#imagine being happy and in love I wish they were dead oh wait they are

[caspervi]

Jegulus “engagement photoshoot” commission ⭐️

[tunemyart]

So I've just watched the finale and I'm feeling... Weird. I think part of it is because this show started with everything I like in a story (cool badass ladies, a queer romance, found family, redemption, etc etc) and ended up being... Not all that (most characters die, the romance is doomed, and I guess the redemption mostly happened but wasn't entirely satisfactory to me). Also, I'm someone who as Trauma (tm) with death so, I guess my brain's first reaction is "fuck that I just want them all happy and safe" and it takes me a while to accept when stories take these paths, however well written they might be.

Still, I thought it all went a bit fast in the last 2 eps, with parts of the show ringing just a little bit more hollow than I would have expected? I'm left feeling like the characters of Alice, Mrs Hart and Jen were treated a bit superficially (Lillia's story felt more complete). I also wished we had seen more of Agatha's past because spending centuries just conning witches then killing them is... a bit boring? (maybe we learn more about her in WandaVision, I haven't seen it). And obviously I wished we had seen more of Agatha and Rio. It's like the show couldn't decide if it was about Agatha or about Billy (partly because, I'm guessing it's setting up a 3rd show about him?), and with this short format we ended losing a bit on Agatha's part.

Anyway, curious of what you think of all that because your analysis are always super interesting, and like I said my own brain might be a bit biased towards resistance with this one. And obviously would love to read your fanfic(s) should you write any!

So, I've started and restarted a reply to this a few times, but I think what my answer boils down to is: we're meant to have multilayered responses to this finale. We're meant to sit with it. It's meant to change our experience of the show we've had to this point.

I think the best metaphor for this is the fact the revelation that Rio is Death. Bear with me, because I know this got spoiled for us way early on and we all knew it and were all just waiting for the revelation to drop - but imagine for a second that we didn't know that Rio, Agatha's ex-girlfriend and spooky fun vaguely-a-psychopath as played by the delightful Aubrey Plaza, is death. Your perception of Rio would have been turned on its head. Your perception of Agatha would have been turned on its head. Your perception of the Witches' Road and what we're even doing here with Death walking alongside us as a tourist would have been turned on its head.

Now, we all had an incredibly fun time even with the knowledge that Rio is death before we should have had it. But I think some of the power for what it meant for the story - and our perception of what was really happening - was muted.

Jen, at the beginning of 1.08, says, "She told us who she was from the very beginning."

Sit with that - because the same is true of this story.

---

It turns out that the Road is a metaphor for death. This isn't fully illustrated for us until Nicky, the author of the Ballad, walks down the road with Death's hand in his, and we go, oh. Oh.

Agatha tells us in the beginning that the Road doesn't exist, a rare instance of her giving anyone unbridled truth. And sure - the Road that our coven walked down doesn't exist. The Road that all the witches Agatha lured to the deaths believed in doesn't exist. It's a fiction. But it's significant that Agatha lured them all to the Road and killed them. They wanted to walk the Road. They died. Not "they died instead" - it's a two-fold statement. They wanted to walk the Road and they died. In a gruesome way, Agatha's been taking witches on the Witches' Road since the 1750s.

I don't think the significance of that is lost on Agatha, either, especially where we pick up at the beginning of 1.08. Lilia's dead, and everybody's reeling.

Perhaps Agatha more than anybody.

---

I also want to quickly take a look at Rio's accusation of Agatha regarding Billy.

"The bodies are really piling up." "Did you doubt me?" "Yeah, I did. I thought there'd be a trick in there somewhere. And there was! You were distracting me from him."

Because this is a revelation about Agatha's actions toward not just Rio, but any audience watching her - i.e., us the viewers. She's been distracting us! Not from who Billy is, we know that of course, but with regard to what the Road itself is. Agatha's known the Road isn't real the entire time. She's been protecting Billy from that knowledge. She's been protecting Billy from Rio. She's been protecting the coven itself from disintegrating. And, the biggest con woman move of them all, she's been distracting us - with less and less success as the show goes on - from the fact that she is not even the slightest bit in control.

---

So I definitely want to circle back to what you said about how the show started out with everything you like in a story, because oof, yeah, I felt that. I felt that hard in the finale. Coming off the impact of the incredible storytelling in 1.07, and the queer jokes and campy Wicked cosplay balancing out the sad, I think many of us spent the next week expecting some kind of emotional resolution that probably involved the remaining coven banding together in some more of that found family we've felt them becoming along the way.

Here's where things starts going wrong, right off the bat: they don't. Instead, they splinter. Not only are you aware of just how few of them are left (Jen, Billy, Agatha), but Jen and Agatha can't handle Lilia's death. Jen's distraught. The close up on Agatha running away out of the trial and back onto the Road, alone, shows her looking hunted and wild in her guilt. Everything that follows has its seeds in that moment of rending that began with Lilia's death.

From the beginning, the point has been that Agatha Harkness is a covenless witch. It's something we've seen her revel in - maybe simply because she has no choice but to own it. But the fact is that here, for the first time in centuries, she had a coven. She didn't intend to have one - she intended to kill them all in her basement and not think twice about them again. But events transpired the way they did. They became her coven. And one by one, they all died on the Road.

Rio, of course, has the words to cut right to the quick: "Your coven is shrinking," she teases Agatha cruelly. Agatha looks wild - because she's right. The worst thing is that she killed Alice - and she didn't mean to. She didn't want to. But she did, and in exactly the same way she'd intended to kill her at the beginning, the same way she's been killing witches for hundreds of years. "Your coven is shrinking," and it's Agatha's fault. It's Agatha's coven. It's Agatha's coven.

Hold on to that, too.

---

One of the things that I've been mulling over most is Agatha's character. She's so much fun in the beginning. We're all fucking charmed by her. We also don't have the full context of just how much of a serial killer she is.

So for me, at least, watching 1.08 and not only not getting found family, but getting an Agatha so far away from a "redemption" story that she only just barely is willing to not sacrifice Billy for herself, was kind of a rude awakening. Agatha's a lot more of a villain that I was prepared for. Surprise!

Agatha's so far away from "redemption", in fact, that she's only just barely starting to feel empathy for other witches. She's just starting to be affected by people who aren't #1. And that's a trauma response. And it's so, so, so deeply rooted in her that she's only just starting to be able to conceive of the idea of people who care for her. Of the possibility of being able to live in community. She's not ready for a redemption arc. There was no way that the kind of redemption arc she'd need could fit into nine episodes, because so much of it would for her be predicated on a mental shift that Agatha just hasn't arrived at yet. She's still so angry. She's still so traumatized. She's done almost none of the work. And even at the end, even with the final gesture of sacrificing herself for Billy, that's not a final act of redemption, oh Agatha's now a good person/forgiven/insert word frame of choice.

What this show did in terms of redemption for Agatha was set her up to be in a place where she might want it - where she might want to do and be better for Billy, and someday, for Nicky.

And it's significant that that point comes for Agatha in dying… and after death.

---

This show is about death. The Road is about death. Death is a character on the show.

Like, okay, you're saying. Fine. But what about my gay fun times? What about my queer romance, my found family?

And please know that I'm there with you.

I'm not hugely in touch with what the larger fandom is saying and how they're reacting because I have my little echo chamber here on tumblr and a few friends who have actual social media, but even here I get the sense that we're all kind of :/ for fairly similar reasons. What happened to the show I fell in love with?

And for me, the last few days, I think it's been important to realize that the fact that the show I fell in love with didn't suddenly become a different show. It didn't pull a bait and switch. No twists were in bad faith. Everything has been right here in the text of the show from the very beginning.

And I think it's important to see the story that Jac Schaeffer et al. were actually telling vs. our expectations of what they were telling, or worse, what we wanted them to tell. For just one example, I was convinced we were going to see Alice again - maybe Lorna Wu, too. I wasn't expecting it to be for the sole purpose of recognizing that not only is she dead, but to give Alice herself the space to say that it wasn't fair, that she wasn't ready, that she'd just broken her family's curse, that now she can really do something with her life! Because, ugh, yeah! It's not fair, for all those reasons! But that's also death. Likewise, Sharon's just dead, and worse, her death was pretty much meaningless. Lilia rediscovered herself again, and she chose her death to save everyone else - extremely meaningful. But at the end - she's just dead. We don't see her again. She's gone. She, like the others, walked the Road and away with Death.

I loved these covenless witches. I loved them finding themselves together. I loved them bonding around the campfire and discovering community. I miss them all, so so much. But they told us from the beginning how haunted by death all of them were: Alice and her mom, Lilia and her coven in Sicily, Billy and William Kaplan, Agatha and her son and her ex-lover. And of course, Death herself. Forget haunting these individuals - she came to actually join the temporary coven. Like, fuck. They told us what this show was about.

---

This show is about death, but it's more complicated than that: we'll take our cue from Rio again, who, in being Death, is also the original Green Witch. In short, this show is about Green Craft, "growth and decay in constant flow."

So yes - almost every single witch in the coven dies. Yes, it's permanent. No, the queer romance isn't resolved happily. No, Agatha doesn't have a redemption, satisfying or otherwise. And no, none of it follows what we've come to expect from found family story trajectories.

But the focus shouldn't be solely on the decay. There's a whole cycle of growth coming up after it, even now, and it's being made possible by the death and decay that we just witnessed. And most importantly, it's confirmed that this isn't the end of the story - just the end of "Agatha All Along."

---

I'll finish by actually answering your question - I've been sitting with the finale for a few days, because I also felt weird about it. And I think that's the right word: "Weird." Very spooky season-esque, first of all, but also not tipping all the way right into "bad".

The first thing to acknowledge is that no story is perfect - they were limited by nine episodes by what they had the space to show, and finales are really hard to get just right. The second is that you're allowed to not like any or all of it, especially when something happens that asks you to change your entire understanding of the story thus far, i.e. the Road isn't real, or when you have a particular trauma around death and it turns out that that's what the whole show is about in ways we hadn't fully realized. The third is that it's worth sitting with stories sometimes and seeing how they marinate and develop in your brain and your soul over time. All of these things can and should coexist.

This isn't my first go-round with a series finale that initially made me ???, so I was fortunate in that I felt like I had a cheat sheet. I've still got some marinating to do to see how this continues to change for me. But it's helped me to realize that my ??? reaction is what the story wanted me to have - that the characters are reeling right along with me. Not just Alice in shock about her death, but also Billy at the implications of his creation of the Road regarding his responsiblity for what happened on it. We're meant to feel this way… and then we're meant to reconsider the journey we've been on, the Road we've walked with all of them and the death we've died alongside them, and see it anew for what it really is.

[letshaikyuu]

pretty setter squad (kageyama, akaashi, oikawa) with their s/o post-practice

a/n: lol hello, I honestly just come here when I am knees deep in uni shit and I should be writing a paper rn but I am writing this heh. hope you all are happy and healthy, and wishing you a lovely month of May soon!

warning: oh definitely some grammar mistakes so i apologize if that triggers you :3

🎀────────────🎀

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

y'all know our boy is dead tired after practice and needed much persuading to finish practice, let alone come home. he only wishes to jump in the shower, eat a hearty meal, lay down in bed, and not move. most of the time he does forget to text you once he's back home, but it's mostly because he's dead tired and wants to chill. he'd be super confused and apologetic at the same time if you were disappointed and/or anxious if he didn't text you that he was home.

if you two don't live together, I imagine him finishing his post-practice routines and then laying down in bed with his washed hair wetting the pillow while he waits for you to video call him. I don't think he'd be the one to initiate a conversation first, especially when he is one minute away from falling asleep, but he does admit that hearing your voice before bed is the best thing ever. while on call, you would do most of the talking, while he nods and occasionally chuckles in amusement, until ultimately dozing off while on call. make sure to take a lot of screenshots of that face because he can either have the most peaceful look on his face and you just have to have that angelic face in your gallery; or he can have the most ridiculous type of face on, with a lil drool, some snoring happening...

if you two do live together, you'd be greeted with a sweaty body just dropping its total weight on you because he's just so tired and also wants to annoy you with him being all sweaty and smelly on you. it's difficult to actually get him to move, especially because he gets rather comfortable in such a position. when you finally get him off, he goes off to shower and spends so much time there you're pretty sure he falls asleep there. he asks you to prepare a hot cup of milk for him once he gets out. you'd get such a gentle kiss on your cheek or lips because he is already dozing off and it'd be such an adorable sight, especially with his freshly washed and dried hair tickling the softness of your cheek and the smell of his body wash enveloping the both of you.

ngl, he would easily fall asleep without you in bed because he's just dead tired lol

AKAASHI KEIJI

he never forgets to call and/or text you once he's done and out of the gym because he knows you'd be worried otherwise. if you live together, he makes sure to ask you if you need anything from the convenience store and also asks you to prepare a hot cup of tea for him (for the two of you if you are also a tea drinker). even if you say you don't need anything from the store, he stops by and buys your favorite snacks and some of his own. i do think his favorite thing to do post-practice is to sit down on the couch with you and talk about your day. i do headcanon him to have a sweet tooth, so he is enjoying that cup of tea with some crackers or cookies and definitely enjoys hearing some of your tea ngl.

even though he is super tired, he cannot fall asleep without you beside him. he finds it interesting how dependent he has become on you, especially if you have moved in together recently. if he is not super tired, he'd move to the bed with a book by his side and read until you're finished with your evening routine and lie down. if he is exhausted, then he forgoes the book, he then lays down and toys with your pillowcase so he doesn't fall asleep. if you take long he definitely closes his eyes and then jolts awake once you get in bed, but he only pulls you closer, kisses you, and falls asleep.

akaashi who does not live with you is fairly similar. while walking back to his house, he'd call you and chat with you until he arrives. you'd end the call while he finishes his shower (maybe not) and dinner, and he'd call you right back once he's done. he then sits down in bed with a cup of tea and a cookie or two on his bedside table, his phone in an active call with you. he may be tired but makes sure to listen to you intently, and when he is almost falling asleep, he apologizes for not paying more attention to you (because he's such a sweetheart like that ngl) and then gives you one of those air kisses before turning around and ultimately falling asleep.

