#looking at gunshot wounds is soul destroying

[howtofightwrite]

What's gonna happen if someone gets shoot in the head? Will flesh and blood go all over the place, or will it be a small entry and exit, or will it be something else? Tryna write a zombie story rn and I'm not sure 😭

Usually, they die.

How much damage the head suffers will depend on what was fired. Specific cartridges result in different wound patterns, and if you have a forensic background, you may even be able to identify the bullet used based on the entrance and exit wound. Smaller handgun rounds are likely to result in less tissue disruption. Rifle rounds are more likely to cause serious structural damage, and shotgun shells (particularly buckshot) are likely to cause serious tissue disruption. But, there's another consideration, the more the decomposed the target, the more a round is likely to do. This one's honestly pretty hard to assess in generalities, because there are a lot of factors for decomposition.

This also leads into a far more difficult question, “what happens if you shoot a zombie in the head?��� The answer might be, “nothing.”

So, there's two groups of zombies in popular fiction, and the answer to the above question hinges on which one you're examining. Zombies can either be infected with rabies or actual undead, and the latter are far more uncommon in modern pop culture.

A lot of popular zombies are, technically, alive, but cognitively functioning on a more animal level. In many cases, their symptoms are fairly similar to a sever rabies infection (though, the 28 Days Later series is one of the rare cases where the infection is, explicitly, a variant of rabies.) This also includes cases where the infection is from a parasite (many of the later Resident Evil games and of course The Last of Us are examples of this.) In these cases, destroying the brain stem (and, for that matter, destroying the brain) should be effective. The zombie is still propelled by using their nervous system. There's a bit of an exception in cases where the infection creates a second, parallel, nervous system in the victim, which can operate independently of the victim's original.

Living zombies became more popular in the 90s, and were extremely frequent in the mid-2000s. Most horror films that try to downplay the supernatural component, or look to play up the bio-hazardous nature of zombies, is likely to use some variant of these. (As mentioned earlier, a lot of these tend to behave like mutant strains of rabies. And, while it might sound like I'm being flippant here, rabies is a pretty terrifying virus.)

Living zombie apocalypses are, basically, impossible. There's the usual problem of asking how did the zombies actually get to critical mass? But even beyond that, eventually the infected would simply start dropping as their bodies decayed and the victims died. They'd still be a bio-hazard, but you wouldn't see waves of the undead pressing against the defenders' barricades.

If you want a much more detailed breakdown of the biology of various critters in pop culture (including a lot of zombies), Roanoke Gaming on YouTube is an excellent reference.

The other variety of zombie are far more rare in pop culture, and these are the actual revenants. Either they've been raised by some necromancer, or they're returning due to some other factor. Critically, these zombies are, truly, undead. Shooting them in the head might take it apart, but it's also quite likely that won't put them (back) down, as they're not actually using their original nervous system for anything meaningful. These kinds of zombies are far more threatening. In theory, things like extreme cold would cause further damage to these, but if the necromantic forces animating them don't care about the condition of the zombie, then having fingers or toes freeze off in cold weather, or setting them on fire, might not have the desired effects. You may need to resort to fully dismembering the corpses to get them to stop trying to kill you. (Note that these don't have to be, strictly, supernatural. The Dead Space series remains an excellent example of a non-magical zombie apocalypse of this variety, with some extremely “creative” uses of dead biomass.)

In the case of reanimated zombies, firearms are not a particularly great option for putting them down in general. The damage they inflict simply isn't relevant to destroying the undead. Firearms are designed to poke holes in people and get their body to spring a leak, but if something is already dead, that's probably not going to matter unless you're using the gun to deliver some other kind of payload.

-Starke

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[thalwri]

from ashes to warmth

sylus x fem! reader

synopsis: you return from a hefty battle against a few wanderers to face yet another fight to protect your home– or at least what's left of it. with nothing left, you force yourself to find refuge and there's only one person you know who can keep you safe.

warnings: angst, fluff, teasings towards smut, more fluff, mentions of death, teasing, quite suggestive

word count: 3,4k

minors don't interact.

it wasn’t supposed to go this way.

hunters were swarming around your apartment’s entrance as you returned from a gory mission. skin sticky with blood and sweat, body limping with small cuts and bruises, you didn’t have the energy to question their presence. but then you were forced to when they didn’t allow you inside.

“there’s an active metaflux in the estate,” xavier, one of your close companions, muttered while stifling a yawn. he was also dressed in his hunter’s uniform and slightly ruffled so he was just as surprised as you. even if he didn’t show it. 

“hunters aren’t speaking on it because there are a few civilians within the area.” he tugged you to a more secluded corner of the bustling crowd full of gown and slipper-adorned hunters off duty. “if the wrong person catches word, a few things will end up compromised– including the integrity of our safety.”

“guess that’s already been hit.” a bitter chuckle brewed in the back of your throat as you glanced at the seemingly calm estate you live in. it looked fine, and there weren’t any surrounding wanderers you could see.

unless they were already inside.

you could feel the wounds you wrapped throb in discomfort as blood seeped through a deeper cut on your arm. the flamma ignis and polar wyrm that attempted to rip your limbs off had done enough damage to put you out of commission for a few days. you still had to file your mission report on top of that–

crackle– BOOM!

the ground trembled beneath your feet as a shockwave threw you off your balance just enough to make you stumble back. the screams of the hunters around you were deaf to your ears, the intense ringing of the explosion piercing through your skull as your vision cleared from the bright orange and green blur before you.

bodies flew and thumped before you. their lifeless bodies had strings of smoke flowing above them, almost like their souls were ascending before your very eyes. slowly, you turned your gaze to the home of many– your home– reduced to rubble and ashes and sprawling with wanderers of all grading. the standard, elite, and superior all heading towards you.

it took hours to eliminate them all. the hunters that were equipped and lucid enough to fight were on the front lines. the rest of the hunters either went to the nearest hunter-residence to collect as many weapons as possible to support the fight which was much needed.

you and xavier stood within the front lines for the first portion of the battle that had felt endless, surging on through your pain and frustration towards the fact that your apartment was effectively destroyed– unable to cry or grieve but only allowed to scream out the fury with each gunshot and stab of the blade until there was nothing but protocores left.

the sound of a crow’s caws ran through the growing silence amongst the hunters, a silence of mourning accompanied by the crackling of the flames within the rubble. the emergency services had arrived, taking in as many of the injured as possible, and the paramedics adorned in black cloaks took the bodies of the deceased. 

one by one, the hunters dispersed, booking nearby hotels or calling friends and family to stay with at least until the apartment estate was rebuilt. you remained, still trembling with shock and disbelief, for near an hour. xavier had left saying he had a few things to settle and suggested you find a hotel before they were all booked out. you lied, saying you had a place.

well, you did. but your grandmother’s home also suffered the fate of an explosion.

you discretely listened in to the investigation taking place to your left. speaking in hushed whispers while some hunter’s watches illuminated a recollection of what had taken place. word of a radio-frequency chip being found in one of the elevators, whispers of some people still being inside at the time of the explosion, mutters of transmuted humans and the potential involvement of the company known as ever…

all leading to a single answer: this was no accident. you were all being targeted.

and whoever set it up succeeded. 

your territory is gone. and now you’re bare and open to whatever wishes to devour you.

unable and unwilling to hear more as much as your curiosities were piqued, you limped to your 270hm and placed the helmet over your head. another cry of the crows filled the silence of the night, almost consoling you as tears finally ran down your face. you didn’t know where you were going. you just drove.

you drove through the traffic and the wails of the ambulances, you drove through the quiet of the bloomshore district, and you raced the hypertrains of Azure Square and through the outskirts of the city until you found yourself stopping at a familiar luxury estate. 

you picked your phone out of your pocket, fumbling through your contact list until you found his name. the line barely rang before the call picked up. your words choked at the tip of your tongue, your breathing grew laboured as you struggled to put your thoughts into words.

you were terrified, in pain, and distraught. you didn’t know what to do or how you’d be able to tend to your wounds. the hospitals across the city were stacked, and your usual medical companions were likely occupied for the next few days. 

at this rate, you were beyond your wits end.

“kitten?” his deep voice engulfed you in comforting warmth. as you removed your helmet, a familiar ruby-eyed crow landed on your motorcycle. mephisto relentlessly cawed hopping on your uninjured thigh to nudge you. if it were any other occasion you would have threatened to eat him. this time, you appreciated him.

“i’m here,” you whispered, staring at the entrance to his mansion. one of the great many he owned.

“i know.” the large doors opened to reveal the pale, silver haired man before you. his hair was damp, his red and black blazer was draped over his shoulders almost as if he had rushed to put on some clothing after taking a shower.

sylus held his hand out to you, wordlessly requesting you join him inside. whether it was the gesture or you losing you grip on your emotions, you didn’t know but you found yourself bursting into tears. 

within an instant, a shadow of crimson and black feathers formed by your side and his warm calloused hands held you. you instinctively held him in your pained embrace, crying through the agony of your wounds, the grief of watching some of your colleagues pass in the midst of battle, and the overall disarray of losing practically everything you owned. 

sure, some things can be remade or retrieved from the cloud but that didn’t console the hurt. 

the misty shadow of sylus’ evol engulfed you both until you were flat above him on the bed of one of the many rooms in the property. the firepit was burning, sending a more comforting aroma to you rather than that of burning concrete and other things which you preferred not to dignify with words anymore.

you allowed yourself to shake as your cries echoed around the room, sylus chose to remain silent and comfort you by stroking your back, glancing at your wounds and calculating what he had to attend to first– comforting you or ensuring none of the injuries got infected. you appreciated his quiet care, the gentle touch of his hands and his chin rubbing the top of your head calmed you down just enough to push out a few words.

“the– the apartment estate… it– it–”

“i know,” he whispered as his grip tightened on you but not too hard to affect your wound. he gently pressed his lips on the top of your head. “i know.”

a heavy sigh left your lips in gratitude. you felt so sticky and gross and you were messing up his bed. you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly sat up, groaning at the pain growing throughout your body. “i must be making a mess–“

“there are many more beds, kitten.” his lips curved into a careful smile as his hands hovered around you just incase you lost your balance. “there are more important things to deal with. like that cut.”

you didn’t even get the chance to agree, he immediately swept you up with one arm– the other working at removing your shoes. he sat you on the side of the sink to turn on the shower. the cold touch of the porcelain sent shivers through your body. the mirrors blurred with steam, your body began to warm as a thin layer of sweat formed over your blood and dirt-stained skin. 

you hadn’t realised you zoned out until the sharp sting of disinfectant hit the open wound on your arm. your top and pants had long been removed, leaving you in your most comfortable state with the man you were most comfortable with. sylus carefully dabbed a disinfectant-drench cotton ball on each wound until they were reasonably cleaned of the blood and dirt. he gently wrapped your arm with a bandage, holding a thin layer of gauze directly above the cut, until it was snug on you. 

“next time you decide to fight over one hundred wanderers, do call for help.” sylus tutted, tossing the dirty cotton balls in the bin. “i was going to come when mephisto informed me– but i had gotten occupied by some temporary business partners.”

“you would have left and compromised your safety?” you sniffled, almost tempted to laugh. “it’s almost like you want me to hand you over to the Hunters Association.”

“i have a few friends there,” he gave you his signature smirk. “i think i’d be just fine.”

he had muttered something about preparing a room for you and left you in the bathroom to clean up and dress into some comfortable wear. your shower was long, filled with pockets of thought, regret, and semi-aggressive scrubbing to wash off the gunk sylus hadn’t cleaned. 

if the apartment wasn’t rebuilt soon, you’d have to make a request to carry out your missions more towards the areas surrounding the n109 zone. you wouldn’t be neglecting your work and you’d also have a place to stay. and from your previous conversation with sylus, you had full access to the power and connections onychinus had. you were safe. and he made sure of that.

you smiled to yourself as you stepped out of the shower to find a set of his clothes placed by the door for you. he had learned that you enjoy wearing his clothes so he always left some of his at your apartment whenever he visited. you felt guilty considering all those expensive adornments were now destroyed. he would probably stare at you then order the exact clothes online to show you they were easily replaceable. 

but his brooch– the one he gave to you while you hated him– that always stayed on your person. you took it with you on every mission, assigning it as your lucky charm, your protection charm, and a physical reminder of his permanent presence in your life. he would always be there for you, even if you hate him for it.

you found him in the living room of the house, carrying multiple pillows in his arms as he walked towards the couches. there were blankets, plushies, and an array of snacks lined up on the coffee table. the television was on and paused at the beginning of a film, waiting for you to settle down and binge on anything you would choose.

he motioned for you to join him as he sat on the carpet, reaching out to eat. “the food won’t eat itself.”

you wasted no time to dig in, relentlessly having a bit of everything and you could just tell from the intense flavour that he made it himself. in the background of your shameless consumption, a movie played in a lower volume opening the opportunity for conversation.

you casually slipped the information you had partly overheard while zoning out once the chaos cooled down. sylus carefully listened as he ate, maintaining his attention to your every word.

“and from what we know, ever has been producing those chips,” you added before quickly munching on another spoon of dessert that he baked. oh goodness you loved whenever he made food. “tenebras are also being suspected to be involved. i’m not surprised. the last time a hunter went rogue was a month ago and our codes and systems still haven’t been updated to strengthen security.”

sylus carefully hummed, tapping his finger on the corner of the vintage wooden coffee table. you recognised that habit, along with him fidgeting with a coin as a physical representation of him being in deep thought. if what you heard was mostly accurate to his other suspicions then the attack would be part of a larger scheme.

