#it makes me feel sick that all of these children and wonderful people are killed by gun violence

[salvia-plathitudes]

They want to make an example of him because he’s a hero to the public, and to intimidate him as well.

They surround him with as many as they can to send a message to their accused. It’s only you and all of us.

Why do they keep accidentally making him look like the coolest person alive don’t they want us to hate him

[vhstown]

please stop scrolling and take the time to read this.

i don't think people understand the extent of the horror happening in palestine right now. "death" means nothing to people because of desensitisation so let me just tell you what white phosphorus is. it's being used in israeli munitions and has been and will continue to be fired across gaza and the palestinian borders.

white phosphorus burns when it comes into contact with oxygen (at nearly 800°C or 1500°F. the human body can withstand ~50°C for reference.) the air you breathe in ignites and it is near impossible extinguish. it sticks to clothing and skin and is very difficult to remove because it will continue to ignite in air. it burns flesh up to the bone and even past the bone because it penetrates tissue and is absorbed VERY easily. if you inhale it it'll destroy your respiratory tract and lungs. it can cause failure in multiple organs including the liver, kidneys and heart. it is being released in one of the most densely populated places on earth.

the only way to treat someone exposed to white phosphorus is to submerge them in saline or water and to pick out the substance with forceps, and when you undress a wound the substance can re-ignite. this is just ONE weapon that is being used to kill palestinian people right now. palestine does not have access to medical care, humanitarian aid, power, or internet. their hospitals are being bombed. gaza is one of the most densely populated places in the world with over 50% of the population being children. many children are the sole survivors of their families. there are videos of children experiencing panic attacks and symptoms of ptsd. the fact that israel has committed war crimes in plain sight means that we can only imagine what will happen to the palestinians in complete darkness.

israel has and will continue to deny this. your interests and fandom will still be here, you will wake up tomorrow morning and see your friends and family, but an entire nation of people are being wiped off the map. being silent is being complacent. reblog, spread information, tell people in real life, attend protests, sign petitions, call your government offices, at the very least be angry and upset and horrified because once you become numb and indifferent and hopeless the oppressors will have already won.

what's happening right now is more than a genocide and once it becomes a part of history we'll wonder how the world let this happen. genocides have been part of all nations. just because it is far away does not mean you don't have to be concerned. the fact that YOUR governments and YOUR idols and the people around YOU are supporting the mass eradication of an entire group of people should scare you. it shouldn't make you feel anything less than sick and angry and disgusted. DO something about it, no matter how small you feel your voice is, because palestinians no longer have one.

[edit] links to some helpful reblogs: one & two

post on how you can help palestine

learn about palestine with this masterlist of info

+ a further reblog of mine

[edit 2] about palestinians "not having a voice" at the time i wrote this post internet connection was cut off entirely and even journalists weren't able to report for a period of time — that is all i meant by that. they of course have a voice and i never meant to undermine how people are risking their lives in gaza to get information out there and i apologise if thats what people took from it, it was not my intention but it is entirely my bad. please continue to spread information and updates from gaza as they come.

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[agoodflyting]

Good Omens Historical Trivia That's Haunting Me Today...

So we all know A.Z. Fell & Co is located on the fictitious Whickber Street in Soho and was established in 1800.

Aziraphale has run the shop ever since then and was in contact with Crowley at least until the 1820's when they took their little jaunt to Edinburgh and Crowley got sucked down the tube slide to Hell. They meet up again no later than the 1860's, when Crowley asks for Holy Water.

Stands to reason that between the 1820's and 1860's Aziraphale was in Soho doing Aziraphale things. Running his bookshop. Eating tiny cakes

Yeah... you know what else was going on in Soho during that time?

The worst cholera epidemic in London history.

If you don't know, cholera is a deadly bacterial infection caused by drinking contaminated water. Prior to the 1850's humans weren't really sure what caused cholera, but they knew it was terrifying and also that it was absolutely epidemic in big cities.

TW: this is gross - The main symptoms of cholera are agonizing stomach pain and non-stop watery diarrhea, eventually leading to the skin turning blue due to the thickening of blood from severe dehydration. Patients can lose more than 20% of their body weight in hours as they quite literally evacuate every drop of water in their bodies until they die of heart failure. - OK gross part over

Cholera symptoms show up as short as 5 hours after infection and could kill within as little as 12 hours. Cholera was especially terrifying because of how quickly and painfully it killed you, and because the patient maintained mental clarity up until the point of death. More than half of the people who contracted cholera died within a few days after consuming the bacteria-contaminated water.

And guess what water had cholera bacteria in it?

The public water pump on Broad Street in Soho in August of 1854

And this wasn't one of those epidemics that starts slowly and drags on. It hit like a bomb. It killed 600 Soho residents in ten days.

That's roughly 60 people a day in a 3-4 block area. Most of them died at home because the disease struck too quickly for them to to make it to a hospital. Survivors described hearses stacked with coffins 4-5 high going down the street nonstop all day long during the outbreak. Entire families were wiped out overnight.

What does that have to do with Good Omens?

Aziraphale's book shop was right in the epicenter of this outbreak.

Neil Gaiman has been pretty free about the fact that Whickber Street is a thinly veiled expy of the real Berwick Street in Soho.

This is a famous map showing the 1854 Soho Cholera epidemic. I highlighted Berwick Street and the public water pump that was the center of the contagion. The black bars (I circled a few in blue) on the map designate deaths. The thicker the black bar, the more people died in that particular house.

51 people died the week of the cholera outbreak on Aziraphale's Street alone.

Cholera was one of those diseases that provoked a lot of panic, not just because of how fast and painful it was, but because of the way it didn't follow common conventions about class or age. Children died while the elderly survived (often because the elderly had no one to gather water for them). Lower class houses were spared while their middle class landlords died. Churches were packed that week, because people in Soho had no idea who would get sick next. The epidemic pretty much burned itself out in a week and a half, since by that point everyone who drank the water had already died. I have to wonder what our resident Angel was up to during that time. Obviously cholera can't hurt him, but that's his neighborhood. There's no way hundreds of people, including entire families with children, are dying painfully in his neighborhood and Aziraphale doesn't notice. That means that in between this scene:

And this one:

Aziraphale would have watched one of the worst disease outbreaks in London history play out right outside his front door. I feel like there's great potential for a good story there if anyone better than me wants to write it.

[the-artist-grimm]

Did the couple meme finally! Modified the layout just to add more little notes. Also drew Anthea and Narinder having their typical reactions to seeing each other :3

(As a note for the sliders Anthea's color is RED and Narinder's is BLACK)

Also little facts under the cut!

Anthea

Anthea is short as heck and while they complain about it jokingly they do like how Narinder can just encompass them into hugs/carry them around easily

Borrows all the clothes cause comfy

Loves pet-names, if you can't read the text Anthea calls Narinder Nari, but also Honey, Love, Dear, Kitty, and Baby

Pretty much good with people so Anthea is a bit of an extrovert

Affection via words and actions all at once

Anthea and Narinder both confessed on the night they reconciled, at first Anthea had no plans to since they had tried to keep what the gift they'd been working on that caused the misunderstanding vague, but just decided to tell Narinder it was a courtship sash, and both confessions snowballed from there

Anthea feels just a little bad about killing bugs so Narinder's job

Cars don't exist but if they did Anthea would prefer letting Narinder do it most of the time

Can cook just fine

Big on PDA but only if chaste-so little kisses, holding hands, hugs and leaning on each other

Somewhat overprotective but not extremely so

Very much a bi-disaster. This lamb was a bit too young to think of dating while their village was around, then raised by a group of old knuckle-bones playing men while kinda in hiding till their 20s they have ZERO experience with crushes. When followers their age occasional approach with confessions or get a little too flirty Anthea has no idea how to handle it lol

Doesn't really get jealous

Flustered as heck when alone with Narinder sometimes, they were not expecting him to be as forward in private as he can be. Not that they mind of course-they just gotta wrap their head around how Narinder can be all shy in public, but the second they're alone at home he's all in on the sweet words and touches, very needy cat that one. They also are getting used to being put first so it's this wonderful mix of overstimulation

Narinder

Tall as heck and very much pleased about taking advantage of that-he enjoys how easy it is to just hold Anthea

Anthea's clothes cannot fit him but he doesn't mind, they look cute stealing his things-plus it makes them smell like him which scratches an instincts itch in his brain

Uses pet-names but kinda like old-fashioned pet names. Love, Heart, Angel, Dearest, Sunshine

Introverted as HECK this man cannot do social situations

Affection through actions cause he's not always great with words, so giving little gifts or just being next to Anthea

After Anthea revealed the gift they'd planned had been a courtship sash Narinder went through like 20 stages of grief then a rapid-fire desperate 'I need to say something NOW' as they tried to play it off as a 'I know you likely never saw me like that it was a bit more symbolic but-' thing. He just straight up said 'I love you' and it snowballed from there.

Kinda finds Anthea-a god-killer of 5, being slightly afraid of and feeling bad for bugs cute

Would drive the call all the time cause it's just easier

Really likes cooking once he's taught, it's peaceful and fulfilling.

Can be shy but does like PDA, same as Anthea he prefers to keep things chaste though, but does get a little thrill at being able to publicly reaffirm they're his

Overprotective as heck the lamb gets better at not dying but he still hates when they do.

Zero relationship experience AT ALL this man's never even had a crush before. Demi as heck he never got close enough to a person for it, so with Anthea he actually thought he was sick for a bit at first.

Part of him does still worry about being left behind so he does get jealous-he's working on it though. The only people who do not ever make Narinder jealous is the twins because well seeing his spouse and their children just makes his heart go very very soft. Anthea can spend a whole day with just the twins and Narinder's just in the background purring happily at the domesticity.