OIKAWA TOORU

he ALWAYS calls you when he's done with practice because this guy has tea to spill from the day. he is so enthusiastic and vibrant that you would think he went out for a cup of coffee and not coming back from volleyball practice. legend says (aka iwaizumi) that he is a part of the Walking Dead in the locker room but always puts on the best version of himself when you're around. when he's finally at the front of his house, he makes sure to be as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake his family up and then says he'll call you once he's in bed.

now, Oikawa does sometimes fall asleep without showering or anything which is definitely a shocking statement for someone as tidy and clean as Oikawa, I can easily imagine him just face-planting on his bed and saying he'd get up in 5 minutes and just falling asleep lol. however, that's a rare occasion and also he'd wake up once you text/call him anyway. you will be on a video call while he's doing his skincare routine because he needs to show you that soft-ass skin and all his products.

oikawa who lives with you is very much needy once he's back home. he wants a hug as soon as he's home because he misses you so much and he'd like to have dinner together with you. i don't think he's the best cook out there, but he knows how to prepare some bomb-ass meals for pre-/post-workouts. of course, if you're not up for that he can stomach a cup of ramen. the night is not complete without him spilling the tea on every mishap that happened during practice and also inquiring about your day. he falls asleep on the couch and spills whatever food he's holding in his hands. this leads to him startling awake and screaming at the mess he's made...it's never a dull moment with this guy.

🎀────────────🎀

[clangenrising]

Month 20 - Leaffall

Despite the heavy, nearly unbearable grief over Sagetooth’s passing, Ospreymask was doing very well these days. Her wounds had all healed nicely. Things were starting to feel less dire. After the battle, SkyClan had started sending warriors to help patrol the southern border, just in case, and the Clans had reinstated the twenty-four hour patrol schedule that had been abandoned after Razor’s death. As much as the work was tiring, there were always new cats in the camp and the novelty of it was enough to brighten her spirits considerably.

It was especially nice when Pebblefall came to visit. Ospreymask had begged Russetfrond to let her patrol with them whenever they came by and he had eventually relented, seeing as offering to work wasn’t something she usually did. She couldn’t help but feel smug about it. If only he knew what she and Pebblefall got up to when they had the time to themselves, maybe then he would have second guessed that decision. 

On a breezy leaffall day, she took a good long moment to appreciate just how lucky she was as she lay sprawled against their belly in the grass, watching it wave gently over their silvery speckled fur. It wasn’t every day you found a friend like Pebblefall -- or for that matter, a friend like Branchbark, who had agreed to cover for them on patrol again. Sighing, she reasoned that they ought to get back before he got ambushed by rogues or coyotes or something, even if she’d rather keep dozing peacefully to the gentle rhythm of Pebblefall’s slumbering breaths. 

“Alright,” she said, batting lightly at their face, “time to get up, lazy bones.” Pebblefall groaned and rolled onto their back to stretch their paws as far as they could go in either direction. Ospreymask had to resist the temptation to lavish the gorgeous arc of their body with playful licks like she so often did these days. That would lead to Branchbark being on his own for another good while and she was already starting to feel guilty about how long they had been gone. 

“Do I have to get up?” Pebblefall asked sleepily, peeking at her with one eye. 

“Yeah…” she sighed again. “I think Branchbark is probably getting tired of covering for us by now.” 

“Oof,” they frowned and sat up. “You’re probably right. I wish I could thank him for everything.” 

Ospreymask laughed and said, “You could always try. Stars know he could do with a bit of stress relief.” 

“Not like that, dummy,” Pebblefall swiped at her and she bounced backwards out of their reach. 

“Why not?” she kept laughing. “You seem happy to thank me that way.” 

Pebblefall stood and stretched, glaring playfully at her as they bowed. “Thank you? What have you done worth thanking for?” 

“Um, I am generous enough to allow you to enjoy the pleasures of my body,” she huffed performatively and stood up straight as if offended. “Is that not worthy of thanks?” 

“Sounds to me like we’re gonna get stuck in a loop pretty quickly if that’s how I thank you for letting me thank you,” they snorted. Carefully fixing the nettle flowers they wore back into place behind their ear, they padded over to join her. 

“Is that a bad thing?” she purred teasingly, winding her tail around theirs.

“I guess not,” they chuckled and nipped playfully at her ear. She shook her head and they set off towards the border where Branchbark was waiting for them. 

Ospreymask hummed thoughtfully to herself as they walked, eventually saying, “You’re good with me keeping the kittens if there are any, right?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Pebblefall nodded. “I’m not in any rush to be a parent.” 

“Good, cause you would have had to pry them from my cold dead paws,” Ospreymask declared. “I’m so kitten crazy it’s not even funny.” 

“I do not understand that at all,” they shook their head. “Kits are so tiring and annoying. I can’t imagine having to carry them either, it sounds like a nightmare.” 

“No way!” she said. “They’re so much fun! Just cute little bundles of joy that love you with all their heart. It's so easy to impress a kitten, it’s the best.” She smiled, imagining little Pebblefall copies following her around and asking her questions about the world. “I’m actually really looking forward to being pregnant. I want to feel their little heartbeats and kicks and everything. It sounds absolutely magical.”

“If you say so,” they shrugged and she let that be the end of it. She was too busy thinking about the kittens she might soon have. 

Eventually, they made it to the border and found Branchbark waiting where they had left him. He looked up as they approached and let out a sigh of relief. Standing, he padded over to them looking miffed but mostly glad to see them. 

“There you are,” he said. “The next patrol is supposed to relieve us soon. I was getting worried about how I would explain where you’d gone.” 

“You can always come get us,” Ospreymask offered but Branchbark blushed and shook his head. 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” he fumbled out the words and Ospreymask laughed. 

“Okay, I get it. We’ll take a smaller nap next time, promise.” 

“Can’t you just, you know, not nap?” he asked, quirking a brow at her. 

“It’s tiring,” Pebblefall said. “It’d be more suspicious if we didn’t nap and the two of us came back exhausted.”

“It can’t be that tiring,” Branchbark scowled. 

“You’d know if you’d tried it,” Ospreymask gave him a playful shove and he pushed her back without any humor. She was pushing her luck and she could tell.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes tiredly. “Let’s just make another sweep before we have to go back, alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Pebblefall said with a guilty grimace. “We’ll be more considerate in the future, man. I’m sorry.” 

Branchbark sighed. “It’s alright. Don’t mention it.” He started walking, leaving Pebblefall and Ospreymask to exchange rueful glances. 

As they finished out the patrol, Ospreymask’s guilt grew in her stomach and started to writhe. Branchbark had taken Sagetooth’s death a lot harder than she had -- probably harder than anybody -- which had totally caught her off guard. She’d tried to go back to acting like nothing had happened, to replace the sadness with new joys, but it seemed like Branchbark wasn’t having as easy of a time at it as she was. And on top of it all, she had been asking him to be all alone for not inconsiderable stretches of time so she could fool around without doing anything for him in return. 

If he had asked her for a favor, she would gladly have given it to him, but he never asked for anything. She chewed her lip for the entire walk back to camp, trying to think of a way to repay him for his kindness. She was so deep in thought, she barely noticed when Pebblefall said goodbye and headed back to their own territory. 

“Hey,” Branchbark asked, a little while after they had left, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, smiling immediately. “I’m fine, I’m just worried about you man. I feel like I’ve been a bad friend.” 

Branchbark pursed his lips and looked down. “No, you’re fine, I’m just… stuck in my head right now.” 

“I know!” Ospreymask cried, butting her head against his shoulder. “You’ve been so good to me lately, I wanna return the favor.”

“It’s okay,” he said, nuzzling back into her. “I don’t know what I would ask for anyway.” 

“Well, if you can think of something, just let me know, yeah?” she asked. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

Ospreymask sighed in defeat. He wasn’t going to ask.

[factual-fantasy]

23-ish Asks! :DD Fun pictures ahead!

--!!FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS!!--

@mbm-artist @pinkbomb08 @tadssstrange

AH! Happy Halloween! Sorry I am late to respond to you trick or treaters. I have been really busy lately with a project. For your patience and for waiting at my door step for several days- I reward you with only the finest delicacies I have to offer,

Be sure to devour it all in 1 sitting ya hear? :}

@jackal-lantern @trotg2367

I have seen the FNAF movie. And I have more negative things to say than positive <XD

The positive things being, MAT PAT YEAAAAHHHH- The first spook with Bonnie following the formula of the first game was THE BEST THING EVER. I'm so glad that Markiplier was fully intended to be a part of the movie. Its a bummer that he couldn't make it but its the thought that counts. <:) (He was busy working on Iron Lung and the schedules just didn't line up. He explains it all in this stream-)

Now for the negatives. Oh boy <XD Out of order- the movie wasn't nearly as scary as I expected. I was kind'a disappointed really. That 1 tense scene with Bonnie disappearing off stage was EXCELLENT but otherwise the scares were kind'a lackluster.. I feel like the scare with Foxy running down the hall needed the added sound of his thumping foot steps getting louder as they approached. Like in the game. That would have been scarier to me and would have been a call back, like Bonnie! Although I do appreciate that it was added at all. I would have been more disappointed if there wasn't a Foxy running down the hall scene <XD

Of course I wasn't a fan of the carbon copy of Vanessa being Williams daughter for obvious lore reasons. I didn't like how much the animatronics moved and how blatantly alive they were. It took away so much of the horror for me. Also how quickly Mike just.. accepted that they were ghosts?? It took like 3 minutes to convince him. I wished they had stuck with the scares and the atmosphere of the first game. It would have been a lot scarier to me that way. Also not even mentioning the missed scare of someone opening one of their stomachs and finding a dead child all disfigured and crammed inside..

Also the animatronics looked FANTASTIC, although.. considering that Freddy's has been shut down for a while. Wouldn't they be a bit more worn? Like, they're in mint condition. While the building around them is in shambles and dirty. You could say Vanessa has been keeping up the maintenance, but I still think they'd show some age.. also missed opportunity to make them scarier by making them look like the withers! Bonnie's face falling off to show a disfigured childs face behind?? Dude the missed potential!

I also don't like the inclusion if Springtrap for lore reasons. That happens later! Also WHY is the Spring Bonnie suit all worn and messed up? That happens AFTER he gets spring locked! People would still know its William/Springtrap without making the suit already worn and old- GAAHHH! I could ramble on and on about all the stupid little nit picks I have about this movie. I have been a fan for a long time and had high expectations. But that doesn't mean I should rip this movie to shreds.

I gotta stop looking at all the down sides and really focus on the things I loved. The animatronics looked amazing, they were perfect. Especially Foxy. The inclusion/intended inclusion of Mat Pat, Markiplier and Cory(?) was wonderful. And a total surprise to me! The movie wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. It definitely wasn't as bad as it could have been. And for that I am grateful.

Overall I give ittt.... mmmm, a 5-6 out of 10..? <:D

Over the span of 10 years? Yeah.. likely 100s.. :(

I kind'a imagined the mirrors as like.. pressing the walls of two timelines/AUs together and poking a hole through them. There isn't really a space in between, its like a doorway. Now that's not to say that those void spaces don't exist- I'm just saying that how I imagined Jevil mirrors to work.

Could poking those metaphorical holes in the walls of an AU be more.. literal? Could Jevil going in and out of an AU multiple times eventually harm it in someway? Who knows.. Jevil would rather not dwell on it <XD

You're right on the money pal. All of Jevils food is given to Seam. He wont eat unless Seam has eaten. He wont sleep unless Seam is already asleep. He cant sleep when he tries but still All their new clothes and blankets go right to Seam. If they're camping out in the woods? Jevil will stay awake the whole night to keep the fire going.

Its really hard for Seam to see Jevil like this. Seam tries really hard to cover up when he's uncomfortable or unwell. He tries to keep up an image and tries to reassure Jevil that he's alright. But sometimes he just cant. Sometimes he's so hungry he's doubled over in pain with tears welling in his eye. Sometimes he's aching so much that he cant move. Sometimes he's so cold he loses feeling in his hands and feet..

He cant hide it then. And he cant convince Jevil that he needs to eat too. That he needs sleep too. Its really hard for the both of them..

Thaaaat would not work for my Seam <XD

My Seam is more of an organic creature rather than a stuffed doll. Cutting off his hands would just cause him to bleed. A lot. And without a powerful Darkener that can heal, I don't know if they could be reattached-

Peach/Mario and Daisy/Luigi are like, the ONLY exceptions I can think of. Both of those pairings are like, 99% canon/heavily suggested. If not just straight up canon.

Also unlike other ships/canon stuff, I really like those two pairings. I think they're neat :}

Its hard to say who had the worse punishment. I mean, suffering is suffering. And if you asked Seam, he'd say Jevil suffered more. And if you asked Jevil he'd say Seam suffered more. I guess its a matter of what you think is worse.

Jevil was locked away for years, by his own best friend. That magical aura that used to be his only comfort was now oppressing him. He was locked away with no contact with anyone for years. Except maybe occasionally King would venture down there and beat him up. Just to make Seam upset or becuase he just felt like it.

He was alone for years. It was dark, cold, and maddening. Always on the edge of starving and living in fear everyday that King would come back and beat him up again. His best friend had betrayed him.. yet he was still scared for Seam. He was all alone up there. Who knows how the King is treating him.. it was horrible..

Then you have Seam. Forced between a rock and a hard place. He betrayed his best friend and has lived with the crushing guilt ever since. He tried to visit Jevil to apologize, to explain himself- but he was caught.

His eye was gouged out and his mouth stitched shut. His neck and wrists were bound by shackles. He did his very best to bend to the Kings will. In hopes that King would not hurt him. But it was never enough. Seam suffered constant abuse by the King for years. The shackles drained his energy but he was still required to preform for the King. Its like King was toying with him, trying to see how far he would bend before breaking.

It took Jevil disappearing from his cell to break him. Seam thought that Jevil had died. His best friend. Who he had wronged and locked away, just died. All alone in a cell that he made.

As if it couldn't get worse. King accused him of letting Jevil go. And he was going to be punished for it. With Jevil dead, and a no doubt horrible punishment awaiting him.. there was nothing left to live for.. so he tried to.. well. You know..

Thankfully Jevil showed up just in time and got them both out of there! Ahahahahh aaaa <:DDDD Yeahh,,,,

Yes! Exactly! :D I go off the idea that Undertale and Deltarune are the "original" timelines. And everyone from my AU is from some kind of offshoot of those two timelines.

The chains don't make him sick to his stomach thankfully. But they do make him weaker in every way. His immune system is weakened, so he's more vulnerable to catching viruses.

His energy is also completely sapped. He feels sore and hungry all the time. He likely deals with back and shoulder pain due to the neck shackle and having to hold up his arms all the time.. :(

As much as Asgore might want to give that wretched King a piece of his mind.. Asgore isn't a fool. If he ever encountered the King, his immediate goal would be to get himself, and the rest of the group as far away from him as possible.

