#its the plant again it did not survive much longer

[sleepsucks]

[pugh-bug]

His Promised Sin

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Remmick x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, lots of mentions of religion and Satan, brief threat of sa

Finally posting this, sorry for the wait I’ve had a lot to sort out this week planning a funeral but I adored writing this. I’ll definitely be writing for Remmick again and for other Sinners characters. Any comments are appreciated so much <33

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In the fierce heat you trudged home, the journey only seeming longer with each step. The centre of town was five miles away on foot but there was nowhere else to buy groceries so walk you did. What you couldn’t afford to buy you grew and what you couldn’t grow you borrowed, from old friends who also couldn’t leave town. No one ever left and those who did soon returned, even the Moore brothers couldn’t stay away but you saw little of them.

Once the path shrunk into a pitiful thing only you could follow you knew you were almost home. You glanced at your ring finger thinking of Chris and the promise he’d just made before leaving. The promise of marriage. Soon. Guilt rang in your chest, working its way down to your gut and settling there.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t love him, that most suitors could live with, it was that you didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t make you laugh or cry. He didn’t make you feel anything worth much and yet you’d agreed. To Chris your politeness was excitement but you knew the truth. No man had made you excited since that night.

Creek

You pushed your weary door open with one hand and clutched your bag of goods with the other. Home at last. It was modest, nothing special, and yet it was the one place you felt comfortable. Peaceful. Some deep part of you hated how safe those words had become, how you prized surviving over thriving and hid from the world. Something better had to be out there, something you wouldn’t just settle for but embrace. Something to fuel you, fill your soul with purpose and set your nerves alight. In your lifetime nothing had matched that description except…

“Where are we going?”

You followed your new friend and classmate into the woods missing home already. If your Mother knew you were alone with a boy at night you’d be in more trouble than you could handle. No amount of grovelling would appease that woman.

“I should get home, they’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

Johnny ignored your worries, snaking an arm round your waist and pulling you close to his warm body. You froze. “You’re gonna enjoy this.” He grinned, before planting a sloppy kiss on your unsuspecting lips and attempting another.

“Get off!”

But he wasn’t concerned, not until -

“Listen!” You hissed, shoving Johnny away. Something was lingering in the trees watching your every movement. Your Daddy had taught you about hunting animals and in that moment you felt at one with his prey. Hunted. Somehow you knew where to look to see your predator, catching its gaze a few yards away.

Your heart began pounding loud as Johnny’s voice telling you to stop wasting his time. That didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing else existed but you and the glimpse of a face among the branches. A face with eyes you could hardly make out in the darkness except for red. A grin, a gleam in his eyes and a finger to his dripping lips telling you shush.

Nightfall approached as you sleepily unpacked your things, cursing yourself for craving more than you had. For daydreaming about anything but the wedding, if it ever happened. He’d only kissed you once the day his Grandma, who’s life was sadder than her death, gave her blessing. It hadn’t been the love you’d read about in books or witnessed between Smoke and Annie. It hadn’t been love at all and to worsen the blow, to fuel your disappointment, it hadn’t been lust either. A marriage of convenience.

That night you read until your eyes grew heavy and the book slipped away. You dreamt of the face from years ago, the face of something evil.

If it hadn’t have been for the open window you’d have slept through the howling wind.

Rising from your bed to close it, you heard it stop as quickly as it had started. Silence. You were left only with silence as a companion in the twilight except it seemed to want something. It stirred in the air and within you. A deep longing for a cure to the emptiness that had buried its way into your bones through years of sorrow.

Cautiously, you lit a lantern and held it to your window. Something ancient had awakened and somehow you knew Satan in the flesh was just outside. He’d been just outside all your life watching and waiting. Biding his time until you’d abandon all hope of a lasting morality and gladly give in to your sinful desires.

It seemed that night he would no longer idly watch.

Tap tap

Taking a deep breath before doing so, you walked towards the sound. Your front door. You ought to have walked like a traitor on a plank, like a person approaching death with terror. You didn’t, although a rhythmic thud sounded some alarm in your chest as you opened the door.

But there was no one there.

Relief should have been your immediate and only feeling but although it was there you felt a wave of disappointment overpower it. Had the tapping been in your head, or had the wind sent branches tumbling to your front door? The wind that had ceased long before the tapping…

You stood there for a moment letting the night air cool your body until a whisper of your name set your nerves alight.

“Y/n…”

Again, unmistakable a second time. You were not alone.

“Y/n…”

Taunting and nearby, the voice was beckoning you outside. All you had to do was answer. There was nothing but miles of forest between you and the nearest human soul. To answer would be inviting death.

As you made to enter and lock the door the air around you changed as if a gust of wind had ran through you. Alarmed you turned away from your house only to see him standing metres away. In every way he was the same demonic presence you’d encountered all those years ago without a mark of time on him. The only difference was his face, his mouth, was clean from blood. He would have looked to anyone else normal. Human. Harmless. You knew better.

“You know my name.”

A nervousness rang in your voice that only amused the visitor.

“Darlin I know lots of names, names are easy. Bet you’d even know mine if you thought about it long enough.”

You tensed at his words, his unnervingly charming manner of speaking and his grin and yet you did know. You’d always known, somehow he’d told you in the spiritual sense. In a different realm, perhaps in a different lifetime.

“Remmick.”

He bowed as if accepting a great honour, always remaining a few steps from you and your door.

“That’s what God gave me.”

His sardonic smile told you he was mocking your beliefs before he spoke again, eyeing your small house.

“Hasn’t given you much has he?”

“I have enough.”

That was the truth. You had more than you needed and less than you wanted, same as everyone else from town.

“But are you happy?”

You pursed your lips.

“I’m content.”

Remmick simply tutted, leaning closer to you with a demonic shine in his eyes.

“Ah sweetheart, contentment is the enemy of joy.”

Suddenly the emptiness you’d carried within you felt encompassing. Impossible to ignore. When your eyes met Remmick’s you knew he could see it on you, even smell it. A moment passed before you considered the small yet powerful distance between the two of you.

“Are you going to ask me to invite you in?”

Remmick rocked back on his heels, smiling comfortably to himself seemingly.

“No need to.”

You cocked your head.

“You already let me in.”

He ceased rocking.

“I didn-“

“You called out to me, you’ve been calling for my kind a long time.”

You thought of every celebration, every lonely night, every passing year you’d spent longing for something to take you away. A part of you had always felt heard, understood by some invisible force of nature - perhaps God. But God hadn’t been listening, Remmick had.

“Why now, after so long?”

He didn’t answer.

“Will you answer if I let you in?”

The light of the moon flickered in Remmick’s stare. He was undoubtedly the flame to your moth and he knew it, smiling as all those do who know they’ve won. It wasn’t just foolish to let him in it was suicidal but you felt a strange peacefulness with your decision. It was like he’d said: you’d already let him in.

Remmick watched, impressed, as you opened your door fully and gestured for him to come in. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly following you down the hall and into your kitchen. As he eyed your home, you glanced at the drawer you knew housed several knives.

Inside Remmick could almost pass for human, even to you. His eyes didn’t have the same demonic gleam they possessed outside. You watched as he ran a calloused hand down your armchair and caressed the tassels of your lampshade, like a child left unsupervised. He seemed in awe of everything and you found yourself feeling a solemn sense of pity in your heart. What kind of life did he live? Did he have a home of his own? These were questions amongst hundreds others you craved answers for.

“Why now?”

Remmick turned toward you, still keeping a few metres distance. The air moved differently around him, sensing he did not belong. It parted for him out of fear and perhaps on some level respect for he was more ancient than any other being. He smelt of the earth as if he’d been born from roots, not a Mother’s womb.

“You weren’t sure what you wanted, til now.”

“And what do I want?”

He just smiled as if the answer was obvious and perhaps it was. You turned away from Remmick pondering his words…escape.

“That’s it.”

That voice, he spoke like a serpent. A siren. Everything the local preacher warned you about was standing before you in your own kitchen. Invited.

“Don’t look so afraid now darlin, you wanted me here.”

That he knew you couldn’t argue with, no matter how horrid a truth it was. It hadn’t been delirium or the forceful hand of another that had led you to sin. You’d had the same teachings as everyone in town, the same goodness and voice of God. It had never been enough and looking at Remmick, sensing his sinful ferocity, you knew only he would be.

“I know...”

It had barely been a whisper but you knew he’d heard. Resigned to your fate, you stared solemnly at Remmick. He stared back with the sight of countless forgotten souls.

“Will you leave…”

You let out a shaky breath, finding the floor easier to talk to.

“My body…will you leave it here when it’s done?”

Remmick took slow, almost careful, steps toward you. Once his face was mere inches from your own he shook his head, looking down at your tearful eyes as if you were a thing to be pitied. Pitied and played with.

“We’ll see where the night takes us.”

You felt weakened by his words and yet no encounter rendered you so energised. None except…

“Johnny.”

Remmick ran a sharp tongue over his sharper teeth.

“Don’t worry. He’s out of reach.”

You thought of Johnny’s incessant touches, his threats.

“Is that where anyone who meets you ends up?”

“Just the ones who deserve it.”

You looked up at Remmick taking in the shape of his jaw, the line of his nose and the unruliness of his hair. He shouldn’t have been appealing, not when his very existence went against God, but he was. With every look, every word uttered you felt yourself being pulled by an invisible force into him. Shrouded under his being.

“Do I deserve it?”

“Deserve?”

Remmick’s eyes were transfixed on your neck before he pulled away to speak once more.

“Forsake that word, it means nothing to you.”

His eyes bored into yours, you heard his words run through your entire body. You felt the sudden urge to nod in blind agreement as after all it had been Remmick who’d saved you. Answered your callings. He had been your saviour so you’d worship him as you saw fit.

“You don’t have to hide your true nature from me, I smell it on you.”

Before you could think of a reply Remmick moved, slow but purposeful like a hunting snake. You watched him mouth agape as he lowered himself down…down…down until his eyes were level with your thighs. There was nothing between you and Remmick but a thin layer of linen and yet he made no attempt to rid you of your clothes. Instead he looked up at you with a face as innocent as you believed him capable of having. He was asking for permission.

“Chris…”

Your stomach churned at the thought of him at home, eagerly telling his family of your plans.

“Isn’t here is he?”

Remmick’s voice took you out of your head, snapping you into submission.