When it comes to intimacy Narinder very much enjoys seeing Anthea enjoy themselves first since after bottling up his feelings for so long, now that he has the lamb he wants to ensure they know exactly how much he loves them/remind them how much they're cared for

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[wutheringcaterpillar]

An Unfair Loss

Summary: Thomas realizes that his results were switched with yours, and you had developed the curse Ruby had.

-Based off season 6 finale.

-Kinda proofread, kinda didn't. I feel like this was kinda rushed but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of suicide

Gun to his temple, he cocked it, ready to fire until he heard an all too familiar voice, his little Ruby.

Looking out into the field of green, he saw his baby girl running toward him with her small legs. He met her halfway pulling her into his warm embrace.

“Did Aunt Polly send you? Oh it feels so wonderful to have you in my arms one last time.” Tommy was panting, and the little girl held him tight so he knew she was really there before she spoke.

“You’re not even sick daddy.”

“But I am my darling. I’m closer to death as we speak.” The child shook her head vigorously, looking in the distance before turning back to her dad.

“No daddy not true, you’ve got to live, for Y/N.” Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what she was trying to say.

“What do you mean? Her exams came back clean Ruby. What do you-“ She guided her arm to the side, her hand pointing over at the fire. Thomas followed her gaze.

“It’s in the papers daddy. I’ve got to go.” She hugged her father once more, before vanishing in the distance in the field of grass and scattered flowers. Tommy watched, wishing that he had been faster, and had been a better dad in not putting business first but his family first. He wasn’t sure that he was doing that now, since he rushed off not telling you or anyone else where he was going, but he was sure that everyone assumed what he set off to do.

The corner of the paper flowed in the wind underneath the piles of sticks on top of them. His daughter may have been young, but deep down Thomas knew she was smart, far too brilliant for her age, so who was he to doubt her.

Standing up on his feet, his legs felt like jelly as he made his way over to the pit. He picked up the ripped page, eyeing it conspicuously. He took note of Oswald and his wife, and then looked at the bigger picture, and what he saw he couldn’t believe. His doctor, whom he trusted with his own health, was standing next to them in a photograph.

“Son of a bitch.” He didn’t waste one moment before he began to run on foot to the man’s house.

Alfred turned to get in his car, that was not working. “What the hell, how did-“ When he went to close the door Thomas’s arm was wrapped around his neck while he pointed the gun at the side of his temple. Alfred stumbled in his grip, trying to get out but Tommy was far too strong for him to take on.

“You’ve been my doctor for three years now, didn’t realize how well connected you were Alfred. You made me believe I was going to die soon, and knew that I’d rather off myself. Made me believe my wife was in good health. That’s me assuming that’s who you switched my results with eh?” He tightened his grip around the man’s small, fragile throat, making his voice strained when he responded.

“Ye-Yes.”

Thomas forced him onto the hard ground on his knees, while at a fast pace me moved his gun toward the front of the scared man’s face, resting it upon his forehead and cocking it.

“Wait! Wait! You and your wife are both sick. The amount of people you have killed in cold blood and the both of you just stood by, not explaining yourselves to the grieving families.” Tommy rolled his eyes in response, hardening the gun to the man’s head.

“But- but, I think because of your children and your family, you are a changed man. You’re not going to shoot me Tommy.” A dark chuckle escaped from Tommy’s plush, pale lips.

“You see that’s where you’re wrong I am. I’m a changed man until it involves my fucking wife, and my fucking children, Alfred.” In an instant, the echo of his gun firing swam through the neighborhood. People looked through their windows to see what had happened but immediately escaped their windows once they realized it was Thomas Shelby.

Patting down his suite, he exited the property, and walked back to the home he shared with you.

As he walked in the quaint weather, he couldn’t help but watch kids running around, and notice happy families. Why was it he never got to be happy? Grace was taken away, Lizzie was too much, but you? He had never seen a woman be such an amazing mother to his children or treat him the way you did. He knew it was unfair of him to run off on you, not saying a word but he was trying to protect you in not seeing him wither away. Who knew it would be him having to watch you slowly deteriorate.

-

“Mummy! Mummy! Daddy’s home?” Charlie heard her and came rushing down the stairs to look out the window.

“Milly we’ve talked about this he-“ You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You stopped putting away the laundry and approached the living room quickly. Maybe someone had news of Thomas’s whereabouts, or worse maybe he was dead.

When you passed through the doorway, you felt like you were looking at a ghost, a panicked ghost at that. There your husband stood, like nothing had happened and everything was okay. He was still dressed in his suit but looked like he was rummaging through his mind conflicted and pained.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, my love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from running to him and jumping in his arms, hugging him. He smelt like he had been drinking combined with a hint of grass on his clothes. Your arms being wrapped around him once again felt surreal, and warm. You felt complete and couldn’t stop the water brimming at your eyelids, it had been weeks since you touched him, or seen him and your whole body couldn’t find the will to let go of him, not again.

He patted your back soothingly as he watched Charlie and Milly over your shoulder, they had looked confused as to why you would be crying but happy. He felt terrible watching their innocent eyes, and knowing what he knows now about your inevitable death that was soon to come, and it scared him of the thought he’d be the only parent they had, once again.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here now darling, I’m not going anywhere ever again, eh?” You nodded into the crook of his dampened neck; your tears had soaked. Tommy was glad they were joyful tears, but he knew that his news would change everything momentarily.

“Charlie, Milly, can you go upstairs I need to talk to your mum privately. I’ll be up in a moment, alright?” You sunk down from his grip and wiped away your tears, looking up at him with those loving, endearing eyes that always managed to brighten his day.

He guided you to the table, taking a seat next to you and folding his hands. When you looked at him he looked, lost like you’d never seen him before but you waited patiently to talk. His hand grazed across to the wooden table before it rest on top of yours, intertwining his fingers.

“My darling, you’re sick, very sick.” You looked at him confused, not catching onto what he meant.

“Ruby visited me today, I think Pol sent her. I left to kill myself and she stopped me, she stopped me and made realize Alfred’s intentions. I’m unsure of if you’ve been reading the paper but there is a photo of him standing with Mosley. I found him and he admitted to switching our results.” Realization sat in, and you leaned back against the chair in defeat. It explain why you’ve not been feeling well, why you’ve been hearing things, seeing things that had no explanation. A part of you had convinced yourself it was because you were adjusting the the thought of Thomas being dead.

“I- But how did-“ He tightened his grip on your hand, pursing his lips together as he had felt he had failed in being the man he was meant to be for you. If he had just not taken the easy way out and disappearing, if he had paid closer attention to the small details before Ruby had gotten sick this could have been avoided.

Thomas felt as if he was breaking at the seams. How did he not see it, how did he miss all the signs?

His heart was breaking inside as he watched you sitting across the table, head buried in your hands while you cried a river. You didn’t want him to see you like this, so weak, and broken.

“Oh god the kids, they-they’ve seen me like this, they’ve been seeing me like this. I don’t want them to anymore. I -I can’t bear the thought of them finding me-“ You couldn’t find the ability to complete that sentence.

Milly and Charlie meant the world to you, and it was hard enough losing Ruby and Thomas, well Thomas had lost everyone and here you sat being added to the list.

“Darling, you know as well as I do there is no cure for a gypsy curse.” It had taken you quite a while to understand Thomas’s upbringing, but you had always put in the time and effort to ask questions, and take interest. Throughout the years being married to him, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind about there being no cure if Thomas said there wasn’t. You never questioned him after Ruby.

-

Tommy’s pov

-

Tonight was an awful night, and I had never felt more weak than I did now. I watched her as she lay in bed, her skin was pale, lips cracked. She was shivering, and she had lost the ability to remember things. I had asked her just the other day if she knew where she was, she didn’t. Somehow, someway she managed to remember the childrens names, but not that she was Milly’s mum, or that Charlie considered her as a mum. Do you know what that does to a man?

Watching your wife slowly wilt away and lose her sanity. Not being able to do anything about it. It’s gut wrenching and it was a pain I had never felt before. I often found when she needed something I would escort myself out of the room, check on the children, and find a place to shed my tears where no one could see, I wanted to be strong for her, for them.

Y/N, has sacrificed her entire life in watching over them, making sure they were fed, clothed, bathed, and taught the simplicities of life. Yet she still always found the time and the effort for our marriage. She worked wonders, and is very bright, brighter than the moon on a clear, quiet night. The amount of weight she had lost from not eating. My wife looked unrecognizable but still beautiful as always.

The delusions had gotten worse, she began to hallucinate at dinner, and the children saw it.

“Who are you people, where am I?” I watched as fear settled within her wide eyes.

“Y/N darling-“ She stood up from the table frantically, searching for a familiar face, and looking at the people she didn’t recognize. She took the glass of water from the table and threw it at the painted wall, shattering it into a million little pieces, making the kids jump in their seats.

I pushed the chair back rushing over to her before she hurt herself or someone else in this room.

That’s when she turned slowly, almost with what seemed like a dead gaze before her arm slowly extended until it pointed toward the empty hallway. I followed her gaze, freezing in my tracks not wanting to frighten her. There was nothing there.

“He’s here.” I looked back to her with calm eyes, hands out so she knew I wouldn’t do anything to her.

“Honey, there’s nothing there.” She shook her at a vigorous rate, disagreeing with me and she began to back into the wall as I approached her with ease.

“Daddy what’s wrong with mummy?” What was I supposed to say to them? That their mother’s delusional, they had already known she was falling of illness. I glanced over to them quickly while my hands rested on Y/N’s flailing wrists.

“Charlie, Milly go to your rooms.” They hadn’t moved, and Milly began to cry.

She was too young to understand at her ripe age of two years old. I looked at Charlie with expectant eyes. I depended on him and I didn’t mean to put all the weight on his shoulders to look after Milly but what choice did I have when I had to take care of their mother, my wife. A man can only handle so much at one time.