“but it’s too complex and deep to think about without enough information.” you took the words right out of his mouth. you wiped your mouth with a napkin, shrugging off the tension building in your shoulders. you glanced at your bandaged arm with a slight grimace, still feeling the painful sting of the events earlier that night.

the coffee table was pushed further away from the couches for the two of you to create a makeshift fort comfortable enough for you to rest in. you were tempted to throw a few pillows at him but your physical exhaustion rendered your ambition futile. 

sylus rested on the mini fort, both comfortable and serene. “don’t let this spot get cold, kitten,” he patted his chest and beckoned for you to come down to him. a gentle gust of his evol guided you to draw closer and closer until your legs were tangled with his. 

a giggle erupted from you. “you could have just asked.”

“i did.”

you plopped down beside him, cushioned by the blankets and pillows and the warmth from the room. you shared a momentary silence– it was like it was just the two of you alone in the world. like all your problems were dust against the push and tug of the wind. you felt so secure; so grateful.

“thank you, sylus.”

“there is nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

your eyes darted to each other’s lips, silently communicating a mutual want. 

“you must remember that you will always have access to everything i own,” sylus muttered, moving closer to you. your lips were less than a breath away. “everything.”

and that included him. you brushed your finger over his temple, eliciting a soft noise to leave his lips– almost like a purr. for someone who relished in calling you a kitten, he seemed more like a cat to you.

you leaned forward, finally closing the gap between your lips. it was a brief, gentle kiss. one of gratitude and adoration. when you pulled away he stared at you, with a flicker of bewilderment crossing his eyes before he returned the gesture– just as a soft, just as delicate but for a second longer. 

enticed eyes and widening smiles were shared in the silence of your giddiness and your lips collided again, this time with your embrace on each other tightening. his hands slowly ventured down to your thighs and guided them to wrap around him to pull you in much closer. he gently nibbled your lips ravaging you like a delicacy that he’d only have once, ensuring he savoured every bit of you. 

your arms coiled around his neck and broad shoulders almost instinctively, tangling your fingers within the dangerously soft tufts of his hair, scratching his head just the way you knew he liked it. he groaned into your lips and automatically pushed his hips into yours, making it very clear that even the simplest touch from you had the power to ignite him with need for you– utter devotion for you. unadulterated love for you and you alone.

“you’re not wearing anything underneath, are you?” he grinned against your lips, kissing your skin from the corner of your lips, to your chin, to the start of your neck, all the way down with a searing swipe of his tongue until he reached your collarbones. his hands gently travelled under his dress shirt, creeping up your abdomen until they reached the swells of your chest and greeted them with a gentle squeeze. you gasped, feeling his touch shoot tingles down your spine and into your core.

“so you aren’t.” 

“i doubt you are either,” you bit back, glancing down at the growing tent between his legs. “considering you changed into grey pants.”

“i like the colour.”

“as if.”

“as if?” his teeth sank into your skin and licked over the sting to soothe it. “i think,” kiss. “it’s just a minor coincidence.” kiss. “like you wearing nothing underneath my clothes.”

you stifled a small yawn. “mm, maybe so.” sylus quickly raised his head, further messing his already ruffled hair.

“you’re tired, kitten.”

“oh, i wonder why.” you deadpanned, not moving from your immense closeness to him. you were so needy to feel him and feel amazing with him, but you were also so exhausted. like hours of sleep would satiate you before you can do anything else.

your eyes began to flutter as sylus’ continued to give you gentle kisses down your chest to your nipples, taking them in his mouth and gently suckling at your hardening nubs. the neglected one was quickly given attention from his large hand, massaging and fondling you with love.

a smooth moan escaped your lips before your next yawn could. sylus’ lips and hands travelled further down until he reached the hem of your– actually his– pants and tugged them down your hips. 

“you don’t have to do anything,” he pressed a wet kiss on your bare skin, sending waves of need right to your clit. his touch would always be able to entice you. “we won’t go too far into it if you’re too tired. i can take care of you in many other ways.”

his crimson eyes slowly looked up to yours. his face was flushed pink from his cheeks to his ears. his gaze on you was painted with pure endearment and adoration. he kissed his way across your hips to your thighs, painting you in his endless affections all the way to your knees. 

“you know how much pleasure i get from simply worshipping you, sweetie?” you wouldn’t have been able to utter a response other than a squeak or a flustered whimper. a deep chuckle erupted from the depths of his throat.

“i get very satisfied from it. your pleasure is my pleasure. and i’m more than happy to take good care of you while you relax for me. may i?” he paused in the midst of his affections. he glanced up to check on why you were silent to find the cutest sight before him.

you were asleep. eyes, half closed but body limp and relaxed above to him. tonight must have really taken a toll on you. or maybe it was the pillow fort being so comfortable that you involuntarily held hands with the influencing whispers of slumber summoning you. either way, it was the most adorable sight he had seen just yet.

“such a sleepy kitten,” he chuckled, moving back up to lie face to face with you. he watched your chest rise and fall for minutes that ran as quickly as seconds. the tranquility in your state of rest was both comforting and beautiful to see. 

it was almost sunrise and even he was becoming more tired. he could perhaps encourage you to stay with him for long– maybe he could go on more missions with you to ensure you aren’t at much risk to be injured as you were today. he’d also have to send some of his people to investigate the targeted attack. he’d rather burn the known universe to a crisp before you ever face an injury like that again.

before he ever risks losing you.

but for now, for the time being, you were with him. alive and well. injured, yes, but alive. that was all that mattered. and the comfort of that alongside you being comfortably coiled in his arms was more than enough for him to invite sleep overcome him.

just for a bit.

[bullet-prooflove]

All That Glitters: OA Zidan x Reader

Tagging: @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedeppp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @yezzyyae @redpool

Human trafficking cases wreck Omar. He doesn’t come across them often but when he does, it’s soul destroying.

It’s because you’re naturally empathetic, you tell him when he discusses it over dinner. You have strong protective instincts, seeing people going through something like that… it makes you feel powerless.

There’s something in that, he thinks as he lays beside you that night. He hasn’t been sleeping the couple of days. His head is filled with Julia, the fifteen-year-old girl he’s been trying to locate. He flits over the items in her bedroom, the one he’d searched through trying to get some clue as to her location.

It was still a little girl’s room at heart. Collages of her friends and family on the wall, her shelves lined with YA books about true love and meeting your prince. There had been fairy lights pinned up around her bed, her mother had left them on because she wanted Julia to be able to find her way home.

The sight of them glowing when he turned off the overhead light, it broke his heart.

It’s the next day that he finds Julia, broken and bleeding, wrapped in plastic tarps. She’s barely alive, crimson leaking from a gunshot wound in her chest, tears leaking down her cheeks. In that moment she looks every inch the child that she is, and he hates the man that has done this to her.

He can’t believe how light she is when he picks her up. She clings to him, whimpering, her breathing shallow. He can taste the copper on his tongue as he carries her to the ambulance outside. He climbs inside with her; he doesn’t want her to be alone. She’s scared, in pain.

When her hand slips into his, he’s taken aback by how small it is. Her skin is cold to the touch, her veins protruding from underneath her translucent skin. Her breaths are laboured, each one a coarse rasp. Her eyes are wild and roving, he’s seen this before and he prays to Allah that he’s wrong.

He doesn’t let go of her hand when grip slackens, not when the alarms go off or when her the light dies in her eyes. He can’t because he’s not ready to admit he’s failed, that he’s lost the young girl he was fighting for.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb tracing reassuring circle across the hollow of her wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s still covered in Julia’s blood when he comes home that night. It stains his shirt, a bloody blossom marring the white fabric. You’re in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from the meal that’s simmering on the stove. You’re singing something under your breath, a tune he recognises from the radio. He finds himself lingering in the doorway because he can’t bring himself to speak right now, to bring this horror into the home you share. Your breath catches when you see him. Your gaze lowers to the crimson bloom, and he shakes his head.

“Julia’s.” He whispers, his voice no louder than a rasp.

“Omar…” You say and he starts to fall apart because he’s spent the entire day trying to keep his shit together and he just can’t anymore.

He buries his face into the curve of your neck, his arms wrapping around your form as he clasps you close. You can feel the tears soaking through your shirt as the first sob wracks him. You can feel the violence of it, the agony that eats him up inside and you wish with all of your heart that you could take the pain away.

“I couldn’t save her.” He whispers as he clings to you for dear life. “I tried Hanna, I tried so hard, but I just couldn’t save her.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[justaz]

merthur reincarnation au, merlin is constantly roaming the earth and running into various reincarnations of arthur’s soul. neither know but there is always this draw between them. they’ve met in many different lives with many different dynamics. when do they realize/remember? when arthur’s body is mortally wounded.

in one life they met on the battlefield, leaders of the opposing armies. they often ended up fighting each other and they grew to respect the others tactics and plans. despite being enemies, the level of shared respect grew to an odd fondness. merlin’s rival in his own army grew tired of watching merlin dance with the enemies leader and decided to step in and put an end to it. they attacked arthur from behind and left him for dead. merlin, who saw the whole thing but was too far away to do anything about it, rushed over to be by arthur’s side as he died. arthur took off his helm then and merlin was faced with a man who looked eerily similar to the man who had died just a couple of centuries ago. arthur’s memories began to rush back and he bled out and merlin Knew when arthur stared up at him the same way he had the first time he died. merlin was unable to save him then too.

in another life, merlin had taken to simply roaming, no settling down and no roots. he was homeless and napping on a bench outside a cafe. a woman came out with a bag of perfectly fine baked goods that she was supposed to throw out (dictated by corporate) and she instead brought them over to merlin and set them down by him. merlin woke at the sound of the crinkling bag and met her gaze. it became routine after they closed, she would bring merlin the goods from the day. merlin eventually began to come in and sit at the tables inside every once in a while and talk with her when it was slow. one night, merlin was late to his bench and when he got there the lights were still on and the door was unlocked but he couldn’t see the nice girl who always gave him food. he shuffled in and found her bleeding out from gunshots behind the counter where the cash register had been emptied out. merlin was there for her final breaths and she joked how he could definitely do better than living on the streets. merlin realized who she was as the light left her eyes.

in another life, they were corporate rivals. another they were best friends for five years. another they were pirates and merlin ended up delivering the final blow. another they explored the stars together. etc, etc.

merlin losing him again and again after just finding him. arthur remembering everything right before he dies. a horrible cycle that seems never ending. merlin is forced to live thru the deception arthur suffered over and over again - finding out just who he has known for years is someone else entirely but not having the time to revel in it. arthur suffers the other end of their twisted dynamic of never being able to express his true self until the end wherein death is imminent. the cycle continues for millennia.

eventually, like all things, humans destroy what they had whether it be nuclear war or climate change or what have you, the earth reclaims itself and sends humankind back into their caves. everything there once was is gone and now left with nothing, humans return to their roots. magic flourishes and spreads as new civilizations begin to establish themselves. merlin, oddly enough, hasn’t run into an arthur reincarnation in centuries. not until he ventures into a village and finds a young man toiling in the fields. he dons a face merlin hasn’t seen in millennia. when he looks up and catches merlin’s eye, he smiles wide and calls out for him.

he remembers

[marice23top]

CHAPTER 2 -Prowler Miles X Deadpool ( fem) Reader

Taglist: @bath1lda @niktwazny303​ @sorryi-mtrash

Jackerman Parker

 A man I haven't seen in years, the man who had done the worst thing to me and to my Lover life. Our lives were ruined because of this man.

The man who gave me my dumb powers, and the man who…

 The helped framed  the Murderer of…

Captain Jefferson Davis

                ��                                    THE EVENT 

“Welcome all and welcome to the new society. I Jackerman, am here to tell you how we plan to overrun Fisk tower and destroy the company to become the biggest and strongest group in Brooklyn '' Jackerman states to the crowd of old Fisk workers. “ I understand what Fisk has ruined our lives and it's time to take all that power away from him  starting today we will be the new rulers!!” he yells as the crowd of villains yell with excitement, not ready to know they will all be either hospitalized or dead by the end of this Event.

In the crowd only two people were not cheering; they looked as if they wanted to rip the man on stage, head off his body and throw it to the moon.

“You ready “ “ready as i'll ever be” As she states this she cocks her gun and starts to lift it up as he places his gauntlet on his arm charging it up. “Let's get this party started” she says smirking at the boy before shooting the two man in front of her dead in their heads.

“ Two done many to go” she says, but at the sound of a gunshot all the men in the crowd turn to only see the girl with two machine guns instead of the smaller guns she had.

“WHO”S READY TO PARTY '' as she yells she starts the guns and starts to laugh at the dying group's misfortune.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” but within twenty seconds most of the men were dead and the machine guns were out of bullets. With that the men who lived under the master gun get up and grab their  weapons ready to attack. She sees this and starts to move back into a darker part of the event  Yelling “PROOWWWLEEERRR, IT'S YOUR TURN TO HAVE SOME FUN!!!” before getting shot in the head and falling to the ground.