Your only response was to lift your nightdress, keeping your eyes on his. You waited for the judgement, from who you didn’t know. There were only sinners present. Remmick took a long look, drinking in the sight before he tasted you.

“Mnghn…”

You let out before clasping a hand over your mouth. Remmick peered up at you, grinning.

“Don’t gotta be quiet for me sweetheart.”

If you were thinking of speaking there was no need, Remmick dived back in without another word. His tongue felt feverish, its movements unrelenting and hungry. You clung to the kitchen counter as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue seeming longer by the second.

“Jesus…”

But he wasn’t present, only Remmick and his tongue could end your suffering. Only the warm feeling of lust could envelope you, your mind unreachable and your soul his. No man on Earth ever made your body sing, it was as if Remmick had done this a hundred times before. You knew this feeling had been chasing you, and you it, long before the knock at your door and worse still…that you’d miss it tomorrow.

“Sweetest thing these lips have tasted.”

His words were purest filth, his mouth ancient sin spurring you on. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his mouth demanding, praying for more. He gladly obliged by adding a finger to your torment, circling your clit whilst his tongue had its way. Your grip on the counter tightened, your eyes pleading to close but Remmick’s eyes on you said no: don’t look away. Savour every minute. Savour him.

It was too much: Remmick’s devouring, his words, his scent and the feeling of oblivion growing hotter in your core. Your hand found its way into his hair, gripping him harder than the counter only invigorating him.

“Yes angel, just like that.”

Every cell in your body felt magnetised to him as you came with a howl of his name and fire in your lungs. You hardly registered Remmick’s awe filled eyes on your shaking body, pre occupied with seeing every star in the universe. The room, the house it all felt small. Inconsequential. You were rising above it or perhaps sinking below, you no longer cared.

“Better?”

Remmick rose to steady you with strong arms, not waiting for an answer. His fingers and mouth were wet with your slick but he made no effort to clean himself. You had half a mind to grab his face between your hands and bite, kiss and lick yourself off him but his words halted you.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

He traced the shape of your face with his index finger admiring you almost like a lover would, a starved one. Your breath hitched when his hand found your throat and ever so gently squeezed.

“Your blood is louder than most.”

“You can hear it?”

“Always have.”

You pictured Remmick following your pulse to Johnny’s chosen spot, basking in the cover of twilight before draining him dry. It was an image you’d torn apart and rebuilt countless times when trying to forget. But in your kitchen, with Remmick’s teeth so close to your neck it and your escape in reach it seemed almost comforting. The inevitability of it all eased your lost soul, the knowing that no force on Earth could steer Remmick from your path. His path was yours and yours his, always had been.

You craned your neck for him, closing your eyes to bask in what would surely be the beginning of something unholy but no bite came. Remmick guided your head back in place, a solemn finality in his gleaming eyes.

“Dawn’s comin.”

He gestured to your window and sure enough a sunrise was brewing, threatening to end your night of living. Your mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Remmick licked what was left of your slick off his fingers, tasting as if you were a delicacy. In the time it took for your eyes to blink he was gone yet the scent of him lingered. You imagined it always would, that a part of him as he said would remain with you. He’d doomed you both, promised without such words to end your stagnant suffering and damn you to Hell.

You dreamt of following him there gladly, knowing your time would come soon enough.

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Taglist: @bluevenus19 @ajanehopper @jjubilee-fluff @troyottonick @solsoris @megangovier

[lesbo-tuliplvrr]

angst and fluff???

starting the day in bed all cuddly bc you're finally sharing a rest day

sadly, a friend of abby unexpectedly comes over, and abby knows how hard their friend's breakup has been, so she let's them stay.

reader is sooo pissed and usually abby can immediately recognise the jealousy and bad vibes, but she's so distracted

when the friend realises this, she asks to see abby's room and tries to kiss her

reader sees this and literally just storms off

im so sorry its so long lol, angsty ending pls. i hate miscommunication, but i have a feeling you'll do it amazing

you can totally change it too !!

off day

girlfriend!abby x girlfriend!reader

summary: abby continuously fails to heed your warnings about her best friend's intentions. when it gets to the point where she can no longer give her [friend] the benefit of the doubt, you're already gone.

cw: fluff (not for long HEHEHE), angst, kinda irritating abby, miscommunication but not really more like disregard or misunderstanding of said communication, swearing, kiss without consent, no specific physical description of reader, she/her pronouns are used.

a/n: tysm for the request anon:) I had something like this in my ideas to write anyway so I really just killed two birds with one stone. I changed things up a bit hope you don't mind. initially I was gonna make nora the friend but I can't do my girl like that so I just pulled mari's name from yellowjackets because I cannot stand her and can't wait till she dies :D (100% certain she's pit girl idc). anyway, hope you guys enjoy!! lemme know what you think in the replies!

wc: 2.5k

For the first time in a really long time, yours and Abby's off days coincided. Meaning you both could sleep in as long as you wanted. Could stay in bed all day, entangled in each other if you wanted to. And for the most part, that was your plan. Of course you would eventually have to leave the comfort of your shared bed to shower, and eat and perform other bodily functions needed to survive, but for the better part of the day you planned to never leave Abby's side. And neither did she plan to leave yours.

"I missed this so much," Abby spoke from where her face was nuzzled in your neck. She planted a kiss there, making you giggle at the feeling.

"I'm not leaving this bed ever again," you said, sinking deeper into the comfort of Abby and your shared bed. Abby looked up at you, raising up to kiss you sweetly on the lips. You reciprocated the gesture, easily getting lost in her touch. The kiss deepened, both not wanting to pull away. It really had been so long.

Abby had you pinned to the bed in no time, kisses no longer being focused on your lips but being littered everywhere on your body, when suddenly-

Knock Knock!

You and Abby arose due to the sound of frantic knocking, quickly throwing on your robes and heading towards the front door. Abby looked through the peephole, alarmed to see one of her best friends standing on the other side looking frazzled.

"Mari what the hell?" she questioned, opening the door for her friend. The friend in question immediately threw herself into Abby's arms.

"I really need you right now, Abby."

Reader

You weren't a toxic monster. Friends existed. Abby had friends who would need her at times. Just like there'll be times when she'd need them. It was the same for you. But you couldn't help but feel irritated at the sight of Mari.

She was one of those friends that were only suddenly a constant presence after their friend was taken. it seemed like she'd always find the times when you and Abby were just enjoying yourselves to barge in and make things about her.

At first you didn't want to think like that, chalking it down to just a standard case of jealousy. Abby had even noticed your change in behaviour.

"Don't tell me you're jealous of her?" Abby laughed, seeing you roll your eyes in relief and sigh after Mari left, having spent the entire day clinging to Abby.

You felt lousy for feeling jealous. It was so stupid. "I know I don't have anything to worry about but I just wanted to spend today with you." you voiced your frustration to her.

She scooped you up, carrying you to you guys' room, "I'm glad you know that I only have eyes for you. And plus, I am so not her type."

"You don't have to be her type for her to not want me around," you mumbled under your breath, still ashamed at your own pettiness.

"I heard that," Abby chuckled, "and I meant that she doesn't like girls."

A part of you felt stupid and embarrassed. Yet, not a big enough part for you to completely drop suspicions.

But that was only one out of the many other times she had coincidently showed up to hang or seek comfort from Abby, when you both intended on spending time together.

You even confronted Abby about it.

"I know how this may come off, but I'm not trying to limit how much you see your friends." you started, "but it gets to a point Abby. And either you're not seeing that she's taking advantage of your willingness to help and showing zero respect for what we have or you know and you're just not bothered by it. and quite frankly, I can't tell you which is worse!"

Abby heatedly responded, "She isn't taking advantage of anything! She's my friend and if she needs my help I won't hesitate to give it to her. Why are you making it out to be a bad thing that I care about my friends?"

You huffed in frustration, "I'm not talking about your other friends though am I Abby? I'm talking about Mari. Specifically, Mari. If she doesn't have feelings for you, she clearly doesn't like or respect me, and if you have no problem with either of those then I think you need to think a little harder about the future status of our relationship from here on out. I don't want to argue or make things worse but I'm getting tired of sounding like a broken record."

She went quiet at that, seemingly thinking it over.

After a moment of silence, Abby spoke up, “Look, baby. I'm sorry you've been feeling that way and I've been of no help. but I've already told you that she's straight-"

You sighed, rolling your eyes in disbelief. How could she still not get it?

"-But!" she interrupted your huff, "I trust you. If she doesn't make you feel respected then I'll take care of it."

You didn't look convinced.

"I'll have a chat with her. Don't worry, babe."

And Abby did come through on her promise to talk to her. The only thing was, Mari didn't exactly follow through with giving you guys space.

For the time being after Abby had spoken to her, she gave what you took as a half-hearted apology, stating she didn't mean to intrude or make it seem like she didn't care. But not very long after, she continued her usual behaviour. Just in a more careful way now that she knew you were keeping an eye on her.

So, to say your suspicion at yet another one of her intrusions was warranted, was an understatement in your opinion.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Abby asked, guiding a still attached Mari towards the living room. You closed the door behind them.

She divulged into how much her breakup from 2 months ago was still affecting her, claiming that a resurfaced picture of her and her ex triggered her that morning. In your eyes; bullshit. It seemed Abby could also see the crap for once, turning to make eye contact with you.

You raised your eyebrows at her as she turned back to face Mari, telling her to go wait for her in their bedroom.

When Mari left for your room and Abby and you were left alone, she started, "I know you're probably mad that we were interrupted, but she really is struggling a lot with this breakup."

You looked at her deadpan, already accepting that your perfect day at home with Abby was no more.

"And I know, her timing is unfortunate. again." You gave an oh really look, like you hadn't been pointing that out for the past 9 months.

You sighed, quite fed up with the same back and forth, "Just go help her Abby. Your friend needs you."

She looked at you, how apologetic she was evident on her face. But if she were truly sorry you wouldn't be having the same problem over and over.

She walked closer to you, holding your shoulder, "I'll go take care of it really quick, I promise. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves."

You scoffed, "That's not what I was concerned about but sure." Of course she still thought this was about you being petty or jealousy. Why couldn't she get it?

"Wha-"

"I'm gonna go get something for you guys from the shop. She'll want something sweet right?" You said, throwing on a coat and shoes, grabbing your wallet from the kitchen island where it remained the night before and heading out to your neighborhood mini mart.