“Charlie! Go with Milly, now!” Charlie jolted up out of his seat, grabbing Milly in his arms before running up the stairs with her. Once I heard the door close my attention averted back to Y/N. I watched as she was struggling for air and still screaming at the top of her lungs, her body shaking. I gripped her wrists as I felt that being calm maybe was not the best decision to get across to her that no monster, no ememy, nothing was in the room. Just me, her husband. It killed me withing  knowing that this was something I had no control over, I couldn’t offer her protection from her own mind.

“Y/N! Look at me!” She stayed frantic and I began to shake her gently.

“Hey! It’s alright! It’s alright! Nothing’ there! Look, please my love!” She shook her head vigorously for a moment more before she opened her eyes once I rested my hands on her warm cheeks. Hesitantly, she peered her frightened eyes open, looking up at me for reassurance that it was safe. I nodded to her, and she must have still had an ounce of trust in me as she cautiously poked her head around my shoulder.

She released a held in breath, and began to cry one more as her body collapsed against my chest.

“I’m tired Tommy. I’m tired, I’m-I’m scared.” She hiccupped, and I began to brush my fingers through her hair as I held the back of her head.

“I just want everything to end, to go away. I can’t do this anymore.” Her back was spasming, and her first was clutched into my shirt, holding on for dear. She was ready to let go, she had given up but the problem was, this curse wasn’t that easy to put to an end. It would take you when it was ready, it didn’t care how broken down she was, this curse was about pain, suffering, breaking down a person to their lowest level. I knew at that moment the end was beginning and it was far nearer than I was ready for.

“I know darling. I know.” I couldn’t tell her to keep fighting, what point would that contain? There was no cure for this curse, and I wish I could find one, because until then I must watch my wife die slowly and cruelly.

I held her in my arms as she shivered and sweated at the same time. “Y/N, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” You didn’t nod or anything showing a response to him. The delusions that began a few weeks ago made you question whether Thomas was even your husband, if you even knew who this man holding you was at times. Fear fulfilled you but you found it best not to move and lay there limp as your body was in indescribable pain.

2 Weeks Later

It was a Wednesday when she had passed in my arms.

A small shimmer of sunlight had peaked between the curtains from the morning sky, settling on her still beautiful face. I combed a strand of hair behind her hair, admiring her perfect face before I had realized.

“Y/N?” She didn’t speak in return, and out of disparity I pulled her body in between my arms, embracing her now lifeless body, unable to hold back tears. They came flooding out, running down my cheeks, soaking the thin shirt she had been wearing, I had never felt more vulnerable and lost in my entire being. This was a loss I wasn’t prepared for. Nobody is truly prepared for death, but I wept. I wept and for once I prayed, I prayed that our children did not hear me.

I wasn’t ready to confront them, how was I supposed to tell Milly her mom was gone, how was I supposed to tell Charlie that now his second mother, was dead. My heart went out to our children, they were well behaved, innocent, and just so young and oblivious to the troubles of being an adult. Bless their heart. They were great kids, but I owe it all to you, my dear Y/N.

I telephoned Ada, settling my breath and trying to regain composure. She had answered right away.

“Thomas.” I sniffled in response, brushing away the snot that coated my skin with my sleeve.

“Ada, she’s gone.” The line was silent, assuming she was trying to think of something to make me feel better or make this process easier. I looked back at my wife once more and tried to tell myself, she was sleeping peacefully, it’s an odd feeling that’s indescribable when faced with your dead spouse, just completely still. It had felt like her soul and her being had already left the room, already making the house feel strange to me.

“I’ll be right over. Tommy, I’m so sorry.” I nodded to myself, once again being lost for words and hung up the phone. Should I lay here with her until Ada gets here? Should I go inform Charlie and Milly now? But if I do that, would they try to break into the room? Would they start crying and screaming to see you? Should they see you? My mind was roaming every which way, how do I know what do? You were always the smart one in our marriage.

The children didn’t understand, and I was grateful that Polly tended to Milly and Charlie while I arranged the funeral exactly how Y/N had wanted it.

The venue was closed casket, she did not want a gypsy funeral and she didn’t want the children to see her in that way. It was a close knit group of friends and family per her request in the backyard of the fortress we had built together.

I had the children at my side, dressed in black, and I had Ada braid Milly’s hair as she complained endlessly about it. That was when I saw my dear friend Alfie

“Thomas she was a wonderful woman, she cared for you and understood you inside and out, in a way I don’t think anyone ever has. Sometimes life has chosen to take people from us, and we can never understand why, eh? I nodded, still holding Charlie and Milly’s hands.

“Just know she’s in a better place mate? Alright?” I nodded in response and escorted the children toward the casket. I couldn’t help but feel my breath hitch in my throat, knowing she was in there, a part of me wanted to look but I wouldn’t as I wanted to respect her wishes.

The funeral began, everyone gathering in a small circle. Alfie spoke nothing but kind words and cracked a few jokes here and there to lighten the moods of not only the adults but the kids. It couldn’t stop the feeling of loss everyone had felt. As each person spoke, I realized it was now my turn. I gave Charlie and Milly a hug before I had spoke.

“Where can I even begin to honor this amazing woman. She gave me life, love, laughs, all the things I didn’t think were possible after I came home from the war. She struck something within me as she did to all of us. Her parenting skills and the patience she carried were beyond belief, and beyond anything I could be capable of. She made me learn that life isn’t about losing or winning, it’s not about money or business deals. It’s about family, being there for each other through a difficult time and I want to thank every one of you who came and-“

“Daddy can I say something?” Charlie spoke up interrupting me and my thoughts. I cued him to go ahead.

“Y/N might not have been my mom, but I loved her, and I hate that she’s gone. Life’s not fair, and I wonder why I can’t ever have a mom, but Y/N taught me that life works in mysterious ways and it’s okay to be sad sometimes, it’s what you do with that sadness that matters.” I felt my tears brimming at the rim but clenched my jaw, holding back my emotions for everyone here. I bent down and hugged Charlie telling him how well he did. Milly was in tears and I picked her up into my arms, cradling her before I excused myself into the house with them as I felt we needed a moment alone to be a family.

Later that night…

Once I tucked the children into bed and everyone had left, I felt lost. The person I shared my life with wasn’t home anymore and would never be again.

I closed the bedroom door and locked it. I can’t understand or find the meaning behind Y/N’s life coming to an end so soon. I weakly, opened the bottle of wine that sat atop the dresser while my mind was beginning to go frantic. I didn’t know the kids schedules like you, I didn't know what they liked to eat and what not or even if they were allergic to anything. What if I hospitalize them, or they get hurt on my watch in the way that Y/N and Ruby both did. What if I can’t protect them? How am I supposed to raise Charlie and Milly on my own when I don’t even know these little things about them because of business.

Cracking open the bottle I spilled the sweet alcohol down my throat, it’s taste quenching my nerves but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, as if it could replace the void in my heart.

I found myself rummaging through the drawers, tears brimming at the sight of her clothes lying next to mine but I stopped when I noticed a piece of paper, hanging out of one of her pockets.

“My dear Thomas,

                Don’t be sad, we knew the day would come sooner or later. It may feel like there is no reason to move forward but there is. Look after Charlie and Milly, they need their father, and they love you very much. Remind them every day that I am with them in their hearts, as I am with you. I wouldn’t trade our story for the world because you, Thomas Shelby, complete me. You’ve grown so much, and improved, you put your family first over business though it took quite some time, but you made that change for us. Don’t lose sight of who we are, who you are and what we’ve built. I know you’re scared but I believe in you Tommy, as I always have since day one. Before everything went wrong and I lost my mind I wrote down everything you could possibly be unsure about of the kids schedules, their meal times, doctors. Etc. You’ve got this my love, I promise you, you guys are going to be okay and I will still be around even if you don’t see me.

                                Love Dearly,

                                                Y/N”

I hung my head in disbelief, I don't know where I'd be or where to begin without Y/N. She seems to always think of everything, and every possible situation. I love her dearly, and I could never imagine re marrying or being with another woman after her.

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem! Reader Part 2

Part 2 of Lute x Sinner Reader story yaaaay

Over the last few months, the hotel has been in what you can only describe as organized chaos. The hotel gained a new resident in Sir Pentious who was a spy for the Vee’s and then wasn’t or something. Charlie reassured you constantly that Pentious was not working for the Vee’s anymore and you had nothing to worry about.

But those sick fucks have been chasing you for longer than any of the other overlords so you’d rather be more safe than sorry. 

After that particular event, you started to feel less safe in the hotel. 

You heard Vox, he tried to infiltrate the only place where you’ve felt safe since you got to the literal hell hole and he tried to send in a fucking spy who Charlie just let walk in instantly after he had attacked the hotel twice.

Who knows what would have happened to you….all of you if Angel Dust hadn’t seen him planting those stupid cameras? 

You love Charlie, she’s nice and she gave you a place to stay. Being mad at her is like being mad at a puppy but all you could keep thinking about for the rest of the month was wondering if Vox saw you.

If the Vee’s know where you are.

If they’ll come looking for you.

What they might do to you if they do catch you.

You had a close call with Velvette one time and one time was enough for the rest of your afterlife. Bitch tried to color-match your fucking fur! You’re pretty sure the only reason you got away was because she was drunk off her British ass.

Vaggie could tell right away that there was something wrong with you and tried to reassure you.

“He didn’t see you Chesh”

She whispered approaching you slowly. 

“You don’t know that boss! What if he did? He could be on his way right now with the other two and he already beat the radio demon once! I need to lea-”

Vaggie cut off your rant by placing her hand on your shoulder gently and pushing you down to sit on the couch.

“Charlie and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We promised when you started staying here that we’d keep you safe and we will. You don’t need to run.”

“Thanks, boss… I’m sorry for freaking out. It just really shook me up, I guess.”

You mumbled out, blushing at how pathetic you sound. 

You may not remember much about your life but you’re pretty sure you died sometime in your 20’s. Yet here you are whimpering pathetically and having to get comforted over a fucking video camera. 