But once the men turned to see who shot her, the man's head who shot her was grabbed and skull was crushed. All that is left is a dark purple figure standing there. “Time to meet yalls end” said a dark voice from the person, before sprinting to the group and  killing  each and every one of them. 

While this was happening Mr. Parker was trying to find some way to escape the building after seeing that girl get shot and another killer coming, he knew they were both after him. As he makes it to the door he finally thinks he has freedom only to hear.

“Mr.Jackermmaaannn, where are you going you can’t leave yet me and my friend upstairs have some questions for you” that voice of a young girl, the same voice as the girl who was shot not just a while ago in the head early. 

‘How, how can this be when I saw her get killed… no it can’t be her’ he thinks to himself, terror filling his eyes as he sees the girl with a bullet wound in her head that seemed to be healing, but also to the face of the girl, a face he couldn’t forget.

“Come on, Jackerman, don't fight me. Me and  that guy upstairs really need to talk to you, mostly him though” she tells him smiling up at him with death in her eyes. But when he makes no way to move she knows what she has to do. She looks at him before looking up and then whistling up to the person above.

 And that's when he blacked out.

                  THE BASEMENT OF A OLD LABORATORY

“Wakey,wakkeey Jackerman we have some questions” says the girl looking down at the man tied to the structure of the building.

He opens his eyes to see not only the girl with magically no bullet wound in her head anymore, but a new member whose purple glowing eyes seemed to be glaring into his soul looking for purpose to kill him off right now.

“WHERE AM I, LET ME GO!” he yells at them but counties, “WHO ARE YOU TWO!!”

“You don't remember me mister Jackermen? I mean you the reason I'm here right now and him oh, he wants to kill you, but we need something about a certain man” The girl says still smiling at him like they were friends but in her eyes you can see the true emotion in them.

“Do you know Jefferson Davis the man you legally helped kill and to be honest my buddie up there really needs to know” she says to him pointing up to the parched being with glowing eyes.

“I do but I only tell you if you both tell me your names, '' Jackerman asked with fear as he wanted to know who they were, but not thinking that if they told him he was going to have to die now.

“OK!” The girl says liking to make him remember and to tell them later about why they had to ask them the question in the first place.

“Im Y/n Fisk you might remember me, you tortured me when I was younger and then experimented on me turning me into an unkillable being. And that guy up there is Miles, SAY HI MILES'' Y/n explains who they are with a wide grin seeing the terror on his face grow even more because he remembered and  Miles drooping down to get right in the mans face, that's when Y/n knew that this was now Miles turn to ask more about the killer of his father. So she looked at him and moved to the side of the room, watching Miles torture people was kinda hot.

                                  AFTER THE TORTURING

“Y/n” “ hmm yes' ' he didn't kill him but he gave me a lead on who” “oh that's great ... He's dead ""yep mission over, cmon  Princesa Hermosa, Vamos a casa juntas ""YEAAAAHHHH!!!”

Princesa Hermosa —-> Beautiful princess

Vamos a casa juntas —---> Let's go home together 

(Changed the main story a bit that miles dad wasn’t killed by trying to save some and getting crushed, but to trying to save someone and getting murder like uncle ben>):

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

you're not alone--shadowbringers

Ran’jit had caught him with the serrated edge of his scythe.  The blow had sent double shockwaves through Thancred—physically and aetherically, breaking his strained concentration.  As he struggled to regain his senses—Ranjit struck again, unleashing a flurry of blows that sent Thancred flying back and crashing into a wooden wall.  Dirt and debris rose into the air around him.  For several moments the gunbreaker was motionless, his focus on breathing through the pain.

This…is not good.  He was running low on his most powerful ammo, and his trick of cutting himself out of the aetherical flow was already starting to take a toll on his body.  And Ran’jit’s transformation was making things much harder—even more so than normal.

Can’t be…  With a pained wheeze, Thancred pushed himself up and forward.  Digging the tip of his gunblade into the dirt, he squinted at his opponent.  Ran’jit was walking towards him, and Thancred held—or rather, attempted to hold up a hand.

“Give me a moment to get back on my feet, will you?”

“Still think this is funny?!”  Ran’jit snarled.

“Might be a little bit funny.”  Thancred countered, blinking—there were two Ran’jits.  He was certain that he was only fighting one.  Unless he counted the snake-dragon thing.  Which he kept forgetting to ask Reinhardt and Mathye about.  Shakily Thancred started to rise—but his knees gave way, and he went back down. 

Must…get…back up.  He needed to stand.  Needed to fight.  Needed to protect Minfilia…Riven…Sebastian.  Ran’jit stopped with him.  Thancred gritted his teeth, looking up just as Ran’jit braced himself, and then launched forward—

Only to be suddenly blown back as a deafening gunshot went off.  Thancred’s eyes widened as he watched Ran’jit reel backward. A black blur followed, and for several moments it was a dance--Ran'jit evading swipes and strikes, before landing a blow against Thancred's defender.

"Sebastian?!" Thancred got out. The younger man was sent skidding back, but was able to keep his footing. He immediately moved, placing his body between the pair. "I thought--I told you to stay with Riven and Minfilia!!"

"Shut up!"  Sebastian snarled.  Thancred blinked, he'd never seen the other Sharlayan that angry before.  "Shut up and get on your feet!  I'll kick your ass for thinking you could fight this bastard alone later!"

"Sebastian-!"

"Do you want to keep being like him?! The reason for her tears?!"  Sebastian glared at his teacher.  "Don't you want to remain by Minfilia's side for as long as you can?!  That means letting us help you!  And if you thought we were just going to let you play the self-sacrificing martyr, think again!" 

They're everything to me. All I have and all I need. And I would gladly do anything for them!

Thancred closed his eyes on the memory of Minfila's words.  The cracks he imagined that lived in his soul--he fancied he could feel a balm on them, something pouring into the wounds to fill them up.

I'm sorry for all the things I've left unspoken.

This was supposed to have been his atonement. Living through it would have been a privilege.

I'll not have you waste that newfound resolve on me.

He couldn't make up for all the things left unspoken...if he was dead.  Gritting his teeth, Thancred rose, every muscle and nerve screaming in agongy. With a shaky breath he reached into a pocket, pulling out one of the few healing potions Ranjit hadn't destroyed. 

"If you can think you can kick my ass after this, apprentice, you're dead wrong."  Sebastian smirked at that, then looked toward Ranjit.

"Riven and Minfilia didn't have too far to go when I left them." He said. Thancred pulled the cork of the potion free with his teeth and spat it out to the side. Putting the rim to his lips, he chugged the liquid in one pull, then threw the bottle to the side. His breathing quickly became easier, the pain receding as the potion sank into his wounds. His footsteps now steady, he came up alongside Sebastian.

"And here I was planning on playing the hero." He quipped. Sebastian smirked.

"I'll watch Y'shtola tear you a new one for that when we're finished."

[shisui-uchiha-anon]

“We’ll meet, again… we’ll meet, again.”

Lykke Li  — I Never Learn Album  {Sentence Starters}

Who said those words? When they were said? And by whom? Where is the person who said that to me? What is her name? Her hair colour? Is she tall or short? Skinny or chubby? Will I know it's her when I meet her gaze? When our eyes meet across the room what shall happen? Or will be too late again?

Sometimes I think it's already too late.

There was an unusual absence of stars being freckled across the darkness. There was no moon, either not even a new moon - it just… wasn’t there. There was a mountainside, the sheer silence of the area alone was deafening, and oppressive in combination with the lack of light. There in all that land stood out like a bright flower among the plain wastes, a large construct of complex architecture. Now completely destroyed, I have no idea by whom.

A deep ache slowly settled in his chest. Events playing again before your eyes..."But, I am the one who died a violent death, not you" For a moment, disbelief rendered him nearly frozen in shock. The pain that tightened the musculature in the center of his chest felt as if it was pulling inwards from every possible direction; an overwhelming sense. Shisui wasn’t afraid of death. It was time and he could hear her voice before he died in her arms. In his last breath, he whispered please forgive me. But this? This he could not stand her being dead and he alive? Her death scared him shitless

Shisui was holding her tight in his arms. He was late and she was dead. Her body in his arms looked so small. There were still traces of blood on her lips, on her head. Countless cuts on her neck and arms. And that gaping hole in your chest… A gunshot wound... He was gripping her tight in his arms. Calling her by name and shaking her. "Please don't die, you can't die, you must not die. "

It was useless and he knew it. Her unseeing eyes looked at him. She was gone and his soul shattered into a thousand pieces like a mirror. He looked up at the man who took her life. He had a gun, what happened here? He could not get the answer.

That scene shattered and he was back in the club watching a young couple dancing. This time a woman was facing him and the man was with his back to Shisui. She looked over the man's shoulder and Shisui's heart skipped a beat....

“We’ll meet, again… we’ll meet, again.”

[maguro13-2]

Justice for All ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 2 Pt.9

"Around 1000 years in the Ohkubo Verse..."

Homura Akemi (?) : Time's up. [Gun cocks]

[Shadow the Hedgehod SFX : Gunshot]

Shinra : Iris!

[Recollections - Akira Yamaoka]

Shinra : Iris! Iris!

Iris [wounded] : [reaches out to Shinra] Sh...Shinra-kun. Is that you?

Shinra : Oh God, Iris! Who did this to you?! Did something happened to you!? Who would shot against my beloved Iris?!

Iris : Shinra-kun, something went wrong. Bad things started to happen. Everyone that we knew and love, is going to meet their own fates.

Shinra : Hold on, I'll go get evac for sure! Stay with me, Iris! I won't let you die!

Iris : Matte, Shinra-Kun!

Shinra : What?!

[Sea of Sorrow - Jun Senoue]

Iris : This world you created, and everyone, knew that it would eventually fall into their fates. Swallowed by the darkness. Then I realize that I meant something to you. [before dying] Shinra-Kun...Aishteru yo. [dies]

Shinra : Iris?...Iris, wake up! Don't die on me, like that! Iris! Iris! [looks up into the sky, yelling in rage] IRIIIIIIS!!!! ["Iris" is echoed]

"Later in the present-day Chao World..."

[Determination - Jun Senoue]

Shinra (Devil Chaos Chao) : Iris, what happened to you? And more importantly, what happened to half of the Ohkubo verse that was destroyed after I created Soul World. Well, it doesn't matter. I made a promise that Iris and all my comrades are at once piece and this is really the matter of time that I wished I would be back in human form once anyone knows about the truth about my legacy. Throughout the years, I have friendship of comrades and ones that I loved with someone that I even trust. And now, my son, Death, has profound this "New" body of his after I gave him birth to protect mankind from death and destruction. But if this "hatred" of his that goes against witchkind, then I must know if he's willing to see me in this puny form I was in. So, now. It is my time to shine as a hero and defend humans and witches from the forces of these heartless invaders.

[Meanwhile in the Sega/Sonic Team Multiverse]

Ashley : *panting* I think...that's the last one.

Kimial Diehl : You think so? It took us hours to get those baddies. "HOURS"!!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Look alive, gang! Cause I just roasted some enemies, except for the Rappies that only play dead.

Kimial Diehl : Oh, that figures.

Kaguya : Well, this must be it.

[door opens]

[wind gusting]

Ashley : Huh? Where did that giant crater coming from?

Kimial Diehl : It looks like we hit a dead end! So where's the main access!?

Leo Grahart : I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there is no main access.

Ashley : What?!

Leo Grahart : But you did managed to make it all the way here inside this subterranean video game level. I must've underestimated you that you knew the secret main access to the World Heroes Force Organization. But you're too late for that, I've already managed to bring this pointy-ear girl to the core of the crater along with me.

[ Underworld ~ Chaos ~ - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Ashley : Girl? What "girl"? What are you talking about- [gasped after seeing Rupika with him] That pointy-ear newman! That's Rupika the FOnerwearl is it?!

Kimial Diehl : Why on earth would you bring someone to the core on a stupid occasion?! That's totally inhumane!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : She's right it's really inhumane!

Ashley : What's an NPC doing with another man in the first place?

Rupika : Huh? Are those...Hey, you're not the PSO players that I'm looking for, you're...

Ashley : Relax, I'm a Detective! Me and my partner Kimial were trying to find the World Heroes Force Organization compound. Do you know where it is?

Rupika : Hmmm? I think I know where the main access to that organization's compound is. The main access to World Heroes Force organization is...[glows in a green aura] Huh? What's happening? What's going on? Hey, what are you doing!? No! Stop! AAAAAAAH! [turns into a green spirit]

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you proceed that question."

"To show you my appreciation towards her, I will you help out with my awakening of this world's cliches."

[Rupika (now the green spirit) flies into the center of the crater]

Ashley : Hey, wait a minute! What's going on? Rupika! Come back!

Kimial Diehl : Lucky shot! Now what are we gonna do!?

Ash : Rupika! Rupika! Oh no! Was this Leo's plan all along!? Rupika's in danger! I better help her out!

Kimial Diehl : Excuse me, who are you mister?

Ash : My name is Ash Canaan, I'm a Hunter and I work for the good guys. I watch over my best friend's pet over at her house, she lives on Ragol! I've known her since highschool!

Kimial Diehl : Rupika? You mean that NPC's your friend and she has a pet?

Ash : Sorta like that. And I bet that it's a Chao that she has someone to feed. Luckily, I had a baby sitter to look after someone's chao.

Ashley : Really? Who did you get?