He didn't mistake him for another Spade King no,, but Seam and Jevil immediately noticed his royal vibe/appearance and was rather unsettled.. :{

@neojet280

Awww, the gang take big sleepies :}}

Grillby does eventually come around and apologize for beatin up Jevil. Jevil is quick to forgive him and states there's no hard feelings. :}

Thankfully Jevil does end up fully healing with minimal to no scarring. The burns looked pretty bad but Jevil was only held for a few seconds. Plus Darkeners probably heal differently so I'd like to say he ended up just fine :} 👍

I wasn't able to find the sketches I made of this--

But what I had in mind was DA was like this giant flat sun/moon with 2 white gloved, disembodied hands. He looks like this basically-

He is attached to the ceiling/walls and probably roams around playing music and monitoring everything. His personality is somewhat the same but he's more mellow and relaxed. He runs the arcade naturally.

I pictured DJMM looking like my Glamrock DJ but clown themed maybe? His proportions could be different and maybe his face is changed up a bit.. but overall its just DJ as a clown and he runs the daycare. His personality is mostly the same but he's more energetic.

@tallchest13-blog

XD I'm thinking that King will get what's coming to him eventually..

(Also thank you so much! :}})

The sad part about that is Seam isn't even that old. He's maybe in his 40-50s I imagined. He just looks so much older because all the stress and abuse has really weighed him down/aged him.. :'(((

Almost,, but no. Typically a generational gap is measured by 15-20 years. I imagined that the age gap between Seam and Jevil to be around 10-15 years or so..? So not quite intergenerational. :/

@soft-kachan

That miiiiiight make his grief worse..? I'm no expert on grief thankfully- but I imagine having a plushie that looks like your dead child miiiight stunt the healing process..?

What Grillby needs is to heal and move on from those deaths. So maybe not a plush of his child, but just a plush of something in general? Something that he can hold/hug when he needs too. If not that maybe Seam could make use of that fire proof fabric and make him some new clothes? 👀

@petra-creat0r

AAAAAA THANK YOUU SO MUCH!!!! 💗💗😭🍤💗

A while ago I actually drew what I imagine true swap Vanessa to look like! :}

Short-ish blonde hair that's tied up in a ponytail, purple Bonnie sweater and maybe bowling ally friendly yellow sneakers? Bandages on the face and baggy socks, all what you'd expect.

Now for Gregory I imagined his hair is cut neat and short. Maybe he's totally clean shaven as well. He's unusually neat and spiffy.. Almost like he's trying to keep up a clean and organized image..? 👀

His backstory will probably be similar/the same as Vanessa's. And his costume will probably be based off Fredbear instead of Spring Bonnie. Not sure what his other name would be though.. 🤔

@beryl-shade

This post I made talks all about Grillby's color changes and what they mean. So I'll take a snip bit of it! :}

If its hard to read the TLDR is that he's sad and burning very hot. :( Though the Deltarune AU Grillby is less "I'm sad :( I burn hotter now" and more "I am overcome with grief and have completely lost control of my body" :x

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys imagine, Roach died, before the creation of 141, but Soap is able to see his ghost. He was originally following Ghost around, really annoyed that he was using his death as an excuse to not get close to anyone, but when he found out Soap could see him and talk to him he started following him around instead.

And they get really close, like two peas in a pod, except they have to be discreet about it because no one else can see or hear Roach, and they'd think Soap was crazy if they saw him talking to no one.

They use that for shenanigans too: Roach will go follow someone else and report back to Soap, Gaz is genuinely starting to believe Soap has superpowers or something. It's really useful on missions as well, and Soap managed to successfully rescue team members thanks to Roach being able to move through walls and everything.

(Roach is not the only ghost Soap is able to see btw, just the only one he's talking to.)

And then Roach is witnessing his past lover trying really hard to not fall in love with Soap, and Soap trying really hard to not do anything about the love he already feels, and he has to try and convince Soap that he is dead. During that conversation he finds out that something else that keeps Soap from doing something is that he feels very confused about everything because he also has feeling for Roach.

So now Roach has to try and convince him that even if he was still alive he wouldn't have a problem with that. He's known for a while that he was polyamorous, but he hadn't really dared talking to Ghost about that because he thinks he's jealous and possessive.

And Soap is like "oh yeah, you want me to go say to Ghost 'don't worry about your dead lover that I'm not supposed to know, he's actually polyamorous and also in love with me, I know because his ghost told me!' ??? I'm sure he's gonna take that well!"

But Roach is nothing if not resourceful and he manages to put Soap in situations where he's forced to interact with Ghost, and eventually they kiss and their relationship is beginning to be something. They're not really sure what.

And Roach is sad, because he has to watch the two men he loves being in love without him, yes, but at least they're both happy, and it makes him feel a bit better. And then during a mission Ghost almost dies.

Because he was alone and Soap and Gaz were together, Roach was following Ghost this time, ready to fly to Soap in an instant if there was any problems. But there was and he didn't have time, so he instinctively grabbed the gun being pointed towards Ghost's head and moved it as the person was shooting, saving Ghost's life, giving him enough time to shoot the enemy himself.

But even as the threat is eliminated, Ghost is still looking up from where he's on the ground, staring right through him, looking shocked. No, not right through him, he realises when he moves to the side and Ghost's eyes follow him. He also realises that he grabbed the gun. He's never grabbed anything before, in all his years of being a ghost.

Then suddenly Ghost's eyes move wildly around, and he figures he disappeared from his view. He can still go through the walls, but he's kept the ability to grab stuff when he wants. It gives him a ton of new possibilities, to fuck with people and, of course, to touch Soap.

"I wish you were actually alive," Soap whispers to him, holding his hands against his face as he's falling asleep.

"What the fuck," comes Ghost's voice the next morning, waking both of them up - wait, since when could Roach sleep?

Soap doesn't understand immediately, because he's always been able to see Roach. But Ghost is standing in the door, looking straight at dead past lover.

Turns out Soap is a necromancer and he had no idea, though the whole 'I can see dead people' should probably have told him sooner that he wasn't normal... The more he wishes Roach is alive, the more he actually is. And they all end up happy and together. And Gaz is very happy to have won the bet that Soap indeed has superpowers.

The day Roach says, in a wondering voice, "I... I think I'm hungry" is the day they understand that something is really happening and he's actually coming back to life.

(Also, Soap has no control at all on his abilities, he has no idea what does what and why, he knows nothing. No one knows.)

[deadgirlwalking91]

Scene idea for ya. Lute's a jealous girl. Imagine she and Adam are getting nasty, and she says something like "Tell me I'm better than Layla."

Adam complies, something like "Miles better, babe."

But after when they're cuddling, he nudges her and goes "Hey...No more about the other girls, alright Lute? There's a reason you're here, and they're not, and you already know why." And pulls her in closer.

(Im terrible at writing sex forgive me if this is bad lol)

Hey Anon,

Your wish is my command <3

“Say it, Adam.”

He blinked, confused. “Wait – what am I supposed to be saying?”

Conversation wasn’t important right now. What was important though, was the fact that Lute was riding him like her life depended on it, which had rendered him mostly speechless.

Most of the time, she was more than happy for Adam to take the lead in the bedroom – which he had no complaints about whatsoever. He liked being the one in control. Sometimes, however, Lute would suddenly get a tell-tale gleam in her eye, and before Adam would have the chance to question it, she’d pounce on him, practically ripping his clothes off with her hands – her teeth too, if she could.

It was hot as fuck.

Tonight, had been one of those nights. They’d been hanging out on the couch after work, like normal, and next thing Adam knew, she was dragging him into the bedroom and threw him on the mattress. In that moment, he knew this was going to be one of those encounters.

He just wished he also knew what the fuck she was on about. It didn’t help that he could feel himself starting to climax; he found his hips starting to chase hers, a dead giveaway that he was close.

“Say. It,” she growled, placing emphasis on each word as she continued to roll her hips forcefully against his. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye, her golden irises burning into his own. “Tell me I’m better than Layla.”

Oh.

Oh.

She was in one of those moods.

“Babe,” he panted, taking hold of her hips as he bucked up into her. “Nobody even compares. You’re so much better.” He found himself momentarily breathless as he started reaching the point of no return. “So. Much. Bett-argh!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence; his release sent thousands of tiny, pleasurable shockwaves that pulsated throughout his body. Throwing his head back into the pillow, he groaned as he felt Lute contract around him, the overstimulation now almost unbearable as she collapsed onto his chest with a loud cry.

It didn’t happen often, but fuck it was hot when they came together.

She rolled off him and immediately flung an arm over her eyes. Her heaved erratically, and Adam couldn’t help but smile as she tried – in vain – to bring herself back down to Heaven from wherever she ascended to during her orgasm.

“That good, huh?” he breathed. She nodded, unable to speak. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be rendered speechless for several minutes after they had sex; especially when she was the one driving it. Afterglow Lute was something else entirely. Her hair was tousled from running her hands through it, her cheeks and chest were flushed from exhaustion, and her lips were so swollen from how forcefully she’d been kissing him. Adam thought that she looked the most beautiful like this, in her blissful, fucked-out state that he’d grown to love over the short amount of time that they’d been together.

“Yeah,” she sighed eventually, removing her arm from her face as she smiled at him. “That good.”

He smirked back at her before nudging her arm with his elbow. “Hey,”

“What?”

Rolling onto his side, Adam brushed Lute’s damp hair back from her face. “No more about the other girls, alright Lute?”

“Adam, I—”

“—I fucking mean it, babe.” He scooted closer to her and pulled her to him, their sweat-slicked chests pressing together. “There’s a reason you’re here and they’re not.” She looked up at him and the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“Why?” she pressed, drawing lazy circles with her index finger on his bicep. The lightness of her touch sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“You know why.”

Lute shifted her attention to his hair, raking her hand through it. “Because I’m your best girl?” she offered, her voice shifting to a softer, shier tone that contrasted her hard, determined demeanour entirely.

“Yeah, Lute.” He kissed the top of her head before wrapping his arms around her small frame, holding her tight. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and he smiled as he rested his cheek atop her head. “You’re my best girl, alright.”

[pomefioredove]

Wahhh I love your writings so so so much and you absolutely deserve 500 and more ToT seeing your posts always makes my day!! I saw the match-up event and knew I had to join, it'll be my first time trying one of those!

It is kinda hard to describe myself... Which I guess says something about me? I'm a total homebody, finding comfort in solitude and the sort of freedom that comes with being able to express myself, by myself, with no restraint. But even then, there's nothing I don't love about the bustling nighttime, basking in the sort of romantic air of the evening as I admire the city lights and the ambience of energy.

I'm the type of person that finds myself in people. For better or for worse, my presence is determined by those I choose to be around... So overall I'm a big people pleaser and am kind of starved for good friendships and affection, having always had a hard time keeping connections or finding people that truly want to be with me, which in turn makes me a bit of a loner, I suppose... I do truly yearn though lol, so the want for connection is still there, raging within. It's almost a painful sort of pining, because I never hold a grudge.. Even if someone does wrong by me, I will always be ready to welcome them again with open arms. I'm fiercely loyal, so I long to have people reciprocate that.

I adore anything that keeps my mind going and gives me that feeling of satisfaction and indulgence... I would say I find that feeling in my passion for art, writing, and reading... analysing my favorite movies and literature, getting to notice little things about the people around me and storing them in the back of my mind as little anecdotes I can smile about. Putting myself in the shoes of others, letting my imagination go wild— that small balcony full of potted plants is so beautiful and cozy, I wonder what the interior of the home is like, then... Small, full of zen, with warm lights? That person on the sidewalk, waiting for the bus with headphones on, they look like they would like jazz, or maybe something more upbeat?

Im also a dreamer, I guess I can describe it as such haha. Im a hopeless romantic by heart, yet sometimes I find myself feeling a twinge of apprehension at the thought of truly being in a relationship... Maybe it's because it's uncharted territory, or it's because that "dreaming" side of me has that sort of "prince charming" fantasy that I've always wished for, even on a more realistic level. But even then, I know I can be patient and let time do it's thing while I focus on bettering my own future, and finding happiness and comfort in myself in the meanwhile.

I feel like maybe I've made this a bit too long haha.,,, take your time, and have a wonderful day! 🩷🩷

I match you with 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

anon I hope that you were purposefully trying to get him. I think you might actually be his soulmate oh my god

The First Impression:

Do you believe in love at first sight? Malleus does.

The connection is immediate. He's drawn to you like a moth to a flame, and conversing with you only enchants him more. Perhaps you bump into each other somewhere in the dead of night, or maybe you're just classmates, either way he simply knows.

Why He Fell:

Malleus soon finds himself purposefully seeking out your company, wanting to get closer but not sure how. This whole "friendship" thing is quite new to him, after all, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

There's no telling what exactly it is that makes him fall in love, but he falls, and he falls hard. He relishes in every moment you spend together, whether it's talking about your shared passion for the arts, or listening to you describe dreams. Your perspective on life is so... fascinating to him, he can simply never get enough of it. Your attention to detail, your appreciation of the little things, your ceaseless curiosity and active imagination, the care you feel for strangers... You quite literally change his world view.

Perhaps he's not exactly a prince charming, but he's close enough.

The Relationship:

There's a sense of understanding between the two of you when it comes to your loneliness. Later on, Malleus will question if he could tell that you felt as isolated as he did when he first saw you, if that was what drew him closer. But he doesn't put much thought into it. You enchanted him, and that's enough of a reason.

Though, perhaps, in the end, it's that shared loneliness that drives you together again and again. Your fierce loyalty, your craving for love and affection. You make each other feel safe and secure, which is all Malleus could really ask for at the end of the day.

He truly grows into himself during the course of your relationship, becoming a more stable, caring, and emotionally intelligent version of himself. You truly bring out the very best in him, and he can only hope he does the same for you.

There are awkward moments, of course, being two people that have no prior relationship experience. There's miscommunication, the occasional bruised ego, but there's truly nothing that could tear you apart. Malleus is devoted, reliant on his loved ones in such a way that perfectly mirrors your loyalty, and the both of you are quick to forgive and talk and move on. Probably the healthiest relationship to ever healthy.

He absolutely adores you from beginning to end.

[sunnychuuya]

Sorry for the lack of sally face vomit last night guys I was eepy </3 I'm waking up in less than 8 hrs so let's go

THE FUCK YOU MEAN 60%

HOW DID I MISS SHIT I TRY SO HARD TO NOT

-oof not meds being shitty

-"is anyone really happy?" Mood

-hoooly fuck bro I am notnin a good enough mental state for this rn "I mean, were all just going to die anyway. So what's the point" pookie can we donting

-guysss whay the flip this games writing is rlly good

-"it feels like nothing puts me at ease. It's this constant feeling of discomfort like my soul isn't aligned with my body" okay I know this is prolly some ghosty supernatural shit but I feel this so hard ??