After that incident you became more jumpy, every sound put you on edge, and it was worse whenever you were around any form of technology that didn’t look like it was from before the 1980s.

The others tried their best to calm you down in their own ways. Angel Dust started leaving his phone in his room because you’d flinch every time he got a text or phone call from Valentino. 

“Don’t make a big deal outa it, he was annoying me too.”

Husk would keep your favorite booze on standby at all times, when you’d thank him he’d simply grin at you and say, 

“Us feline demons got to stick together.”

Alastor was happy to throw out any and every piece of technology that would make you tense up even slightly, which included most of Pentious’ weapons and very nearly his airship. 

He obviously wasn’t doing it for you but it still felt nice.

“Don’t worry my friend! I’ll happily get rid of these infernal contraptions! I’ve always believed they lacked class anyway.”

Pentious recognized his part in your new-found anxiety and tried to gain your trust by handing his machines to Alastor with many, many, many tears.

“I am more than happy to…give up my arsenal as an apology for invading your persssssonal boundariessss.” He’d hissed out while trying to hold his tears back.

You couldn’t really be mad at him after that.

Nifty even volunteered to go out and ‘hunt phones’ for you.

You said no but that didn’t stop her from bringing you the….remains of some people’s phones.

 “Sometimes I kill mother phones in front of their children as a warning to the other phones!”

“Niffty phones don’t have mothers.”

“Hehe, not anymore…”

Charlie was actually very happy to see how the others stepped in to help you and she was very proud of them even if their methods were…unorthodox.

But that lead her into a spiral. She was desperately trying to figure out why the hotel wasn’t working even though everybody showed considerable improvement.

This leads to her talking with her dad, which somehow leads to you being here in heaven.

“Um, boss why exactly am I here?”

You ask Vaggie nervously, glancing around at the pastel clouds around you. God you haven’t seen pastels in years.

Vaggie looks over at you and sighs, “Well Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to go out with the others and you wouldn’t like to stay in the hotel alone so this was the best option.”

You nod, understanding her point but on the other hand.

“And the…exorcists?”

Vaggie’s shoulders tense for a moment before she looks away from you and mumbles, “I have a feeling they won’t do anything even if we do run into them.”

You want to ask more questions but decide against it, today was stressful enough as it is without you asking stupid questions. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You whisper following behind Vaggie and Charlie as they enter the gates of heaven after another fucking song. 

Is it just you? Are you the weird one? Should you be singing more often?

The three of you follow behind the two seraphim, Emily and Sera, while they give you a tour of heaven. Charlie looks completely enamored by the place but Vaggie looks annoyed, as if the pastel clouds had offended her personally.

And you…well honestly you feel a little underwhelmed.

Heaven looks like a glorified mall so far, a mall with strippers because there are way more people walking around shirtless than you thought there would be. 

So you keep trailing behind Vaggie, Charlie, and the angels when you see someone who looks familiar.

She’s a cat demon like you, same color pallet and everything, except she seems much shorter and has a pair of pastel-blue angel wings coming out of her back.

You end up drifting away from the group and start following the small cat angel through the crowds. 

Eventually, you get close enough to reach out and tap her but when you’re about to get her attention you feel a firm hand on your shoulder and you get pulled away roughly and pinned to one of the walls.

You’re completely disoriented for a moment and then you hear a familiar annoying voice.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

You look up to see Adam and Lute, Adam has a wide smirk on his face and Lute looks….wow.

She’s not wearing her helmet so this time you get to admire her completely.

You’d probably be happier about her pinning you to a wall if she wasn’t also holding a giant spear to your neck.

Then again…-

Yeah, it’s still pretty hot.

[justanotherlifeff]

Use of an unrequited love

Sukuna x reader [Final part of “Love is Meaningless” and “Posession”]

[Trigger warning: Kinda rapey and borderline non con. Sukuna is a red flag. Sukuna has some very backdated views on how women should dress. Sukuna is the trigger warning]

You always had these vivid dreams your entire life. Dreams that seemed awfully real despite being inexplicably blurry. You remember a time before you were born, before anyone you know existed. You remember a small hut, a decent family, a village full of friendly people. You remember a cave near the forests, the smell of homecooked food in a bento box, the sound of water at a passing by stream, the feeling of wet grass on your bare feet. You remember crimson eyes, a blurry figure, and an intense feeling of love. You remember so much, the sensations, the smell, the taste, and yet, you couldn’t remember who that man was, the one that took your heart for himself. You remember helplessness, fear, and pain from being stabbed and it all goes blank each time. And then, you woke up to face reality, as you always do after these dreams. However, this time you were looking into those crimson eyes that had always existed in those unreachable dreams.

You didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was being hit in the head while trying to fight Sukuna after he took over Megumi’s body. However, you were definitely terrified, given the fact that in the traditional Japanese room with you was the king of curses himself, waiting for you to wake up with an unreadable expression on his face.

How adorable, he thought, when you regained consciousness and had that look of abject horror. To think you of all people would look at him this way someday. Fate truly was laughably cruel. “I won’t hurt you, brat.” He chuckled, finding your reaction hilarious, and yet, more painful than any wound he had ever suffered. To think, the woman who accepted him with open arms a thousand years ago looked at him like the curse he was. Didn’t he fall for you because you never looked at him this way back then? What even was left of that love you two had? “Where am I?” You asked him, your voice full of fear and surprisingly, intrigue. He didn’t quite understand your reaction. “I wondered, how I would react if I ever heard you say these words. Whether I would chop you to pieces for acting like I was some parasite possessing Itadori for so long. But I’m afraid, whoever decided to play this sick joke towards me were right about one thing. I cannot kill you.” Sukuna sighed. That expression confused you. What was that expression in his eyes? Was it… longing? Why was there this expression of profound loss in his eyes? Why did you see these eyes in your dreams?

“Why can you not kill me?” You asked, trying to get as much information as you could. Perhaps it would help you escape, perhaps it will help you understand his weaknesses. Or perhaps, you would understand if those dreams truly had any significance. You were grasping at any opportunity at this point. “Ryomen Sukuna never took in a wife and never had children, that’s what you humans were taught in history, correct?” He asked, the frown never leaving his lips. “Yes. Was this wrong?” You asked, definitely curious. This was huge information after all. “Heh. Wrong is an understatement. I had a wife who was going to give me an heir. Before I became the king of curses, when I was just a wretch, a worthless being in this worthless world. She was weak, pathetic even. Her humanity was what killed her. And with herself, she took away the child too.” He chuckled dryly, as if he was amused by the sheer audacity of the world. He didn’t care that the wedding never happened. That you died before he could make you his, before he could give you the happiness you deserved. You were his wife in that lifetime. He didn’t accept otherwise in his mind.

Ah, that sounded, awfully familiar. Yet, somehow, when you dared to look into Sukuna’s eyes as he spoke of that past that you dreamed of, you knew exactly who you were to him. What you didn’t know was how to feel about it. “Why are you making that expression?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow at the shock in your eyes. He didn’t even tell you the whole thing yet so why were you so shocked? “Was I… her?” You asked him, not knowing what else to say. “You knew? Heh, you are a tricky one huh… How did you know? Well, I suppose that’s good since I wouldn’t have to waste my breath explaining things to you. I’m sure you realize exactly what I want from you, correct?” He had a smile on his face as he told you this, pleased that he wouldn’t have to speak of those complicated emotions. You never imagined you would see the king of curses make such an expression.

Saying no to him is a privilege in Sukuna’s views, and you didn’t earn that privilege yet. How could you? After all, in his views, you owe him far too much. You owe him his heir, you owe him your life, you owe him whatever humanity he had left in him before your death. However, he owed you everything he was. He became the King of Curses because of you and he was never one to forget ones who did him a favor. His power, his influence, everything happened because of you and he wasn’t one to stay indebted. As on que, you disappointed him yet again. “I don’t want this. You stand against everything I fight for. You have killed so many, you have massacred hundreds and thousands… I.. or to be more precise, my previous incarnation did not fall in love with this. I fell for a man who was ostracized by society because of the way he was born. I fell for a man who deserved to be treated like human. I didn’t fall for a monster.” Was your reply.

“Did you truly believe I care for your opinion? You’re mine. I won’t hurt you, not physically atleast, nor will I kill you but that doesn’t change the fact that I take what’s mine. So get this ridiculous notion out of your head that what you say, or what you want, matters to me. We could do this two ways. You can continue to reject me, defy me, and I will take away everything you care for one by one. I will kill your family, kill that pet dog you like so much, kill your friends, and kill other humans right infront of you so that I am all you have left. Or you could give in, forget about those foolish ideals you live for, and I would give you the world. I will personally make sure your family is not harmed and I will even bring that mutt to you. As for your friends and other people, I cannot make promises since your friends are my enemies. However, even a child can tell what the better option is.” Sukuna snapped at you, anger evident. How dare you defy him? How dare you try to take yourself away from him after he waited for a millennia?

He was right, you knew the better option. Reality was, you were selfish. Like all humans, you had your vices. Even now, you didn’t wish for your family to be harmed, and you knew that Sukuna was the type of man who keeps his promises. So you just looked away, and nodded, trading your friends, your companions for your family. You dreamed of a life where you would meet a good man, have a family. However, those dreams seemed like childish musings. Reality was always different, cruel. Just like how Sukuna’s satisfied smile looked more cruel than anything to you.

“Using your family works to convince you, even now… Even after what happened in your previous life.. How naive.. No matter, anyone who attempts to harm you or take you away will face a fate worse than death. Your weakness wouldn’t take you away anyone.” He said with a smile, cupping your cheek. It would sound romantic in normal circumstances but it wasn’t. You knew that your friends will attempt to save you and he would kill them. “I have restrained myself long enough. You have heightened my temptation all those months, dressing like a vulgar whore after all. Then again, all women seem to dress that way in this era. Take responsibility for your actions, woman” The smug smile on his faces told you what was about to happen. “Strip”, he commanded.

