stealing a little extra food? For trying to survive, just like you?”

Warner bites down on his bottom lip for half a second. Clasps his hands in his lap. “Wow,” he says. “How quickly you jump to his defense.”

“He was an innocent man,” I tell him. “He didn’t deserve to die. Not for that. Not like that.”

“Seamus Fletcher,” Warner says calmly, staring into his open palms, “was a drunken bastard who was beating his wife and children. He hadn’t fed them in two weeks. He’d punched his nine-year-old daughter in the mouth, breaking her two front teeth and fracturing her jaw. He beat his pregnant wife so hard she lost the child. He had two other children, too,” he says. “A seven-year-old boy and a five- year-old girl.” A pause. “He broke both their arms.”

Judge me,” he says, “all you like. But I have no tolerance,” he says sharply, “for a man who beats his wife. No tolerance,” he says, “for a man who beats his children.” He’s breathing hard now. “Seamus Fletcher was murdering his family,” he says to me. “And you can call it whatever the hell you want to call it, but I will never regret killing a man who would bash his wife’s face into a wall. I will never regret killing a man who would punch his nine-year-old daughter in the mouth. I am not sorry,” he says. “And I will not apologize.” (Ignite Me, Chapter 7)

What a sick joke.

“GOD Juliette! I can’t believe that you’d view me as the kind of person who would kill an innocent man in cold blood! It’s not like I deliberately misled you and lied about my motives for killing him. It’s not as if I manufactured a scenario where I came off as a dangerous and cold-blooded psychopath and did nothing to make you think otherwise. Wow can’t believe that you’d be so judgmental.”

You know? It’s not lost on me that Aaron doesn’t even address the fact that Juliette was fed false information about Fletcher and gets so indignant about her assessments of him. I hate this part even more than the last. Take a look at the scene from Shatter Me they’re referring to and you’ll see what I mean.

I’m sorry but this is just stupid beyond words. It irritates me to my core that the narrative cannot commit to Aaron’s previous characterization and follow-through on it. It cheapens his development later on and it almost borders on gaslighting with how it tries to cast judgment on Juliette for questioning Aaron’s morality in the first place. And for what? All to make Aaron into a technical good guy who has all the aesthetics of a dark romantic lead, but none of the edge to match. He is dulled by this contradictory scene and made into this schlub who was just doing his best to help while implicitly accusing Juliette of jumping to conclusions and being too “harsh”.

Because this passage from Shatter Me proves that Juliette isn’t just pulling these accusations out of thin air, she has a legitimate reason to believe that Aaron is morally bankrupt, but the narrative doesn’t let her dwell in those conflicting emotions. Instead, it goes out of its way to make Aaron as noble and misunderstood as possible while shaming Juliette for buying into the LIES THAT HE HIMSELF TOLD HER!! The cherry on top of this scene is that she apologizes to him as he storms off in a huff.

It’s such an emotional cop out and it tries way too hard to soften Aaron’s actions to make him more digestible as a romantic lead.

[spectacled-renegade-writes]

An Early Start - Chapter 8 - Danny Phantom

Ao3: Here | Chapter 1: Here

Ao3 Description: The accident that turns Danny half-ghost happens when he is four years old and leaves him trapped in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork finds him and takes him in to raise. But what happens when Clockwork sends Danny back to the human-world ten years later when a permanent portal appears?

Reminder: This story will have 25 chapters and be split into 3 distinct parts. Chapter 8 is the start of part 2.

Chapter 8:

Part 2: An Unknown Known World

Danny’s life changed when he was four. It changed again when he was fourteen.

As it always goes, it started as a day like any other. Technically, when he was a ghost, he didn’t need to sleep. But, it was nice sometimes. So Danny woke up bright and early, transformed into Phantom, and went downstairs to start his day. “Morning,” he greeted Clockwork once he reached the ground floor. “I was thinking for today’s lesson you could teach about- is something wrong?” Clockwork remained with his back toward Danny, staring at the screen that could see everything. Something about his posture didn’t sit right with Danny.

“Take a seat, Danny. There is something we need to discuss.”