After every argument and discussion you've had about this same issue, she still thinks it's a matter of being irritated at the intrusions? Well sure it was, to some extent, but this was so much more than that. And if Abby was gonna continue refusing to see the truth then this relationship could not last much longer.

Abby

"Sorry I took so long," Abby apologized to Mari, stepping into your and her room. Her friend was looking around your room, poking at the little trinkets and pictures littered around the area.

"It's fine," she responded, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed with Abby, "Is she mad? I know she doesn't like me."

"What? No, she doesn't not like you," Abby replied not so convincingly. Mari clearly wasn't convinced. "She's just..a bit frustrated I guess. We were gonna sleep in and do nothing today seeing as we're both off for the first time in forever." she chuckled.

Instead of feeling apologetic like a normal friend, Mari's facial expression changed to one resemblant to annoyance before she finally spoke up.

"Don't you think she's being a little unreasonable?"

Abby turned to her, confused. "Huh?"

Mari continued, "I mean. I'm not trying to imply anything bad about her but did she think she'd get to be the only person in your life now?" She finsihed with an eye roll and sickening smirk.

"What? No, that is not the case at all-"

"But it is!" Mari stood up, "She doesn't like me hanging around you. It's like she wants you all to herself or something. It's weird."

Now Abby was irritated, "Mar you don't know what you're talking about. If she gave off that impression it's because the times you choose to show up are when we don't want to be interrupted. Which is pretty often if I'm being honest." Abby stood up too, matching her friend's energy.

"What do you mean 'we'? You can't actually agree with her? We were friends before you even met her."

"Yeah but that doesn't mean I'm just supposed to choose you over her!" Abby was infuriated that Mari could ever think that way, immediately jumping to your defense.

"She's my girlfriend. And we see and talk to each other enough, quite frankly. I get to hang out with you more than I get to with her because we're both always busy, so yeah. If I were her I'd be a little frustrated if every time I finally got the chance to be alone with my girlfriend, her friend was suddenly showing up!"

Mari looked taken aback at the tone Abby had taken with her. She had never spoken like that to anyone, let alone her friend.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have raised my voice."

Expertly, Mari broke down in tears covering her face. Now Abby felt double bad. She was already going through so much and instead of being a comfort, all Abby could do was yell at her.

She quickly pulled her friend into her arms, caressing her head while repeating how sorry she was. Mari looked up into Abby's eyes, gradually bringing her face closer and closer to hers. Neither of them heard the front door open and your footsteps coming closer to the room.

As soon as the room door opened, you saw Mari on her tiptoes, lips pressed against Abby's. Abby immediately turned to where you stood in the open door, not realizing the compromising position she was in until you dropped the bag you held. Your face angrily held a Now do you see? expression as you slammed the bedroom door behind you, retreating to the living room. You had no interest in hearing what she could possibly have to say.

Just as you stormed out, Abby pushed Mari away from being so close to her and called out for you. "Baby, wait!"

"What the fuck was that?!" Abby bitterly asked her soon to be ex-friend, roughly wiping the feeling of Mari off her lips.

"I- I'm sorry, I just- I've liked you for so long-" Abby scoffed looking away from Mari's face, fuming, "-and- and she's no good for you! I'm sorry but you know it too, she's toxic Abby!"

Abby raised her eyebrows, eyes widening at the sheer insanity Mari was spewing, "The only toxic one here is you Mari! You know she warned me about this. I can't believe I didn't believe her."

"Wha- see?! She warned you about me? Who does she even think she is, she just got here! I've been your friend for years!"

"Too bad, so sad mari," Abby taunted, finally fed up with her, "Who she is, is my girlfriend and you're not going to get in the way of that. So while I'm asking nicely, get the fuck out of my house I never want to see you again."

Mari looked at her dumbfounded. Like she couldn't believe the words she was hearing.

"Out! now!" Abby demanded, following Mari out of the room. Mari, accepting this really was the end, stormed out of the front door completely ignoring your presence. You sat at the kitchen island watching Abby from across the room.

Reader

You looked at Abby who was now making her way towards you. She felt the anger in your muted facial expression, knowing she fucked up. Bad.

"I- you were right." You didn't say anything, continuing to stare at her.

"Believe me when I say, I really had no idea she felt that way and was trying to get in the way, I gave her the benefit of the doubt but I shouldn't have dismissed your skepticism. I should have known better than to think you'd have an issue with her for a reason so silly as plain jealousy.”

You didn't grace her with a response this time either. She came closer, placing her hands on your thighs, looking into your eyes.

"You told me so and I let it get to this point and I am so so so sorry, I promise she won't be an issue anymore. I told her off, for good this time."

Your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding against each other as you tried to muster up the courage to forgive her. A single tear ran down your face, your eyes red in anger and frustration and sadness. she tried wiping the tear from your cheek but you brushed her hand away, finally speaking up.

"No." you said, shaking your head as you got up from the seat in the kitchen.

Abby looked frantic, "Wh-what do you mean 'No'? I told you I was sorry, I- i took care of it." She trailed after you.

You moved through the living room, heading straight to open the front door. Abby quickly stopped you, using her strength to hold the door ajar so you couldn't leave just yet, "Where are you going?" Her voice sounded shaky.

"I need some space, Abby. Please?" you asked, not looking her in the eye. You couldn't handle seeing the pain in her eyes. You needed to think about yourself right now.

Time and time again, you've shut out your own gut feelings to please Abby. Insistent on there being no ulterior motives on Mari's part, you trusted her. Maybe you were just jealous. Maybe you were too possessive of Abby. But jealousy was not such a blinding emotion that you were rendered unresponsive to disrespect.

She respects you. She respects us. You believed her again.

Yet here you stood. Relationship hanging on by a spider silk thread.

She begrudgingly let you go, trusting you'd not too long be back. Your mental bags were already packed, however, and there was no coming back.

a/n: sooo how we feeling bout that one?? idk tbh. also are mini marts a thing in the land of capitalism (america)? I've literally never been there so if they aren't, just pretend if you're american. (it's in the name, it's like a little supermarket/shop usually walking distance from housing areas. you're never really too far away from a mini mart in the caribbean) . also, it's crazy to me how subconsciously my default when writing is to relate to an american audience (I hate yall so bad for that, jk jk, or am i). like where I live, coats are utterly unnecessary. no one wears a coat that isn't a rain coat unless it's part of a fit and they're going to one of the colder malls typically up north, idk I just found that funny.

anyway I'll stop yapping and continue writing the other requests I've gotten. mwah! love yall. thanks for reading!!

[sp00kymulderr]

Rise

Joel Miller x afab!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+. Jackson Joel, Touch starved Joel, Lonely old man Joel. Too much religious imagery. Feelings, feelings, feelings. References to sex. Unedited.

Words: 700~

Summary: You are a brightness, Joel is the undeserving dark.

He hadn’t meant to stare, he really hadn’t.

The thing is, you were just so mesmerizing. The way you laughed and the way you danced and the way you could shine so bright in a world he had rarely known to be anything but cruel.

Jackson brought that out of people, Joel recognised that. The ability to let go finally, to live for more than survival. You had been half the bright star you are now when you first arrived; wary and traumatised. He knew those feelings well. Why had he held on to them for so much longer than anyone else?

You were like the antithesis to him: easy to know, easy to love, creating something out of the nothing your life had once been. You were well liked. Joel liked you more, he thought, but people saw you as someone they could talk to.

Tommy often told Joel he was respected in Jackson, appreciated. But it was never the same. He doesn’t have that glow, that brilliance. People know him. No one knows him. Not since Ellie had started to grow away from him, started to doubt him more…

No, not now. Those thoughts aren’t for now.

Right now, this moment, is for reverence. How had this happened? He had been staring more than he should last night at The Tipsy Bison. How had that lead you to be in his bed this morning? He could barely remember; the night a blur of things he didn’t think he should have been allowed to see. He had bought you a drink, you had given him a dance. And then more, and more. You had given him so much more.

Joel is staring again, your resting form so resplendent in the early morning light. So…divine…there’s no other word for it. You were made to be worshiped, he’s sure of it. Being of blazing light brought down to shine on his dimmed world.

When was the last time he had been touched before you? God, he truly doesn’t remember. Certainly not the way you touch; softness of your fingers paving the way for a needy grip on him, he wouldn’t forget that touch. He had been craving it for too long, imagining. Thought upon thought of what a thing your touch could be but he was never prepared for the reality of it.

Joels own hands find their way to you, fingers skimming the bare skin of your lower back. Unworthy. So defiant that his unworthy hands - so rough from years of wear - should get to lay a place on your body.

The word repeats again and again. Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy.

And yet last night you had told him in the silken whisper of your moans and pleas. Worthy. Worthy. Worthy.

His calloused hand travels its way slowly up the path of your back. A pilgrimage across a body meant for more than him. The rise and fall of your breath breathes fresh air in to the staleness of his home.

Of his heart.

What did he do to deserve this? What mistake did you make to let him have this?

Grey and alone and aching in ways that go beyond physical. But you were the one who kissed him first. You were the first to touch, to feel where he had not been felt in longer than he knew.

Joel leans slowly across to you. Those harsh fingers of his trailing down the curve of your waist. He dares to plant a pious kiss to your shoulder. Surely soon you’ll wake and realise the mistake?

“Joel” You moan. A soft little thing that makes his heart jump. The same way you’d spoke it last night while he’d had you on his lap, when he’d told you to come and you had like he should have any say in anything you did.

Fuck. He is undeserving of all of this but his greedy heart wants more. Hungry mouth wants to take you apart on it over and over again. Eager fingers itching to feel their way around every beautiful, delicate crook of your body.

He breathes your name back. You turn to him. Surely now is the time you tell him it was wrong. Now…

Joel’s breath catches as you turn to face him, pull him to you. He practically trembles as your lips meet again.

This can’t last forever. He doesn’t deserve it.

It means too much.

He means too little.

You kiss him again. He feels the glow of you everywhere.

This can’t last forever, he reminds himself.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Masterlist of My Works

Morveren | AO3

This is a personal blog, but I do take the occasional ask/requests. SFW asks only, please.

Genshin Impact

Stories:

✸ Someday, Somewhere (Xiao x Reader) (AO3)

You meet Adeptus Xiao under strange new skies.

✸ Speak (Xiao x Reader) (AO3)

Learning to love him is like learning a different language.

✸ Silk Flowers (Xiao x Reader) (Tumblr | AO3)

It was the silk flowers.