[cuts to show Sil'fer at Rupika's house, cooking food while her eye is covered with bandages ]

Sil'fer : This is the real reason I had to babysit someone's Chao. No ever ask me for this, and no one cares! [cuts back to the group]

Ashley : Seems fair to me. Alrighty, then. Let's go get your friend back and get her to respond!

Ash : Right the way!

Jean Carlo Montague : Ash! Before you go. Eleanor will make sure that her Chao is in good care. It's already simple since that Tiny Chao Garden was established in the early 2000s, you'll see!

Eleanor Camuel : Good luck out there, Ash! Hope you'll put up a fight and rescue Rupika from that Monster!

Ash : You got it!

Ashley : Step aside, father of a RAmarl! This is detective business and I, a witch, is going to handle Sega's problems. So let us give to that access.

~ Twenty-Fourth Scene : Girl From Another World ~

[crossbowking]

More Than Anything (Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader's feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: "I'd love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?" - @pulplorrd

A/N: Thank you all for the love regarding "Honey & Whiskey" - I loved writing that story, but I'm also super happy to finally be able to move onto something else! I very rarely write established Daryl x Reader stories, so this one was super fun to do!

This is part 1/2.

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Sunlight trickled in through the open window, a gentle breeze rousing you from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

Cracking an eye open, you squinted against the sun rays streaming over your features as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. Burying your face into your pillow, you extended an arm out across the mattress, your brow furrowing when you felt an empty space beside you. Pushing up onto your elbow, you rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm before glancing over at the vacant spot.

“D?” you murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep. You cleared your throat, twisting onto your side as you surveyed the rest of the bedroom. “Daryl?” you called out once more, feeling a familiar pinprick of worry when no response followed.

You flipped onto your back with a huff, taking a moment to stretch out your tired muscles before untangling yourself from the sheets and climbing out of bed. Fighting back a yawn, you padded across the floor and out into the hallway, listening for movement. When you heard a sudden clatter, followed by a rasped cuss, the corner of your mouth quirked up.

You made your way towards the noise, feeling some of the tightness in your chest fade with each step you drew near.

The end of the hallway led to a small, yet quaint, kitchen. When you reached the entryway, you faltered, observing the scene before you — Daryl was crouched down, one hand wielding a frying pan, the other scooping up a small mound of partially cooked eggs from off the floor and tossing them back into the skillet.

You stifled back the laugh building up inside you. “Hi,” you remarked, making your arrival known.

The archer’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flash of what looked like embarrassment flitting over his features before he ducked his head back down, effectively concealing his face with his hair. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, quickly wiping up the rest of the egg residue with the sleeve of his shirt.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” you singsonged playfully, eyebrows raised.

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he stood, staring down defeatedly at the frying pan in his grip. “Cookin’,” he finally sighed, shrugging a shoulder up.

“I see that,” you laughed softly, crossing the length of the kitchen as the archer placed the skillet back onto the stovetop. “Smells good,” you remarked, coming to stand at his side.

“Dropped the —” Daryl spat out another curse as he attempted to scrape the burnt egg bits off the bottom of the pan. “— the damn — the damn thing,” he growled exasperatedly, waving at the pan with the spatula he held.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “No one expects you to be Gordon Ramsey,” you teased, thoroughly amused.

But the reference seemed to go right over Daryl’s head as he turned to give you a confused look.

Your brow furrowed. “You know…Gordon Ramsey,” you reiterated pointedly.

“Huh?” the archer grunted, clearly at a loss.

“Oh, come on, you don’t — you’ve never heard of Gordon Ramsey?” you asked incredulously. “You know, Gordon Ramsey! The mean British chef!”

Daryl scrunched his nose up before shaking his head. “Ain’t never heard a’ that,” he rumbled, focusing back on the frying pan.

“Wow,” you murmured in disbelief. “That is so…so devastating,” you sighed, mockingly dramatic.

The archer snorted a laugh, the sound eliciting a rush of warmth through you. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You grinned cheekily, leaning over and resting your head against the curve of Daryl’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, old habits reappearing briefly before he relaxed beneath you and continued stirring the eggs.

An overwhelming sense of calm rushed over you, a feeling only the archer ever seemed to evoke. You closed your eyes, breathing in the comfort he so effortlessly exuded — and it wasn’t in anything he said or anything he did, it was just purely and wholeheartedly who he was. He was grounded, he was stable, he was here.

You’d missed this — you’d missed him.

The past month hadn’t been the easiest — Alexandria was still recovering from the destruction the dead had caused — but things were beginning to look up. The hundreds of slain walkers had finally been removed from within the community, Carl was recovering from his gunshot wound, and the wall that’d been destroyed was almost entirely rebuilt. There was a sense of hope, of purpose, in the air — your people had stared death in the face and prevailed.

But supplies were beginning to wear thin.

Most were hesitant to venture outside the walls, to leave the sanctuary that was Alexandria, and honestly, you didn’t blame them for that — especially after the attack brought on by the Wolves. You’d seen what other horrors existed outside those walls — hell, you’d lived through it. There was a big, bad, scary world just behind the scraps of steel and metal welded together surrounding the community — there was the dead, the undead, and the living.

The latter was most terrifying.

Still, there were mouths to feed, injuries to tend to, and somebody would have to leave eventually. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Daryl volunteered himself — that was just the kind of man he was. Aaron had decided to join him, determined to continue his search for any other lost souls seeking asylum.

But the supply run had taken longer than expected.

They’d only planned to be gone for three days — but after the fourth, fifth, sixth day that rolled by without any sign of return, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. It wasn’t that you thought they couldn’t handle themselves out there, you just wanted them home — you wanted him home. The tightness in your chest expanded with each day that passed, unease gnawing at your insides, fear settling like an anchor in the pit of your stomach.

Then just yesterday — day seven — right before sunset, Daryl and Aaron had come marching through the front gate. Apparently, their intended route had been cut off by a horde, which led to some rerouting, which resulted in an empty gas tank, which forced them to abandon their car, which meant walking the near-fifty miles back home.

“I was so worried,” you suddenly murmured, drawing yourself back to the present as you lifted your head off Daryl’s shoulder and glanced up at him.

The archer’s eyes flashed towards you for just a brief second before focusing downward, turning off the stovetop, and pulling the frying pan off the heat. “I came back,” he finally rasped after a long pause.

“Yeah,” you sounded, nodding your head absently, his words not making you feel all that better.

Daryl caught your gaze once more before he reached out and placed his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “C’mon, let’s eat,” he rumbled, pulling away a moment later.

You made a soft noise in protest, savoring the rare show of affection and earning an amused eye roll from the archer as he turned away — though you noticed the tips of his ears redden in the slightest.

When you’d first arrived at Alexandria, Deanna had provided two houses to be split amongst your entire group. As time went on and the safe haven had proven to be just that, slowly but surely, everyone began branching out and finding their own homes to settle into. Part of you had reservations about moving into one of the empty brownstone apartments, just you and Daryl, but things had been going well between you — really well, actually.

You settled atop one of the stools lining the small island in the middle of the kitchen, resting your elbows against the smooth marble countertop as you watched Daryl move about. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard, along with a fork from the utensil drawer before swinging around and sliding the items towards you. It was almost eerie how natural things felt in that moment — like a glimpse of what life might’ve looked like had the world not ended and the dead had stayed dead.

The archer grabbed the frying pan, turning towards you once more before using the spatula to dish out a hearty helping of eggs onto your plate. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the look of intense concentration masking his features — as though diffusing a bomb and not simply serving breakfast.

Daryl glanced up at you from beneath his hair, doing a quick double-take. “What?” he grunted defensively, appearing increasingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“Nothing,” you quickly shook your head, letting out a soft laugh and picking up the utensil. “Thank you,” you grinned, gathering up a forkful of eggs.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in response, drumming his fingers against the counter as he carefully watched for your reaction, his nervousness evident — and incredibly endearing.

You took a big bite, humming a noise of satisfaction soon after. “Mmm,” you sounded around the mouthful of food before swallowing. “Chef Dixon,” you remarked cheekily.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right,” he rasped sarcastically, though you watched him visibly relax. He remained standing opposite of you, opting out from using a plate and eating the remaining eggs straight from the frying pan instead, scooping up a handful with his fingertips and shoveling them into his mouth.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the pair of you continued eating, sneaking glances at one another while the other wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help yourself — he was just so damn captivating. Even standing before you, devouring a panful of eggs with his bare hands like some kind of wild animal, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip-flop.

You’d never felt this way about anyone in your entire life — even before the end. But now…well, now you’d live this terrifying life a thousand times over if it meant finding him.

The sudden realization of what exactly you were feeling hit you hard, catching you off guard and causing you to choke on the mouthful of eggs you were chewing. Daryl’s head snapped up as you abruptly coughed, covering your mouth as your eyes began to water.

The archer was at your side a moment later. “Hey, ya alright?” he rumbled, gently patting his hand against your back.

You quickly nodded, attempting to wave him off as your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah — yeah, no, I’m —” you coughed once more, the eggs finally dislodging from your throat. “I’m — I’m good,” you managed weakly, wiping at your eyes. “Jesus,” you wheezed as a sheepish laugh slipped past your lips, your coughs finally dying down.

“Ya sure?” Daryl pressed as he pulled his hand away from your back and rested it on top of your shoulder instead.

“No, no, yeah, no, I’m fine,” you quickly brushed him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” you lied, hoping your excuse sounded convincing enough as the feeling of vulnerability threatened to consume you.

If the archer was suspicious, he kept his expression neutral. He nodded once before softly squeezing your shoulder and pulling away — though he lingered nearby instead of moving back to where he’d originally stood.

“Anyways,” you pushed forward, clearing your throat, desperately wanting to ignore the revelation you’d had. “We, uh — we almost finished rebuilding the wall while you guys were gone. Rick’s got a crew working on dismantling the old one, too.”

Daryl watched your expression for a second longer than necessary, like he knew something was up but wasn’t exactly sure what. But after a moment, he relented. “Saw it on the way in las’ night,” he murmured, leaning down and resting his forearms against the edge of the counter. “Looks pretty solid.”

You nodded, huffing a breath. “Abraham’s leading the team — I’m pretty sure you couldn’t drive a tank through that wall.”

The archer scoffed. “Damn right,” he rasped before lowering his gaze, wringing his hands together atop the counter.

You studied his demeanor, feeling a pinprick of unease. “What is it?”

Daryl glanced up, flicking his hair away from his eyes with a quick jerk of the head. “M’, uh — m’ headin’ out again today,” he finally confessed, standing up straight.

You tried to keep your expression indifferent despite your stomach dropping. “Oh,” you voiced dishearteningly. “But — but you just got back,” you pointed out softly, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt.

“I know,” he said, staring down at the counter, avoiding your gaze. “Jus’ a day trip, is all — Tara heard ‘bout a motel strip, maybe fifteen miles from here. Shouldn’t take more than a couple a’ hours. We’ll be in an’ out.”

You nodded slowly, pushing around the leftover eggs on your plate with your fork. “Alright,” you straightened up on your stool. “Well, I’ll come —”

Daryl started shaking his head before you could even finish your sentence, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/N —”

“Come on, Daryl,” you interjected, already figuring his response, swiveling in your seat to face him head-on. “I’m losing my mind here, okay? I’ve gotta get back out there and — and actually do something for this place.”

“Ya do enough already,” he shot back vehemently.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you slid off the stool. “And besides, we’ll cover more ground faster if there’s three of us versus two,” you continued brusquely, gathering all the stray dishes on the counter.

“That ain’t the damn point,” Daryl growled, following you towards the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, and it's also not your decision," you finally snapped.

When the archer didn’t respond, stiffening beside you instead, a wave of guilt washed over you.

Exhaling a heavy breath, you gently set the dishes down in the sink before turning to face him. “Look, I get it,” you murmured softly. “I get it, D. But I can’t just hide out here for the rest of my life,” you explained. “Especially when you’re the one risking yours.”

Some of the fire in Daryl’s gaze diminished, replaced with a heaviness that wasn’t there before as his shoulders drooped.

You felt something tug at your heart as you stepped forward, reaching towards him and brushing away the hair that fell over his face. “I just got you back,” you whispered. “And I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”

When another long moment passed without a response, you were almost certain Daryl was going to object once more — but then, despite the tension in his features, his eyes softened.

“Alright,” he finally rumbled, the word seemingly caught in his throat — as though it physically pained him to say it.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Alright,” you reiterated with a resolute nod.

Daryl sighed, shaking his head as he nudged you forward. “Well, go on an’ get some shit together before I change my mind,” he grunted.

You quickly straightened, imitating a soldier’s stance. “Yes, Chef,” you saluted the archer, breaking the tension.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. “Shut it,” he rasped — though you noticed his lips twitch up a moment later as he turned on the kitchen sink, picking up one of the dirty dishes.

You stood up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss against the archer’s cheek, the skin where your lips touched tinging pink soon after. “Just give me two minutes,” you said, squeezing his arm as you brushed by him.

Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, caught off guard by the gesture. “M’ countin’!” he called after you.

“Yeah, yeah!” you shouted back, allowing the warmth that filled your chest to carry you the rest of the way down the hall.

Within the hour, you were on the road.