Danny felt a cold sweat settle over him. Clockwork was serious. There were only a handful of times which Danny could remember hearing Clockwork sound so serious. Something was off... Something was wrong. He asked, “What’s going on?”

“Please, sit,” Clockwork insisted softly. “Then we will discuss it together.”

Danny wished Clockwork would just turn around, look at him. He realized Clockwork was being cagey, and Clockwork was never cagey.

Danny wasn't so sure he wanted to know what was going on anymore. Still, he never disobeyed Clockwork’s orders so he dutifully sat down on a plush chair at the table Clockwork always taught at. Clockwork still did not turn. Danny opened his mouth to voice this. Clockwork beat him to the punch.

“A portal has opened.” Clockwork said. Danny did not respond. He knew Clockwork would soon elaborate. “This portal is not a temporary one, as most are. This one is permanent, a new staple in the Ghost Zone.”

“What do you want me to do?” Danny asked. “Destroy it?”

“No.” Clockwork replied and he finally, finally turned around. Danny immediately wished he hadn't, he has never seen Clockwork so sad. “I need you to go through it.”

Danny paled. “What?”

“This portal is very special,” Clockwork explained. He glided toward Danny and took a seat across from him. There was a moment of conflict on his face, the type he got when he had to say a hard truth. He reached up and clasped his hands together on the table separating them. “This one was created by your parents.”

Immediately, thoughts of immense pain, a bright light, and reaching hands flashed through Danny’s mind. Hunger, sorrow and longing. An astronaut at the top of the stairs. His mother and father. Jazzy. Jazz. Danny clutched his chest. He became aware of the fact that his vision blurred but he did nothing to correct it. He thought of new worlds, fear, and monsters. Glowing hands, glowing eyes and snow white hair. Jet black hair. Dark as night. The constellations in the sky. Everything and nothing.

He became aware of Clockwork.

He became aware this was not easy for him either.

“I… don’t think I want to go back.” Danny whispered. “Not after everything... Not after all this.”

But Clockwork did not smile. Did not receive comfort from those words. Did not accept this answer. He continued to frown. “I have long grown fond of your presence. I have existed for eternity but I have never found another to share it with. Before you, I never had a family, a child of my own.” Danny teared up as Clockwork continued. “But, I always knew this day would come.” Clockwork moved his hands from the table to his lap. “It is time for you to leave. To return to the human world.”

For the second time in his life, Danny felt like his whole world was crumbling around him. He could not believe the words he was hearing. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t maintain eye contact. An ice cold tear slipped down his face. “Why?” He croaked.

Clockwork did not fair much better. Clockwork too could not maintain his gaze. For Danny, one much too young, it was a response that was normal, expected. For Clockwork, one so ancient, so powerful, it was unnerving... devastating. “A permanent portal poses a problem. It is a gateway to be accessed at any time, for anyone. It needs a protector, and only you, Danny, can be that protector. You must go back to the human world… and keep them safe.”

Safe. Safe. Danny’s lip trembled. “What if I’m not ready?”

“You are.” Clockwork assured.

Danny shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“…But I have to.”

“You do.”

Danny closed his eyes and tried to center himself. He thought back to his lesson on centering, it was one of his first, back when Clockwork was teaching him how to control his powers. “What am I supposed to do?” I don’t know them anymore. They don’t know me.

“Reintroduce yourself.” Despite his feelings, Clockwork pulled his gaze back to Danny. “Learn. Just as you did here. Just as you did upon your first arrival within this realm.”

“What do I tell them?”

“Nothing.”

…Nothing?

Clockwork elaborated. “You haven’t the least bit of obligation to share where you have been the past ten years. It is in fact what I was going to tell you next. They are not ready to hear the truth. Not yet.”

“But they will be?” Danny asked. “One day?”

“It is all up to you,” Clockwork replied. “Your future is still uncertain and only your choices will decide when or if that happens. But Danny, you are ready.”

The worst part was… Danny knew Clockwork was right. He just… just didn’t want to be ready. He wanted to stay here. This is his home, his world. But Danny nodded anyway. “When?” He asked. However, the way Clockwork's gaze leveled on him, it let him know the answer.