In summer time, they are practically given away: to seamstresses, to scribes, or perhaps, woven into the hair of a well-known customer. The token of a bargain well-struck.

Xiao claims not to be bothered by them, that adepti are above petty mortal concerns like jealousy.

Perhaps he is right, and you are reading too much into it.

But perhaps, as you are slowly learning, adepti are closer to humans than they’d like to admit.

You decide to test this theory.

"Xiao, if you hate the flowers so much," you say, smiling. "Why not take them off?"

✸ A Crown of Bone (Zhongli x Reader) (Tumblr | AO3)

Imagine being a changeling child and living your life in quiet yearning.

You had been found in the dead of winter, or so your mother tells you, a half-fey child abandoned in a snowbank.

Imagine a lifetime of secrets: your first memories are of a spring that does not belong to the mortal realm. You dream of golden eyes gleaming at you from the darkness as your mother picked you up and carried you away.

Imagine keeping these things to yourself, tucked away against the curve of your ribs, right next to your slow-beating heart. Secrets that are half-yearning and half-memory: someone had left you there in that snowbank, and there are days that you think that they did not do so willingly.

And you hope that one day, they will find you again

Headcanons:

✶Imagine Zhongli as Your Reincarnated Lover (Zhongli x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Imagine Being Kaeya's Childhood Friend (Kaeya Alberich x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Diluc x Fatui Reader (Diluc Ragnvindr x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Imagine sliding your fingers underneath Dilucs glove (Diluc Ragnvindr x Reader) (Tumblr)

Batman: Arkham and DC

Stories:

✸ The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

✸ His Father's Son (Jason Todd x Reader, Dark Fantasy!AU) (AO3)

Gotham City: the world’s last and greatest bastion of magic. A city made out of spells and twisting steel.

And the only place where the dead can be brought back to life.

After Jason Todd had been forcibly resurrected by his father, he left Gotham City in search of a new life. One where he did not have to be constantly reminded that he now sits on the border between the monstrous and the miraculous. One where he could forget that no longer quite belongs in the world of the living.

But when a strange new curse surfaces, one that causes plants to take root inside of living people and leaving flowering corpses in its wake, Jason finds that he must come back and help solve the case before it devours the city whole.

✸ Rules of Vanishing (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

Here are the rules to survive as a civilian in Gotham City:

The first rule is to keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't make eye contact. Walk briskly and with purpose. Don't wear anything flashy that can be stolen and most certainly do not walk down that dark alley.

The second rule is don't be a hero. Avoid confrontations. Walk the other way when you see a standoff. Don't try to help that man getting beat up in the alley, because odds are you'll get killed right along with him. Gotham City has Batman for a reason.

The third and most important rule is this: Don't get involved with superheroes.

Or in your case, gun-toting vigilantes.

✸ Next to Last (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

After Batman’s death, Jason is left to pick up the pieces.

✸ Revenant (Creature!Jason x Reader) (Tumblr)

✸ The Precious Details of You (Yandere!Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr) (AO3)

You ask him the same question, the way you always do.

“When are you going to let me go?”

And Jason replies, the way he always has: “Soon.”

✸ Imagine Early Mornings with Bruce Wayne (Bruce Wayne x Reader) (Tumblr)

Headcanons:

✶ Imagine Dark Fantasy!Gotham City (Tumblr)

✶How would Jason react to having his face traced (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Domestic Headcanons (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Eurydice! Jason Todd and Orpheus! Reader (Jason Todd x Reader (Tumblr)

✶ Jason Todd's life outside of work (Gen) (Tumblr)

✶ Jason Todd's day to day life (Gen, mild Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Imagine Wayne Manor as a Haunted House (Bruce Wayne x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Sleeping Arrangements (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ What kind of praise/compliments Jason would be fine with? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ What freaks him out most in a relationship? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Jealousy and Insecurity Headcanons (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ What lesson about love are they still trying to learn? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ How has their understanding of love changed? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

✸ Stolen (Hawks | Keigo Takami x Reader) (AO3)

He is five years old when he decides to be a hero. It is not as simple learning to fly nor is it as easy as saving people.

But he does not know that yet.

Snapshots of Hawks’ life from child to hero to something else in between.

Jujutsu Kaisen

✸ Made New (Kento Nanami x Reader) (Tumblr) (AO3)

Your husband, Kento Nanami, comes back home after Shibuya. Only he isn't quite the same.

[magnoliarabbit]

Protectiveness and Possessiveness in Invincible

I think Invincible did a lot to establish a core issue of Mark’s character in Season 3 — particularly how his protective instincts, while they come from pure intentions and are seen as a good masculine trait to have, can manifest in unhealthy ways.

At their core, these tendencies stem from a place of care. After what Nolan did Mark is left as the protector of his family. He steps up by offering to drop out of college to help raise Oliver, he support Debbie through her grief, he keeps them safe from people like Angstrom Levy.

Yet, when it comes to Eve, his protectiveness takes a turn, blurring a thin line from protectiveness to possessiveness.

From the beginning, Mark’s relationship with Eve brings out his irrational side. During the Flaxan invasion, he reacts aggressively and drops everything to save her. In the Season 1 finale, he insists on following her to "keep her safe," and later, he refuses to leave her hospital room—even when Cecil explicitly tells him Eve wouldn’t want him there.

His instinct isn’t to fight alongside her but to shield her from danger entirely, whether it’s against the alternate Invincible variants or Conquest. The irony is that Mark needs Eve’s help just as much as she needs his. Without her and Oliver’s intervention, he wouldn’t have survived Conquest. But he still has those expectations of himself to be the protector simply because he’s supposed to be earth strongest hero (another fun discussion to have another time about men being expected to be strong no matter what!)

The real issue is that his protectiveness morphs into entitlement over Eve. Him staying at the hospital or following to keep her safe? Eve doesn’t welcome that level of coddling. This obsession with her and that possessiveness over her is also shown within how the alternate Marks treat Eve.

The Season 2 Episode 1 Variant Invincible feels so entitled to Eve that he paralyzes her to make her stay with him forever. He does this all while thinking he's protecting her; if he paralyzes her, then she won't fight back and he and Nolan won't need to hurt her.

Another Mark variant is searching for women who embody Eve to fill a void inside him; again, obsession and entitlement. (Comic readers know what I mean)

Even Omni-Mark harbors an unexplained hatred toward her (likely over rejection, because let’s be honest—nobody wants that guy. Or because she was a thorn in his side while conquering earth. Idk if anything was ever revealed about him).

The Mark variants show extremes of how much his flaws could corrupt him.

Our Mark isn’t innocent either. During the hospital visit Cecil’s warns him that Eve would disapprove of him putting her first. He’s overstepping just like in Season 1.

Symbolically, it makes sense for him to be so fixated on shielding her: Eve is coded as unapologetically feminine, while the Viltrumites embody toxic masculinity at its worst. Mark wants to defend her from that brutality, especially after seeing how easily Viltrumite strength can overpower her. But Eve has been a hero longer than Mark and understands the job’s risks and prioritizes saving others over her own safety. She’s feminine, that’s why she cares about helping others outside of fighting. That’s why she doesn’t want to be protected. By putting her above the mission, Mark disregards her agency—something she’s called him out for before in Season 1.

FYI, the show amplifies these flaws compared to the comics. Cecil doesn’t mention Eve would be upset with Mark over the hospital thing, so the show highlights Eve’s frustration over being coddled so much more than the comics.

Season 3 and those Mark being protective scenes in Season 1 finale felt like a set up to me. I really do believe we’re going to be tackling Mark’s possessiveness issue soon. We do discuss his obsessions over fighting to keep his people safe to an unhealthy degree in the comics but Season 3 feels like it’s kicking it up a notch and planting the seeds for something similar happening much earlier.

Mark’s heart is in the right place, but he needs to learn to respect Eve’s autonomy and that he needs her just as much as she needs him. We see what letting that unhealthy possessiveness can do to him. And again, I do think this is foreshadowing for Eve being very unhappy with Mark soon when she finds out about the hospital thing. I hope she will be, because they need to bounce back from the mid writing on Eve in Season 3.

[yama-does-art]

Cyber!Earth AU TFP Headcanons

[Please Note, this was written before TF Earthspark was a thing, This has been sitting on my computer for forever.]

What if Earth was cyberformed but instead all life being destroyed, it hybridized with cybernetic biology. A Techno-Organic ecosystem in a primeval Earth envionment. Cyber!Earth AU

Or… Let's create a cybertronian death world that will make Magatron wish there was a few phase six'ers still online.

Environment ->

Most things are upscaled to cybertronian size: fauna, flora, and everything in between

Except humans, they stayed comparatively the same, adults ranging between 5-10ft on average, children being smaller than that

Most of Earths lifeforms would mirror its organic counterparts, poisons, diseases, bacteria all have to potential to harm both organic and non-organic life to varying degrees (For example, there are new viruses that Cybertronians have to deal now or animals like the jellyfish can sting a Bot' as much as it can a Terran)

Though the physiology of cyberformed organisms look like eldrich abominations of flesh and metal (which they absolutely are) in actually, all the components are hybridized at a molecular level, creating a truly unique class of lifeform

Energon is integrated into the ecosystem, in every aspect of life. On one hand, Cybertronians have options for renewable sources of energon, on the other, the same Cybertronians are now a part of the food chain

Imagine the horror of landing on Cyberformed Earth, only to realize anything can and will try to eat you (and they thought scaplets were bad)

Life cycles continue as it was, organism will die eventually through natural means (Without technological intervention, Terrans will still pass in as many years as their human counterparts)

Cyberformed Humans ->

Officially cyberformed humans call themselves Terrans

When spiteful, they call themselves the Children of Choas (After the horror of a civilization ending event, complete and involuntary body restructuring, and learning that their alien overlords equivalent to space-Saten is you planets core: people are going to wear that title with pride)

Terrans DON'T have T-Cogs, inbuilt blaster weapons, or sharp talons (Cybertronians make the mistake that these "new" humans are just as squishy and defenseless)

Nope! All of our natural survival adaptations are just dialed to 11: insane pain tolerance, robust immune system, high endurance, excellent mimicry skills, and the ability to consume nearly anything

Sure a Terrans' skin (really, it is more akin to a fine mesh) is just as sensitive and fragile as a cybertronians protoform and all of our major organs are still organic-like (in other words, we're still going to be little meat bags)

That will not stop a group of Terran's from hunting the local mega-fauna or giving some bot's a bad day

Humans of old were persistant hunters, our major advantage being that our bodies did not overheat compared to the game that we hunted. So how would that translate for a techno-organic? Temperature Regulation and Energy Conservation - what if a Terran's body had a better temperature to fuel ratio? We would be able to run for far longer with minimal energy loss

In this scenario, a Terran could keep pace with a cybertronian in its root mode, and outlast said cybertronian on fuel (the assumption that the hotter a cybertronian burns, the greater amount of fuel that it needs)

Unlike Bots', Terrans have the capacity of consuming anything remotely organic or living metal (tree bark, leather shoes, loose wires, raw minerals, semi-organic cabling, all of it, yes. And if not, boiled in a stew)

I imagine some cyberformed plants would become something poisonous to cybertronians and the the Terrans are like, "Nah man, that's just a mango, only the skin is toxic.." and the bot's are once again mortified by the cybertronian equivalent to chili peppers

Terrans have their own form of adrenalin too, in the form of red energon (cyberformed humans can convert the energon in their semi-organic frames into red energon, overclocking their systems to hyperspeed)

Like a adrenaline rush for a human, a Terran could over extend themselves in such a state, even if their bones are as durable as armor plating

[foreststarflaime]

Can I have 13-15 for AGSZC?