-HELP THE SCRAMIMG JUMPSCARED ME SO BAD mood tho

-hey what.

Whats this.

Larry if this means what I think it means

"ITS TIME FOR ME TO GO WHAY NO

Fuck

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

NO

I KNEW HE DIED BUT HE CANT DIE LIKE THOS

MY HEART IS RACIN

NO

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Don't do anything stupid" the amount of times I've had this told to me and had to tell me loved ones bro

Fuck

No

Guys this isn't even fucking funny this isn't like me getting spooked easy it's like I legitimately am crying so fucking hard right now like mt face is red and all nasty

Shit Larry please

I think this is the most I've ever cried over a game.

Shit

Fuck

No..

Please.

I knew he died.

It can't happen like this I'd rather anything else god damnit why.

Im shaking

okay in texting one of my friends and he's kinda helping a Lil 👍

He was supposed to move in with us.

He's in the treehouse.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

I'm sorry I know this isn't entertaining to read but

Fuck..

Larry why.

Larry face.

No ghat was really well done. And that's what makes it hurt sk much more. Fuck. Why.

[Tw suicide] this Honestly is making me really glad I never went through with it. Seeing those messages from a fucking fictional character is able to break my heart so much I can't imagine how my loved ones would've felt receiving this

sorry this is getting a Lil venty and dark but just like.. jeez. This is well written and that fucks it up so hard

ash what the fuck. You shitty traitor.

Ash I hate you.

Why.

Ash you fucking suck

Wait did Larry die with alcohol

Uck that makes it so much worse too

Im lowkey having to take breaks cuz this is hitting HARD

Larry's note. Oh my god.

phrophecy??

Oh right the cult

Fuck I'm sk glad ghosts exsist but I wish he was really here larry why

"You asshole! How could you do this?! Why did you leave me? Why?!" Fuck. Dude. Shit.

guys I'm stuck this is embarrassing

A times thing r u fr

Nvm easy as shot

oh great! guys that's great why is there black leak that's not good

what's happening with 501 what the florp

"The shapeless man walks in awkward strides"

Is everyone like possed or on the verge of possession or smth ?? Because like it's the red eyed demon right- based on the cutscene with Todd we saw during the bologna incident and the black stops righr before their eyes so..

The guitar sections are so stressful ngl

Oh wow mr Sanderson blew his brains out hub!

"yoy look like shit dude" Larry fucking wild thing to say to someone who shot themslelves

HEY GUYS ROOM 404 IS SLIGHTLY SUSPICIOUS

"These ghosts. So full of life. Strong, healthy blood. Tender meat. Oh how we crave their flesh. Yet, they deny us.. soon." what the fuck.

Wait guys in the vhs tape screen TV reflection it's younger sal he has pigtails

Larrys dead. I can't accept thst wth..

yall. Why us everyone being all deep n shit

"I'm sort of in the middle of something" honestly props to sal for not just giving up. I would be strong enough for that.

Yea these fuckers r possessed how do we unposses them

am I is have stupid

Im dumb

Gwyss who's quitting for the night cuz I couldn't figure out the guitar thing !!

Will do tmmrw

Aorry for this one being kinda depressing </3 I'm waking up in 5 hrs save .e

@mypinterestgotbannedsoimherenow

[soulofamy]

Evil in Zaterra's Shadows

With the knowledge of the secret genocide that wiped out the Zaterran Shapeshifters weighing down on him, Syzoth embarks on an investigation, with Ashrah and Khameleon at his side, to find out who is responsible for this madness chapter 1 || read it on ao3 || chapter 3

Chapter 2

The Earthrealm sun was warm on Syzoth's skin as he laid in the grass of a secluded meadow. With Ashrah laying beside him, their hands joined between them, and with no one around to disturb them, this was his favorite way to be. As he watched the clouds float across the sky overhead, he found himself wishing he could stay like this forever. Alas, there were pressing matters at hand.

"There has finally been movement on the investigation into the shapeshifter genocide," he murmured.

Ashrah smiled at him. "That is wonderful news," she said before giving him a confused look. "But you don't seem happy."

"I am," he tried to reassure. "Mileena has authorized a direct investigation where I will be stationed in Zaterra, under the guise of leading a peace initiative. But..." he paused and sighed. "this also means it will be quite some time before I get to see you again."

"Oh." He felt Ashrah release his hand as she rolled over onto her stomach to look at him directly. "I'm sure it will be over before you know it. And I will be right here waiting when you return," she said with a smile. She was trying to be supportive but Syzoth could see the disappointment in her features.

"I would rather just stay here with you," he admitted before looking back at the sky and closing his eyes.

Ashrah was silent for a long moment. "I could come with you," she offered, her voice small.

Syzoth looked back at her before sitting up. "Zaterrans don't welcome warmbloods, Ashrah," he said. "I couldn't possibly subject you to their prejudice."

"But you would be subjected to it as well," she countered as she sat up to meet him. "And you would be forced to deal with it all by yourself."

For a long beat, Syzoth said nothing. His gaze trailed down from her face to the grass as he knit his eyebrows. He already felt lonely, hearing her rebuttal. He wanted nothing more than to keep her by his side throughout this whole trip but he still couldn't bare the thought of the grief he might cause her.

"Syzoth," Ashrah's gentle voice spoke as guided his face back up to look at her. She looked at him with confidence. "I have faced far worse than a few ignorant stares and occasional snide comments. If it means getting to stay by your side, those thing will not deter me."

Their gazes met and Syzoth's heart thrummed in his chest. What he had done to earn such affection from Ashrah, he had no idea. "...are you sure?"

Ashrah shifted and leaned forward to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to his lips. "As sure as I am that I love you."

Syzoth grew dizzy with her touch and lost in the night sky of her eyes. "I love you, too." His hand brushed her cheek and he kissed her once again, a silent show of appreciation. "Alright, then. I will see to it that Mileena allows for you to come as well."

Syzoth paced the palace halls, on his way to discuss details of the investigation with Mileena. The closer the day came when he would need to leave, the more restless he grew. So much could go wrong during this trip. One wrong move and he could find himself or Ashrah dead. There was no telling who in Zikandur he could trust. It was hard for him to know how to prepare for such a task.

Syzoth had to imagine there were proper authorities for these sorts of investigations. He felt ill-qualified, yet he still doubted anyone would be more qualified than him. Certainly, no one else would treat this corruption with the care he would. He couldn't imagine it being as personal to others as it was to him either. It had to be him, but he wasn't sure if he had what it took to carry this mission out properly. At least, not by himself.

The clicking of boot heels on marble floors caused Syzoth head to turn. A group of Umgadi were escorting Princess Kitana down the hall as she conversed with General Kotal. Syzoth stood to the side and bowed as the Princess passed him by and an idea soon came to him.

After his meeting with Mileena, he headed in the direction of the Umgadi's senobium, hoping that Khameleon would be close by. When he found her, she was sitting against the wall, cloth in hand as she maintained her vast array of weapons.

"Syzoth," she greeted as he approached. She stood up and gave him a polite smile before looking at him with confusion. "I do hope you weren't planning on entering the senobium. It is forbidden to all who are not Umgadi."

"Not at all," he assured. "I came hoping to find you though."

Khameleon's eyebrows raised. "Me? Whatever for?"

"I have already asked for Her Majesty's permission," he prefaced. "I was hoping you would accompany me on business I have in Zikandur."

Khameleon frowned and her eyes shifted to her left in thought. "What is the nature of this business? And...why me?"

"Zaterra is unwelcoming to warmbloods," he began to explain. "I am already bringing one along as it is, but I don't want to risk anything. The people of Zikandur would be much more welcoming of you."

"I wouldn't be too sure," she sighed. "I know nothing of Zaterra or its customs. And if they are as unfriendly to shapeshifters as you say..."

"But that is precisely why I need you," he tried to reason. Syzoth glanced around before speaking in a whisper. "What I am to be doing in Zaterra could impact shapeshifters like you and I for generations to come."

Khameleon did not speak. She watched him with a contemplative expression.

"To make a long story short," he continued. "There have always been shapeshifters in Zaterra. But the Zaterran government has been eradicating them. But with your help, we could expose the corruption and put an end to it all. Think of all the lives we could save!" he urged.

He watched as Khameleon went from contemplative to serious. "...very well, then," she said, her tone still somewhat unsure. "If you believe my aid will be of assistance to you, you shall have it."

Syzoth let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you. With any luck, you won't regret it."

"Argus willing," she agreed with a smile.

Syzoth, Ashrah, and Khameleon sat together in a carriage en route to Zikandur. Ashrah sat beside Syzoth, looking out the window. Khameleon was across from them, her head resting against the wall of the carriage as she slept. In front of them was another carriage, one that carried Archduke Mahazzem. Naturally, Syzoth made sure he was nonethewiser about their true intentions in Zaterra. To him, they were simply carrying out a peace initiative to create solidarity between the reptiloids and warmbloods. Ashrah was to be the first warmblood welcomed in Zaterra. Mahazzem was to be hosting them in the capital building.

It will be fine, he told himself. They had a convincing cover story.

It will be fine, he told himself. But what if the truth got out?

It will be fine, he told himself. But what would they do to the three of them once the truth got out?

A soft warmth enveloped his hand and he looked over to see Ashrah holding it, a look of concern on her face as she observed him. "Is something troubling you?"

Hearing her voice reminded him to breathe. He was quick to accept her hand, their fingers laced together. "Perhaps we made a mistake, taking on this investigation."

Ashrah frowned. "Why would you think that?"

Syzoth chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. "There are so many variables outside our control," he explained in a hushed voice. "We will have no idea who is safe to turn to. One wrong move and we will be exposed. What if they hurt you or Khameleon? What if the shapeshifters are worse off for it and they are punished for our faults? What if-"

"What if everything goes according to plan and you save the shapeshifters from their heinous reality?" Ashrah interjected. She shifted closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. "This is a noble cause, Syzoth. Frightening to pursue...but noble nonetheless. Just imagine what sort of good it will do when you succeed." She kissed his cheek. "Don't back down, my love. The shapeshifters need you."

Syzoth already knew everything she said to be true. Hearing it in her voice served to calm the storm of anxious thinking in his mind. He affectionately squeezed her hand and took a deep breath, then allowed his shoulders to relax. "I'm so glad I brought you with me," he murmured, his tone lighthearted as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

Ashrah gave a content hum. "There is nowhere I would rather be."

The two sat up when the driver announced that they would be arriving at the Zaterran border very soon. With another calming sigh, the light around Syzoth shifted as he transformed into his reptilian form. A sense of embarassment rushed through him and he was unable to meet Ashrah's gaze, his shoulders tense. "I will need to assume my reptiloid form for much of our stay here," he said, his voice now a low growl. "That will not...upset you at all, will it?"

"Why should it?" Ashrah responded without hesitation. She reached across him to hold his face before pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Reptiloid or humanoid, you will always be my Syzoth."

Syzoth let out a content growl and relaxed.

Once the three of them, along side Mahazzem, entered the capital of Zikandur, they were escorted straight to the capital building.

"Please make yourselves at home," Mahazzem said as he led them down the halls, tailed by servants carrying their belongings and his security detail. Ashrah and Khameleon, now walking in her white-scaled Saurian form, took in the halls colored in browns, greens, and grays. "Think of this as your...home away from home."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace," Syzoth responded, his tone formal and polite. Though he would keep his thoughts to himself, Syzoth suspected that this all stemmed from Archduke Mahazzem's opportunism. He would do anything to get on Mileena's good side to win her favor. He only wished Mileena herself could see it as Syzoth did. A job was a job, though, and it wasn't as though Syzoth knew of anywhere better to stay while on official royal business. He would simply have to be vigilant while in the Archduke's company.

They stopped at the end of the hall where the doors to two guest rooms. "These will be the rooms you stay in," Mahazzem said, gesturing with his outstretched hand. "Take all the time you need to settle in. In six hours, their will be a welcome celebration down in the main hall in your honor." He turned to Ashrah and clasped his hands together. "We even have arranged to have food fit for warmbloods as an option, just for you, my dear."

Ashrah smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace. That is much appreciated."

Once their belongings were put down, the three of them convened in Syzoth's and Ashrah's room, Syzoth and Khameleon both in their human forms. Syzoth sat at the desk and sorted through his documents, some for the peace initiative and others, copies of the documentation of the shapeshifter genocide he had stumbled upon.

"Be wary of who you speak to at the celebration," Syzoth warned the two. "Do not betray what our true intentions here are."

"Archduke Mahazzem seems like a nice man," Ashrah pointed out.

"He and Her Majesty, Empress Sindel, have always been friends," Khameleon contributed. "Perhaps he will have resources at his disposal that could aid our efforts."

"Especially not to him," Syzoth said with a frown. "Mahazzem is not to be trusted."

The two gave him confused looks. "Why not?" Ashrah asked.

"There's just...something about him..." Syzoth began. "I work with him constantly and not once have I ever heard him speak his mind or give a novel opinion. He seems to always say what he think Empress Mileena wants to hear."

"That's what politicians do though," Khameleon tried to reason.

"I've worked with others as well. There is something about him in particular..." Syzoth trailed off and shook his head. "...I wouldn't be surprised if he was tied to this conspiracy somehow."

Ashrah sighed. "Let's wait until we find evidence before jumping to conclusions," she suggested. "For now, let's form a plan."

Syzoth nodded. "We can begin tonight at the celebration. Take note of any and all behavior you see and conversation you hear. Commit names to memory. And tonight, we will reconvene here to discuss anything we have learned. In the very least, it will be good to have a list of names to start with." He turned to Ashrah. "I will be presenting you at the celebration when I introduce our peace initiative. We can take note of anyone who seems averse to the idea. Keep an eye on the elders, they tend to be the ones who perpetuate these sorts of hateful sentiments."

"Understood," Ashrah said.

He then turned to Khameleon. "You will mingle with the guests. See what sorts of information you could get out of them. Report back your findings later tonight."

"Sounds doable."

Syzoth stood up and tucked away the conspiracy documents. "Good. Let's go, then."