“Now.”

Danny closed his eyes and moments later felt a very shift in the fabric of reality itself, in the way that only Clockwork could do. He allowed himself a moment to steel himself before he opened his eyes.

He recognized the place he was in when he did. It was the front steps of his old home. It felt… smaller than he remembered. He knew this is because he has grown. He let the rings of light consume him as he turned human once again. Hair as dark as night hung in front of his eyes. He looked up at Clockwork. “Is this goodbye?”

Clockwork smiled, sad and longing. “No, little one. I will always be in your corner.”

“But no longer next to me.”

“No,” Clockwork shook his head. “No longer next to you.”

Danny took a deep breath and turned to face the door. “Thank you for everything.”

“Dear boy, it has been my honor.”

Danny did not get to see him leave. He stared at the door as he felt reality shift back in to place, and Clockwork disappear.

Danny felt warmth on his skin. It was the first thing he became aware of, the warmth. He looked up and squinted at the cloudless sky. He could not remember the last time he saw that sky. It was breathtaking. Behind him a car honked and Danny jumped and turned to look. The car was already halfway down the road and quickly disappearing within the distance. It occurred to Danny, as he turned again at the sound of a bird chirping, that everything in this world felt so… busy. He turned back to the door again. He breathed through the tightness in his chest. He breathed. It was not an unfamiliar feeling but it was also not one he was used to. At least he didn’t have to think about it. Not like hunger. Danny reached up and knocked.

The seconds felt like minutes, which felt like hours as he waited on those steps. The time dilution anxiety triggered was truly an overwhelming sensation and he wondered if he should knock again. Though he didn’t need to. The door opened.

Standing before him, the first person he sees back in this world is the last person he saw when he left it. He looked into her eyes. They were wide and curious. They reminded him of himself. “Can I help you?” His mother asked. Danny swallowed. Despite the hair cut and the aging lines around her eyes and mouth, she was exactly how he remembered. In all honesty most of his memories of her were... well they were not exactly fond. More… neutral. But right now, as he looked into her eyes, he felt a swell of emotion.

Danny opened his mouth to speak. To tell her he is her son. But as he tried to form the words, a whisper and nothing more escaped his mouth.

Ghost speak. A language that does not use vocal cords. A language that does not move his mouth the same way spoken languages do. He said nothing. He could not speak.

Maddie frowned and opened the front door fully, as it had not been prior. “Are you okay, sweetie? Are you lost?”

She was… so nice. Comforting. Danny felt tears well up in his eyes and was shocked to find them warm. He shook his head.

“Please, come inside.” Maddie moved out of the way of the door. “Let me help you. Are you hungry?”

'If only she'd been concerned about that in the past,' Danny couldn't help but think. He was aware of how bitter the thought sounded but he couldn't stop his mind from thinking it.

Danny’s saliva felt thick as he stepped through the threshold.

Maddie brought Danny through the living room and into the kitchen. Danny’s eyes glanced toward the stairs to the lab, as if expecting to see his toy there all these years later. Of course it is not. “Jack!” Maddie called. “Come here, please!” Danny gaze shifted up from the floor. At the entrance of the stairs, his father appeared. He’s grayed since the last time Danny saw him. His hair was no longer fully jet-black like Danny’s still is. Well, still is in this form at least.

“Yeah, baby? Huh? Who’s this?” His father still spoke the same way he used to.

“Jack this is… sorry, sweetie, I didn’t catch your name.” Danny shifted his gaze. He kept silent. “Jack, could you join me in the living room?” Danny did not look up as the adults passed him but he did listen to their hushed conversation.

“So, who’s the kid?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Maddie replied. “He just knocked on the door. I think he needs help. Look how tattered his clothes are.” Danny looked down at his clothes. He wore black pants and a white, linen shirt. Over his shirt was a long, dark coat of a similar thin material. He was unaware they looked tattered. “He hasn’t spoken a word. I’m worried he might be traumatized.”

'Maybe I am,' Danny thought absently.

“Let’s just go in there and ask him some questions, then we can see if we need to call the police. You make him some tea and I’ll offer some fudge!”