Coming right up! Ty!!

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Angeal: took care of a fake plastic plant like it was a real one for several days before he noticed. This may or may not have been the result of a prank which he retaliated against in kind with extreme prejudice

Genesis: someone went through all his hardcovers and flipped their covers. He was really out of it one night and picked up one of his hardcover copies of Loveless. It took him much longer than it should have to realize that he was holding it upside down because the cover had been switched around and reading not off the page but from his own memory

Sephiroth: not letting his friends in on what he was dealing with with shinra hthrhrhh probably when Angeal forgot to give him a fork so he assumed the food he had been given (mac n cheese) was just supposed to be eaten with your hands. Genesis has a picture of the result framed in his apartment

Zack: repeatedly runs into poles/doorframes/etc quite often. He gets distracted talking to people or just by his own thoughts and completely forgets to watch where he’s going. Another contender: really liked being turned into a frog by various touch mes back in Gongaga, had to be rescued from this many times by his poor harried parents. Have you ever seen a frog do squats? Sotetsu has. Frequently

Cloud: Sephiroth passed by him in the hallways once. What ensued due to his nerves from that resembled some looney tunes or tom and jerry cartoon in its slapstick physical comedy. He tripped over himself in ways that should not be possible for the human body to achieve. He fell up the stairs

14. Most heroic moment

Angeal: we have not seen it play out in its entirety yet, but—there’s something to the simple gesture of just reaching out to your comrade, a scared, abused kid, and making sure he’s alright. Being there for him even when he pushes you away

Genesis: he was genuinely a hero. He may not have been fighting on the right side, he may have been somewhat selfish in pursuit of glory, but he took care of the people around him. Countless times he pushed himself to the brink of (and even over) mana exhaustion healing his fellow SOLDIERs, and troopers as well, himself. He saved a lot of lives that way, and many loved him for it, and were loyal to him for it—their Shinra-appointed commanders never took such care of them. Unfortunately, their loyalty did not pay off how anyone wished it would.

Sephiroth: I’m sorry I just still cannot get over how devastated he was by that random trooper’s death when they fell off the bridge in Nibelheim. He spent actual hours looking for him. The heights of true heroism right before the fall. I’m going to explode

Zack: dragging Cloud across the entire globe for an entire year straight while he was comatose and Zack himself was definitely not anywhere close to okay. And then making sure Cloud survived even when it seemed beyond hopeless—he could have left him and run and lived but he didn’t

Cloud: I so love that he just saw a sick kid and immediately made sure he’d have food and shelter and kindness and help, even when he himself was hurting too. Denzel <3

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

Angeal: he did fight in the Wutai War, yknow. He probably killed a lot of people that didn’t deserve it, were just defending their homes. It’s that or making Zack kill him, or not reaching out to Seph when he saw he was struggling.

Genesis: killing his parents and whole village is pretty bad. It’s either that or—depending on how you split the blame between him and Hollander’s influence/lies/manipulation, turning his loyal SOLDIERs who stuck by his side into copies, making their lives a living hell. It might have been kinder to kill them.

Sephiroth: I mean. I think this one is fairly obvious 🔥🏠🏔️🗡️

Zack: again, a lot of the effects of just working for Shinra as a SOLDIER. You have to do some pretty bad stuff fighting for them. I could say stealing when he was on the run with Cloud but he had good reason for that and I don’t think it even comes close really

Cloud: leaving his friends when he wants to curl in on himself and shoulder all the burdens of his life on himself, making them worry and pushing them away when they would have been happy—and probably had more peace of mind—to help him

[lemonswoop]

Stray is one of my top 10 games of all time, so I decided to do a little replay to remind myself why I love it so much.

Full journal entry under the cut

Stray

Start date:8/18

End date: 8/27

Platform: Steam Deck

Hours played: 14

Rating: 5/5

On the day I finished Stray I sat back and said "I can feel this game is going to be very special to me." It's an odd game to be in my top 10 games of all time. I knew the simple concept of playing as a little cat (with me being a huge cat lover) would be an instant favorite, but I didn't expect that the message of the game would hit a particular soft spot in my heart.

What I thought would be a silly little cat sim set in a cyberpunk city turned out to be a twist on the classic dystopian future filled with hope, love and the beauty of the human spirit.

The game starts off with a cat falling into a walled slums of a domed society where humans have been dead for thousands of years. Our tiny cat protagonist meets the very last known human in existence, B12, a scientist whose consciousness gets uploaded into a tiny drone. Disease and plague ravaged the futuristic city, leaving nothing but memories and the robot companions programed to serve its lost inhabitants. But something special happened;

In the forsaken slums, gritty and filled with despair, hope thrived before the humans passed. When energy was capped, rebellion lit up the city with neon lights. When things seemed bleak, humans created art, tended to thriving plants, and hugged their loved ones tight. They went to bars to get sloppy drunk and laugh off the dark times with friends.

They Lived.

"Humans often said that making art is important in desperate situations. There are certainly desperate times."

Humans may have passed, but humanity lived on in the companion robots who gained sentience. The only models they had was what humanity had left behind for them. In the lowest levels of society is where the beautiful parts of humanity survived. The robot citizens didn't need to eat, wear clothes, love one another, but they did so because of the examples that were left for them. They fostered a community to protect one another all while dreaming of it all being better somehow.

The main goal of a small group was to open up the domed city, see the blue sky and go back to the long abandoned outside. It's what the humans would have wanted, and a place the robots have only ever heard about in stories.

One of my favorite aspects of the game is that while it reaches far beyond the scope of a little cat plot-wise, the cat represented a larger theme of hope for better still existing and it was time to start trying to reach it again. The cat inspired brave and bold actions in the robots, all resulting in finally reaching the top of the walled city. A sterile place where the rich and powerful operation controllers all lived; now gone. And in that city no culture, no art, no humanity survived. The robots were just robots, forever following the last directive they were given before humanity perished.; A pristine wasteland.

B12, the last human, sacrifices himself to take down the system and open the walled city to the bright blue sky. No longer did B12 feel the need to carry the weight of humanities past because they never left. They just belonged to a new society lovingly passed down. A future existed where our best qualities as a collective are what survived.

Sometimes I feel as if the beautiful message of this game gets overlooked, which is a shame when its a message I feel we all can use when the world at large feels bleak.

Nothing is ever wasted or in vain. The beauty of humanity is in what we leave behind. Even the small and whimsical things that only exist to bring us joy; they all matter.

Making music, art, reading, tending to a garden, hugging a loved one, holding onto hope... and yes, loving and finding companionship in a little cat.

"But I see a future in the companions, and in you."

[tupanaelmichi]

Howl Your Pleas Under the Full Moon

A Werewolf!Edwin AU

The thing is, Edwin Payne keeps many secrets.

One can never escape Hell, not truly. There’s always a hint of sulfur on one’s clothes, a permanent reminder of the very place that haunts your nightmares every time you close your eyes. However, most of that one can keep to oneself.

Sure, there will always be a creature that will be able to tear apart that mask of peacefulness, to look through all those layers of hurt to find the scars of hellfire that taint your soul with the red of the purest blood, to smell the stink of suffering you leave behind you like a trail of the past. Nevertheless, that is purely superficial, for there will never really be a physical mark that can stain your skin as an announcement of the danger you bring along with you for others to flee.

At least, that’s what Edwin thought for the first three weeks.

When the first full moon of his afterlife arose, surrounded by the hundreds of shining stars that decorated London’s November of 1989 night sky, things started to change for the young ghost. This ominous, depredatory feeling bloomed in his chest like the sprout of a dark tree, a tree of sorrow that found its roots planted in the deepest of infernal soil, right along the boiling pits of sulfur.

He remembers rushing out of the library, right into the outskirts of St. Hillarions, the phantom sensation of a thousand porcelain eyes roaming over his back making him sprint like a madman.

He remembers running through the familiar woods of his old boarding school, the place where the life of former model scholar and different-from-other-boys Edwin Payne had ended to make way for the husk of a child he had become.

He remembers how, guided by the almighty presence of the bright satelite looming over him, the body of a hellbent boy began to shift, adapting the shape of long forgotten and likely non-existing bones to the liking of an external force, tearing young skin apart, growing the saddest hints of gray fur over the ghastly tangle of limbs that could not longer be called a human being, or even the remains of one.

He remembers the howl that escaped his snout that night, and he remembers the pain that reverberated through this newfound vessel of his soul as he did. Shed of his own flesh, both as a human and as a ghost, he finally felt free. Not the kind of free that any living or dead person can experience, not the kind of free that meant being rid of the pain, but the freedom of a beast. The freedom of a hunter, the freedom of a killer that it’s not tied to survival, but to thirst.

Then, everything went quiet. Not a single owl hooted, not even the wind dared to flow through the leaves of the trees.

Edwin Payne, no longer human, no longer Edwin Payne, howled again. All the consciousness that comes with being was quiet as well, that stupid voice at the back of his head weeded out of his own mind just like the plague it was in this cruel world of eating or being eaten. Edwin knew the sensation of seventy years of being eaten by that darn spider again and again down in Hell, he knew the pain of being eaten by his classmates and everyone around him back when he was alive; perhaps, it was the time to stop being a cowardly prey, and start becoming the predator.