“Sukuna.. I don’t… Im not ready…” You tried protesting with a shaky voice much to Sukuna’s annoyance. “Cease your incessant whining. You’re alive because of those disgusting emotions you make me feel or you would be dead already for defying my orders. I will say this one last time. Or else, I will tear those clothes off you myself. Strip.” His voice rang, full of displeasure. With shaky hands, you complied. “Just as beautiful as I remember… I must thank whoever decided to play this cruel joke on me before killing them” Sukuna chuckled, moving close to you, eyeing your bare skin, his arms grabbing your waist to pull you closer. “Look at me” he commanded, using one hand to grab you by your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of your lips like a starved beast. Even a millenia later, you tasted the same. Your lips felt the same, soft against his.

Yet, something was missing. He couldn’t quite figure out what as he pushed you down on the futon nearby. Something about you made this different, less pleasing, less fulfilling. The thought didn’t leave his mind even as he undressed, even as he lifted your legs up on his shoulder, spat on your cunt to make it wet and plunged his cock into you. The sounds you made, of pleasure and pain were the same. The moans, whimpers, calling his name out as you grabbed his forearms, scratched his back raw… it was all the same. Your insides were just as tight, as warm, just as pleasurable as he remembered. As he fucked into you, ramming his cock against your cervix, he ended up saying those dreaded words that he only uttered all those years ago.

“I love you. Fuck! Ill make you my queen. Ill give you the whole damn world at your feet. You feel like heaven on Earth, my love. I love you.” He groaned out in your ears, about to reach his release as the erotic sounds of your moans and whimpers of his name were music to his ears. Thats when he realized what was missing. You didn’t tell him you loved him back. Not once did you show any affection towards him. As he reached his release, filling you to the brim with his seed, he realized that you weren’t the woman who loved him despite him being a monster. You were simply someone who looked like her and shared her memories. You did not love him. Unfortunately, somewhere in his twisted heart, he desperately wanted to believe you would give in if he fucked you well enough. That you would become the woman who captured his heart and he could just continue on like nothing happened. Like you never died in that past life. However, reality was often disappointing.

Pulling out of you, he was lost for a moment as he got up and sat at the edge of the bed. After a moment, he spoke. “Leave, Y/N” he said, his voice hardened. “W-what?” You asked, panting and surprised by his words. “I will win this world first. And then I will win your heart again. So, leave. Spend time with those you care for because they may die when I conquer this world. You’re not the woman I fell for. Atleast, not yet.” Sukuna answered, not even giving you a glance. “You’re just letting me leave? Just like that?” You were shocked, wondering if this is some kind of trick. “What use do I have of a love that is not returned?” Sukuna chuckled dryly in answer.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Sickness 3

Part 3

Anonymous asked:

Season four Sihtric, when the group are passing through the fields during that plague and the river. Reader is the lover of Sihtric and is sick. Her sickness gets worse after the run in with Eadith’s brother Eardwulf. Very angsty with the rise on emotions everyone is dealing with. Eadith tries keeping the reader alive with her medical abilities but it’s to no avail. The reader and Sihtric have what they think are their last moments before she is kidnapped along with Stiorra, Aelswith and Aethelstan. She gets better and reunites after the siege.

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: This is the third and final part of the request I took over from @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Warnings: angst, angst and a bit more angst, heartbreak, some lowkey smut, breeding kink if you want, fluff and a happy ending, as requested

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Word Count: 4,6K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @csigeoblue @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

"Why are you doing this?" Uhtred seized Sihtric's arm the moment they stepped out of Edward's tent, his eyes sweeping over the young warrior's ragged features. Sihtric was a complete wreck – his once neatly braided hair now a tangled mess, his armour filthy, and splattered with mud and blood. The dark circles under his eyes were not unusual given the thirty-day siege of Winchester, it was the vacant, haunting  look in them that bothered Uhtred.

Sihtric shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Uhtred's stern and questioning gaze. "I just think it's worth a shot."

"No, it's not. And you know it. It's complete madness. Sihtric, look at me." Uhtred's voice grew angrier as he pointed his index finger at Sihtric's chest. "You can't keep going like this. Don't you understand..."

"No, you don't understand. I have nothing left in this world." Sihtric's voice cut off Uhtred's words as he took a step closer, locking eyes with him.

"I've lost people dear to me too. I know the pain, but..."

"Lord, you've always had your children, your dream of regaining Bebbanburg for them. I have nothing. No past, no present, no future. I've lost everything. At least I can try to be useful," Sihtric's voice quivered as he turned away, marching toward a group of waiting warriors with determined steps.

"That daft bastard is trying to get himself killed," Uhtred muttered to Finan and Osferth, his anger evident in his trembling voice.

"I'll talk to Sihtric later. Try to make him see some reason. He's not thinking straight,” Finan offered in a hushed tone, placing a comforting hand on Uhtred’s shoulder.

It was later in the night, the warming fireplace casting flickering flames into the fresh air as darkness descended, that Finan decided to try and bring Sihtric back to his senses.

"Here, have a drink," he approached with an ale mug in his hands, offering it to Sihtric as he settled himself on a large trunk that served as a makeshift bench next to Sihtric, sitting on the ground, his hands on his knees and back leaned against the same trunk.

Finan cleared his throat. "You've been volunteering for every reckless assault that Edward suggests. The ground outside the gates is littered with the fallen. It's a wonder you're still among the living."

Sihtric took a sip and sighed. "I've been wondering why the gods won't let me join them in Valhalla. It feels like they're either mocking me or punishing me for not being able to protect the greatest gift they gave me." Sihtrics gaze remained fixed on the flames dancing around the firewood, as if searching for answers in their flickering depths.

"Lad, you can't blame yourself for what happened."

"It wouldn't have happened," Sihtric said, his elbows on his knees as he clutched the ale mug, his vacant gaze fixed somewhere in the dark beyond the flickering firelight. "None of it would have happened if I hadn't been so foolish to let her come with us. It's all on me. I was her downfall. She'd still be alive if I hadn't entered her life in the first place. So don't try to tell me it wasn't my fault, because it was."

"You know you couldn't have stopped her from coming with us. She did it for the children, Sihtric," Finan said, his hand gently resting on Sihtric's shoulder, though it appeared that Sihtric hardly registered the touch.

"I just watched as they took her away. I was utterly useless. And now she's gone, Finan, and I wasn't even there. She died alone. She must have been terrified, alone and terrified, and there was no one there to hold her hand," Sihtric's grip on the ale mug tightened, and with a forceful motion, he hurled it into the fire, making the flames momentarily flare and dance.

"Every breath I take feels like it burns my lungs,” Sihtric continued, his voice reduced to a faint whisper, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. He turned to face his friend, and in the flickering light, Finan could swear he saw tears glistening in Sihtric's eyes. “Why am I allowed to keep breathing when she isn't? I don't want to walk this earth while she rests on the other side. My only wish is to find an honourable death. If it even slightly helps to secure Aethelstan and Stiorra's freedom, then I'll pass knowing my life wasn't utterly without worth."

“You can’t help them, if you are dead,”  Finan was not ready to give up so easily, "And if there's one thing I'm certain of - she wouldn't want you to carry this burden. She loved you with all her heart, and she wouldn't want to see you like this. You're looking for the easy way out, my friend. If you truly loved her, find the strength within you to keep on living. Do it for her," Finan tapped his friend on the shoulder, as he raised himself to leave. 

Sihtric remained motionless, seated and hunched forward, his head cradled in his hands, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames, as the sweet but torturing memories of your first night together and of your first kiss overflooded him like every night.

Back then, he hadn't expected any of it from you. He had been thinking how to convince Uhtred to give him another mission and let him leave. The memory of how close he'd come to losing his composure the day before still made his cheeks flush and his stomach flip every time he thought about it. The moonlight caressing your skin, shimmering in your eyes, the gentle touch of your hand on his, and that incredibly sweet scent you wore—a mix of lavender and rose oil with something uniquely yours—it had overwhelmed him. He'd almost blurted out his feelings and ruined everything.

Truth was that you were just perfect for him. Your vivacious and kind nature, your constant efforts to lift the spirits of those around you, your unconditional love for the children,  your attentive and caring attitude—every little detail had captured his heart from the very beginning. He was utterly smitten, and yet utterly devastated at the same time, for he couldn't fathom confessing his admiration to you, let alone entertain the notion that you might feel the same way. He just wasn't ready to face the possibility of your rejection. The night before, he had come perilously close—far too close to the brink of making a fool of himself by revealing his longing. 

To say that your words had caught him by surprise would mean to say nothing. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Your soft, melodic voice still resonated in his ears, and your words were etched into his memory. Just three simple words: "I like you." Yet, those words had changed everything, turning his life upside down in a single moment. 

And then you had kissed him. The soft, lingering touch of your lips against his was like a bolt of lightning for Sihtric, catching him completely off guard. It felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe, and his heart raced in his chest as he cradled your face in both of his palms, pulling you slightly back, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this was some kind of cruel joke. But the sincerity in your gaze, so tender and with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, filled his chest with such warmth. As he leaned in to kiss you back, he was flooded with happiness and that weird feeling of frogs jumping around in his stomach.

His fingers trembled as he cupped your cheeks. He recalled your sharp exhale as he pressed you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, and how you traced his arm up to his shoulders, settling yours around his neck, fingers teasingly tangling in his hair and pulling him even closer. 

The fire was slowly fading, but Sihtric couldn't bring himself to move and fetch more firewood. With his head still cradled in his hands, a desperate, muffled moan escaped his  lips as he recalled the way your lips had brushed against his—so shy, tender, sweet, and warm. He recalled your trembling breath and the soft gasp with which you parted your lips, to let his tongue into your mouth. 