Danny watched his mother smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

When they reentered the kitchen, Danny pretended he wasn’t listening by looking around the room, pretending to inspect the architecture. “Would you like some tea, dear?” Maddie asked. Danny nodded. Yeah, tea sounded good.

“Here!” Jack said, setting a Tupperware container of fudge on the dining table. “Help yourself!”

Danny did not take a piece. He wanted to wait for the tea. Maddie set the kettle on the stove and the two parents took a seat at either side of the table. Danny sat too. “I know you must be scared,” said Maddie. “But you knocked on our door for a reason. We only want to help. My name is Maddie and this is my husband, Jack.”

What was he supposed to do? Suddenly Clockwork’s words from long ago rang in his mind, “Clever, humans are, they call it sign language. They speak with their hands for those who cannot hear.” Or can’t speak, Danny thought. He raised his hands to speak. “I can’t talk.”

Maddie and Jack both frowned. “Are you deaf, dear? I’m sorry but neither of us know sign language.”

Well that was a no go. He thought for a moment on how to convey it. He pointed to his ear and nodded then pointed to his throat and shook his head.

“You’re mute?” Maddie asked, smiling now that she was getting somewhere. “Let me get you something to write with.” She arrived back moments later with a sheet of paper she'd ripped from a notebook, and a pen. She handed both to Danny. “Now,” she said, settling back down. “How can we help?”

Danny took a deep breath. He looked at their expectant faces. This morning his whole world came falling apart and now he was about to do the same to them. Danny covered his paper as he wrote. But, once he was done, he flipped it around to show them.

I’m Danny. I’m your son.

The kettle went off.

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

Ao3 Notes:

Part 2: An Unknown Known World. Start.

Part 2 will last from chapter 8 to chapter 16. Thank you so much for you support/continued support! Have a lovely day/night!

Drawing of Danny's ghost appearance here

[axelnyx]

God I Wish I Never Spoke

Can also be read on ao3

Fic Summary: Based on .__..edits.._ on tiktok headcannon of Price raising his voice at 141 but when his boys looked terrified he thought he was a monster for scaring them.

Ch 1: The Silence After the Outburst

Price was fuming as he looked at the three men that stood before him. Ghost, Soap and Gaz had recently returned from a mission, having only enough time to get cleaned up and checked out by medical before being summoned to Price's office. The mission itself had been a success though not without great risk. A risk that had gotten the three almost killed. Price had been listening in on the radio chatter. He knew he wasn't technically allowed to but sending his boys out on loan with another Captain didn't sit right with him. So he listened closely as his boys gave and responded to various orders. Of course, it didn't take long for the mission to turn to shit and Price could do nothing but listen as all hell broke loose on his boys' end. His worry for their safety turned to panic when the three idiots decided that the best course of action would be for them, and only them, to try and take on the enemy, or at least draw their fire so the rest could escape to the exfil site.

In the end, all three of his boys had made it back unharmed save for the few bruises and shallow cuts that littered their bodies. Still, seeing the state of them had Price's anger flaring up. He leveled each man with a stern look. Ghost being the only one who seemed to be able to look him in the eye. Soap's eyes were looking anywhere in the room except for Price and Gaz's were glued to the floor at his feet. Price grit his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose. "What the hell were you thinking?" he asked in a calm, yet cold, tone. "The team was pinned down and we saw no other option than for us three, being the most skilled and experienced, to draw the enemy's fire and provide the others with a chance to escape." Soap said, his statement sounding rehearsed.

"I told you boys specifically before you left not to pull any self sacrificing bullshit."

"Yes sir, but-"

"But nothing, Mactavish. You three went directly against what I said and almost got yourselves killed in the process."

This time it was Ghost who spoke up. "We had no choice, sir-" Price cut off Ghost's statement before he could finish. "No choice?" he asked, the volume of his voice beginning to rise. "There is always a choice Simon and the one you three chose was stupid and reckless. For a man who is so insistent that 'choices have consequences' you seem to not think through your actions. I expected this type of behavior from Soap, hell maybe even Gaz, but you? You are their lieutenant first and foremost, always. It doesn't matter if you are under my command or on loan, you have responsibilities to them." Had Price been less focused on his frustration towards the three men, he may have noticed how Ghost had flinched when Price had said his name or how he grew more tense as Price continued ranting. Price may have also noticed that Gaz had taken a step back and Soap had begun to hunch in on himself as his volume continued to grow.