The next day, the boys at St Hillarions told fantastic stories of a werewolf haunting the school grounds, trying to scare each other. Nobody really believed them, because, “a werewolf here, in London? Really? Mate, do you really think I’m that much of an idiot?”. The boys were of course right, the notion of such a monster roaming regular English woods was unthinkable, even to a ghost such as himself. The remains of bloodlust impregnated in his mind spoke otherwise, though, but a ghost werewolf wouldn’t really be an issue to anybody other than himself in the foreseeable future, so, as long as he stayed far apart from other potentially damageable spirits, nobody should be harmed by the urges that this hellish reminder of his brought upon his non-life. After all, pain was a thing that Payne could endore.

Full fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65064256

[bardic-tales]

Day 27 | Day 29

31 days of FF 7 Headcanons: Day 28: Personal Crisis of Faith

Bianca Moore's personal crisis of faith was not a single moment, but a slow, devastating erosion of everything she once believed in. Born between realms of celestial light and infernal darkness and thrust into a human vessel, her early ideals of hope and redemption were fragile. Her life was already strained by betrayal, loss, and the weight of a destiny she never chose. When tragedy struck again and again, culminating in the brutal death of her mentor and the violent corruption of her body and soul, Bianca's faith crumbled. No longer able to believe in divine purpose or salvation, she forged a new path: one of sovereign power, darkness, and rebirth. Her crisis did not end her. It transformed her into something far greater and far more terrible than anything even her father, Asmodeus, could have foreseen.

Potential Trigger Warnings: abuse, body horror, captivity, emotional manipulation, experimentation, grief, loss of faith, medical experimentation, mind control, physical violence, religious trauma, self-identity crisis, torture, trauma

Bianca’s personal crisis of faith was inevitable, given the complexity of her existence. Raised between light and darkness, love and betrayal, she struggled for much of her early life to understand her purpose. Initially, Bianca believed she was born to protect and nurture the remnants of good in the world, a hope instilled in her by her adoptive mother, Sarah Moore. However, after Sarah’s brutal murder at the hands of Azrakiel’s cult, and the devastating betrayal by Krista Gilmore, her first love, Bianca’s fragile sense of morality began to unravel. These early betrayals planted the seeds of doubt within her, shaking her faith in goodness, in destiny, and ultimately in herself.

The true collapse of Bianca’s faith occurred after Mordecai’s death. Mordecai had been Bianca’s anchor: a mentor, a partner, and the one person who understood the duality within her. His sacrifice to save her from Asmodeus left her adrift, physically wounded and spiritually broken.

Forced to survive alone after being thrust into the Ethereal Nexus before falling into a portal to Gaia, Bianca questioned why any divine force would allow so much pain to define her existence. If she had been created to bring balance, why was her life consumed by endless suffering and loss? Caught between rage at the Creator's silence and the unbearable grief of losing Mordecai, Bianca began to see her once-cherished purpose as a cruel joke; her wings, a cage.

This despair only deepened once she arrived on Gaia and encountered Sephiroth. Initially sensing a kindred spirit, Bianca’s bond with Sephiroth blurred the lines between salvation and destruction. After he descended into madness and during his manipulation and twisting of her trauma in their shared dreamscape, she found herself imprisoned and experimented on by Diana Ravenscroft and Hojo. Bianca’s remaining slivers of hope were crushed.

Each violation of her body, each injection of Jenova and S-cells, stripped her identity and forced her to confront an unbearable truth: her destiny was not to heal the world but to be reforged as a harbinger of its rebirth through destruction. In those dark hours in Shinra Mansion, Bianca abandoned her belief in redemption or divine justice. Faith became weakness. Trust became death.

Rather than resist, Bianca embraced the darkness burgeoning inside her. Sephiroth’s manipulation, once subtle, became overt, and she welcomed it. She no longer viewed herself as a guardian of light but as an architect of a new, inevitable reality. As her biological mother’s voice faded and was replaced by Jenova’s Influence through the alien cells in her body and her soul-link with Sephiroth corrupted, her celestial lineage, once a source of pride and hope, became a weapon to be wielded, not a virtue to be honored. In surrendering to this transformation, Bianca found an unexpected clarity. She would carve her own fate in fire and shadow, alongside Sephiroth: not as a servant of good but as a sovereign force.

Ultimately, Bianca’s crisis of faith did not lead to her ruin but to her rebirth. She shed the last remnants of her innocence and morality, embracing her complex nature fully. The outcome was the creation of a new being: not as the baby Seraphine, her mother, had sent through time to save, but a queen of light and darkness, whose loyalty was bound not to any divine command but to herself, her children, and her dark god.

In abandoning faith, Bianca found power. In forsaking her original purpose, she discovered her true one. She was to become a goddess of destruction and rebirth, an equal and eternal partner to Sephiroth in reshaping existence itself.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy @serenofroses

[lordgrimwing]

The Big 5-0-0

(Or, Glorfindel has a gift for his husband)

[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 7]

“Five hundred years!” Exclaimed the shocked tavern keeper.

Glorfindel shrugged as he helped the Man lift the roasted lamb from the cooking fire that also heated the dining room. “Five hundred years is not so long for elves.”

The Man scoffed, taking up a towel in one hand and pushing the steaming carcass from the spit. She wagged a finger at him. “For an Elf with a thousand years ahead of him, maybe, but any marriage that endures longer than kingdoms ought to be celebrated to the fullest.”

A thousand more years felt like pitifully little time to Glorfindel. He certainly would take every opportunity to celebrate every memory if he knew his time in Arda was so limited. How Men, who were lucky if they lived within a stone’s throw of one hundred, went their whole lives without bursting into song and dance in celebration of existence, he’d never understand. 

“I saw that horse you rode here on, so don’t bother saying you don’t have the means to throw a proper party.”

Asfaloth, being an Elvish steed, demanded a certain level of finary when he went out. The bells, however, were entirely Glorfindel’s idea.

“Erestor detests parties, and he says adorning a horse in gems and bells will get me killed—again!” 

She snorted at the jest, passing Glorfindel a platter for the meat he was stripping from the bones, unbothered by the heat that would burn her hands. “And in five hundred years, have you learned only what he dislikes and nothing of what he likes?”

He smiled softly. He knew much of what his beloved liked.

“Should I call all those men back in and ask them to recount tales of wives whose husbands didn’t bring them an anniversary gift?” The tavern keeper threatened. 

She’d cleared the dining room of local patrons until the meal was ready. The gleaming Elf-lord had garnered more raucous attention than she liked when it was her building, table, and chairs at risk, and it hadn’t felt right to ask him to wait in his room until everyone was distracted by good food. The other Men went willingly enough, though Glorfindel could still clearly hear them milling about outside.

“That won’t be necessary, good lady,” he said. “Duty brought me this way, but I made time to find something he will treasure.” He patted the purse tied to his belt.

She shot the purse a dubious look, doubtlessly skeptical that anything that fit in a small bag could adequately encompass the magnitude of a couple’s 500th wedding anniversary. 

“Well,” she settled on. “Don’t say no one warned you if he kicks you out on your ear.”

--

When Glorfindel finally arrived in Imladris, Erestor met him in the narrow pass leading down into the valley, too impatient to wait longer.

“My brightest night star!” Glorfindel said, alighting from Asfaloth’s saddle to sweep the loremaster into his arms. He planted a kiss on his forehead, thrilled by the absence of an audience to their reunion: Erestor disliked people kissing in public almost as much as he disliked parties. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Erestor huffed but did not pull away. Reaching up, he pulled Glorfindel’s head down to return the kiss, leaving his husband blushing with excitement. 

“You took your time, Dandelion,” the black-haired Elf accused when they separated. “Elrond expected you back a fortnight ago.”

“I admit to tarrying longer than needed for the task he gave me,” Glorfindel said, leading the dusty stallion as the lovers continued down the path hand-in-hand. “But I promise it was not without reason.”

“It had better be a good reason, and not just that you had to climb some mountain to return one of Manwë’s foolish birds to its nest.”

Erestor was with him on that particular occasion, about fifty years before they married, though he had no interest in scaling the last cliffs to return the unfledged eagle to her home. Glorfindel insisted on it, knowing the young bird couldn’t survive the fast-approaching thunderstorm alone in the open and was too wild to keep in with them until the weather cleared. Trusting his skill and light step, Glorfindel climbed alone, the bird wrapped in a cloth to keep her wings and talons contained and secured in a sack over his shoulder, only her head poking out. The task wouldn’t have been challenging if not for the storm. He made it back to the sheltered test just fine, reassuring the flustered eagle parents with a song as he freed their lost eaglet. On the way down, however, his hands split on the rain-soaked stones and fell—only a few feet down to the next ledge, true, but it was enough to leave his heart pounding and senses ringing with the echos of dragon-thunder and flash of balrog-whips overlaying the storm. 

Erestor threatened to knock him out and tie him up the next time such madness came over him when he eventually made it back to safety, dripping wet and jumping at every clash of thunder that came too close. Glorfindel agreed to let him.

“Oh, no, you will find this delay was entirely to your liking,” he promised.

“A lofty claim, indeed,” Erestor said. “I will require proof.”

“When we are both safely home and done with our duties, I will show you.”

--

Glorfindel was sitting, comfortable and cozy, in bed with his embroidery when something hard bounced off his head and landed on the covers next to him.

“I cannot believe you!” 

Erestor’s sitting in an armchair by the window, using the last rays of the setting sun to inspect his gift—Or he had been. Currently, he was standing, slate tablet in one hand, the other still extended from slinging the little dog figurine from the side table at the golden-haired fool sitting in bed. His face was scrunched up, mouth pinched like he’d bitten into a lemon (except he usually had too much self-control to ever react to the unassuming citrus, but the comparison was good enough). 

“Where did you find this? How did you find this?” He brandished the old slate aggressively, for a moment looking as though he might throw it too.

Glorfindel set aside his project. “Is it not to your liking?” 

Perhaps he’d misjudged entirely and he would end up out on his ear just like the tavern keeper warned.

“Not to my liking? Not to my liking?” Erestor lifted the tablet high, gesturing to the small drawings on it with his other hand. “Sunflower, The elf who made these stories died four thousand years ago. How did you come by this?”