Even now his breath grew heavier at the sweet memory of how trustfully you had surrendered to his heated touch, how instead of withdrawing or pushing him away you had kept pressing yourself tighter against his chest, your fingers raking his hair.

Sihtric closed his eyes, letting himself be completely carried away to that evening.

It was as if he could still feel the sweet taste of your lips, filling him with hunger and desire above anything he had ever felt. He could barely breathe from the yearning that consumed him, feeling painfully restrained in his breeches. 

He remembered every small detail, every word, every sigh and every glance as if it all had happened just moments before. He remembered groaning against your lips, as he noticed your breath accelerating as his hands slowly reached your hips and wandered further down pressing you firmly against his crotch, his arousal hard to ignore. 

He craved for you like he had never craved for anybody before, but the last thing he had wanted was to scare you or to push you into something you didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. He had tried to withdraw, tried to explain, to let you know how much you had him under your power.

He remembered the spark in your eyes as you smiled at him, your fingers caressing his cheek gently, your thumb softly gliding over his lower lip. 

"Follow me," you had whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, your warm breath teasing his skin as you took his hand in yours and turned towards the house, guiding him with you. And he had followed willingly, allowing you to lead, his fingers entwined with yours,  excitement and curiosity pulsing through his veins.

Sihtric recalled how surprised he was as you led him into the silent, sleeping house and into your room.

 "Lady, I…" he had started to speak, his voice rasped, desire and longing evident in his hoarse tone.

"Sihtric," you didn't let him finish, taking his hand and pressing his palm to your cheek, cuddling against it. "Please, make love to me tonight."

Sihtric felt a sudden warmth spreading across his face, cheeks flushing as he repeated these words in his mind. He had thought himself caught in a dream. A dream he was sure he never wanted to wake from. A dream that had turned into a nightmare.

He had almost choked on his breath as your fingers began to unfasten the straps of his leather armour, but he didn’t stop you. He kept watching your every movement, as your slender fingers unstrapped his belt and let it fall to the ground with a light metallic sound. A sigh rolled over his lips, as you tugged at the lower edge of his armour in an attempt to pull it off him. He had wrapped his hands around yours, bringing them to his lips and pressing gentle kisses to your palms, before he helped you to finish what you had started. 

He remembered his fingers trembling in anticipation as he placed his hands at the front of your dress, his lips almost touching yours. “May I?” was the only thing he had managed to whisper, his lips curling into a smile at your soft  “Please,” followed by a whimper as his fingers began to gently pull at the laces beneath your breasts. 

Unable to control that sharp gasp followed by a low, almost desperate moan that left his lips, he had marveller at your naked body revealed to his eyes as your dress flung to the floor.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,“ he had murmured, stepping closer and wrapping his warm, slightly sweaty hands around your waist, his rapid breath betraying his excitement. 

Soft giggles had bubbled over your lips as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed.  

A soft sob shook Sihtric’s shoulders at the memory of your fingers impatiently pulling at the laces of his breeches, stroking his hard length through the fabric, while he freed you from your underpants, settling between your thighs. 

The sweet taste of your body lingered on his tongue as he remembered his lips relentlessly roaming your naked body, every curve and every line of it, starting from your jaw down to the collarbone, passing your breasts, suckling lightly at each of them and travelling further down to your stomach, sucking and leaving small biting marks on your sensitive skin, your muffled moans of pleasure a sweet melody in his ears.

You had been so sweet and trusting, yielding to his touch, letting him take the lead. He was a man, a Dane and a warrior, not a saint; he had had women before and not few. He had loved and been betrayed, he had sought comfort and pleasure in the arms of women who sold their affection for gold, and satisfied his desires in the beds of bored housewives and adventurous maidens. He had once considered himself unworthy of true love, but everything had changed the moment he had met you. He was in love, deeper than he had ever been before. He didn't want you just for this one night; he wanted you for every night and day, for all eternity and beyond, for all the good days and bad days. He yearned to savour every moment with you, to taste you, to pleasure you, to bring you to the brink of ecstasy, and to lose himself in the depths of his own passion and devotion.

And when you nodded your agreement to have him, to welcome him into your body, and he finally dared to immerse himself in the pulsing warmth of your core, your walls taking him in and squeezing around him, he felt as if he had ascended to Valhalla itself and he was sure that if there ever came a moment when he had to choose between Valhalla and you, he would pick you without a second's hesitation.  

Sihtric remembered how you sunk into the pillows, wrapping your legs around his waist, how your nails dug into his back, how you moaned his name bucking your hips against his and how your tight, throbbing walls clenched around his cock, the most wanton sounds leaving your lips as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, finally chasing his own high, the sight of you writhing beneath him, breathless and flushed, pushing him towards the edge.

He had wanted to withdraw before releasing his seed inside you, but you refused to let him, causing him to spill deeply within you, his pleasure indescribable. And for the first time in his life, he found himself silently praying to the gods, that his seed would take as he knew there would be no other woman in this world he would want to bear his children, apart from you.

“I love you,” he had whispered between panting breaths, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he had repeated like a mantra, placing kisses all over your face.

“I love you too,” it had been just a soft murmur against his ear, but those words meant everything to him, causing his face to light up with a smile outshining a thousand suns. 

The night had swallowed the camp in darkness, with thick clouds shrouding the sky, denying even a glimmer of moonlight. The fire had dwindled, reduced to a mere handful of glowing coals that cast a feeble, crimson glow upon Sihtric's features. He sat there, his back resting against the trunk, elbows propped on his knees, and hands hanging limply. Tears trickled slowly down his cheeks, tracing wet, salty paths on his face. He made no effort to wipe them away, allowing them to roll down and soak into the soil beneath his feet.

The relentless, cold inner voice continued its cruel whispers, reminding him that these memories were all he had left. He would never gaze into those sparkling eyes again, never hear that melodic voice of yours, never taste the sweetness of those red, full lips, never feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips, and never witness your children playing.

Could it be that Finan was right? Was he truly seeking the easy way out? The past four weeks had blurred into a hazy abyss for Sihtric. The initial hope that Edward's forces would swiftly reclaim the city had dwindled after several unsuccessful attempts. It was different this time, the Danes didn’t let themselves be provoked and Edward, losing his mind, worrying about his children, was acting more and more like a madman. Days passed by, and the slender thread of hope to find you that had kept Sihtric going had dissipated like a morning mist in the embrace of the rising sun. You were gone and he was utterly lost. 

Out there on the battlefield was the only place where he could escape, if only for a little while, from the agony in his mind, let out his anger and despair, losing himself in the frenzy of the fight, as the clash of swords, the deafening war cries, the desperate shouts of the wounded and all the chaos around finally drowned out the cruel inner voice that haunted him. He craved these short moments of oblivion like an addict. Tomorrow there will be another assault on the gates and he has volunteered again to lead it. Perhaps, if the gods would finally decide to show him mercy, a stray arrow might find him and bring an end to this torment once and for all. 

—--------------------------------------------

You slowly opened your eyes, curiosity mingled with uncertainty as you took in your surroundings, unfamiliar smells and strange sounds wafting around.  A reflexive cough escaped your lips, and you winced, bracing for the anticipated sharp pain that had previously racked your lungs. Surprisingly, it didn't come. You took a cautious, deep breath, realising that the once-persistent ache and heaviness in your chest had dissipated.  

“Ah, you're awake, dear. Easy now, don't strain yourself," a hoarse yet kindly voice greeted you. You turned your head toward the source of the voice and found yourself met by a pair of bright, smiling eyes framed by a sea of wrinkles and lines. A wild shock of silver-white hair framed the old lady's face, cascading in unruly wisps around her shoulders. Her hands, gnarled and weathered, held a delicate grace as they moved with purpose and care expertly feeling your pulse.

"Where... where am I?" you managed to croak out.

"You're in Winchester, child. I found you in a cart left at my doorstep. You were in a dreadful state when I found you. And mark my words, if I ever lay hands on those heartless rascals who abandoned you here without so much as a knock on my door, I'll give them a piece of my mind they won't soon forget."

The old lady's fiery determination brought a smile to your lips, her strength and confidence shining through her frail exterior. You couldn't help but believe she was more than capable of following through on her threats.

"And what about the others?" you inquired, your voice tinged with wonder.

"The others?" the lady echoed, her brow furrowing. "There were no others in the cart, my dear. Just you."

Your smile faded rapidly, memories of the events in the woods rushing back to you, as the image of Sihtric and the others hanging their heads down from the branches of that massive tree intruded your mind.

"Oh my God! They're dead. They're all dead," you cried out, tears streaming down your face as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. You covered your eyes with trembling hands, unable to contain the overwhelming grief that washed over you.

"Hey, take it easy," the old healer comforted you, passing a cup filled with warm tea. "It will help you calm down. I may not know what happened to your friends you mentioned, but what's important is that you have a second chance. For your sake and for the life you're carrying beneath your heart, you must focus on regaining your strength."

Confusion laced your voice as you asked, still sobbing, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't know? My dear, you're carrying a child, without a doubt," the old lady replied with a warm twinkle in her eyes, her tone friendly and reassuring.

“A child?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief. 

"Yes, my dear. A new life is growing within you, and it's a precious gift. You have been given a second chance, not just for yourself but for this little one too."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind. 

“I’m with a child, Sihtric’s child,” you murmured under your breath, as the thought of carrying Sihtric's child filled you with an inconceivable mix of emotions, joy and hope mingling with sadness and fear, but above everything a new sense of purpose to your life enveloped you as a warm blanket, soothing your aching, bleeding heart. It was as if a small part of him lived on within you, a reason to keep moving forward.

—---------------------------------------

Sihtric stood at the forefront of the chaos, his grip on the rambock's handle firm, his muscles straining as they battered the gate of Winchester. The deafening sound of the rambock colliding with the wooden gate was drowned out by the cacophony of battle - the clash of steel, the war cries, and the roars of men. 