"That's not fair, Cap." Soap said softly, still refusing to look at Price directly. Price's attention snapped back to the Sergeant, causing Soap to flinch slightly under the sharp glare. "You knew better as well." Price snapped. "All three of you knew better. You knew what you were doing was idiotic and yet you still went through with it. What would have happened if one of you hadn't made it back, hm? What then? Did you even stop to think of the possible consequences? Would you have been able to live with yourself if you had been the only one to make it off that field?" "We knew what we were doing." Soap retorted, his breathing starting to become erratic.

"You didn't!"

"We did! We had a plan-"

"A shit one that relied on luck alone!"

"No, it wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me!" Price snarled, taking a quick step towards Soap. He hardly registered Ghost quickly grabbing Soap and shoving the scot behind him. Acting as a barrier between Price and Soap. Price stopped in his tracks and the room fell silent. It was only then that he noticed the ragged breathing coming from the three men before him. He looked at each of his boys and felt as though the world had turned on its axis. The three men he had fought side-by-side with, had laughed and cried with, had comforted when they needed him most. His boys who had trusted him enough to share their dark pasts with him, now only looked at him with something he could only describe as pure fear. Ghost looked cool and collected on the outside, glaring down at Price and holding his gaze as if daring him to come after Soap. Yet, Price has known Ghost for a long time. He recognized Ghost's too even breathing, a pattern that only came when Ghost was forcing himself to be calm. He could see the slight tremor in Ghost hands that were currently clenched into fits at his side. Price looked past Ghost, catching sight of Soap whose eyes were now wide with fear and staring unblinking at the floor. Soap was trembling and his breaths were coming out in short gasps. He had a hand fisted into the back of Ghost's shirt, whether to ground himself or to pull the man back if necessary Price didn't know. Finally, Price looked towards Gaz and his heart stuttered painfully in his chest. Eyes that once held nothing but trust now were filled with pure terror. Gaz had backed himself up to the wall and leaned heavily against it for support as his body shook. He stared right at Price and Price felt nauseous as he stared right back, feeling like the world was crashing down around him.

Price looked away from the three and took a step back. They all stood in silence as Price scrambled to figure out what to say. He took a deep breath. "You are all dismissed for now. We will talk more about this later." he said, his voice almost a whisper. Still, Ghost heard him and wasted no time in gently grabbing the two Sergeants and pulling them from the office, quietly closing the door behind them. Once alone, Price let out a shaky exhale and leaned against the front of his desk. He raised his slightly shaking hand and ran it down his face, taking deep breaths to try and calm his rapid beating heart. He fucked up. He knows he did and oh how he hates it. He hates the looks that the three had given him. Images that would now be engraved into his memory for the rest of his life. He didn't mean to. He was just so angry at them for pulling something that could have cost them their lives. He shouldn't have yelled at them. He was angry, yes, but he had no right to take it out on them. Especially not in that way. He knows the pain they have faced from people they've trusted, has sat up with each of his boys on more than one occasion just trying to get them to calm down from the painful memories. Why did he yell like that? It was such a selfish thing to do. He knows it's a possible trigger for them, but he still did it. His own incompetence was the reason they looked at him in a way he had only seen when they were half delirious and panicking from a nightmare.

Price slowly slid down to the floor and held his head in his hands. He could feel a lump form in his throat and his chest tighten. He clenched his jaw and fought back the tears that were trying to fall from his eyes. His boys were terrified of him and it was all his fault.

[pure-garbage]

Lana's Buried Past! Run Away Together!

Hours passed. Zoro didn't move and the door still didn't open. Robin entered the cul de sac that housed all the doors to the straw hats personal quarters, heading for her own cabin two doors down the curve from Lana's. She paused, taking note of the statuesque swordsman.

"Zoro. Still waiting?"

"I'm... uh..."