He sounded more shocked than angry, and Glorfindel relaxed. “Through much patience and the exchanging of many letters with various collectors of first age relics. I made a detour to collect that on the way back. That’s what delayed my return.”

“Did it not cost a small fortune? I spied no gems missing from your horse’s daft accoutrements.” 

A grin broke across Glorfindel’s face. “I dare say it is worth as much to you.”

Softness spread across his husband’s face and he touched the old slate now with tender, almost reverent fingers as he caressed the time-warn drawings. His eyes clouded with old memories of the past rarely recalled from the careful places he stored them in. “I laughed over this depiction of Lords Celegorm and Curufin when it was only days old! I helped Vekkawë hide his collection in our mattresses when Captain Crímainya came to destroy the ‘defaming misinformation’. I thought I’d never see one again after the Valar sank Beleriand.”

Eyes clearing, he brought the tablet, with its child-like depiction of long-gone beloved lords, to his chest and said, “This is a great treasure. No fortune can take it from me.”

Glorfindel laughed. “I’m glad the Dwarf I bought it from did not know the true value, then, for I am not sure I could have gotten it honestly for that price and would not have departed without it.”

Erestor snorted, muttering “Six pounds of that hideous tack you insist on dressing your horse in would have covered it, no doubt” as he turned away for a moment of privacy to wipe his eyes clear before he accidentally shed tears over the small remnant of his past.

“Asfaloth cannot be parted from his gems when he is afield.” 

Glorfindel opened his arms, and Erestor—after setting the tablet carefully on the side table like it was as fragile as a hollow dove egg and not slab or stone almost as old as the world itself that had survived devastations and travesties unnumbered—fell into his embrace. 

They spent the rest of the night in bed, though neither got much sleep.

[biscuitbox23]

Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear 

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You 

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

[glassandhamsandwich]

the fix it au. pls pls tell me about it.

Ok so again, this is very underdeveloped… It will get better I prommy….. Also this is so cringe and incredibly self indulgent but I DONT GIVE A CRAP!!!!!!!

Also I wrote this over the course of 3 days and I did NOT re-read it so if it sucks to read I am SO SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!

ADDAIR CENTERED AU BECAUSE I LOVE HIM I DON’T CARE IM GIVING HIM A REDEMPTION ARC BUT ITS NOT AN ARC ITS JUST THE WHOLE STORY !!!!!!

Actually let me start with a list of all the people that get to survive in this…. Its just all of the characters that I care for at all.

All of the infected (including Roper, O’Connor, and Raffs even though I always forget about them LMAO… i still have to decide if I want them to be infected in here…. Raffs is a most likely because I’m making a design for him rn)

Caz, Finlay, Roy, Brodie, Innes, maybe Archie, and maybe a few other background characters so that it seems a little bit less like everyone died because now that I’m writing this down thats really not a lot of people….. But also a lot of people did die

so if i ever did decide to do any writing for this like i wanted to.. It would start pre-making the infected be normal again. The way that they figure out to bring them back to normal is that they basically have to remove the shape from whatever part of them it attached itself to, because theres always one main “contact point”. The shape can either be removed by basically poisoning them into throwing it up and/or killing the shape with chemicals, because it is technically just a plant. Or cutting it out of them.

Muir was pretty easy to poison because he kept trying to eat things because…. cwd.. bro was hungry.. And he still is it did NOT help!!!

Both Trots and Gibbo had to be restrained, Trots got it basically tore out from his goopy lack of legs and Gibbo had to be force fed rat poison and cleaning chemicals because he was freaking out too much for them to safely cut into him.

Rennick incapacitated himself by getting into a battle with Addair and got fucked up pretty bad because his ass is NOT built like Addair’s is, and they were able to cut it out of him fish dinner style.

They did not get Addair he is still out there at this point.

So since they figured that the shape can be killed they start destroying it little by little, tearing it down when they can and drowning all of it in chemicals. This is a pretty slow process because I think that the game would be so much cooler if it took place over multiple days because I just like drawn out horror. Also because I want this to last longer, the shape did not damage the rig to the extent that it did in the game, so it was still “safe” to be on.

And now is an important time to get into how the shape affected them mentally. Pretty similar to how it is in canon where it gives you hallucinations of your loved ones, but in addition to the auditory hallucinations, they also have visual ones.

This was basically Addair’s motive for working for the shape so insistently, it gave him the illusion that he was providing for his family.

Uhm anyway when they managed to fully kill the shape Addair’s currently messed up brain saw that as them killing his family…. Which he was not super psyched about obviously. The shape is dead and its dead in him… but 1. He was affected the longest so his head was a little crazier than the rest of them and 2. He never got it properly removed so erm… he's a little freaked!!!!

Anyway so after they kill the shape the main challenge just becomes not letting the damage that was caused break the whole rig and kill them all while they await rescue, and also avoiding Addair at all costs because he is more out for them than he was before.

And I totally forgot to mention this before but it is important.. Addair has a tendency to specifically target Caz… actually just hates that guy so much there is a seething jealousy he has for him that comes out as anger because that's just how he makes himself.

So yeah the rig is still kind of falling apart and not working like it should….. including the flare stack…. and I think we know where this is going…

This is what that comic that i mentioned like one time and then never finished was about. So Caz, Finlay, Gibbo, Trots, and Roper are sent to go relight the flare stack, because safety in numbers or whatever. And Brodie and Raffs stay in whatever that section Brodie is in during the flare stack scene in the game idk what it's called…. but erm… yuh oh! Addair is here….. down at the flare stack I mean.

Caz takes the relighter to run down the stack while the rest of them try to distract Addair. But that buzz sound that happens in the game happens and draws Addair’s attention over to Caz… who again he just absolutely hates… way more than everyone else so he changes his focus onto getting Caz. And obviously he blows up like he does in the game because he's a fucking idiot… But the flare stack doesn't go down with him this time so Caz is mostly safe on that front. So yeah Addair falls in the ocean but he very shockingly survives it… and manages to crawl his way into the pontoons (or whatever that flooded part is idk anymore) and basically collapses there for the time being.

Back to everyone else they are somehow still waiting for rescue to come after a few days and are wondering if it's even coming at all so they’re now having to worry about that.. And their also having to worry about running out of supplies.. So they hit that classic “let’s split up, gang!”, both to scrounge around the entire rig for literally anything they can find, and to check for any final traces of the shape. Gibbo get sent to the pontoons by himself because he can navigate it way easier than anyone else can because I gave him gills😁😁😁 but uhh yeah guess who he finds down there….. Haha….

This is were this au slowly gets more character relationship based because I LOVE character relationships and interactions they are my favorite things ever.

So yeah Gibbo find Addair down in the pontoons and is like “WHAT THE FLIP!!!!!” and at this point Addair has gotten a bit more of his normal conscience back because the shapes been dead for “a while” now and he hasn’t been surrounded by people that he feels he needs to kill so he’s got more of an understanding of his environment then he used to but he’s still kind of in that animal instinct going on so he ATTEMPTS to scare Gibbo off because he sees him as a threat obvi. But he does a very poor job of this because he’s still incredibly injured and honestly Gibbo just thinks it’s a little pathetic. because it is…. So Gibbo basically decided to just leave him down there and not mention it to anyone else because he is NOT feeling up to dealing with that rn but he knows that Addair wouldn’t want the others to know he’s there and at the moment he’s just going to let Addair have it his way because he is in a PITIFUL state rn and even if that's not the best decision, it's the easiest. He backtracks on this decision pretty quickly though because it’s hard to just forget that there's a dying little freak in your basement so he’s like…. I should probably go check on him… So he does.. And then he keeps doing it and they start BONDING i'm forcing them to be friends because they're my favorites and Gibbo’s trying and SUCCEEDING to make him a better person. Uhm so since Gibbo keeps going to check on Addair in the pontoons, he keeps just disappearing for a while and everyone else is obviously wondering where he’s going because he isn't telling anyone. They all decide to send Trots after him when they catch him leaving one time because Trots is who he’d probably trust the most to tell anything. He does NOT tell Trots anything so Trots pulls the good ol’ “I better follow him” and struggles his way down to the pontoons following Gibbo as best he can and when he finally gets down there he sees Addair obviously. He's very hard to miss. So now Trots gets his turn to go “WHAT THE FLIP 😨😨😨😨” But he agrees to not tell the others that he saw him, against his better judgment, after Gibbo begs him not too.

When Trots goes back to the rest of the group and they ask him what he found he just LIES and says that he lost Gibbo’s trail and couldn’t follow him the whole way. The next 2 times that Gibbo goes down to see Addair, Trots goes with him, but it only takes those two times for him to be lik e”yeah… you cant keep doing this dude and also I think we need to get Addair some “proper” medical attention or else hes going to die…” because at this point hes just been sitting with untreated crazy ass wounds from being BLOWN UP (they aren’t as bad as they would be because I think that the shape made them really physically strong, like they can take some crazy blows and be mostly ok) and they’re getting infected (IRONIC!!!!) because hes been sitting in these nasty ass pontoons for a while now and those wounds are FREAKED!!!!! SO Gibbo and Addair are both (very reluctantly on Addair’s part) “ok I guess☹️” and they VERY painstakingly make their way out of the pontoons because Addair can NOT move very well.

OIL RIG FAMILY REUNION!!!! The rest of them are NOT happy about Addair being here. They don’t feel threatened by him because… again he can barely move it snot like he can really do anything. But Gibbo and Trots vouch for him that he’s mostly normal now and isn’t going to try to kill them and also is trying his darndest to start being a better person. They agree to basically not kill him I guess and let him stay (Caz, Finlay, and O’Connor were against this decision but in the end they aren't going to actually leave him to die(Caz would actually I think)). So he gets the most lackluster medical treatment (basically just bandages and like…. Neosporin or something idk) and begins his terribly slow physical recovery process.

During this this time they finally are able to figure out that the reason rescue is taking so long is because the rigs communications got cut off so none of their messages actually went through and somehow Cadal hasn’t realized that something is wrong yet and nothing has been coming from the Beira D. TERRIBLE COMPANY I HATE YOU!!!!!

Ok i need to wrap this up im 3 pages into the google doc im writing this in oh em gee….. Anyway rescue finally comes eventually and they get back to shore and Cadal is like “ok guys so how about we DON’T talk about this or sue us over this or anything yeah 😊😊😊😊 we’ll give you some money if you don't talk about it <333” and they all just kind of have to oblige because otherwise they risk the safety of the infected if the public finds out about them. So they find a place to stay and then the rest of the AU is just me putting Addair THROUGH THE WRINGER. He is NOT having a good time… that's my promise to you…

“This is underdeveloped” I say and then write 3 pages worth of stuff for it….. and I didn't even really get into any of the character relationships.....