A cool rush of air swept through the passenger side window as you tilted your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, basking in the sun's gentle rays. The wind danced amongst strands of your tousled hair before settling them back down against your features. Tucking away the freed wisps behind your ears, you opened your eyes, studying the scenery flashing by.

Rows and rows and towering trees lined either side of the long and winding road you found yourself on, a seemingly endless forest just behind it. The car hummed beneath you, passing by long-since abandoned vehicles and scattered debris, continuing to barrel down an otherwise empty highway.

It was strange — there was something somewhat comforting, something sort of nostalgic about being back on the road. Like a glimpse into another lifetime.

“— and I swear, this dude was like, six feet tall. He was one of those, you know, typical chauvinistic pricks, thinking every woman he meets at a bar wants to have sex with him,” Tara’s voice rang from the backseat, drawing you from your reverie. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I knocked him on his ass — priceless,” she jeered, an air of pride in her tone.

You shifted in the passenger seat, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you looked back at her. “So, is that when you realized you wanted to join the police academy?” you asked curiously.

“No,” Tara shook her head, a smirk toying at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “That’s when I realized I like women.”

A laugh bubbled out of you at her response, Tara’s smile simply widening as she shrugged unabashedly, picking up the map splayed out across her lap. As your laughter died down, you started turning to face forward — though you’d only made it halfway when Daryl caught your eye.

The archer sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the other propped up against the door. His window was rolled down, the breeze from outside stirring the hair that hung just above his eyes. But what grabbed your attention were his eyes, glinting ocean blue as he glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth faintly lifting.

God, the way he looked at you…

You fought back a smile as you faced forward, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in your life to deserve to be looked at like that. The feeling you’d shoved away earlier at breakfast came rushing back, setting your senses ablaze as you worked on controlling your thrumming pulse.

You loved him.

A heaviness grew in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Fuck.

“Here’s the turn,” Tara’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

The motel came into view, set back behind a mass of trees, partially hidden from the main road. The car jostled side to side as Daryl drove it down the gravel driveway, leading to the complex. There was a handful of abandoned cars parked sporadically throughout the small parking lot, some trash and debris littering the area, and four lone walkers ambling aimlessly.

Daryl pulled the car off to the side, parking it near the trees and out of sight from the main road, the engine drawing the dead’s attention. “I got ‘em,” he rasped, unsheathing his hunting knife and sliding out of the car in one swift motion.

Your lip quirked up as you watched him dispose of the dead, as quickly and effortlessly as breathing — he’d been made for this world, you were sure of it.

“You coming?” Tara’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, the hint of a mischievous smile ghosting over her features — she’d clearly been watching you ogle at the archer.

You felt your cheeks flush at the scrutiny. “Mhm, yep,” you nodded quickly, shaking away the embarrassment and climbing out of the car.

Daryl crossed back towards you, wiping the walker blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans and flicking the hair from his face.

“Show-off,” Tara smirked, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she passed him, heading towards the stretch of rooms just ahead.

The archer simply scoffed a breath, rolling his eyes, though you spotted the hint of amusement in his gaze as he waited for you to catch up.

“It’s so weird seeing you without your crossbow,” you remarked, nearing a moment later.

Daryl grunted a breath, swiveling around and falling in step beside you, neither of your momentum’s faltering. “Jus’ wait ’til I find that asshole,” he grumbled, recalling the man he’d met in the woods all those days ago.

“We’ll get you a new one someday,” you smiled, unsheathing your own knife as you approached the motel. “Or you could use the RPG and blow more shit up.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” Tara called from up ahead, pausing in front of the center of the strip.

“Room by room?” you suggested, stopping at her side. “One of us can stay on watch, maybe check these other cars for supplies?”

“I got it,” Daryl offered with a nod, re-holstering his gun. “I’ll see if I can get any a’ these guys up an’ runnin’, bring ‘em back home.”

“There’s also an empty gas canister in the trunk,” Tara motioned towards their car. “Salvage what you can,” she shrugged before turning on her heel and heading towards the first room.

You moved to follow, only stopping when Daryl reached out and grabbed your wrist. You turned, spotting the worry in his gaze he tried to hide. “Ya be careful, ya hear me?” he rasped, sliding his grip down and squeezing your hand softly.

“I will,” you nodded, squeezing back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a fraction.

God, you loved him.

The three of you moved quietly and efficiently — you and Tara swept through each room, working your way down the entire motel strip while Daryl picked through the parking lot. The building had been left practically untouched — and besides the supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the motel itself, you’d even found luggage and suitcases left behind by guests who’d apparently vacated in a hurry.

By the time you'd made it halfway down the strip, the packs you brought had been filled to the brim.

“Holy shit-balls, this place is a goldmine,” Tara huffed, tossing her backpack down beside yours in the trunk of your car.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it,” you shook your head before scanning the parking lot for Daryl — you spotted him hunched over the hood of a car, his hands buried in the engine, tinkering around. “We should use some of the suitcases we found for the rest of the stuff,” you continued, focusing back on Tara.

“Cool beans,” she shot you a thumbs-up before motioning towards the center of the strip. “Wanna check out the front office before we hit the other half?”

“Sure,” you nodded, slamming the truck shut and falling in step with her as the two of you headed back towards the motel.

When you felt someone watching, you glanced over your shoulder, catching Daryl’s eye — his furrowed brow softened, the corner of his mouth twitching as you sent him a wink and turned back around.

God damn it, you loved him.

Dividing either side of the motel strip was the front office, built just beyond a large swimming pool. There was a tarp draped across the pool, covering most of the swampy green water, though debris floated around the murky edges. Your nose scrunched up as you passed, a funky smell wafting from the mucky water.

“Gross,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before you glanced over at Tara. “So, you and Denise, huh?” you asked curiously, waggling your eyebrows.

Tara huffed a breath, but you didn’t miss the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I could say the same about you and Dixon,” she shot back, fighting off a smirk.

You rolled your eyes despite the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh, come on —”

The rest of your sentence died away, falling from your lips when a sudden growl sounded, breaking the otherwise silent air. You stopped short, Tara halting just beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you strained your ears, listening for where the noise had come from.

Sure enough, a moment later, a lone walker stumbled into view, coming out from behind the front office.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling Tara do the same. “Hang on, I got it,” you motioned for her to stay put as you jogged ahead, pulling your knife from the holster around your waist. You braced your arm against the biter’s throat, plunging the blade of your knife into its skull in one, swift motion before it dropped at your feet.

But just before you turned to head back, you heard it again — snarling.

Except for this time, it wasn’t just one.

Your stomach dropped as a small herd, about a dozen dead ones, suddenly rounded the corner behind the office, their sights set on you.

“Oh fuck,” you swore, stumbling backward, vaguely aware of Tara yelling your name. But when you spun around, you realized that she too was no longer alone. “Look out!” you shouted, motioning to the two additional walkers quickly approaching from behind her.

As she turned away from you, fighting off the dead that’d snuck up on her, you took off into a sprint, putting some distance between you and the horde.

Tara stabbed her knife into the temple of the first, though the second was on her just as soon. It gripped its fingers around her forearm, pulling her flesh closer and closer towards its snapping jaw…

Just before it could sink its teeth into her skin, you managed to grab it, twisting a fistful of its hair around your fingers and yanking its head backward. You drove your blade through its decaying forehead, stilling it instantly.

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

A/N: EEEEEEK! Y'all know me and how much I love cliffhangers :)

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[collisiondiscourse]

meet you in the middle // bkdk (ch. 306) fic

Katsuki meets him at the edge of the world.

Standing on the rubbles of a once-thriving city that his people had called home, Katsuki sees him at a distance. A lone figure, standing beside broken statues that overlook a cliff of failures and broken promises. Katsuki sees him at a distance and feels something inside him break like a dam of something unmentionable. The glass beneath his worn combat boots crunches and cracks like the remains of his heart, every step heavy with the weight of the world around him slipping unto drooping shoulders. He says nothing, knowing the other runaway could hear his approach all the same.

Deep purple bruises set themselves under dull viridian eyes, the mixture of color out of place but lovely all the same. His hair’s a mess--greasy in the way that tells Bakugou he hasn’t showered in days, yet Katsuki would love nothing more than to bury his face in the tangled mass of green. The suit and armor he wears is torn, dented, fractured, dirty; it’s scarred like the skin it tries its best to hide. Deku stands still and watches him approach.

The blond halts in his steps.

In that moment, when red and green meet at the edge of the world, time stops completely. The broken concrete beneath their feet feels like a vast and endless void of nothing, silence wrapping around them beautifully and painfully. Between them, the few meters feel like blocks, to miles, to lightyears apart.

It is endless.

Between them, there is pain and sorrow. There is a hurt so deep that neither of the boys could begin to comprehend it--old scars and fresh wounds mending and tearing open, pace akin to the shift of the weather. Between them, Katsuki can feel things that feel like they should be impossible but aren’t. Between them, Katsuki can feel the contradictions that ripple beneath the surface of their skin.

Between them, Katsuki can feel it all.

The distance is staggering. It chases after the two of them like they had chased each other, something like a curse that pulls them apart while simultaneously keeping them at arm’s length.

Katsuki used to beg for it, he knows. (God, does he know.) He used to spend day-by-day stretching that distance, yanking the string that kept them tied together in hopes that eventually it would snap.

Yet that same distance had become something he’d grown to hate. He hated it in the way that it caused Izuku to close himself to the world and nearly cost him his life when Shigaraki had pierced him in battle. He hated the way it shut doors and cuffed him to his hospital bed when he’d found out that Deku was in a coma.

And he hated that distance the most when it brought Deku all the way here.

“Kacchan,” Deku says, the old nickname leaving his mouth simultaneously like a prayer and a pained gasp of fear. “Why are you here?”

The ‘why’ rings in the blond’s head like the sound of a gunshot, piercing and painful at the audacity to even ask such a thing. Why? Why did I come here? Why did I leave everything I’d ever dreamed of in order to chase your dumbass here?

Because. Why the fuck wouldn’t I come here, Deku?

“I got your letter,” Katsuki grunts out instead. His hands clench and unclench, tired and a little bit pained from his journey to find Izuku as fast as possible. The stupid fucking paper rests inside the pants pocket of his hero costume, setting his insides ablaze and leaving the taste of battery acid at the back of his throat.

“You still shouldn’t have--”

“--Shouldn’t have what, Deku?!” He inevitably yet suddenly explodes. The green-haired boy startles from across the building’s roof, jaw shutting with an audible click. “Shouldn’t have dropped out of UA? Shouldn’t have left every single person that loves me and sent myself out on a suicide mission? Shouldn’t have left my fucking mother without even a proper ‘goodbye’?!”

Deku snaps, “You damn well know it wasn’t that simple, Kacchan--”

“It never fucking is! It never fucking is that simple, Deku! You think I wanted to abandon our class? You think I didn’t care about the fucking fact that I just dropped out of UA and will probably never become a fucking pro-hero because of it? I destroyed my own dreams, you idiot!”

“Then go back!” the other boy replies, furious tears welling in his eyes. Katsuki feels paralyzed, unable to move through the surge of emotion that overtakes his mind. Deku takes a step forward, shaking so hard that the blond fears he might pass out. “Go back, you ass! Don’t let me take anything more from you, Kacchan, just please don’t. I can’t handle something like that! Go back and become the number one hero like you always promised, please.”

(A dozen meters apart.)

Izuku’s voice trembles and wavers, desperation seeping from his figure as teardrops fall to the tarmac below. He stands firmly on his two feet, but Katsuki can feel the way his heart begs on its knees. Bakugou’s glare softens.

“I can’t do that, Deku.”

He sniffles. “Why not?”

Tentatively, Bakugou takes a step forward, pacing himself. He opens his mouth to answer, but can’t seem to find the right words and looks away with a frustrated snarl. Deku’s eyes, red-rimmed with agony, peer up at him through his unruly green hair and the wound on Katsuki’s abdomen throbs with heat.

“...Because. I nearly died for you, didn’t I?” the blond eventually replies. “Because I know you think that that means you have to go and fucking do things alone because you don’t want me to nearly die for you a second time, but that’s exactly fucking it.” Katsuki huffs. He takes another step further, watching Deku crumple to the ground as sobs rack his figure.

“Kacchan got hurt, but it wasn’t your battle. It’s mine,” he chokes out anyway, stubborn as he is in the way Bakugou had grown to admire. As much as the blond’s soul rattles with anger, with hatred at the society that forced his childhood friend to bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders, he forces himself not to shout.

(Five meters apart.)

“‘Wasn’t’, was the word. Now, it is. I’m not letting you do this alone whether you fucking like it or not, shitty nerd.” Katsuki sucks in a breath. “You never gave me a choice, did you? I didn’t have a choice into knowing about your cursed fucking quirk, I didn’t have a choice into you leaving us to fight Shigaraki alone, I didn’t have a choice in knowing whether you’d be okay or not in the hospital after I myself nearly fucking died--and now that I finally goddamn do have that choice, you better make sure you let me have it, Deku.” Another step.

Deku lets out an anguished gasp for air between his hiccups and tears, and wails, “But why? Kacchan, you have the choice to be safe and let yourself win without One for All getting away! Why would you let me bring you more harm like this?!”

“Because you never fucking let me apologize to you, shithead!” The blond succumbs at last, yelling in hurt and in pain. The distance between them is so small, yet every goddamn particle feels like a world’s away in which Kacchan and Deku were made to fall apart. His skin prickles, air buzzing with the energy of a feeling so big contained in something so small. The moment suspends itself in time, fragile as glass and broken shards twice as painful, “I wanted to say that I was sorry, okay?!”