"Sanji told me about your fight with Lana," Robin informed him.

'Curly browed bastard! I'll dice him up next time I set eyes on him!' Zoro seethed silently.

Robin paced closer and placed a hand on his shoulder consolingly. Zoro's eyes shifted awkwardly. He didn't appreciate the contact.

'This is what I get for that unnecessary apology... I knew that was a bad idea. Now she thinks we're friends or something...'

"I suggest you give her some time, swordsman," Robin advised. "Distance may help her overcome whatever it is that's troubling her."

"I appreciate the thought, I guess, but I'm not moving," Zoro insisted stubbornly. "If that's all you wanted to say, I-"

Zoro's attention was stolen by a low creak. He whipped back around to find the door inched open. Wide, red-framed purple eyes peeked past the crack tearfully.

"Robin?" Lana's voice wavered as she addressed her friend. "Think I could... talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course," Robin replied, stepping past Zoro at once.

"Lana! Hey!" Zoro called, taking a step forward.

"Lana?" Robin asked her with a raised eyebrow. She only shook her head, still hidden from Zoro's view behind the door. Robin tsked and raised her arms in the flower pose. "Sorry, Zoro, it would seem this party is girls only at the moment. Dos Fleurs."

Two hands sprouted from the floor, grabbing hold of Zoro's ankles and keeping him at bay.

"Hey- Robin! Lana! Hey!"

Robin entered the cabin and Lana closed the door behind her.

"Thanks for coming in," Lana said, her voice soft.

"Of course," Robin assured her. "I assume you need someone to talk to about this fight you're having with Zoro?"

"No, actually, I... it's not really a fight. I don't know, does he think it's a fight? I hope not. It's just... it's complicated. I don't really feel like talking about it right now," Lana managed.

"Then... why invite me in?" Robin asked, confused.

"Because of this."

Lana held up the devil fruit, eliciting a gasp of shock from Robin.

"That's..."

"Yeah. I took it from one of the cipher pol agents at Enies Lobby."

"May I?"

"Please."

Lana placed the fruit in Robin's hand, allowing her to examine it.

"I was hoping... I know it's a long shot, but you're the most educated person I know. Do you know what kind of fruit it is?"

"I haven't seen one of these since I was very young," Robin ruminated. "Judging by the pattern, my best guess is it's a paramecia type."

"I see. So there's no end to the possible variety of it's power," Lana mused.

"You're thinking of eating it," Robin observed, handing her the fruit back.

"I am. Is... is that wrong?"

"That depends," Robin said thoughtfully. "Power isn't inherently evil, nor is the desire to attain it. What an individual does with the power they have is what determines whether they are right or wrong in wielding it."

"Wow, Robin... that was so deep and wise," Lana sighed. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Anything."

"Do you ever regret that you ate the flower-flower fruit?"

"Hm. My powers have saved my life more times than I can count," Robin replied. "I've used it to save others as well... but I've hurt people with it as well. I've been cursed, called a monster, because of the power of the flower-flower fruit. Do I regret my power? I don't, but that's not to say it's only ever been a blessing."

"Thanks Robin. I appreciate you taking the time to see me," Lana said.

"Don't mention it. Before I go, Lana... I won't pry into your and Zoro's business, but can you tell me why you won't at least talk to him?"

"I..."

Lana shook, her voice breaking as she attempted to explain herself.

'I owe Robin an answer!'

"I want to, but I... I can't bring myself to. Not right now. I know he doesn't understand, but there's something from my past... something I've never talked about before. Even thinking about it... I start to shake and feel sick. I want to explain myself to him, but I... I'm just not ready."

Horror washed over Lana as she felt herself slipping into a memory, unable to stop the flashes from assaulting her. She'd spent so long avoiding the thoughts, doing anything to keep herself from thinking about him, about the promises they'd made to each other, but Zoro repeating the words had broken some emotional barrier that Lana had no idea how to repair. The past overcame her like a tidal wave, drowning her in the sorrow she'd spent the last five years avoiding.