[fatuismooches]

I've hopped on major angst train, which is sad, but someone has to make yall sad after tooth-rotting fluff, hehe hehe, but I saw HC of some harbingers reacting to their s/o being executed by Raiden and it gave me an idea

Basically, imagine Harbingers causing their s/o's near death experience with their actions

Such as: Childe's s/o almost dying when Osial attacked Liyue. Look, he was sure you're in safety, but in reality? You're too much of a kind soul, so you were helping people to save themselves, while also putting yourself in danger. Maybe you almost drowned from Osial's attacks or got caught in crossfire, either way you almost died

Scara's s/o being targeted by Fatui after Scara himself ran away with Gnosis. No matter how hard he tries to hide then away, Fatui never forget and forgive traitors. They won't calm down until they get both of you. You might be strong, maybe even a vision holder, but it's not enough...

Or his s/o being a Harbinger and the one who dies in Tenshukakku. Imagine him interrupting your duel with Traveler and escaping together. Scara curses you for being an idiot, but he's actually so so happy he made it in time.

Or... If he was a few seconds late and arrived to witness your death. I imagine that after he erased himself from Irminsul and regained his memories, the first thing Scara did - checked what happened to you, but reader is still dead

WTF ANON I'M IN TEARS 😭😭 Childe would be the most hurt definitely. He was reluctant to awaken Osial in the first place because getting regular people involved wasn't his style. So when he sees you hurt because of his actions he can't help but feel terrible. After helping you recover with the best of doctors he may even try to leave you. Not because he doesn't love you but because he genuinely can't bear to see you hurt, especially because of his line of work. He can't quit the Fatui, but he can still protect you... just in the shadows this time :(

Well for Scara... man that'd be scary lol. To be on the run for that long. He hopes that when he becomes a God, the Fatui will no longer be able to threaten you since one does not dare to challenge a God. But you get hurt anyway :( And he's absolutely enraged of course and wishes he could leave the robot to kill the person himself. But this just encourages him to hurry up and ascend to godhood already. Though when that fails he can't help but feel a bit helpless. Since now you are the one taking care of him, but at least Nahida has taken you under her protection as well. After he erases himself from Irminsul though, hopefully things change and the Fatui are no longer after you, since he no longer exists. And that is a price he is willing to pay for your safety.

Oh boy. He'd tell you to not go near the Raiden Shogun under any circumstances but you were dragged into it anyway. When he can't find you at the agreed meeting place he instantly knows where you've gone and for once he feels panic. This Raiden Shogun was not Ei, she has no mercy. But he has no problem confronting her anyway. Seeing the Traveler's shocked but irritated expression was also a treat. I wonder if the Raiden Shogun (puppet) would recognize him? I'm not sure if it was stated in-game. (Can't believe it's been 2 years since Inazuma 😭)

Scara would wonder if the Gnosis was really worth your death (it wasn't he finds out very quickly) + despise his creator so much more than he already did. He can only hope that he'll meet you again one day, and that you'd forgive him for his idiocy.

Can't wait to add Arlecchino to this list😧🧍‍♀️Focalors doesn't seem like the Archon to play around tbh😭 I've been really thinking about why the Oceanids don't like her...

[jojojoy1]

Prompt list:

"Crushing hard, huh?"

"It's obvious you like them."

"Because I love you, you idiotic mufflehead!"

"You are breathtaking."

"Come back to bed."

"Y'know, it's okay to cry."

"You deserve so much better."

"Your eyes are beautiful."

"You'll be the death of me."

"Bring your pretty little butt over here."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Would you stop that, I'm busy."

"Marry me."

"It's always been you."

"I'll drive you home."

"Are you bleeding?"

"You have soft hands."

"Are you tired?"

"You are everything to me."

"You're a terrible driver."

"A kiss for good luck?"

"Did you do all this.... for me?"

"I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you."

"You could have died."

"Do you regret it?"

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Is somebody jealous?"

"I've moved on."

"Would you have said yes?"

"That is the dumbest excuse I have ever heard."

"You're blushing."

"Is that my shirt?"

"I'll keep doing this until you smile."

"I thought you were dead."

"I think we need to talk."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I'll be right over."

"You're mine, understood?"

"Fuck, I'm so wasted."

"God, I hate you."

"I can't imagine a day without you nor would I want to."

"I'm pregnant."

"Wow, babe, you look amazing."

"I can't believe I got to marry you."

"I think that's enough."

"We'll get through this together."

"I love you."

"You look stunning."

"I just came to drop this off."

"Have you seen my hoodie?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"I lost the baby."

"Get a room!"

"Do you guys have to be so lovey dovey in public?"

"You really love them, don't you?"

"I've never seen you so happy."

"The bump's starting to show."

"You didn't have to do that."

"We're having a baby?"

"Will you marry me?"

"I've loved you since we were kids."

"How long?"

"I'm just happy to see you happy."

"Well done."

"I'm so proud of you."

"I just came by to pick my stuff up."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Happy anniversary."

"I wanted to suprise you."

"Do you like it?"

"Congratulations."

"I've never stopped loving you."

"It's not the same without you."

"I wish you were here."

"Come with me."

"You've still got it?"

"I still remember the moment I first saw you."

"Love a first sight."

"Did you just quote Taylor Swift?"

"What you gonna do about it?"

"Is that blood?"

“Oh no, I’m definitely angry. I just don’t have time to yell at you right now.”

“I love you, and that’s why i can’t subject you to the kind of judgement that us being together will bring you.”

“I can hardly wait to put a ring on that finger.”

“If we weren’t in public right now…”

“You know, I prefer you naked, but that dress also looks breathtaking on you.”

“Can I braid your hair?”

“I’ll take it that you like what you see.”

“Your hand feels much better than my own.”

“Tonight was just perfect.”

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, you’re such a tease!”

"Tell me what I can do to make you stay. What I can say, so you won't leave. I need to know how I can fix this!"

“I know you hate being sick, but you need to let me care for you.”

“You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.”

"I just can't let you go. Please, don't make me try to make you stay."

“Morning cuddles are the best part of the day.”

“I will always love you. Even when you’re old and wrinkly.”

“Does he not know that we’re together?"

“You look so good beneath me.” 

“Louder. Let me hear you.”

“Let me see those eyes.”

“I can kiss you forever.”

“This is my first date, so please excuse any awkwardness on my part.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

“That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.”

“You look like you want to devour them.” “Shut the fuck up, that is so not true.”

"you're gonna get lipstick all over me"

“you’ve been tossing and turning for the last forty minutes. what’s up?”

[mariamariquinha]

Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Twelve

Summary: Javier thought, brutally honest: the fuck you think you’re kidding?

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Brief allusion to sex, dead bodies (kinda gore), violence, torture, angst, feeling of inadequacy, people smoking, gun mention and... cop work? 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: In the middle of a lot of shitty things, I was able to finish editing. Am I happy with this? Maybe. I know that at some point I looked at what I was doing and liked it, so I decided to not change my mind because I’m not that reliable these days - when it comes to accept by achievements. There’s a few political comments, mostly my opinion, so beforehand I warn: I hate captalism. 

Oh, and that gif was a choice because... Yeah. It’s small, discreet, but that interaction will do some good in the future. Keep that in mind!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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

You were a cynic - that was both a curse and a relief. A relief, yes, because with that lifestyle, the best way of going through most of your shit was being resilient, added to a big dose of an anesthetized sense of reality. A curse, yes, because it was like you became a numb thing, acting by intuition even in moments where you should just be more… normal. 

It wasn't like you could blame your father, but it sure as hell wasn't something that came from your mother's side. She would definitely have a more genuine and less furtive response to whatever happened inside that office, even if you knew exactly what Carrillo’s words meant.

Because Carrillo used to talk once. 

With deliberate honesty.

You wish you could speak to her, rely on her. Suddenly it had been so long since you walked to her house, talked about your day and the plans for the weekend. Suddenly it all felt too much to handle - the violence, the traps, the long nights, the responsibility. In your moments of calm, spaced and almost non-existent, there were figures that hovered in your imagination and that, despite being equally disturbed by what that life had in store, still made you more innocently accommodated.

Running on the beach. Drinking that good coffee from across the street. Repeating the same things to Mrs. Jackson because, again, she thought you were that girl who used to sell her cigarettes during the 40s. 

It was as if all the control that kept you from smoking your cigarettes or the patience for your morning jogs had gone down the drain, just because Carrillo assumed a truth that made you as afraid as if Juan Marcos had put that knife in your jugular. 

Nobody talked about it. You went back to that room as if nothing had happened, lit a cigarette and went back to your papers; Javier and Steve maintained silence for nearly an entire hour, perhaps deciding whether to keep things as they were or whether to be more combative. Your head went back and forth with the sound of Carrillo's voice saying those things, all mixed up with the jumble of useless information that you had to review because you weren’t fucking paying attention. No one wanted to open up a hornet's nest of problems for an unofficial case in that environment so inhospitable for such indulgences.

You looked up at the sound of a glass being placed on your table - Peña poured three fingers of whiskey and that was as close as the three of you came to a resolution. Silence, then it would be. Temporary consent, in other words.

You couldn't be more grateful for the team you had there.

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

“How are you feeling?”

Murphy was always comfortable being in the background as a listener - he knew himself well, he knew he needed to preserve as much stability as he could for Connie, so he avoided getting mixed up with Javier's shit or your shit, unless it had to do with work. Still, that day, a couple of weeks after that happened, Steve waited for the right moment to make his notes known, before Javi could arrive for work or anyone else entered the office.

At that moment, everything was a complete mess. Things were nothing short of heated with all that hunting for the golden eggs, with a lot of people dying and even more dead ends. Your father took your peace. You readily offered not to attend meetings with Carrillo if you could avoid it, and you even got offensive to Messina in one of her bureaucratic inconveniences. 

“Well, if you’re so worried about it, you should ask him. I’m not inside his head.”

And you remembered how Javier and Steve hid the urge to laugh, even though they were equally worried about the consequences of that comment. Fortunately, nothing happened, and afterwards it became a reason for relaxation between you. 

Which wasn't the same with Horacio.

He lived up to his word and wouldn't make your presence more than a mere inconvenience to his routine. At cluster meetings, he gave direct comments about the work and it was strange not to have any bickering sessions between you two - even if that didn't lessen the discomfort. Sometimes he would flex his fists when he heard you talk and stand back while watching you show him something on the satellite maps. Javier would look at you from the corner, Steve would watch Carrillo; sometimes they switched.

You didn't think any of that was fair. In the letters, you mentioned this to your mother and she said that it was up to you to make that decision: about how you were going to take it all forward and whether you could keep the man in his own torture. She knew, however, that it was also torture for you. That you missed the nights you spent together, the escapades at work, the way he touched you. It was too soon and too pathetic to mention feelings like 'love' or 'infatuation' or… whatever. You two were too skeptical for that. The company made everything more bearable, just as Javier had the girls and Steve had Connie. You and Carrillo didn't have anyone; or at least you didn’t. Juliana was still there for him. Always have, as it seemed. 

Maybe, deep down, that was what bothered you the most - knowing that he had a past connection and that it was easy, in a way, to take the initiative to go for the easier, more comfortable side. You couldn’t provide him that. None of it, to be honest. 

“... It happens, right? With the best and the worst of us. In the end, this is all kind of fucked up.”

You knew that in other circumstances (maybe in another life) Steve would be more reticent about this, more traditionalist. He was the type. So you didn't show much more than muttering under your breath and taking another drag on your cigarette as you continued to sit on that cheap leather couch, the morning sun scorching your back a little.

It took you a moment to answer something - when you did, you saw that he looked uneasy, as if he wanted to say something else.

“I’m fine.” 

“You just make it sound like it's a sacrifice.”

And it wasn't really a sacrifice - in that kind of profession, there was a fine line between just choosing the best and giving things up. Addictions went hand in hand with lucidity, just as the withdrawal from a normal life distanced you from the fact that not having a gun in your belt was like walking naked. You knew yourself; like any human being, you clung to the smallest moments of comfort, stability, joy and pleasure that arose. You were weak for the good life, tired of the constant resilience and warning signs that went off in your head every single day.

Again, you almost left him unanswered. Steve noticed your uncertainty, though. It scared the shit out of you.

“... It’s complicated.”

“Not that I want to be a bitch or something-”

“I know.”

“-But it’s a surprise. 

If he still had the innocence to believe in the system that governed their lives, Steve would be indignant, be the church boy he always was. But no, that wasn’t the case - at least he didn’t show it. He had seen the real world too brutally to fill it with more moralism; otherwise he would ignore it, be rational, move on. Then he blew the smoke that was stuck inside his mouth, shook his head and smiled, all the while staring at the ashtray on his table.

“You two used to hate each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it some kind of kink? Love-hate stuff?”

You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head and mirroring the smirk he threw in your direction. 

“At least it wasn't on my table,” Steve teased, as if coming to the realization just seconds before. “Isn’t that fucking considerate?”

As usual, you both laughed with an almost hopeless acceptance surrounding what little humor you shared. Not that it was fun, or worthy of such genuine laughs, just… That. Rational complicity. And you didn't want to ruin the moment, but inside there was another reason for your amusement - when you and Carrillo were making out in the building back in the day, maybe you bumped into something or other on Steve's desk, and you almost broke his desk lamp.

Rational complicity then, you decided, averting your gaze from Javier, who entered the office with nothing more than a grumbled ‘good morning’. 

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

The landscape became more arid, spaced out - at the very least, isolated. You stared at the bodies splayed out on that cave, trying to somehow decipher what could not be deciphered. There was a morbid but equally cold atmosphere surrounding this discovery; you watched five Carrillo men taking one by one out of that hole, placing them side by side for further identification. The youngest of them was nothing more than 20 years old; at some point, you just turned your head to the side because the ones with more time there were already smelling. 

You stomped to a distant spot and, making sure no one was looking, you threw up. Years of experience or all the circumstances of that job didn't always make you have such a strong stomach. Later that day, you found yourself in your apartment just to brush your teeth - that led to a few minutes of a shower you thought would clean all of those images inside your head. 

Again, you sat alone in the office with more than enough whiskey inside a cup and a third cigarette ready to be lit between your lips. Steve rushed home to Connie; Javier had a puzzled expression on his face when he noticed that you would stay, but you assured him that it was okay, that nothing would happen. For the first time in days, you felt sure of something. 

“Stechner will follow Juan Marcos' lead.”

You turned your eyes from the mountain of papers in front of you, brows raised at the sudden intrusion - out of politeness or not, your father didn’t ask what you were doing there. At worst, he took the cigarette out of your mouth and made you tsk.

“He can be more persuasive than the rest of us, I suppose,” You said nonchalantly. “Or just more than me.”

Again, if he noticed the way you eyed him up and down, probably too full of bitterness, your father decided to keep it to himself, both hands behind his back.