With a final, determined push, the gates groaned and gave way, and the roaring and shouting throng of warriors surged into the city, their cries filling the air.

"The gates, the Saxons have breached the gates!" someone cried out as they ran past the healer's house. The distant sounds of battle reached your ears, drawing you out onto the porch. The clash of swords, the thundering hooves of horses, and the fierce war cries of warriors resonated in the distance.

Driven by curiosity, you took a few steps forward and as you did, a swarm of roaring Danes, emerging from a nearby corner and charging toward the gates, caught you off guard. You attempted to sidestep them, but it was too late. You found yourself swept up in the surge, desperately trying to break free, but unable to escape their relentless advance.

The battle raged before the gates, a chaotic and brutal dance of clashing shields and swords. You were helplessly dragged along, tossed about like a ragdoll, the warriors' roars echoing in your ears as you desperately manoeuvred between them, ducking, jumping, and sidestepping in an effort to evade the deadly flurry of shields and blades. A forceful shove from behind sent you tumbling, and you stumbled over a fallen body before crashing to the ground.

"Shield wall!" a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the cacophony of battle, followed by the blaring blast of horns as you crawled frantically through the tumultuous maze of countless stomping legs.

"Shield wall!" the command echoed once more, and the battlefield around you stilled as men began to fall back. Two shield walls formed on either side of the yard, creating an empty space between them and there you lay huddled on the ground among lifeless bodies and groaning wounded, your hands protectively wrapped around your belly. 

Sihtric's eyes scanned the empty space between the shield walls, as he strained to make sense of the chaotic scene, his heart pounding in his chest, the taste of sweat and blood lingering in his mouth.

Then, amidst the turmoil and destruction, his eyes locked onto a figure on the ground, crouched low, and clutching her abdomen. He couldn't believe his eyes; he thought he had gone mad, that grief and longing were playing tricks on his mind. His grip on his axe loosened, as he staggered backward, his mind racing with disbelief and hope. He had mourned you, convinced that you were gone, that he would never see your face again, yet there you were, a vision in the midst of chaos, a dream, a cruel mirage in the midst of war. As if frozen he stared at the sight before him, paralysed and unable to make his feet move until Finan’s urgent shout jolted him from his stupor.

"Dear God! Sihtric!" Finan's voice rang out, insistent and full of urgency. "It's her! It’s (Y/N)! She's alive! We have to get to her!"

Without another moment of hesitation, Sihtric rallied his senses and started to push his way through the shield wall, his heart pounding like crazy. He rushed to your side, sinking to one knee and turned you over to face him. There you were, unmistakably you, your face contorted with pain and fear, your eyes full with astonishment and awe.

“Sihtric?” you muttered, not believing your eyes.

"Gods, you're alive," were the only words Sihtric could manage, his voice catching in his throat as he lifted you and carried you away from the battlefield, his powerful arms cradling you gently. 

Desperately seeking a safe place to bring you, Sihtric's eyes landed on the battered gates that once guarded the entrance to the inner yard of the convent. It appeared forsaken and deserted. With no better options in sight, he nudged the broken gate open with his foot and carefully carried you inside and continued through the vacant courtyard, taking you to the far end of the garden, where he gently settled you on the ground, his hands instantly wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into a tight embrace. 

He held you close, his trembling fingers softly caressing your hair, tears in his eyes, as he whispered, "I thought I had lost you forever.” 

“I thought you were dead, I mourned you and I wept for you,” Sihtric’s voice was low and croaky. “And I was ready to follow you to the other side. I was so angry at the gods for not giving me an honourable exit from this world. What a fool I was!” Sihtric nuzzled your hair, showering the top of your head with tender kisses.

"I thought you were gone too," you murmured, your face buried in Sihtric's chest, tears soaking his leather armour. "I was sure we would never see you again," your voice quivered.

"We?" Sihtric questioned, his brow furrowing. "Were you with Stiorra and Aethelstan? Do you know where they are?"

"No, Sihtric. I meant... I...," your words were swallowed by the uncontrollable sobs that shook your body. Sihtric gently cradled your face in his large, warm hands, tenderly kissing away your tears.

"My love, my daylight, my sunshine, my everything. It is a miracle I have found you again. I love you, and I'll never let you go. I am forever yours, and you are forever mine," he whispered.

"We are forever yours. We have been blessed, Sihtric. I'm… I’m carrying our child," you finally managed to regain control of your emotions.

"Child?" Sihtric felt a sudden dizziness wash over him as the weight of your words hit him like a tidal wave. He had a strange feeling as if his knees had turned into jelly, threatening to give way beneath him, leaving the big, blood-smeared warrior no choice but to clutch onto you for support. He stood there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around your trembling form, as if fearing you might vanish if he let go.

"Our child," he repeated, his voice quivering with a mixture of awe, joy, and disbelief. With a burst of euphoria, he lifted you off the ground and spun around, laughter bubbling from his lips like a madman's. Setting you down gently, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. His gaze locked with yours, radiating absolute bliss, as he slowly sank to his knees before you, his lips planting gentle kisses on your belly.

"Hey there, little one," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Can you hear me? I love your mom more than anything in this world, and I already love you too. I promise, no, I swear on my life, I will take good care of both of you."

[sootmemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS: LLAMAS WITH HATS EP. 1-5 dialogue had been altered slightly to make interaction easier; change words as needed ! ctrl + shift + v to paste into the inbox on desktop. TRIGGER WARNING for murder, cannibalism mention please be aware the following is related to dark & grim humor

EPISODE ONE.

[ name ] ! there is a dead person in here !

me ? wha- I didn't do this.

I do not kill people. that is my least favorite thing to do.

well, this guy walked in. so I went up to him and I... stabbed him 37 times in the chest.

[ name ] ! that kills people !

I was hungry for hands, give me a break.

my stomach was making the rumblies that only hands can satisfy.

what is wrong with you, [ name ] ?

well, I kill people and I eat hands, that's two things.

EPISODE TWO.

what on earth was all that ?

you sunk an entire cruise ship, [ name ] !

are you sure that was me ? I think I would remember something like that.

thank god the children weren't around to see it.

oh, I guess you could say it's red and sticky.

I will not apologize for art.

I have a problem. I have a serious problem.

shh ! do you hear that ? that's the sound of forgiveness.

that's the sound of people dying, [ name ].

that is what forgiveness sounds like: screaming and then silence.

EPISODE THREE.

I don't know about you, but I'm having a wonderful time here.

they were a traitor and a scoundrel.

that hurt my feelings. now we're both in the wrong.

well, I'm building a meat dragon and not just any meat will do.

oh, forget it. I'm not even shocked anymore. this has become the norm for you.

I'll have to try harder next time; I feel like I've been issued a challenge.

I totally don't remember your name.

EPISODE FOUR.

[ name ], you've tracked mud all over the carpet !

now that right there is a mess.

I'm not responsible for this.

then there is an imposter on the loose !

clue number one, the imposter is a phantom.

you've gone too far this time, [ name ].

how did you even do this ?

I ripped a tag off a mattress.

this isn't funny, [ name ].

who's laughing ? clearly not all the people who just died.

I'm leaving, I've had enough of this.

that isn't friendship, [ name ] ! that's sick !

you're right, it's not nearly as tasteful as I pictured in my head.

...probably because I'm a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. I don't understand how you keep forgetting that.

EPISODE FIVE.

I know you've done something. you've always done something.

you mistake me for some sort of scoundrel.

I am a respected member of the community ! to even insinuate...

I may have forgotten to mention one of my activities. I apologize, that was wrong.

I think it's just a lens flare and some dust.

I think I was expecting worse.

worse ? but this is totally fucked !

c'mon, look at this ! how did I even do this ?

I don't understand how or why you do anything.

[starheirxero]

IF I DON'T TALK ABOUT JULY 16TH, I'M GOING TO COMBUST-

SUN LOVED THESE CHILDREN SO MUCH- HE LOVED THEM NOT UNLIKE ONE LOVES THEIR OWN- HE PARTIALLY RAISED THEM, GODDAMNIT-

HE LOVED THEM, AND HE LOST THEM, AND HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING-

FOR THE LONGEST TIME, HE THOUGHT THEIR BLOOD COATED HIS HANDS- FOR THE LONGEST TIME, HE THOUGHT HE KILLED THE ONES HE WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT-

HE DIDN'T, AND HE KNOWS THAT NOW, BUT IT WON'T BRING THEM BACK- IT WON'T CHANGE THE FACT, THAT THEY THOUGHT IT WAS HIM-

IT WON'T CHANGE THE FACT, THAT HE COULDN'T PROTECT THEM, LIKE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO-

I AM GOING TO START EATING THE FLOOR--

HE REMEMBERS THEM, EACH AND EVERY ONE-

JACKIE, JAMIE, JAMES, KIT, HUEY, HOWIE, EVELYN-

HE REMEMBERS THEIR INTERESTS AND QUIRKS- HE REMEMBERS THE LITTLE DETAILS, EVEN, AS IT'S ALL FADING-

HE KEEPS SAYING THESE NAMES LIKE A MANTRA, TO REMIND HIMSELF, NEVER TO FORGET THEM, EVEN AS MEMORIES ARE SLIPPING BY-

HE SOUNDS SO MOURNFUL-

FUCK, IM GOING TO BE SICK/POS-

The thing that really gets me is that they really sound like children- I don't know exactly how to describe it, but they sound like kids I would've known when I was little- Hell, some of them do sound like kids I knew, some of which I was even friends with!

THIS PUTS SO MUCH WEIGHT ON BLOODMOON'S ACTIONS, JESUS CHRIST-

THEY WERE CHILDREN- CHILDREN WITH FAMILIES THAT LOVED THEM, THAT MOURNED THEM-

EVELYN'S FATHER WAS MENTIONED- HE WAS A FARMER, AND SHE LOVED WEARING OVERALLS BECAUSE OF IT-

SHE WAS NEVER ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS, SHE WAS OBSESSED WITH THEM INSTEAD-

MY HEART-

The one thing about Fnaf lore, that always kind of bothered me, was that the missing kids felt more like plot devices- There isn't much about them, outside of Susie, though only if you read the books- Which is fine, if they aren't meant to be the focus!