Anyway if you want to ask me anything else……. You know what to do……

Posting this and not opening tumblr for a while because I’m embarrassed about it LMAO… MY IRL FRIENDS ARE GOING TO SEE THIS THIS IS SO NOT COOL!!!!! I’m blocking you guys…..

[opalescent-tomes]

"we both know what it takes to survive" -- Siren!MC and Dabi

Synopsis: Just a little angsty songfic drabble of your return to villainy after Touya and everyone died. You can have a little murderous crash out, as a treat =). This is supposed to be after the time skip.

Reader is Quirkless, and uses her voice to control puppet string assist devices...very creatively.

(Natsuo's pov)

Word count: 805. very short. I just had to get it out of me.

Warnings: She/her pronouns, but the only other mention of possible gender is you wearing a dress. Some horror imagery. Murder violence and death. Please note that this is a very established reader and there is a single reference to Hex!fic, the WIP that started it all. But I don't get into much more of that stuff here, so you can easily read it blank (If you care, the reader is meant to be read as Black, chronically ill, and a motorized wheelchair user).

A/N. My brother is very into the musical Epic right now, and he has officially got me on the train with him. I heard this song from the soundtrack and became possessed.

(you can listen to the full song here. The main part you sing starts at about 1:31)

Enjoy!

— — — —

Natsuo never fully understood how you and his brother worked.

Sure, he always knew you hated Heroes. That was the whole basis of your initial friendship with him, so it wasn’t surprising that it was probably a foundation for the two of you as well. You also both liked science. He remembered Touya read a lot of science research as a kid, and you were a Quirk Biologist. But that was all he could ever think of that you had in common.

(”Deep down…”)

Touya wasn’t interested in music, despite mom’s pressuring all of them into piano lessons (although your singing always seemed to be an exception). You were Quirkless, and were really only interested in Quirks on a clinical level. Touya didn’t know anything about baking, or plant care, and you were always more sociable than he was on his best days. In fact, he was fairly certain you once broke up because his extremism went too far.

(”Deep down…”)

On a surface level, he could tell why there was attraction. You would’ve been feisty enough for him. Keeping him in check, challenging him. Touya always lived for debate, and he certainly didn’t have anyone at home that could ever keep up with him, did he? You mentioned that initially it was just a sex thing, and Natsuo probably could’ve believed that. But it was more than obvious when Touya was still alive that there was something much more between you. Something deeper than surface level banter would allow. Something binding.

As he cowered with his family behind the protective glass of their balcony seating, he no longer needed to wonder.

(”You know that we are the same…”)

He watched the ruins of the arena in slow motion. Civilians screaming. Quirks firing. Heroes barking orders. The strings of your assist devices had combined into a tide that ebbed and flowed around the entire dome, blocking any chance of escape. You slowly moved to the center of the chaos. It’s the first time he’d ever seen you in your Villain uniform. Black mask. Gray armor under your dress, made to look like shimmering scales. Long, glittering talons fixed to your gloves. More strings were growing and swaying behind you, forming into thick tendrils to match your intensity. Like a waiting sea monster, hungry for its orders. Or a hurricane, rearing back before it unleashed hell.

Everything stopped.

And when your voice finally broke the silence again, it was not the soft and cheerful humming he’d hear in the lab at school, or the loving, mournful notes you crooned at his brother in his last days, at his request. Gone are the pop songs and energy that you fooled everyone with. He realized now that every time he ever heard you sing, it was strained.

Because what came out of you now was an explosion.

The roar of the sea. Reverberating through the arena from the mic in your mask, shaking the walls. Overpowering the panicked screams of those still trying to retreat below. It was all he could hear. Siren, finally free from the undersea bonds you’d hidden her in so well. An aqueous monster with fangs and a soaking body dripping with puddles of the ocean’s wrath. The perfect match to Touya’s burning demon of smoke and ash. It was the same rage in your voice, the same pain, the same rhythm of grief he’d seen in his brother’s steps. Instead of a haunting, it was a curse. A curse of death to all who heard. A damning.

A hex.

(”Drown in your sorrow and fears,

Choke on your blood and your tears,

Bleed ‘til you’ve run out of years,

We must do what it takes to survive…”)

The tendrils and waves of your strings crashed down at your voice’s command. They ripped people from the stands, crushed groups of Heroes under their weight. Heroes he knew. People he knew. Blood, debris, and bodies flew against the glass, trapped in the whirlpool you created. Fuyumi screamed as everything shook from the force of it. He huddled her closer, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You stayed in the center of it, a familiar stage of hell. The same killer performance.

You shared it with his brother. That was the connection.

The monster in him danced with the monster in you.

(”Give up your honor and faith,

Live up your life as a wraith,

Die in the blood where you bathe,

We must do what it takes to survive…”)

The tides finally calm again. Dust settles around the arena. There are no more screams. No footsteps running. All that remained was the last refrain of your voice echoing through the dead’s bones.

He thinks he can see Touya’s ghost clapping for you in the front row.

(”We are the same you and I, I…”)

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

ON INFECTIONS , RESISTANCES AND IMMUNITIES.

because of her natural immunity to variants such as T and current medical state, it's harder for jill to become infected. Not impossible, she still can be infected via some strains of viral contaminants etc, but it's just significantly harder and it requires a lot more exposure — that, and she probably doesn't feel the effects /as/ severely as someone without all of those protections in place.

Jill was exposed to T virus initially in Arklay. Mostly from a general standpoint as the entire location was compromised and contaminated, but moreso directly as due to a result of Plant 42 and directly encountering it and being the one to wither it — subsequently being trapped with the similarities of both of them possessing a drive for self preservation and freedom — so as a result, Jill was imperfectly inoculated/immunized and still has antigens from 42.

Even Kendo's daughter, who didn't particularly have an official timeline of infection was pretty mutated / disfigured even if she was alive in likely a similar timeline, maybe a little longer, but the important thing to note is that Jill herself never suffered any kind of mutation or physical sign of infection during those two days and hours onward.

Jill was then exposed to T virus again in Raccoon City, and was physically infected by one of Nemesis' barbs containing venom that was pretty much the NE-a version of T, which already is a significantly more potent and parasite contaminated strain. She survived two days unconscious in the clocktower before Carlos found her. She was displaying little to no sign of infection other than discomfort and altered state of consciousness, which is a significant point when several others turned far quicker. Most of this results from her exposure to Plant 42 and aforementioned actions. The plant provided her with limited antibodies, which helped to stave off the T-Ne-a type she was initially infected with, allowing a slower integration and development before Carlos administered a cure.

Because of the above and official sources, we know Jill is naturally immune to T-virus and associated strains, and then some thanks to 42 and Arklay. She was given a vaccine (more accurately, a cure, because a vaccine is for prevention so it's a little odd they called it that) from Carlos in the hospital. This served to help temper down the negative effects she would have actually received from the infection. She was unconscious for two days. This gave the virus plenty of time to work in an altered state of consciousness, and it severely altered several parts of her body in an attempt to optimize it for what the virus was best at — endurance, spread, and survival.

As a result, her amygdala was affected, she doesn't register fear or risk (canon material), her muscle definition improved, and she gained a whole host of the beneficial internal mutations that would have been in your usual T-zombie, but without the negatives and without the brain decay. She did develop behaviors reminiscent of T-zombies, but not to their significant extent, and developed sharper canines and back teeth to support the spread of the virus through its preferred method (bites and saliva.)

T virus is based off of Progenitor, and as such, both antigen markers were likely present in Tyrant to an extent. Jill is NOT immune to Progenitor, but she has a bolstered defence against it and if administered in small doses, her body would be likely to recognize the antigens present as it's somewhat familiar. She does not receive the benefits nor the negatives of Progenitor.

She was exposed to T-abyss within the Queen Zenobia and the Queen Semaramis. For a long time, in infected waters. She did not turn or show any significant infection symptoms. Pre-events of RE5, but after Lost In Nightmares, we gain an insight into her biological makeup and capability. Through the time T virus was within her body, her immune system developed a defense system "nothing short of miraculous", and the antibodies she carried possessed incredible resistance towards Uroboros. It was to the point where it could temper down the virus and make it less lethal.

A lot of this part is heavy headcanon based as there is little information provided, but I had it written as because of her bolstered immune system, P30 would have likely been resisted against for a much longer time if it was purely just P30. I briefly had the thought that Progenitor was dosed in small quantities to help mask the P30 and cause her body to familiarize itself with it/not react as strongly as a result. I feel like this would also work with the canon information that her T-virus infection was reactivated during her initial year of experimentation, and the potential connections between the two.

Post RE5, Jill is essentially held together and only alive because of those various infections and their infections of her body. T was reactivated, and she's shown no negative symptoms, based on the fact that she is already immune. There are still P30 traces in her bloodstream, along with dormant T-abyss and Progenitor exposure, but these have miniscule effects except when it comes to bolstering her immune system, which is already incredibly significant.

Stimulants and sedatives take high, concentrated dosages before they have an effect. Medications take higher, concentrated dosages to have an effect. Generally, if/when she gets sick, it's not very debilitating and she typically recovers quickly and has little symptoms.

SO. WHAT CAN AFFECT HER?

Infecting her with T virus or any closely related strains are ineffective. Progenitor based viruses are familiar to her body, and depending on how similar their makeup is to T, she'll likely won't have an extreme reaction. Large doses of Progenitor will have an effect on her, but she is resistant to the virus as a result of that immune system and because her body already recognizes it due to prior exposure.

Combined viruses are 50/50 depending on their makeup. As a whole, anything viral, she has resistance to, but the important thing is that she is not immune to everything and viral contaminants can and do still have an effect on her, there are just much stricter paramaters and exposure times/dosages for that to happen. If viruses are accompanied with Progenitor or T, then they're probably more likely to have some effect. Otherwise? Takes a lot of effort. It takes a lot and then some to make it past her significant defense system, and even then effects may be tempered.

New viruses not linked to T or Progenitor will likely have some effect on her. She just likely won't get hit as hard with the worst of the symptoms. Viral contaminants or infectious material that are more psychologically based rather than physical likely have a higher chance of effect.