“You agree, then?”

“That's not a question you associate with someone like Stechner.” It sounded almost like a warning, a subtle message of how your ‘soft spot’ used to lead your conceptions and moral judgements to a place way more complicated for that line of work. 

He hummed. Nodded his head. You thought that the conversation was over, of course, but you always should know better than to believe your father could be less than suffocating.

“I figured we could have dinner. I know a place nearby, still discreet enough.” 

“Trying to make me feel better?”

“We're past the stage of understanding that this is your mother's job.” 

The blunt honesty with which he said it made you consider the possibility more; it would be more than enough, spending some time with your father, to understand that there were people in life who knew how to make moments more bitter - or bitter enough to distract your mind from the worst. 

So you accepted. 

Frijoles Rancheros, he said with the best accent he had. 

“Didn't you stop with that?” He said, again, this time without the flirty smile to the waitress or the good Spanish of his.

“Tried to,” You shrugged, cigarette finally being lit and the smoke flowing through the air. 

“Not tryin’ anymore?”

“I needed to keep my list of disappointments with you,” With a smirk, you leaned more comfortably against the chair you sat at, legs crossed and eyes with that devilish spark he hated so much. “What brings you here? Stechner missed you licking his balls or something?”

“... We talked.” He said in a low, stern tone. “Apparently even the CIA knows how to recognize your work around here.”

“So you talked about me.”

“About your achievements, that is. Too emotional-”

“Of course,” You scoffed, dragging more of your cigarette with sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“-But efficient. The one raising your voice to the stubborn Colonel Horacio Carrillo.”

The mention made your stance falter, but just for a moment. You gave him a side-eye, then got back to look at anything but his face - not wanting to fail in your attempt to not show how affected you felt. It sounded like a sin, the fact that your father would use such an indifferent manner to talk about Horacio. How it was so easy for him, a man with so many flaws, to talk about Carrillo as if he was just as insignificant as… Anything. You grew defensive. The guy could still have that way of his, but you didn’t act (even before) like he was nothing. 

“Is it supposed to be a bad thing?” You decided to ask instead, watching him sip his beer faster so he could answer. 

“Have I already told the story of Cúcuta?” 

Probably, but you didn’t pay enough attention back then and wouldn’t pay there. Still, he kept talking. 

“We had discovered that some communist groups were regrouping and we took the National Police guys there. You know, for fact-finding.”

Or killing. Whatever he called it to make him lay his head on the pillow every night. 

“We stayed there for two weeks. Maybe Carrillo was involved, I can't be sure,” But then he got quiet, as if it was the end of the story. After a few beats of silence, you made a face.

“And…?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t know he had that in him to become what he is now. Not the most remarkable cop, but committed to the cause. Very Catholic, however, he called his mother every day. It amazes me that he has come as far as being on the front lines to catch Escobar. It takes a certain obscurity to be good at this job.” 

You considered it silently, watching your dad's grimaces as he just talked about the situation like it was a normal thing. Maybe it was after all. Reality was lighter if you took it as a routine, using conformism as a shield. You wondered if he knew about what happened with you that afternoon - if Carrillo, once, was the type of guy who would throw up because of it. You even wondered, with the space your father gave while simply not paying attention to you, what it would be like to meet that version of Horacio and whether he would make the same decisions, or think that this would be his future.

“I'm sure he has his own demons just like anyone else,” You said out of nowhere, taking in the way the man just watched your motions. “No one gets away with this kind of shit.”

“This shit is catching a communist pig like Escobar.”

Communist, you almost laughed, but you didn't argue. You couldn't even count the number of Americans involved in the lists of secondary cartels in the States, nor how many white-faced people who signed Republican votes negotiated with these 'communists', which only made you more skeptical of the idea of ​​what you were really doing there or the kind of person you had the pleasure of not being raised by.

Under the circumstances, Carrillo's revulsion was understandable.

“You know, you really look like your mother.”

“Conscious?”

“Naive. Maybe not all the violence in the world will make you realize that we are not always the villains.” 

“... No,” You puffed out more of the smoke, arching an eyebrow. “Sometimes you find a shallow ditch full of bodies and it turns out to be Escobar's fault.”

Because everything, from the bastard son who was hidden in the bowels of that country to the resistant hands of Juan Marcos against your neck, had a finger of the communists. If the pain you felt earlier or the pain you felt in childhood with his absence existed, it was because of the communists.

Damn communists.

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

You threw the other two packs of cigarettes in the trash that same night, as soon as you got back to the office.

With effort, you would remember to look for nicotine patches or anti-smoking gum in the morning.

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

Carrillo was familiar with the feeling of self-repression, and for some reason, he too deserved the strict discipline. Never a hair out of place, but that same hair wouldn't be styled any other way than the way he saw fit; short, practical, that was not an interruption but also a form of imposing.

This discipline made him learn that the way we present ourselves says something about us. That's why he really didn't understand why he saw you with a subtlety that definitely didn't exist in that job and, consequently, in you.

That day, you were at one of those reunions. The atmosphere was tense, as always, but Carrillo watched you climb on a small step to gain access to a higher part of the discreet shelf in the corner of the room to reach a cup, all the while laughing at something Peña was saying. It wasn't just the way your thighs flexed in the material of your jeans or the way everything felt tight enough that you had the flexibility to move; your manner changed, your modus operandi. There were no delicate mannerisms in your posture, nor in your approach - the harsh parts made you look like a hedgehog, even with that smile on your face.

If the whole situation had hurt you the way it seemed to him, if… that moment, inside the office, had a similar meaning, he didn't know, but he understood the mystery. There was so much going on and suddenly you had your dad and your issues and your life; Carrillo knew better than anyone that neither he nor you would want to bring up yet another drama. 

He valued that effort, was familiar with it. As at other times when Horacio had to be the rational figure, the loneliness of being dedicated to a discipline was something he knew well how to live with.

Carrillo also knew your frustrations about your father were bubbling to the brim. You tried to cover it up as best you could, always scratching the back of your neck or looking away when a CIA decision interfered with the DEA's. It was obvious that hanging out with guys like him could be like idle work - he, of all people, knew that being here on the ground following more archaic strategies wasn't your style. Or worst: that his presence there meant that he was almost always a flawed tool of a plan he was never fully a part of.

For him, watching you was like watching all the energy that walked beside your manners when you arrived disappearing because, in the end, it sounded as if only he, Horacio, saw the full magnitude of your achievements and efforts. Like an awed spectator of a hungry muse, all teeth and claws for what she believed but cutting off by… the others.

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” You said then, sitting at the edge of the table after serving a good amount of coffee. “I remember seeing you there and I’m pretty sure the night ended really differently.” 

“Well, we didn't say goodbye on my doorstep.”

Carrillo frowned at the suggestion, especially at the way you two seemed to forget he was there too, watching Javier using that natural flirty personality with you. And then you turned to see Steve walking in with Trujillo, away from the commotion, and when Horacio decided that it was his sign to stop staring at you, he saw Peña himself sending him a curious gaze. 

That day, Horacio discovered that Javier had been measuring the situation like a scientific project.

“No tenemos tiempo para esto.” We don't have time for this. 

Was all Carrillo said as soon as the reunion was over and they were walking side by side down the corridor. 

“No se de que estas habl-” I don’t know what you're talking ab-.

“Tu sabes.” You know. 

They both stopped in their tracks, interrupted by the Colonel's gruff voice and the way he jerked him around with a shoulder pull. Javier frowned, tried to understand where that all came from, then raised his eyebrows at the realization. He sighed, looked around and put his hands on his hips.

“¿Alguien te ha dicho alguna vez que no eres la persona más sutil que hay?” Has anyone ever told you that you're not the most subtle person around?

Horacio kept quiet. Caught. 

“Su padre es un gilipollas, quizás uno de los peores con los que me he cruzado. Ha dejado muy claro que quiere la oportunidad adecuada para sacarla de aquí.” Her father is an asshole, maybe one of the worst I've ever come across. He's made it very clear that he wants the right opportunity to get her out of here.

And for a moment, Carrillo almost understood those motivations. If he was a worried parent, he wouldn't sleep easy knowing his only daughter was putting herself in front of bullets or curled up in the arms of a fucking narco, nearly suffocated to death. He himself didn't like to imagine what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time. 

“... No estaba coqueteando con ella, si eso es lo que te preocupa. Nunca saldríamos bien, esa mujer es una diabla.” I wasn't flirting with her, if that's what you're worried about. We would never work out, that woman is a devil.

True. So true. 

“Pero es mejor que decidas qué va a ser de eso, porque está bastante claro que te estás engañando a ti mismo.” But you better decide what's going to become of it, because it's pretty clear you're kidding yourself.

Javier didn't elaborate, and despite not being the most sensitive of men, Carrillo knew when he was being put up against something he was avoiding. As Peña walked away with a frustrated posture, he wondered if that was the effect he had on you, of disappointment at being… him.

Of course, he didn't openly mention this to anyone, nor did he feel able to do so; to the fullest, he reinforced his serious expression when he saw you leave the operating room and look for someone. You looked one way, then the other, and saw him standing there. Something must have gone through your mind with the way you swallowed hard and clenched your fists - Carrillo wondered if it was the same memory of that night in your apartment, when you were still fresh from sex and with other perspectives.

For an instant, just one, he felt it. Like a replica of that same night.

When he was the first to look away, smothered by the idea and tempted by the sensation you offered those days, Carrillo knew he was probably letting you down again.

As he should. 

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

You felt frustrated. You'd been having that feeling for a while before the whole Carrillo situation, but it wasn't like you could deny that that disappointment had lessened dramatically once you'd spent time in his bed.

They began to monitor letters sent by employees exported from the States. Peña always walked around with an even more frown on having the letters he sent to his father being invaded in this way and, as much as Steve didn't complain while having Connie there, he complained about the intrusion just like Javier.

You felt suffocated. 

That’s how you ended up getting fucked inside a restroom stall, legs attached to the sides of the hips of a guy named Carlos and dress hiked up to make it easy for him to access… you. Or your decency, if such a term existed at the moment. There was an effort there, though. Carlos made the time well spent. When you went home that night, maybe you really were more relaxed, your shoulders less rigid and your spine relaxed.

But there was a reason you couldn't sleep a wink that night.

Carlos was Carlos, not Carrillo.

Perhaps, you tried to justify, it was because there was a greater reason than just the attraction with the two of you. There was an almost paranoid fear that the days were uncertain, the daily stress of a job that seemed to be failing and the frustrations - Carlos was Carlos, not Carrillo. The kisses, the touches, the look; two opposites. You would close your eyes if you were Horacio, you would sleep like you haven't slept in days. Surely you wouldn't wash yourself so vehemently after sex either if it was him. 

It wasn’t though. It was Carlos. 

So when the phone rang around two, you got up without difficulty and answered it on the second ring. There was no need to rub your eyes to chase away sleep because it didn't exist, even if physical fatigue made you massage your shoulder while listening to a brief recorded message from a woman saying it was a private and recorded call.

“¿Es usted responsable del caso de Juan Marcos de las Puentes?” Are you responsible for the case of Juan Marcos de las Puentes?

The voice was too Latin to be Javier's and too different to be Carrillo's; even if it were one of them, they wouldn't use Spanish or act like they didn't know you. Your first reaction was frown - and the second, unconsciously, was to look around as if the answer to the as yet unspoken question was in your living room. 

“... Sí. ¿Quien habla?” Yes. Who’s speaking?

“Soy Frances Tenorio, directora encargada del Centro Especial de Detención de Medellín.” I'm Frances Tenorio, director in charge of the Medellín Special Detention Center.

The last time someone called you this late at night, five years ago, was when the family found out that your grandmother had passed away. Your uncles, two other men who lived in the South, asked if it made sense for you to help them with the funeral arrangements - not that there was any intimacy to it, but because she would like to be treated with a delicacy that none of the three had. You took responsibility because you knew your father wouldn't do it out of hurt. He never had a good relationship with his mother.

Still, all that cold commitment to ensuring that the body was well treated and the ceremony well organized, such as the mass that took place seven days later, did not compare to the coldness with which you reacted to Frances' words.

There was no clarification and you didn't ask; just requests you weren’t so used to having, but obliged anyway. You listened to the instructions, hung up, got dressed - gun in the holster, badge on your belt. When you left, you locked the apartment door as usual, walked down the hall, got in the car and realized that the radio was still on a specific station, at that time of night repeating romantic songs. You didn’t turn it off. 

Your mind hesitated to do the call - you didn’t want to. Circumstances did not have an exact logic in the chronology of the facts that you knew. Juan Marcos wasn’t supposed to be there, least in Medellín. Whatever the fuck Stechner tried to do wouldn’t be placed there for obvious reasons. There were at least five people who received that kind of information before you, and suddenly the director of a place you didn't even know was part of Juan Marcos' punishment had your phone number. It was statistical to know that no one died like that at a time like this - the guy was a bull, healthy from head to toe, with at most a late tetanus vaccine.

Then, all of the sudden-

“As I said, dead.” 

Frances didn't have the best of English, but the heavily accented words made a lot of sense in your ears, even if they didn't make sense on their own. His office was poorly lit, and generally speaking, you had a lot of questions, but you just stared at that death certificate with nothing but open confusion on your face. Perhaps it was the way you lagged to say something, because Frances kept talking.

“The National Police was already warned about-”

“The National Police?” You abruptly raised your head. 

“It's the norm. Rules. I couldn't let another gringo into my jail alone.”

Before you could ask what he meant or process the information, you noticed someone entering the door and, of course, it needed to be Carrillo. The National Police. He looked at you with a big frown, then at the officers behind and Frances - mad. 

“¿Desde cuándo es este un protocolo aceptable?” Since when is this an acceptable protocol? Horacio asked in a harsh tone, standing right beside you. Looking at the door again, you spotted Trujillo, confused and a little taken aback by the sudden situation. 

“Llegaron los gringos y tenían orden de interrogatorio. Eso es protocolo, tú lo sabes mejor que nadie.” The gringos showed up and had an interrogation warrant. That's protocol, you know that better than anyone.

“Que gringos?” 

The silence that followed, short but helpful, was like an obvious answer to an even more obvious question. You faced the early death certificate, then Carrillo, who didn't express any reaction. You, by yourself, couldn’t express any reaction.

“I want to see the body.” 

“Qué?” What?

“Do you think that’s a good id-”

“Quiero ver el cuerpo. ¿Ahora me entiendes?” I want to see the body. Do you understand me now?