“Kacchan--”

Bakugou growls, “No. Let me say this, Izuku.” He waited, so goddamn long, for an opportunity to say what he wanted--no, needed--to say. The distance that felt like a whole galaxy between them burned something fierce, a serendipitous inevitability that felt like it was reaching its boiling point as the world around them reduced to ashes. The blond musses up his hair and exhales heavily, letting his angry demeanour calm for Izuku’s sake.

“I used to resent you. So much.” Katsuki starts. He’s close enough to Deku that he can see the subtle way the shorter boy scrunches his brows together, letting out a shaky breath of incredulousness. “When we were in middle school, I tormented and bullied you under the guise of hating you for something that you couldn’t control.”

“The truth is, that wasn’t why I resented you.” He blows out a breath. Deku looks up at him in shock, so Bakugou ploughs on. “I resented you because I didn’t understand you. At that time, I couldn’t understand how anyone, especially someone virtually powerless like yourself, could somehow still be a better person--hell, a better hero--than I was.”

Ruby red eyes gazed at the horizon.

“I always thought myself to be the best at everything. Always knew I was destined for victory. That hasn’t changed,” Katsuki swallows as Izuku pulls himself back on to his feet. Now standing, Izuku looks at him as if he’d suddenly had the revelation of his life, (which, Bakugou assumes, was paramount to this in any case.) “What has changed now though… is that I think I finally get it.”

He coughs.

“... I think I finally get you,”

(Two meters.)

“Katsuki… I’m--” Deku swallows, eyes shiny again as he tries to compose himself. He nods at the blond and in that instant Katsuki knows he’s been forgiven a long time ago. The distance tugs at the pit of his stomach, feelings of something warm and strange writhing inside. What once was a flood of misunderstanding that crashed and pulled the two of them apart had dried into a lively valley. Deku takes a step closer.

“But it isn’t just that anymore,” the blond is quick to blurt out. He looks at Deku and for once instead of a regretful past or an ongoing development, he thinks he sees a future.

“If this were all for atonement, I wouldn’t have left UA like you said. It’s… deeper. I’m workin’ on it, but there’s just something that pulls me to do this. It pisses me off, but it also makes me want to keep you at an arm’s length.” Katsuki shakes his head at the bullshit that spews out from his own mouth.

“I don’t fucking know what it is, but I know how it makes me feel.”

Izuku stares into his eyes, wide and innocent in a way that used to make him angry but now only makes him… dazed. “And how does it make you feel, Kacchan?”

He huffs a laugh of rueful acceptance. “Fucking weird. Like I suddenly want to chase you to the ends of the fucking earth just to make sure you’re alive. Like I want to be close to you again and again and again even in our next fucking lives.”

Katsuki takes another hesitant step forward.

“I want a lot of things now. I want shit that I can’t name but I sure as hell know won’t relate to becoming the number one hero. I want to keep you within sight, keep you close and alive because of the fact that it’s you and nothing else. I want…”

(Three feet.)

The distance around them is reduced to a little less than an ache. Issues like theirs aren’t solved overnight, but for the small distance they have between each other it feels less like a curse and more like the moment before an inevitability. They can’t quantify all that they are to each other--can’t begin to measure it in fickle things like centimeters or miles or inches or lightyears--but in that moment Katsuki supposes one could label what they have as ‘love’.

He’s never spoken this much in such a short amount of time, never let himself be wordy when his concise speech was efficient and easy. Yet, something about freckles and scars and green hair makes him want to run his fucking mouth off and list his every feeling under the sun. The vice-like grip over his heart that had been there since the moment he’d woken up in the hospital eases a little, and Katsuki’s broken heart feels like it is coming home.

(Two feet.)

“You want…?”

Katsuki looks into Izuku’s eyes, really looks. He looks and he sees life and salvation and something that he’d been missing for so long that tasting it for the first time has left him wanting like a man in a desert. He reaches out an arm, now fully within reach and gives Deku a pleading and weak stare that says everything and nothing at once.

“I want everything that I can get. Everything you can give me. No matter what the cost.”

(One.)

Deku crashes into his embrace, pulling him close and meeting Katsuki somewhere in the middle as the chase finally fucking stops. To Katsuki, it feels like the birth of a star as the warmth engulfs him fully, setting alight to every one of his nerves. The feeling of holding Deku fills him with all the words he cannot name and it feels like he’s reached some impossible height at the top of the world.

The war has not been forgotten, and the road ahead of them is long, but the distance between Kacchan and Deku--Katsuki and Izuku--is now nothing more than a physical concept. The hug blurs the line between the two young heroes, shaping itself until it is indistinguishable where one ends and the other begins. There is a sensation, one that is burning like an inferno but comforting all the same because at this point in time, Katsuki vows to run after and find Izuku Midoriya in every lifetime after this, in every world that they’ll be in. He vows with all his heart that he’ll be the one to watch Deku while Deku watches the world, to protect Deku while Deku protects the others. Katsuki vows to take Deku for everything that he is and isn’t, wholly and unconditionally because the distance is gone and there’s nothing now that can stop him from following this boy to the ends of the universe.

Katsuki Bakugou vows all this because here, right now, on top of the ruins of a city he’d once known and arms full of a boy he’d been trying to chase for a lifetime--Katsuki comes home.

(Zero.)

[demonwield]

     Alright, SO. 

          WHY is Akame Cursed? I get this question many many many times. People who only watched the anime, even people who read the manga, whether due to I interested them, or, THEY wanted to of their own volition, always ask me this question, and I want to finally explain MY thoughts on it. 

     And believe it or not? I do NOT have much to say on it: not because I don’t know, but because the answer is very easy to explain, and not much to really say. 

     Here we have: Tatsumi, and clearly, he ain’t looking so fucking good man. He’s a big ass whole dragon, but anyone who knows about Tatsumi, knows: he is NOT like this normally. So, what the fuck happened? Spoilers, but here we go. 

     ALL TEIGU are still sentient. Anytime Incursio is worn, the armor reacts to Tatsumi’s emotions, his will to fight, to win, to save his friends. Just like how in order to bond with Murasame, Akame had to not FEAR the blade, and to find a macabre beauty in it’s cursed visage. The same with Yatsufusa, and so on. Why? These are WEAPONS, so why does this all matter? 

          Because The Weapons Are Still Alive.

     The beasts that were slain to create these weapons were killed, but t heir ESSENCE is still in the materials forged into these weapons, and because of that, these weapons are SENTIENT but not in a way that is ABLE to be communicated with. The reason Tatsumi becomes Tyrant is because over many different fights, he had to EVOLVE to keep his fighting going. Mahapadma made it so he HAD to evolve and be able to OVERPOWER the time-slow freeze, and so he became IMMUNE to Esdeath’s ice. 

     And over time, the Tyrant’s Willpower overwhelmed him, and this results in one thing: Tyrant’s Resurrection by taking his body over, it’s soul overpowering his, and BEING REBORN. 

     But Incursio was not the only thing that did this: Lionel did  this as well, to a lesser degree. As we see after the war is concluded, Leone’s TEIGU was destroyed, but she still retained her tail, and ears. Why? Because Lionel merged with her body, to SAVE HER  LIFE from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. Wounds  that SHOULD have killed her. 

     So, what is Little War Trumpet / Ennoodzuno?

     You guessed it: Murasame had merged with her body. When Akame killed Tyrant, when she STABBED Tatsumi in the chest, incidentally ‘killing’ him, she DISCARDED HER HUMANITY. She realized if she is  going to kill this WARMONGERING BEAST, she had to throw EVERYTHING away. She had to kill HER HEART. She had to put HER LIFE and the life of THE ENTIRE NATION on the line, and give her last every bit. 

     The Murasame is sentient: it feels every drop of blood spilled by it’s edge. It’s curse kills. It’s edge slices: it is a Demon Sword forged solely for killing. And it’s Little War Trumpet is the strongest means to kill: it enhances your speed, your strength, it makes you practically IMMUNE to pain. It’s the biggest rush of adrenaline, in a sense, you can gain. 

          This is WHY even in the new manga, she is CURSED. 

     Tatsumi lives, but he is now a large ass DRAGON with his wife. Akame is now BRANDED by the sins of her past: the HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS she has killed in her years, THEIR SORROW, GRIEF, RAGE, HATRED, all plastered onto her body, ETCHED into her flesh every second in a never ending agony, WEIGHING her very SOUL down with SIN and MURDER. 

          This is her PENANCE for all she has done in her life.

               And the blade is taking it’s TIME killing her.

     That is why she is STILL this immensely strong, albeit WITH DIFFICULTY backing it, WARRIORESS. She’s still as fast as she was when fighting Esdeath. She’s still AS STRONG. Because she is not WEAKENED: she is MERGED with the curse. She’s a DEMON in HUMAN FLESH walking a world she should have died for.

          Murasame still exists: it is her. And she is it.

               Just as ALL Teigu users would one day become.

[aseioh]

The day the earth stood still

TW: Character Death

The inhabitants of Castle Dimitrescu barely managed to survive their battle with Ethan Winters. Alcina mutated to her dragon form but to no avail and is barely holding on to her life. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were not spared and have suffered heavy injuries as well, due to the decrease of temperature in the Castle the three of them have barricaded themselves to the bedchamber were they have first dragged Ethan in. Patching each others injuries and licking their wounded pride.

  A single man had managed to crush the Dimitrescu bloodline.

A loud crash outside startled the young women, braving the unknown Cassandra opened the door only to see their mother’s bloodied form slumped by the wall. The three hurriedly half carried/half dragged their mother, her unconcious form making it hard to carry her near the blazing fire. The castle was still, not a soul stirred from within. Even the Moroaica and Samca which they have loosened around the castle grounds are quiet. The three women huddled close to their mother not knowing what would happen next.

Did the other Lords fared better than them? Did they manage to end that cursed man’s existence.

 Did Mother Miranda knew this would happen?

By the second day, Alcina began to stir from her slumber. She was still weak and can barely open her eyes, but seeing the high ceiling of the bedroom she surmised that she had managed to survive her fall from the tower and dragged herself back inside the castle. The rest of the journey were just blacked out. Straining to look at her left, she found her three daughters slumped against each other. Bela her eldest has a nasty gash on her forehead, her left cheek a mottle of blue and yellow color; a reminder of the time she had found her daughter near the kitchen, bullet holes littered her cold body - buckshot from a shotgun, that monster-.

Cassandra her second daughter and best hunter was wearing a loose fitting shirt, beneath it was a swathe of bandages covering her whole torso. She remembers the screams and gunshots she heard from the second floor, remembers her stumbling and finding Cassandra barely breathing, the young woman profusely apologizing to her and to Bela for not avenging her, for not killing the man-thing. And finally there was her younger daughter Daniela, her sweet Daniela. When the first signs of trouble have began to stir she had opted to lock her youngest inside the library. Daniela was an excitable child and with her sudden mania when on the hunt it was more prudent to keep her hidden and away from their guest.

It was all in moot though, Ethan managed to find the key that opened all the doors of the castle. Daniela managed to escape with minor injuries but the fact that Ethan managed to enter the library and still inflict injuries to her was the final straw. Alcina blames herself on this 'if only I was not blinded by my anger, I shouldn’t not have left the key in my room'. She remembers the phone call and the sudden rage that had her throwing her dresser table to the wall, never had she ever felt rage against Mother Miranda in her entire life until that point.

'My daughter was almost killed and she still though of her damned ceremony' and with that thought another grave though crossed her mind

"She never cared for any of us" Her sudden speech stirred the three slumbering women. Seeing their mother awake, the three women hurried by her side.

"Mother!"

"Mama!"

"Are you alright, where does it hurt?"

An onslaught of questions came from her daughters, worry written on their faces. Cassandra puts up a brave front but Alcina can see that her torso still bothers her. Alcina tries to sit, but is unable to do so, she was still laying on the floor and although one of her daughters was kind enough to put a pillow beneath her head it was still rather uncomfortable.

"I am fine. Weak but alive, and so are you my treasures." at that Daniela burst into tears and gently tries to hug her arm, Bela and Cassandra both teary eyed tried to do the same on her right arm.

"Mother can you stand? if you can maybe we can move you to the other bed." Bela asked as she eyes the bandaged side of Alcina.

"I'm afraid not Bela, I'm still rather weak"

Cassandra motions to get up and walking towards the door "It's been quiet inside the castle mother, I think Ethan has left. Maybe I could go to the wine room and get you some blood, that would help you right?" wincing slightly at her movement.

"I'll do it Cassandra, I'll be right back." Daniela stands as well, motioning for Cassandra to return to Alcina's side.

"Thank you be careful, we don't know what's still outside. there may be stragglers" Cassandra cautions her sister

---

The inside of the castle looks like a warzone. Shattered vases and cabinet glass littered the floor, and the once pristine floor of their hallway now has holes and bullet casings. Bullet holes littered the wall, the smell of gunpowder and blood still permeates the air. Daniela cautiously climbs to the second floor where the wine room was located, ears straining to hear even the smallest sounds. They were lucky she supposes that their were no windows inside the castle, that the doors of the kitchen were thick enough to insolate them from the cold coming from the courtyard.