"We're getting too old for this same old routine," Vigo complained. He and Lana were tucked away in the secret, wild place that they had called their hideaway for the last year. At fifteen, the cramped, damp, chaotically decorated seaside cave was the most romantic thing either of them could imagine. "She can't keep you under lock and key forever, you know."

"She can't even keep me under lock and key now," Lana retorted with a roll of her eyes. Idly, she etched another line in the patterns adorning the rough walls where she'd spent many a happy hour hidden away with her boyfriend. Her mother didn't know to find her here. Vigo didn't have anyone looking for him.

"You know it's only a matter of time before she finds a lock you can't pick," Vigo insisted, turning a sea-smoothed stone over and over between his fingers. "I heard her talking to Old Man Morry. He was telling her about some legendary locksmith."

Lana heaved a weary sigh. Down the strip of beach, she could hear her brother and his gaggle of friends shrieking in delight. Five years younger than her, he only got to leave the house when she broke them out.

"There's no such thing as a lock I can't pick," Lana said stubbornly. "I don't care if she finds the money to get one from a legend or from god himself. I'm gonna do what I want and she can't stop me."

"That's what I like most about you," Vigo sighed contentedly. "But be realistic. Just think how much it would suck if she did manage to lock you up for good. I wouldn't be able to see you anymore."

"I'd never let that happen."

"Me neither. I'd do anything for you, you know."

"I know."

"Actually... I was thinking about something the other day."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Remember when Rina's big sis was getting married?"

"The other day, huh? That was months ago."

"Well it got me thinking."

"About what? Getting married?"

"Yup. We should do it."

Lana rolled her eyes at him.

"Everyone thinks we're still kids," she reminded him. "No one's gonna let us get married. Not for years and years."

"Not that many years. Maybe two or three, but I'll wait."

"No way my Mama would ever let that happen," Lana said sullenly. "She wants me to be a seamstress and 'marry someone who can provide well', not 'waste all my time chasing some no-account orphan with nothing to his name'."

She did a shrill impression of her mother's voice that made Vigo scowl.

"Who cares? A minute ago you were saying she couldn't keep you locked away, now you're gonna let her tell you what to do with your life? Psh, guess she really doesn't need any of those fancy locks anyway, if she's got that much of a hold over you."

"She doesn't have a hold over me!"

"She does!"

"Does not!"

"Prove it then!"

"I'm here, aren't I?!"

"Sure, but we're always here. Let's go somewhere else."

"What?"

"We should run away," Vigo grinned.

"Run away?" Lana repeated, trying the words out like it was a language she'd never heard before.

"Yeah. You and me. We'll run away and when we're old enough, we'll get married!" Vigo said enthusiastically. "You can be mine forever, and I'll be yours!"

"Forever, huh?" Lana repeated skeptically, even as the gears turned in her young mind, the idea of running away immediately tempting to the repressed lockbreaker. "And you'll take care of me?"

"Of course I will! That's the point of husbands, isn't it? They take care of their wives!"

"Well... I..."

The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky. Lana would have to run back home soon, or risk her mother finding out that she'd broken out again. 

'If I run away, I'll never have to pick another stupid lock again as long as I live... I'll get to do whatever I want, whenever I want. And if Vigo comes with me, we can be together every day. Forever. Get married...'

The picturesque life she painted in her mind's eye was nothing short of perfection.

"Okay, let's do it!" she declared.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Helpless, frustrated tears welled up in Lana's eyes and spilled over. She didn't want to remember that foolish child, didn't want to remember how naive she'd been or how horribly wrong everything had gone. She didn't want to remember that the promise of forever was the lure that had lead her straight into a living hell.

"Oh, Lana," Robin sighed, seeing the despair playing out on her friend's face. She recognized the trauma etched into Lana's features, didn't need an explanation to know that she was recalling something she'd kept buried for a long time. Robin didn't need to press her for details. Experience lent her understanding, the empathy only known by someone who'd also buried her past for fear that it would tear her apart if she looked at it too long.

Robin embraced Lana tenderly without another word, rubbing her back while she settled and her breathing steadied again.

"Take your time," Robin advised her gently once she quieted. "Zoro's not going anywhere."

Lana managed a small, tight smile.

"Thanks, Robin."

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