Carrillo wasn’t combative with your interruption, nor with the way you were snappy with Frances; otherwise, he nodded in approval of your request, as if none of that hadn't already been the same as everyone in that jail dropping their pants for the CIA's threats, as if they needed just Carrillo’s approval. 

At some point in your education, you learned about the special rooms for political prisoners during the communist uprising and the government's quiet work of putting down Sierra Maestra-influenced guerrillas. 64, the formative year of half the men inside those halls and, arguably, the golden memories of that Frances Tenorio. With the 'peace sealed' by right-wing groups, you knew that many of these rooms became normal interrogation spaces or, as in the case of that institution, an improvised mortuary that looked more like a shallow spawning pit.

Fractured skull from a fall, the obituary said. They were opening an internal investigation into a possible gang rebellion.

Juan Marcos was a man nearly six feet tall, with truly thick arms, long legs, and robust from head to toe. You knew his weight, strength and physical skills like no one else. The hands, you noticed, did not bear a single mark of retaliation or defense. You would know if he had; moreover, healed from the clash with you months earlier. Looking from there, with nothing but a pale, lifeless face, motionless, you noticed that Juan Marcos looked no less frightening or dangerous or… Well, the face of a criminal. 

You wondered how many guys came to do the job. Two to tie, one to intimidate - maybe one more to watch. They used to had this one.

“Is your father in Medellín?” Carrillo asked in a low tone, not daring to disturb the intense staring you’re giving the guy right in front of you two. 

“Nn-nn,” You shook your head slightly, then turned to Frances. “Stechner.”

“Protocol.” Was all he said, already turning to leave the room but probably standing still on the other side of the door. 

Three fingernails had been torn out and there were electric shock marks on his nipples, groin and mouth. The face was disfigured and torn by what looked like blows; if you turned him on his side, you probably would see the marks on the backs of the knees just as you saw them on the wrists and heels. The corpus delicti examination, still unsigned as well as the obituary, only recorded the head injury that didn't really exist - done with a typewriter that probably came from the office you had come not so shortly before.

When you raised your head, Carrillo was watching you carefully, measuring every reaction that could come out of your neutral expression. He knew how it was. He did it himself. You could see that, probably, he was just mad that he wasn't responsible for it. Maybe you were too, just a little - deep down, better saying. 

“I need a cig.”

The conversation must have lasted ten, fifteen minutes? You only managed to finish the first one, leaning against the hood of the car and alone in the side parking lot of the prison. The nicotine patch must have been lost somewhere in those hallways and his arm was still marked by the glue. When you went to take the second cigarette in your mouth, you saw Horacio approach and also the way your hands were shaking. He chose not to be at your side, but in front of you; as soon as you lit the cigarette, you kept both elbows resting on the car hood behind you.

No one said anything for a good minute. When you dared to give him a look, just once, Carrillo was lighting a cigarette for him - something way stronger than yours, as always. 

“What was it?” You broke the silence with a single question, one he just shrugged at first. “I’ll give it an hemorrhagic shock.”

“I’ll give it a fractured skull from a fall.”

“Please,” You scoffed, raising the cigarette to your lips again. 

“The CIA put in their report that the last operation didn’t suffer any casualties. I had to sign two letters of removal and I almost signed one of death. So yes, a fractured skull from a fall. ” 

It was difficult. You knew it was. When you started to get close to him and understand a little more of what was there, under the skin, you could see that his biggest frustrations were in the fact that the potential of his work was limited. There would always be a Stechner, a CIA, a DEA, a bunch of outsiders with funny accents and shitty Spanish. That he, as a man and as a professional, always had the cards in his hand but would only play them if someone from above said so; that when he started to overcome this hierarchy, he was banished to Madrid and then back with a freedom tied in very loose halters, under conditions that you didn't know, out of sheer whim.

Carrillo knew those marks and those consequences - many had his name transcribed. And he could say it was hemorrhagic shock or whatever the fuck fucked up Juan Marcos' life, but you both knew that outcome held particular satisfaction for him. At least enough to accept it unchallenged.

“... He was my suspect,” You said in a defeated tone, blowing smoke in the air. “It's pretty stupid of me to think they'd at least consult me ​​first, right? To say they would come here to destroy the guy?” 

“Yeah. But you’re smart all the same.” 

“Not enough to not do the math on why my dad pretended he wanted to have dinner with me.” 

“He wanted?”

“He did it.” You responded vehemently, tapping your thumb on the end of your cigarette to knock out more of the ash. “I should have known better when I saw him there in the office so late at night. Talking about Stechner taking the lead as if he wasn’t already planning on killing the motherfucker.”

“And do you think it would have made a difference if you had known?”

“... No.”

You didn't say it was because you were witnessing what your father could do for the first time and that it scared the shit out of you; they were childish thoughts. After years of paddling against the tide, seeing him miss his own mother's wake and even all the disappointments he could’ve caused you, everything was more tolerable when his stories were just that: stories. You also had your share of lives under your belt: one guy in Compton, one in South Beach, one more in a warehouse during a drug traffic operation. Still, you learned to live with them because it was your job. Yours only. And sometimes you could forget that someone who was supposed to give you a little more petting reduced you to one more small obstacle to doing his.

Again. And again. And again. 

You felt stupid. Naive. Again.

“It’s like fucking Hotel California,” You muttered, eyes closed and fingers massaging your temple. 

“Like what?” He asked in sincere curiosity, making you look at him in time to spot his own cigarette mid air. 

“Like the song. On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…? Nothing?” Your hands gesticulated. 

“Too gringo for me,” Carrillo inhaled on his cigarette and pretended (pretended) he was keeping a straight face. You rolled your eyes.  

“Your friend Frances must agree with that.”

“By your time here, you should know that not everyone trusts you.” 

“There’s a few exceptions.” You defended. 

“Yeah, some people might lose certain opinions for one person or another.”

With another drag on your cigarette, you let out a low 'huh' and shook your head, but when you glanced back at Carrillo, you saw that he was watching you with a very wide gaze. Again, measuring your reactions, as if trying to send a message with his silence. You did the same. 

It's been a while since you've been like this, with time to observe each other and capture details that captivated your encounters. He was more tired, visibly fresh out of his static spot in the office on the upper floors, probably with a couple of glasses of whiskey in his system. Damn pretty, you could add. Prettier than Carlos - poor Carlos. 

He broke eye contact first. 

“You’ll talk with your father?”

“Well, at least to know if it was hemorrhagic shock.”

“I don't know if this will make you sleep better.”

“Nah,” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side. “Just looks like I forgot the guy can be sadistic as fuck.” 

“Habit.”

“Personality.”

Again, silence. This time though, you were the first one to break eye contact, mostly because that thing got into a place you wouldn’t like to go. You didn’t tell Carrillo, probably wouldn’t, but your mind was building scenarios and creating perspectives about something you really preferred to forget. 

Your mom always knew better - you wished you weren't so curious as to choose the same career as your father to know what kind of shit he did.

“You’re going back to the office?” 

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He walked in your direction, but went straight to the door to open it. Before he could do it, though, Carrillo turned to you. “I would do the same.”

You nodded. 

“I know.”

“And you too.”

“Not with the same motivation,” You looked at him nonchalantly. “I have personal reasons. The type I could understand.”

“He don’t?”

“Well, we’re not the same,” Another shrug, this time dragging more of the cigarette before blowing the smoke out the side. “Perhaps I’m more different for not being adept at this, but is it really that different? I don't feel guilt, but I do feel angry that he disappeared with a guy who could give me information. Screw his life, right?”

“... Sometimes this type of life makes us forget that we are humans. You're not Gandhi or any shit like that, you're you. Flesh, bone and a gun in hand, ready to fire at the right time. I would do it, because I know what he's done to other people, but I've also seen what he's done to you.” 

He took a step closer - just one. And when you instinctively backed away with your eyes closed and a hurt murmur coming from your throat, Carrillo froze in place. 

“We don’t need to talk-”

“I know.”

“But stop playing with me, Horacio. Stop.” For a moment, he looked confused, then noticed something that perhaps even you didn’t and nodded in defeat. “Don’t be like him. Not now.”

Don't be opportunistic like him, don't be selfish like him, don't be capricious like him, don't use you like he always did. That's what you meant. That he shouldn’t pretend he didn’t say no twice and approached you later with some kind of warm conversation because it seemed convenient. You didn't need it - what you wanted and what you accepted he denied too quickly.

“... I’ll be back in the office.” You said after a time, eyes on the floor right where the cigarette landed and hand brushing your left eyebrow. “Body identified, death certificates and stuff like that. It's just, isn't it? Do you proceed from here?” 

Carrillo gulped, considered your face like a brave man and said a simple ‘yes’ before insisting on opening the goddamn door for you. And you let him, even when he stood there, the door now closed, staring at you through the open window. 

“Good night, Colonel.” 

“... Good night.”

He tapped the opening twice, took three long steps back and inhaled on the cigarette which, as you had barely noticed, was still lit in his hand. You watched him through the rearview mirror, just for a moment longer, and after that split opportunity you also stared at your own eyes - coming to a conclusive revelation. One you already knew, in fact. 

Carlos was Carlos. Carrillo was Carrillo. 

And damn you for always choosing the complicated ones. 

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

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@616wilsons ​

@nessamc

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@padbrookcottage

@mysoulisasunflower​ 

[mydysfunctionalvampirefamily]

I'm sooooo excited!!! My first episode caught up!

No! Not the music 😂😂😂 oh okay it was not that smooth sex jazz lmao.

Rufio???? In Miles's lust thing? Okay I'll have to wait and see how this works. ELSA THOUGH!!!

Protect your man!!!!

Oh Elsa 😔 "I wish you were there, you probably would have made the difference."

Ohhhhhhh this is really good. Part of Miles's dreams or lust is the thought that him being there could have saved people. It's such a self absorbed thing lmao. Like he is the lynchpin.

Sidenote: the sound design and the music is so good this episode, and I know it's not the case but I get such a giggle out of imagining this is done just to spite that one YouTube commenter who was like when are you all going to incorporate that when it has been for quite a bit. 😂

Elsa being there to listen to him. 😭

He would want Marcos back!!

She gives him the book to get people back from the dead. The fact that this is what tempts him!!

To have what you have to Britta. "She was never there to replace you."

No shit they weren't rational, Marcos!!! I'm losing my goddamn mind over here!!!

The fact that he thinks the reward is to get one of them back to life. Fuck me!

Pendragon is human???? Absolutely wild. I get it though. But also Romeo and Pendragon there at the same time??? I mean at this point we all think canary and Romeo were together, yes?

Britta's biggest hope is being human. 😭

A painting of Dark Selina above the fireplace with blue flames???

Her wish that the harsh sides of Pendragon were not his own but forced into him. That he would want to be different. Him wanting to impress his sire and not him just something that's inside of him. That he lets her know him better.

Ohh human AND vampire Pendragon.

Ohhh interesting. Pendragon wanting her for her humanity or wanting her for her killer side.

"I adoooore how strong you are." fuck this guy and fuck that he is so hot. I hate him. He's too powerful. 😂

"I can't beat him without you." *SCREECHING*

Oh my God! Z!!!! HELL YESSSSSS I'm glad he's back somehow!!

I love that they are both almost failing!!!

Khaliffffff babbbbby!!! Yes Neil's sire!!! 👀 I'm so intrigued. I need to know more.

Awww Neil 🥰🥰 wanting to save his friends.

Of course his fucking sire 'knows' exactly what he needs. Fuck you!! Go home!

No Miles doesn't have the enst track record, that is fair. But he tries, and that has to count for something.

I do love his sire just hating on Miles, I bet that does make Neil feel a little better.

Also calling it playing house with Roman Pendragon would so appeal to Neil. Who has been so judgemental about all of this with Britta.

👀 Neil talking to his sire. Like I'm sorry but we need like a prequel book about their fucked up relationship and the abuse and manipulation.

"they're yours." ohhhhhhh goosebumps.

Not the tearful "are they?" my baby boy 😭 this is gonna make me cry.

Neil!!! You're so good! I'm proud of you. 🥰

"boogiemen and a pretty girl." dismissive of Nara in a way that will please some people I know.

Hey Sire why don't you shut up!!! Neil did what he should do, he came to insight!! Leave him alone!

"Let's fix Miles." ohhhhh damnnn. Like I know this is all very difficult for the characters to deal with, but it is SO fun to listen to!

Z. Who is this she??? 👀👀👀

Of course he wants to be the solution! Look at Wynn!!!

Ohhhh yeahhhh baby more temptation!!! One of them is going to die????!!!! Absolutely not. That's not allowed. Resurrection tho. 👀 It will cost you nothing? Suss. Soooooooo suss.

Heyhooooo let's gooooooooooo temptation in the best way.

The idea of sacrificing himself for power and to save his friends, so alluring. Which is so funny because I don't think any of his friends would think it would take this particular shape.

AAAAAAAHHHHH, for realsies???? Lmao of course he did. 😂😂(I bet it's because Tim wants that special sword path he talked about. /j)

I'm so happy!!! Miles deserves to make bad decisions as a treat. I love that for him. 😈

Britta, my girl, I proud of you, but I knew you could do it.

🤢 Those sounds

Oh joy, we get Shrike, you're not making it better but I love that you try even if it's not that hard.

Ohhhhh yessss him offering to undo the indoctrination!!! Of course that is the biggest temptation, figuring out who she used to be.

"I wanted to be more of myself again." "you don't even know who you are?" that's fucked up.

Shrike is an asshole but he makes me laugh with the awful, dickish things he says.

Even here the canary gets triggered??? Poor Britta.

She did it!!!

What the fuck man, that was an insane episode. But so fucking good! I'm alrwady exited to relisten to it.

[yellowsugarwords]

Hi! Welcome back, it's nice you're feeling better and y'know can write again (I missed your writing so much). I do have a request for the walking dead tho!

The parental figures (Lee, Kenny, Rebecca, Alvin, Cristina, omid, Kate, Javi and David pls) overhear reader singing a rock song, it's the first time they heard them sing at all (and also know their taste in music) and their voice blows them away. (I imagine they sounded like this YouTube cover of "my understandings" by of mice and men. The cover is done by Lauren Babic)

https://youtu.be/BsfOWMtzDbU?si=54y2NM9cOpqMCJj3

(hope you enjoy, I can't wait to read their reactions!)

omg friend this is so fun. also, thank you for missing me!! it means so much to have my writing appreciated :') I so deeply missed how inspired twdg makes me feel and how much I missed the love that always entered my life whenever I was active here. it feels SO GOOD to be back. I haven't felt this happy in a long time :)

enjoy!!!