Entering the wine room she was glad that Ethan had not decided to destroy their supply of wine, 'At least his not that petty' she thinks as she grabs five bottles of their finest, ones she knows were specifically for her mother's consumption. Walking back down, she wanted to investigate the extent of the damage made by the man but her priority was in the health of her mother.

There will be time for that later. They can rebuild, they were after all the Dimitrescu and they were all alive.

---

Back inside the room, Cassandra and Bela had managed to help Alcina sit on her chair.

"And how are you two, are you're bodies regenerating?" Alcina asked trying to be comfortable in the chair, her regeneration has been slowed due to the lack of blood. She was more concerned with her daughters, as she new that the insects making up her daughter's body do not reproduce. She will need to introduce new batches of flies in the swarm, hopefully that would allow for faster healing within her daughters.

Daniela came back with bottles in hand, she poured her mother a glass and gave Bela and Cassandra a bottle each. Alcina drank the liquid eagerly, she can feel the blood sustaining her, feeling slightly better she sighes. 'I wonder how the others are faring' Alcina thought as she looks at her daughters faces. Daniela and Cassandra were drinking their blood fast, meanwhile Bela was nursing hers, a worried look in her face.

'Ah. Of course. Donna' Alcina can see her eldest thinking, worrying about her beloved. She herself was worried, the Lords knew that Donna was the weakest in terms of strength preferring to use psychological tactics. Donna has never seen combat, she was more at home using her plants for hallucinations and turning men against each other than direct confrontations.

'If Ethan Winters almost killed her in both her forms...' Alcina shivered at the thought. She looks at Bela once again, Bela meets her gaze head on. She was thinking of the same thing, and with that though her dread rises and her arms begin to shake.

"Go and be careful, and remember I love you Bela" Hearing the permission, Bela embraces her mother and makes her way out of the room. Her swarm of insects more chaotic than normal. Cassandra and Daniela looks on as their sister vanishes from the room.

"WIll she be alright" Cassandra asked concern clear in her voice.

"I do not know love, but we will be here when she returns. Ready to support and mend" Alcina says with finality.

---

Bela rushes through the castle grounds, barely stopping to dress properly against the weather. Stepping out of the castle she was greeted with a blanket of frost and silence. No sound can be heard around the border, not even the hustle and bustle of the nearby village could be heard. She remembers that the Lycans went through the village earlier and though for a second if even a single villager manage to survive.

'Focus! Bela' Making her way to the eastern part of the village she was greeted by the Duke.

"Good afternoon Miss Bela, I'm glad to see you alive" the portly man greeted her.

"Duke what are you doing here!? You were helping that man!" Bela shouted readying her sickle and aiming for the Dukes head.

"Now, now... it was only business miss, and besides your family survived. Everything else can be rebuilt" The duke supplied trying to placate the young woman in front of her. "Besides, shouldn't you make your way towards Lady Beneviento's estate. I've just seen Mr. Winters leave the premises. I believe his on his way to Lord Moreau's reservoir."

The new information silenced Bela, looking at the four winged door and seeing the usual locked door open made her panicked.

"NO!" as she turned and ran towards Donna's mansion

"And remember miss, Everything can be rebuilt!" The Duke shouted to the retreating back of the young woman, chuckling to himself "Everything can be made for a price..."

---

Bela didn't stop running until she was near the grave of Claudia Beneviento and even then she can see the devastation that Ethan Winters caused. Dead Moroaica littered the way going to the estate from the the potter's field to the hanging bridge that connects the estate to the village. Claudia's grave itself had been open, the contents ransacked. Close by the slumped body of the grave giant can be found no doubt killed because it was doing it's job.

A cold chill enters Bela's body. If the giant can be killed, how could her Donna fare against that man.

Steeling herself, she enters the small cave that houses the elevator that would take her up the mansion. Bela was starting to feel numbed, the whole day feels like a century. What she thought started as a man trespassing in their castle to be eaten soon, became her worst nightmare. Bracing herself in the elevator, she fears for the worst.

'Donna please, be safe my love'

please please please please.... the plead continued like a mantra, she was praying to whoever deity that would listen to her.

----

Arriving at the top, she carefully exits the elevator, wary of every corners and listening to the smallest sounds.

The mansion superimposes the great waterfall, both a sight of wonder. Still there was something wrong, and she couldn't place what it is. the garden in front of the house looks undisturbed, as if it was left only to be tended again tomorrow.

the first sign that something was wrong was a broken box near the entrance of the mansion.

Seeing the broken thing, Bela's heart stopped.

 No.

 No..

 NO...  

"DONNA!!" Bela burst through the door only to stop dead in her tracks.

The mansion was in disarray. The dolls Donna so lovingly brushes and takes care of are strewn around the floor. The devastation done on the castle is repeated here. Some of the walls have fresh blood smeared across it. It's as if someone was running around without a care in the world.

Bela sways where she stands. "DONNA!?!" she calls again hoping to hear the woman she loves. straining her ears to hear even the smallest of sounds.

 It was silent

She cautiously enters the house. She stops and falls to her knees, there on the ground lies the crystalized remains of her beloved.

Bela cannot breath, each gulp of air just brings more cold inside of her. She crawls towards the crystals, eyes wide and unbelieving.

"Donna... Donna, this isn't funny. You're not supposed to leave me" tears stream down her eyes and her sight narrows, darkness encroaching from the corners of her eyes.

"DONNA!!!!"

Outside the waterfall covers the scream of a broken heart and the mansion stands quietly, guarding it's mistress and her beloved's anguished cries.

---

Because the thought "what would happen if Bela and Donna were a couple during the events of the game and one of them didn't make it?" kept running around my head

[tehrevving]

Stop and Stall What’s Safe

When a stray bullet ricochets, Dante doesn't know how to save you. With a last ditch effort, he remembers how the bruises on your skin used to heal after sex, and just prays that it works.

Dante x Reader (Reader is neutral but can get pregnant), Gunshot wounds, Angst, Masturbation.

I had a little bit to drink, and was in mood. So this is like, angst but with a crack premise.

I don't know what to say about this apart from that Reader gets shot, Dante doesn't know what to do and ejaculates on the wound to try and heal it. That's it, That's the premise. Enjoy lol.

Dante’s heart is still racing, even though it’s been hours. You’ve been asleep on his chest for a while now and even though you’re breathing and warm and alive, his head just won’t stop spinning. It had been his fault. He’d almost lost you because he was too fucking stupid to think about the consequences of his own actions. He was terrified, lost in his own thoughts with no idea how to go about not making the same mistake again.

He’d never liked involving you in his line of work, even though of course sometimes he didn’t have a choice. It’s not like he could always keep his lives separate. Dangerous creatures often decided to try and invade his home that he shared with you, though luckily they never seemed to attack while he was away. They would always wait for him to appear before they made their move, he was never sure why, but he was thankful for it. 

In general though, in a fight, you knew what to do. You would hang back, away from the battle, arming yourself with one of the numerous weapons that were stored underneath his desk, or under your desk, or behind some of the artwork. So when a bunch of low tier fucking assholes decided to disturb the peace today, it had all gone according to plan. To start with anyway. 

He’d been fighting them, dispatching the weak ones easily. They were never a match for him anyway, but especially not when he was showing off for his mate. It had been easy, he hadn’t been concerned, or worried at all, until a Chaos had sauntered its way into the office. 

Dante knew that they were fast, far faster than you as a plain old human would be able to handle. So he’d focused his attention on it, trusting you to dispatch any of the small fry if they managed to get close. He’d tried the usual strategy, shoot to stun, and then tear it limb from limb once those sharp spikes were no longer a factor. 

He’d never had to consider the enclosed space before though, while fighting something so fast, so high powered. He’d aimed properly, got it in his sights right in between the eyes. He’d waited until he’d thought the timing had been perfect, but even though he liked to think so, Dante wasn’t perfect. 

He hadn’t been able to anticipate the way that the creature had moved, the way that it had shifted slightly and thrown his marksmanship off. That the piece of shit would shift slightly, throw off his aim, that the thing would start rolling, moving its spines so fast that no bullet would have a hope of reaching it. He never expected the angle at which his bullet would ricochet off it’s shining carapace at full speed. Dante never fucking anticpated that any devil hell bent on destroying him would be smart enough to deflect his weapons straight into your god damn body. 

He’d watched it happen in slow motion, the bullet deflect and start to turn in your direction. He’d seen your eyes widen, but he’d not been fast enough to do anything. Dante had watched as you crumpled to the floor as his stray bullet hit you, he’d watched it part your flesh, and embed itself deep within your abdomen. 

Fuck, he’d been overtaken by an all consuming rage, he’d never felt anything like it before. It was like he wasn’t himself anymore, like his subconscious was moving without permission from his physical body. The entire world around him slowed down as he lost control. He wouldn’t have been able to recall exactly what he had done if you’d asked him, but every single damn devil in the building had been destroyed by his hand within an instant. 

The Chaos was the last to go down, the ultimate subject of his rage. He moved faster than it could react to, his claws ripping it to absolute shreds. It didn’t even get a chance to shriek before it hit the ground, dead, and his entire focus shifted to you.

Dante was by your side seconds after you’d taken his deflected bullet, surrounded by the shrieks of dying devils around him. He grabbed your body before you hit the ground, lying you down carefully onto your back. You had looked up at him, with shock and horror and fear in your eyes, before immediately pressing your hand to the blood pouring from your abdomen. He’d expected to see disgust, or hatred, because he was the one that did this to you, but instead, you’d just been terrified. 

He hadn’t known what to do, he’d just panicked, his entire mind wiped blank. You’d started speaking, throwing him out of the haze that had threatened to overwhelm all of his senses. “Bandage,” you’d said to him, snapping him out of his stupor. “Dante. Pressure on the wound.”

So he had torn the shirt he was wearing to pieces, the fabric didn’t matter in the slightest. He’d ripped the material from his front, wrapping it around his hand. He didn’t know how much pressure to use, how much pressure humans needed, so when he pressed the fabric against your slick abdomen, it didn’t seem to do anymore. 

“Harder,” you’d barked at him, and so he pressed down with the sort of pressure that might have bruised you on a normal day. He didn’t know what to do, he could feel your blood pouring out from the wound, even through the layer of fabric bound around his palm. 

You were surprisingly calm, or maybe you were just in shock. He didn’t know how being in shock felt, or what this much pain might actually feel like. He could be cut in half and recover from it a trace of a scar of course, do he had no frame of reference. “Is it bad?” you had asked him, and he hadn’t known how to reply. 

“Did it hit any organs? I can’t feel anything,” you’d asked him, and in the moment he had ignored the way that a small amount of blood had bubbled up from your throat to your lips while you’d spoken, but now that it’s all over, he can’t help but imagine the whole fucking thing in vivid detail.

He’d tried to think. He knows when his own organs are compromised, it’s a slightly different feeling, but as he’d looked down at you, he’d realised he doesn’t know how to map his own experiences to your body. You’re so much smaller than he is, and you have more organs in your abdomen than he does, don’t you? “I don’t know,” is what he finally manages to say, because he doesn’t know how else to respond. 

“Call an ambulance,” is what you’d said next, but as he’d looked around the shop, and at the carnage his own enraged demon had caused, he knew there was no way anyone would be able to get to you. 

“I can’t. Fuck. I can carry you. I can fly,” he’d said, panicked, desperate. He’d tried to move you, but you had screamed in pain, a sound that he’d never heard before, a sound that tore him in half all the way down to his soul. He’d immediately put you back down, but even then, your screaming hadn’t stopped. 

His entire hand had been wet, your blood welling up around his crappy shirt. He was going to lose you, because he didn’t fucking know human first aid, because he hadn’t fucking thought about his actions and shot a firearm in an enclosed space, against something that could easily deflect bullets at insane speeds. “What do I do?” he’d asked you desperately, but you hadn’t replied. You’d been in shock, and Dante doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how pale your face was. He’d started crying and he hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t known what to do. 

“I don’t know how to stop the bleeding.” He’d been distraught. He knows the basics, but not how to save you. The pitiful fabric of his shirt had been dyed completely red, and he knows it’s not absorbing your blood anymore, there’s just too much of it. 

He’d pulled his hand away, just to get a look at your wound. It had been bad. The blood wasn’t stopping, and he could see your insides, his bullets are much more powerful than a normal calibre, even a ricochet. He’d willed himself to think as he’d felt your breathing start to slow, and felt your life starting to drift away. Fuck. He wasn’t going to let that happen. 

His brain for some reason, had decided to fixate on when you’re first gotten together. When he hadn’t been able to control himself, and he’d left bruises on your skin. He’d noticed the bruises, felt guilty about them, but then suddenly they’d started disappearing once the two of you had decided to become exclusive, and stopped using condoms, and started pulling out and spilling himself on your belly instead. He remembered the bruises returning though, once you’d confirmed that birth control would still work on his half devil spunk, and he stopped pulling out. 

It had been stupid, and a fucking long shot. But he hadn’t known what else to do, and your lips had been turning blue right in front of his eyes. He hadn’t know how the fuck he’d planned to manage it, but as he’d pressed down on your abdomen with slick fingers, he’d started struggling to undo his fly with the other. 

It had felt wrong, so fucking wrong, as he’d pulled out his cock. He hadn’t been hard, but there had been no other options. He’d started stroking himself, and of course nothing had happened, arousal had been the last damn thing that his panicked mind was expecting. 