However, by making them characters, I feel like it puts so much more weight onto William's actions. It turns him into a larger threat, a monster.

Which is exactly what is happening here!

By giving them names, personalities, it feels like there is so much more weight on Bloodmoon's actions, y'know?

He robbed them of growing up. He forced their parents to bury them.

God, their parents must despise Sun! If Dazzle ever remembers, I could honestly see her dad becoming a character!

The moment, he'd see the twins, it'll be on sight!

Though, it generally makes me curious! I wonder, if Dazzle is really the only ghost kid left behind.

I wonder, if there are going to be more. There were little hints of the possibility dropped!

Some of them might not be as forgiving, which would be really interesting to see!

-Stardust

YELLS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!!! LITERALLY EVERYTHING YOU SAID HERE AAUAGGHHHH

Sun has quietly carried so much love and care and guilt over these kids for years of his life, a grief that bubbled under the surface, and we never truly saw how much that weighed on him until now as he has to stomach that one of them has come back and they forgive him :(((

AND YEA THEY'RE LIKE. THEY'RE SO BELIEVABLY KIDS THAT IT MAKES MY CHEST HURT. The way Sun talked about their habits and interests didn't feel strange in any way, like how sometimes people write kids and its like. have u ever interacted with a child in ur life HDKWHD it was just. they felt really truly alive.....

AND IT ABSOLUTELY DOES ADD MORE WEIGHT TO WHAT BLOODMOON DID YEAH. AND UR POINT ABOUT CANON FNAF YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!!!!! Oms I was thinking something similar the other day and I'm SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO PUT MY THOUGHTS INTO WORDS AHDKSNKD

Like. I mentioned that harm or death of children is the quickest way to make me sniffle and wail and wail, but fnaf never really managed to make me truly sad and weepy about the kids because, like you said, they were more plot devices rather than full characters.

BUT YESYES ALSO LIKE U SAID, by fleshing out their lives and making them more solid characters, it adds so much more weight to the actions of the murderer!! Bloodmoon looked at these little humans who flocked to him because they loved Sun and he saw food, he saw easy targets, and he took advantage of that to the highest degree!!! And it's like holy shit!!!!! Whadda hell!!!!!!!! Like u said, he robbed them of growing up, he had just as little regard for their new lives as he did the rats in the theater and it's like. AUGH.

BUT ALSO YEAG OUHG if Dazzle's dad or another dead kid became characters I'd lose it /pos

It would just be a very bittersweet feeling, especially if it was Dazzle's dad, and I think I'd never emotionally recover. Tsams if you hear me HAKAHSKS

[randomdragonfires]

part 2 to "moon song" ? just a short lil drabble of other people's reactions to what he did

like does he even alert anyone or just go about his day once the sun rises, only for the maids to discover the princess

Hello anon! Ah, I'm glad you liked Moon Song! I don't ever get asked about it, lmao, so it makes me feel nice❤️

Right, so I don't know if I have enough plot or detailing to write a fully fledged part 2, but I do have an idea as to how it'll go down after Aemond kills his wife.

I think Aemond will have a very Helaena-esque controlled breakdown that is a lot louder in his head than it is to the third person looking at him. He'd keep mumbling absent-minded words as he sees Luke again, with his voice haunting him.

Now look what you've done.

He holds his wife's corpse by her head and thinks for a flash about how soft the strands feel in his hands before rocking her body back and forth, thinking in his delusional mind that he's calming her down while picturing her last moments - but in truth, he's trying to calm himself too.

Aemond's signet ring was customised by Alicent as a child, commissioned specially for him with a textured band and the three-headed dragon on it. When he choked her to death, the textured band dug deep into her skin, almost like an angry red brand.

When the maids come in the morning, they are shocked and he does not say a single word. They call for the Queen, who comes rushing along with her father.

Alicent is naturally already thinking of the consequences - two of Rhaenyra's children, dead. One by Aemond's hand and the other while in his protection as his wedded wife. She lights a candle for them both as she wonders how her perfect boy hand ended up with his fate.

It is not until later - when she comes to say a final prayer for her before they wrap her up - does she notice the brand on her neck. She recognizes it immediately - after all, she oversaw the making of his ring herself.

She does not speak of it. She never sees him the same way ever again.

Aemond becomes more and more of a recluse inside the castle, and much of an unhinged bloodthirsty killer out on the field. Some of the servants say he keeps talking to himself, mumbling "YOU DID THIS" and "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please..."

They all keep their distance.

Eventually, when he finally meets Alys Rivers, she promises to help heal the sickness of his mind and steer him to victory. Naturally, Aemond is desperate - so he falls into her orbit. The visions gradually cease, though not completely.

In his last moments, he hears her voice over and over, demanding that he pay with his life for hers.

And so, when his eye is stabbed through and he is killed? He does.

Will you ever forgive me?

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

Part Nine

[sezez]

The whole Elliot Ludwig podcast is a surprise and creepy thing to note. Elliot may not be the man he seems. And yet, I still wonder what this all means, did Elliot actually do it? Or was it a set up?

It was only half-true, Elliot was never blamed, the dead boy is actually the family member he lost so he blamed himself for his death:

I believe that Elliot is a good man, a family man at heart. And from his speech, he really sounds like a good guy. He wanted to make children happy, feel loved and find a place for them to belong.

I know people are already suspecting that Elliot front image of being a "perfect-family-man" is a lie to hide who he truly is, and the podcast about a dead boy in his bedroom stuffed into a duffle bag is raising some eyebrows. But, I still have a feeling that Elliot isn't at fault here.

We all know that Elliot got divorced in the 1930s, then in the 1960s a tragic family death pushed Elliot to his lowest. We never get to hear who died, many speculated it was Elliot's daughter who became the Poppy doll. But I don't think so.

I think I now know who died and what happened to them, I believe the family member Elliot lost is the boy found inside the duffle bag.

Now, I know there isn't any evidence to back this theory up, but work with me. I think that the whole podcast of Elliot being blamed and suspected for the boy's death is a lie, he was never blamed for it.

Remember, we heard the podcast when the Protagonist was dreaming after inhaling the Red Smoke and there's been some signs that the reverse audio we heard was the Protagonist talking to themselves for not being at the factory during The Hour of Joy and they came back because of survivor's guilt.

So I imagine that the podcast is Elliot's nightmare, his fear of being responsible for his lost and blaming himself for not saving the boy or being blamed for it.

I know this is a long stretch, but it's just a theory and I hope we get to know more of this in the next chapter.

The crime was just a set-up to keep the public occupied so the company can continue the experiments without getting any attention:

Now this one is I think is likely to be true. For all we know, Elliot made Playtime Co. to make toys for children to be happy. But then the experiments start to happen, in a VHS tape in Project: Playtime, Harley Sawyer (aka the Doctor/ the founder of the Bigger Body Initiative) said that people who starting to see things they shouldn't and lawsuits are coming in and out. So he propose the BBI to make giant toys to work for them.

I feel like after the whole program was in full swing, the public are starting to notice something fishy. Like the Catnap Recall, a news reporter talks about the concerns parents have about the Catnap toy because their kids start to have violent nightmares. So Playtime Co. recalled the Catnap toys, but damage was already done and I believe this became a slight problem for Playtime Co.

The company had to think up a way for the public to calm down and stay away from suspicion. And they came up with a plan.

Framing and making Elliot Ludwig, the Founder of Playtime Co. look like a sick psycho, hiding beneath his friendly-face is something worse.

I believe that Harley or Leith or someone killed a orphan boy at Playcare, took some of their bones and organs out, put him in a duffle bag then placed him inside Elliot's bedroom in his home.

And this seemed to work, with the public distracted by the new discovery of Elliot, Playtime Co. gets away with the experiments.

Elliot did kill a child, but he wasn't sick, he did it so Playtime Co. can shut down and stop the experiments:

This is a very long stretch, I know. But I think it be very unique if Elliot had no idea about the experiments and slowly overtime, he starts to notice something suspicious going on.

I imagine he investigated around for a bit, (like Rowan Stoll from the ARG) and found out about the Bigger Body Initiative. Imagine how horrified Elliot was, realizing the company was doing cruel experiments on orphans and turning them into toys. The complete opposite of what he originally wanted.

And perhaps he learned what happened to employees who knew or tried to expose Playtime Co. for it's experiments, getting killed off. And he tried to think up a good plan, any ways for him to expose the truth. But none seem to work, he knows he would end up dead, even if he was the CEO of Playtime, they could always replace him.

So, he did something he knew he would regret forever.

Killing a child inside his house.

I think Elliot did this because he knew if he did something horrible, the company would have taken some affect and perhaps it'll shut down due to the bad reputation.

And so he did it, he killed a young boy, had some of his skeleton and organs gone and stuff him into a duffle bag and placed it in his bedroom.

That's why Playtime Co. said they'll try and prove his innocents and keep his name on the brand. And I wouldn't be surprise if afterward they killed Elliot for spilling it out or turning him into a toy.

[makiruz]

I currently carry the fear that we're gonna wake up one day to the news that Gaza has been eradicated and everyone's dead, all 2 million people, half of them children.

And I also wonder, if that happens, what's next? The people supporting Israel, what would you do if you hear the country you're endorsing just killed 2 million people? The Israelis themselves, not the ones that opposed they're government, but the run of the mill folk who don't think about politics much, or even the ones who insist this is somehow normal, what do you do if your government just killed 2 million people? What does the Western media that's trying to minimize the violence in Gaza, do when they have to report Israel killed 2 million people?

God it makes me feel actually sick