Lee: While the Motor Inn was large, it didn't stop sound from vibrating throughout the complex. Lee heard something muffled and wandered from door to door, attempting to locate the source. By the time he located the room and creaked the door open, he was stunned into silence. Y/N stood there, belting their soul out, mimicking holding a microphone. When they turned around, almost finished with their make-shift solo, they yelped. Their response caused Lee's shock to fade into joy. "You sound great," he said, voice low and gruff. "It's just something to do for fun. To kill time." Lee nodded, not wanting to embarrass them any more than they already were. "Well, I think you should keep at it." He chuckled to himself as he went to close the door. "But I'd like front-row seats next time." Y/N rolled their eyes playfully and waved him away. Their imaginary concert was still waiting.

Kenny: Kenny could feel his jaw clench at the faint sound of singing and humming. They needed to keep it down if they wanted to avoid walkers or travelers. As he rounded the corner, entering the bedroom the noise was coming from, the sounds abruptly ended. Y/N turned around, cheeks red and flushed, having been caught in their imaginary paradise. Kenny's eyes widened. "Y/N, was that you?" At first, Y/N was horrified they were in trouble, it wasn't until Kenny's shocked expression melted into one of understanding. "I'm impressed. It's been a long time since I've heard anyone sing." Y/N, cautiously, allowed their shoulders to relax. "And I've never heard you sing." "I've never been happy enough to sing." While heartbreaking, it gave Kenny some comfort that he was providing an environment where Y/N felt safe. He nodded and went to close the door, heart full and warm. "I can't wait to hear more." Y/N knew he meant it.

Rebecca: Rebecca, pregnant and in pain, could hear faint singing from one of the ski lodge bedrooms upstairs. Groaning, she made her way up the stairs and towards the noise. Without a knock, she pushed the door open. "Who's singing at-" she cut herself off, spotting YN flip around from where they had been brushing their hair in the mirror. "Oh, sorry," they said softly. "I didn't realize I was singing that loud." Rebecca paused, suddenly self-reflecting. Y/N was a child, singing while brushing their hair. Rebecca remembered when she used to do that as a little girl. She remembered doing it for her sisters' too. "No no," she began, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize." Meekly, she gave a smile, starting to enjoy the notion of music in their bleak world. "Keep singing." She paused. "It's really uplifting." Y/N smiled warmly, watching as Rebecca pulled their door and clicked it closed.

Alvin: "Go tell them to stop," Rebecca begged, both hands placed on either side of her stomach. "They're being loud." As much as Rebecca wished noise could bring her comfort, she was in so much pain given her pregnancy that she didn't care. Not even slightly. By the time Alvin reached the room where the noises were coming from, he creaked open the door and saw Y/N. They suddenly went silent and flipped around to face him. "Oh no," they said, voice soft and low. "Am I bothering her?" Alvin hesitated, just amazed at the sight: someone singing. There was joy in their lives again, and someone to bring that joy to them. He meekly smiled. "Just a little quieter. But don't stop." His heart grew warm at the thought that they were enjoying themselves. "Please, don't stop."

Christa: Christa wasn't a huge fan of singing, but this felt different. She could hear faint humming and singing and admittedly was curious. When she noticed it was Y/N, fake singing into a hairbrush as a microphone, she placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. It didn't work, as Y/N flipped around and squeaked. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." Christa waved her hand passively. "You act as though it wasn't good." She said through a chuckle. "It was great. You should keep doing it." "Really?" Y/N sounded unsure. Christa nodded. "The second Omid catches wind of this, he'll demand a full show. Just you wait." "You're making me not want to sing." The two laughed, momentarily filled with the joy that music could bring. "Don't stop. You're talented." Christa said, leaving them alone to their make-believe concert.

Omid: Omid was a fairly positive person despite the world they were living in. So, when he heard gentle singing coming from nearby, he deeply wanted to explore. By the time he turned the corner, he saw Y/N singing and swaying as they mindlessly cleaned. He smiled and leaned against the wall, watching in awe. By the time they turned around and noticed him, they froze. Their face turned a deep shade of pink. "Shit," they said softly. Omid chuckled. "When's the concert?" Y/N rolled their eyes and continued cleaning. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." "It isn't a bother," he insisted. "I loved it. Keep going." Y/N turned, confused, and smiled warmly seeing the genuine joy in his eyes. "If you insist," Y/N teased, starting off by humming again. Somehow, it reminded Omid of the days before the apocalypse. The days when singing was common.

Kate: Kate hadn't heard singing in what felt like decades. As she peeked her way through the Garcia's make-shift home, she heard the humming grow louder, suddenly hearing words strike a chord through their hallway. Knocking on Y/N's door caused the sound to stop. The instant Y/N opened the door, their cheeks were bright red. "I'm so sorry, I'll keep it down-" "What were you singing?" Kate asked quietly, genuinely. "That was beautiful." Y/N hesitated. "Really?" "I haven't heard anyone sing in ages." Pleasantly, she sat down, grinning from ear to ear. "Please continue." Sheepishly, Y/N fiddled with their hands. They weren't expecting an audience.

Javier: Javi was doing his usual night rounds - bored out of his skull - until he heard what started as humming. As far as he could tell, it was coming from the playground nearby. As he drew closer, the humming grew louder until he heard words. Lyrics. Someone was actually singing. By the time he turned the corner, Y/N was belting - as noise-appropriately as possible - with one of the prettiest voices Javier had ever heard. "Wow," he said softly, snapping them out of their imaginary concert. He beamed. "Y/N, that was amazing." He wandered closer to the clearly embarrassed teen. "You've gotta start singing more." Y/N was mortified that they got caught but admired how much praise they received. "Thanks, Javi." "Only the truth." He ruffled their hair and turned away. "Don't go performing without me, now." He teased. Y/N only smiled, pride and confidence flowing.

David: David could hear Y/N, but couldn't locate them. He knew they were in one of the nearby buildings, but which one was a mystery. That was until he reached the supply building. The door was propped open a crack, and as he poked his head in, his furrowed brow began a smug, sly grin. Y/N was belting out the lyrics to one of the few rock vinyls New Richmond managed to find for their communal record player. Y/N sang their heart out, completely oblivious to David. Once they finished, Y/N nearly jumped out of their skin as David began to clap. "Amazing," he said. At first, Y/N thought ht was teasing, but he seemed genuine. Real. Honest. His gleeful smirk melted to a smile of genuine joy. "I hope you keep singing." He said sweetly. "Maybe one day we'll have a talent show and you can show that off?" Smirking again, and not wanting to embarrass them, David excused himself and closed the door behind him. He was never amazing at compliments but hoped Y/N knew, deep down, that he was being genuine.

━━━━━━

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!! ₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫   ♡    𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

[grollow]

Stealing my idea smh (I’m joking steal my idea all you want DBNSSN)

You gave me one, you can have one back! Totally wasn’t bribed to do this haha

How about Grimm (your fave I think) interacting with Revek (my fave obviously) in a friendly manner?

Since you caved and posted one of your Grevek pieces, here. Have a drabble.

graves, you see, are for the living || AO3

“Halt! – Who –?”

The figure that stopped him held a curved nail forward, to prevent his progress. Behind him spilled the Spirits’ Glade, an ancestral place of remembrance for the moth tribe; there were monuments older than most people’s memory, and certainly longer than written record there. 

He wore a hood that shrouded his face and fell over his shoulders; it disguised the tell-tale curl of his collar and the lines of his cape. He blended in, for the most part, as long as he kept his head down. There was nothing that ‘blended in’ about the unnatural glow of his eyes.

He was not supposed to be there, though. Hallownest was a kingdom with a heartbeat yet; his lantern had not been lit, and so he had no reason to visit.

Except sentiment, and what stronger one was there than that?

“Who are you? These grounds are sacred and –”

“Well-met, friend.” He did not know the bug’s name. Unfortunate. “I have permission to pass, I assure you.”

His head lifted and he offered a low, flourishing bow. Even with the hood up, if he was facing upward there was no mistaking the scarlet glow.

“By whom?”

“The Moth Tribe. Ask them, if you wish. I would be happy to wait.” 

There were not an incredibly large amount of them left, but he knew that a few yet survived. 

The other bug cocked his head to the side and then said, “I would need a name.” He was clearly contemplating whether to go and ask, though Grimm thought that he would decide against it. That did mean leaving the door unguarded, after all.

Not that he would go in without being allowed passage. He did not lie, and if he said that he was going to wait, he would.

“Ah, but you have yet to give me yours, stranger.” 

“I - It is Revek.” He was clearly taken aback by the request, though. What? Did visitors not often ask the guardian of the Glade what he was called?

He brought his claws up to his mask and chuckled quietly to himself.

“Grimm.”

“And you say the Moth Tribe allowed you passage?”

“Oh, they would not dream of refusing me it,” he answered with a little lilt to his voice that said much.

Revek did not know just how sincere that statement was. Any remaining moths would probably be absolutely petrified to refuse him, given who he was. Did he truly intend to go and ask them, though?

“What are your intentions here?”

“To pay respects to the dead. Is that not why everyone visits a mausoleum?” It was not, technically, a building – but the cavern served much the same purpose, and so the title fit. 

“Your name is unfamiliar to me,” the guardian answered and he made a little noise of acknowledgment. “I will let you pass, but accompany you. I do not trust you.” 

“So direct!” He laughed again and then said, “Come with me, then, friend. Be my eager guide. I will ask you questions and marvel at your knowledge of the new additions since my last visit. Perhaps you’ve a story to tell that I have not heard? I do so love to collect them."

“ …I’m just making sure that you do not plan to –”

“To what? Desecrate the stones? Oh, do not be silly. I have more respect for the dead than you can possibly imagine. Come. Show me around,” Grimm hummed and then he circled past the other bug.

They fell into step walking together and Grimm pushed his hood back with one claw. It fell onto his shoulders, hanging over the top of his cape. He circled past some of the closest headstones. The oldest ones were further back, and he moved with a purpose in that direction.

“Death,” he told his companion, “is a stepping stone. So many fear it and what comes after. But it is not the end, not truly. The only real death is to be completely forgotten; to have no one left in the world who recalls your name.”

Revek made a noise of acknowledgement, but did not actually respond. That was fine. He wasn’t talking necessarily to receive responses.

“Memories, though… they condense. They become something else, when we are gone. Or when we are not, sometimes. Memories are powerful things. Most people underestimate them.”

“Are you some kind of spiritualist?” Revek asked. “Come to stare at graves and pretend to commune with the dead?”

“You do not see them, do you?” Grimm turned, then, and swept one hand around. There were phantoms all about the Glade, as there always were. “Someday you will, and you will question the logic of saying it is ‘pretend.’ There is always more to the world than meets the eye. Ah, but I digress: you might say I am a bit of a spiritualist, yes. A magician of sorts.” 

Revek looked to his side, then admitted, “The moths tell me that there are echoes in this place of the restless dead, lingering memories of dreams. You are saying that you can see them, too?” 

“Of course. We are ever bound to our duty, and in many ways, death is one of mine.”

“How so?”

“You will find out some day.” 

He heard a scoff behind him and laughed. He had the impression that the guardian of the Glade was entirely too serious for his own good. How unfortunate – there were so many things in life worth enjoying. Spending all of one’s time wound so tightly. What a crime.

“Are you looking for an area in particular?” Revek asked him. 

“Perhaps.” 

“I might know where it is. I can direct you. You did ask for me to be your guide.”

“I was teasing. I know the layout well. This is not my first visit.”

Revek scoffed and said, “I have been guarding this Glade for a long time and I have never seen you.”

“No? Perhaps it was longer than I thought. Or maybe you have forgotten me.”

Revek shook his head. “Those eyes are not eyes one easily forgets.”

“Oh, stop. You will turn my head with talk like that.” 

He approached the waterfall on the opposite end, the stream pooling prettily on polished stones. Even without regular maintenance, that would always be clear. There was something incredibly charming about that. “Have you been here? To the other side?”

His question was answered with a head tilt. 

“The cave. Oh, the great guardian does not know? Come with me, then. I will show you.” 

And then he dashed across the water, flying rather than walking, and straight through the falls – into the cavern on the other side. He waited there, barely visible for the cascade, for the guardian to join him. 

Splash. Revek collapsed on the other side, over-shooting the distance, and he looked down at him with his arms crossed.

“Very graceful.”

“I did not ask your opinion.” 

“Oh, grumpy, too.” 

He held his hand out, then, invitingly. Revek grunted, but took it and allowed him to pull him to his feet. Grimm reached over, then, and brushed a leaf from his face before saying, “Now you know a secret that others do not. And are secrets not wonderful things to share?”

“What is this place?”

“One of the oldest tombs here,” Grimm hummed. He circled to the centre where a moth statue stood and then stopped in front of it. “The one I came to see.”

Revek followed and stopped behind him. He didn’t ask the question, but Grimm knew what it was just the same.

“Why would I know this, you wonder. Graves, you see, are for the living. The dead have no use for such things, but the memories we imbue them with– they act as a memorial for us, a place to talk to those we loved, those we lost, those we think we will never see again. They come in many forms. Statues. Headstones.” His voice dropped, then, and he said, “Songs and poetry. Immortalise us all in their own way, hm?” 

“That is a lot of words to say that you do not agree with the practice.”

“Presumptuous, are we not? I never said anything of the sort. The monument of memories is something I have a great of respect for. But am I wrong? To point out the fallacy in thinking these things serve any purpose, except to act as comfort for the living?” 

Revek crossed his arms.

“Do what you came here to do.”

“I fear I have touched a nerve. Have you loved ones buried in this Glade? That you seek to protect the memory of? Or –”

“You did not come here to talk to me on the nature of life and death.”

Grimm smiled, then, and then admitted, “No. I did not. But I find your devotion to this task interesting. You would guard other people’s memories? Or your own?”

“My duty is ever my own and I owe you no explanation.”

“You take it seriously,” Grimm mused, kneeling in front of the statue. He shifted around the lower part of the hood that fell over his shoulders until he found a pocket, and then removed a small gemstone that was clear and brilliant. He laid it at the foot and then said, “That means that I will see you again, on my next visit.” 

Revek rolled his eyes and turned around to put his hand over his face.

“Do you plan to make a habit of visiting often?”

Hmm. He lifted one claw and brushed it across the statue, circling around. 

“No. But time is an approximation when recollection is all that remains. We will see, I think, how sincere your words are.”

“How sincere?” Revek turned around to look at him – 

But where he stood, only a lingering crimson smoke remained; Grimm was gone.

And the guardian was left with disembodied echoing words of, “About how memorable my eyes are.”