He couldn’t keep looking at you, watching the life drain from your face. He’d shut his eyes, imagined you teasing and encouraging him. He’d imagined the way you would bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes while egging him on.  

It had started to work eventually, but he was so worried it wasn’t fast enough. His dick had started to rise and for the first time in his life, as a virile and overeager half devil, he’d wondered if he could ejaculate at half mast.

He’d pulled out all the fucking stops, because he hadn’t known what else to do. He’d pressed down on your wound with one hand, trying to block out the feeling of your heartbeat starting to slow while he stroked himself.

He’d twisted his hand on the tip of his dick, stroking loosely and then putting pressure on the base, before moving back up. Of course he knows how to get off, but it’s completely different under pressure. 

It had been a struggle, but the longer that he had kept his eyes closed and pretended, the easier that it had gotten. It had become easier to convince his penis that this wasn’t a life or death situation, that he was just casually jerking off and not using it as a last ditch attempt to save your life. 

He’d gotten there eventually, though all of his progress had almost been ruined when he had to lift his sticky palm from your flesh. The wet sound had broken his heart. He hated the way that he could hear your laboured breathing start to bubble up from your lungs when he released the pressure. 

He’d just hoped that this would fucking work. 

Dante had taken his dick in hand, lined himself up, and with a terribly reluctant moan, shot his seed all over your wound. He’d tried his best to hold back tears as he watched the white settle over the red staining your skin, watching with bated breath, wishing for anything to happen. 

He’d been able to see it right in front of his damn eyes, that his cum was slowly disappearing, sinking into your wound and reducing the amount of red. He’d watched as the bleeding had gradually stopped, and as your skin began to knit itself back together. 

He’d waited with baited breath, watching as every trace of what had just happened disappeared from your skin, within moments there wasn’t even a scar on your abdomen. The only evidence remaining being your blood staining your skin, and his hands and the floor, and the tears streaming down his face. 

He’d pulled you to his chest, begging for you to wake up, wiping his eyes on your hair. The office had been a disgrace, was still a disgrace. There was blood everywhere, sticky stains from where he’d ripped the damn devils apart, and of course your own life essence, staining the floorboards by his desk. 

Eventually you had stirred though, eyes disorientated and unfocused. You had been in no state to do anything for yourself, but he didn’t care. He’d carried you against his chest, washed the blood off of your now healed skin, and off his own and then gotten you into bed. 

You’d been exhausted and incoherent, immediately curling up against his chest and falling asleep, but his mind couldn’t stop racing. He’d been so fucking close to losing you and he hadn’t even known what to do to give you a fighting chance. 

His last ditch effort had been disgusting, even though it had worked, and he’s horrified with himself. Repulsed by the fact that he’d even considered it, but horrified by the fact that he’d actually been able to get off to you dying. It makes him reconsider everything. 

Dante knows that he won’t sleep at all tonight, but that’s okay. He had to watch over you, and make sure that you don’t stop breathing, that nothing else happens to you. He cries again, his face pressed to the pillow to try and muffle the sounds so that he doesn’t wake you. He vows that he’s going to be better, that he’s going to learn how to save your goddamn life next time, no matter what it takes, and that he’s not going to let anything like this happen again.

[ikevamp-shrine]

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen vampire

Words: 622

Warnings: none

Pairing: Jean x Elizabeth

Character(s): Jean, Elizabeth (oc)

Summary: Under the dark sky, emotions run high and words flow from the past as Elizabeth tells Jean the story, and warnings, of her heart.

———

“Mademoiselle.”

The red head glanced at his deep emission, her icy blue eyes observing the way the Jean’s pale skin sparkled as if dusted by the stars above their heads. Lips parted as she took a breath. “What is it?”

“What made you pursue queenship?”

Elizabeth caught Jean’s gaze, his face betraying nothing. He turned towards her, his back straight, jaw tight, and head tilted. Curious and wanting.

A sigh left Elizabeth as she gripped the railing, lashes fluttering closed and neck falling back. Memories floated through her mind: faces of the past, long nights of opened books and flickering flames, her mother’s tombstone. The sounds of gunshots, panting horses, and howling dogs rang through her ears. The scent of her cell, salty tears, and blood tickled her nose. She remembered a marriage proposal, a beheading, the weight of swords on her shoulders and a crown among her head. Smiling faces, excited at finally learning how to read and write, stained the closed lids of her eyes. The relief of seeing a child with a meal filling their previously starving bellies as she had reigned warmed her mind.

“You have a choice,” she started. “You can continue living your life worthlessly. Your purpose being none, the mark you leave being nothing more than words carved into a headstone.”

Elizabeth faced Jean; her attention trained on how tight his lips were pressed into a line. A chilled breeze blew past bringing the scent of lilies and carrying her words like a whispered promise.

“Or, you can become someone who matters. Someone who fights for what they believe in.” Their eyes met as Jean reached towards her to brush a leaf out of her thick curls, the tension rising.  A glance towards his lips now relaxed. “…who they believe in.”

The back of his fingers gently traced over her cheek, the tips grazing the skin of her neck only to fall limp at his side. Elizabeth grabbed his hand, bringing it to her cheek once more.

“A queen does not comply to control. I happened to be exceedingly stubborn when I was young, so the job was a perfect fit,” she murmured, leaning into his palm, her dead toned voice and ending chuckle a strange mixture to lighten the mood.

Jean’s ears turned rosy, his dark brows furrowing with the laxed blinking of his lashes. He spoke in hushed languages as if speaking any louder would cause the woman before him to disappear, “do not mistake stubbornness for determination.” His thumb swiped slowly under her eye.

Her aura shifted, a frigid coldness emitting from Elizabeth as her shoulders tensed. She had seen his weakness and Jean had never felt colder.

A demanding declaration left her. “I have killed with my own hands- their blood still staining my skin. I have sent fathers and sons to die at war. I have destroyed families and concurred countries. Do not forget for a moment you are in the presence of a murder, Jean. You show weakness I will cut you down at the root.”

Jean pulled away as if she had burned him. “Is that a threat Mademoiselle?” He could feel her steely gaze staring through him, exposing the deepest parts of his blackened soul, making him feel as if he was without clothes in the path of a rattlesnake.

“It’s a warning.” Her heart thumped painfully when she continued. My how the past stings like a fresh wound, Elizabeth thought. “I’ll give you some advice I had to learn very quickly- never let your guard down… even around those you trust.”

The clicking of heels and the swishing of her dress drifted off as she left her companion alone in the protective clutches of the night.

Thank you @stehkotori again for making an artbreeder portrait of my oc, but I figured I’d do one too to show how she looks like more in my mind (though you were very close- so close you made me think you were a mind read lol)

[anartisticexpression]

Mystery Skulls -The Future

Alright, now that I’ve watched “Mystery Skulls Animated -The Future” and am now done screaming into a pillow because I never could have predicted THAT ending in a million years, let me get some initial thoughts down…

*Whenever I listen to “Enemy” I always think how perfectly this fits with not only Arthur and Lewis’s situation but Mystery and Shiromori’s as well so cue a pleased, “Oh!” from me that a snippet of “Enemy” made its way into the beginning of this video. Very nice!

*I’ve completely been expecting for two years that, as soon as doubt crept over Lewis’s skull, that the cave would disappear and Arthur would simply land back in the truck unharmed so that wasn’t a surprise. What WAS a surprise is that, I admit, I had fully convinced myself that the gunshot sound at the end of “Hellbent” was Lance shooting Shiromori so the reveal that it was Lewis all along that was the target really made me dramatically gasp!

*Gunshots obviously don’t affect a ghost… except for the one that went through Lewis’s chest aka his death wound which is one of those details that make you go, “Actually that DOES make a kind of sense. Ghosts WOULD be sensitive in the area that killed them.”

It also shows that Lewis isn’t entirely in control of his actions. Ghosts are beings of pure emotion and it doesn’t take much for him to go right back to irrational anger and rough up Lance which is… not cool, man. He’s going to be sorry later when he can think straight!

*The bit with the changing photograph… At this moment in time, my early thoughts are that with the first photo being only of Lewis and Vivi, it symbolises that Lewis has kept only Vivi in his heart.

Arthur is a green-eyed demon who Lewis must get Vivi away from before it is too late and Mystery is just a dog. He’s irrelevant.

However, when Arthur touches the locket, it reactivates another memory, one in which they were all a solid group and that they were happy. Lewis is clearly shocked to see this new image and when focus is also brought to Lewis’ eye(s) being visible in this photo (I’m going to set aside that they were visible in “Ghost” as well until the photo was redrawn for “Freaking Out” as I think this is pretty much a last minute idea in-between videos) it also serves to remind him of who he used to be. Eyes are a window to the soul after all and I think a small truth just broke through Lewis’ anger there enough to make him drop to his knees and weep black tears. Very effective especially when this is paired with the line, “I’m worried ‘bout the future… and fucking with the past.”

And then of course the truck blows up before they can dwell on this any longer! I love Arthur and Lewis’ dazed, “What just happened?” faces!

*Vivi takes the fact that her dog is actually a fox very well but then again she also has a ghost, a plant lady and her own ancestor connecting with her across the centuries to mentally process as well so that’s understandable.

She’s also a surprisingly effective badass (granted she is getting some help from Mushi) which was brilliantly displayed in the animation, the camera movement, the angles, the special effects… everything on screen! Not bad for someone who has spent most of this series either running from things or being unconscious! A certain Vine though, wouldn’t get out of my head -“Don’t fuck with me! I have the power of God AND anime on my side!!”

*Heh. Shiromori had a manicure in-between videos. ;)

*I really didn’t have any solid ideas as to how the Shiromori problem would be resolved but I still wasn’t expecting that! I actually shrieked out loud and I’m usually so quiet on first viewings! The horror and regret over both her and Mystery’s faces though (those are definitely, -“I didn’t want things to end like this”- tears in Shiro’s eyes) tell me that she doesn’t deserve this. She’s just a plant that let jealousy and a blood-addiction get out of control!

The only thing that gives me hope is that her heart wasn’t actually destroyed; it’s just flown off somewhere across the parking lot. She can still be regrown and start anew!

*The ending. The very definition of a, “Well, I didn’t see THAT one coming!” ending. I guess that confirms a thought that the Green Spirit can only really possess a heart that is in turmoil, one that has its guard down so to speak.

I presume it’s easy for it to grab onto “simple things” such as small animals and severed arms but when it comes to complicated living humans and magical creatures it has to wait for the right circumstances and Mystery’s heart breaking over Shiromori’s fate is just what it was looking for.

Of course there is still the question of why it is doing this. Yes, Mystery is the biggest threat so it’s taking him out of the equation but is its murderous target the whole of Mystery Skulls or just Lewis? The fact that Lewis is adopted and doesn’t know where he came from is really significant to me. It raises the possibility that the Green Spirit killed Lewis as part of a blood vendetta against his birth family that he is not even aware of. I’ll have to wait and see whether the Green Spirit and Lewis’ true backstory is even something that can be told in music video form but I really don’t think it’s causing all this death and chaos simply because it’s bored and doing this would be funny.

*I do notice that Mystery has two plasters on his heart which have to refer to his two missing tails that the Ancestor has to be responsible for. They both appear to grow back though, both as a reaction to Vivi and Shiromori getting really hurt and to the Green Spirit’s possession; it’s not only taking him over but restoring him back to his prime… just with some added decoration (love the collar changing from a ‘?’ to a ‘!?’).

I’m not sure what to think that Vivi’s shade of blue and Shiromori’s white comes pouring out of the plastered areas when they are injured nor of all the liquid seeping out of Mystery’s heart that matches several characters’ colour scheme…  and then his mouth turns green… Possibly it is just meant to represent all the different thoughts and feelings that Mystery is going through right now; all the emotions concerning everyone in his life and the mistakes he’s made with them that the Green Spirit is able to latch on to and corrupt from within.

Possibly when Mystery removed the Green Spirit in the first place, a piece of it remained inside him that the arm can connect with… because I don’t think a zombified arm literally crawled inside Mystery’s wounds and grabbed his heart at the end there!

*For most of the video, I was gasping, shrieking and letting off the occasional distressed whimper… but I really had to clap a hand over my mouth hard to stop myself from screaming with laughter at the end credit scene! Vivi and Arthur just spoke for us all, didn’t they…!?

*Final thoughts: I’ve been really hoping that the song “Magic” will be picked for the last part; it just sounds like a finale song, it speaks to me of happy endings and I have seen posts by Mystery Ben from a few years ago that he would really like to use “Magic” at some point in this story… but with this cliff-hanger, I’m having a hard time picturing the finale going cheerfully right into this peppy tune!

They could of course begin with a sample of a completely different darker song at first and then go into “Magic” but still! I’m not sure now… Wait… a few years ago, an artist named Yuramec posted an animatic of “Magic” on Youtube featuring their own character, Leopold being chased by a demonic spirit (that also has three eyes!) until the spirit is battered down with good magic and turns back into an innocent little ghost girl. Mystery Ben made a comment (Which must be on his Tumblr as I can’t find it on YouTube but I KNOW I’m not making this up!) saying that it was a funny coincidence that this video contains some ideas that he also wanted to implement for MSA but of course, he couldn’t say which ideas due to spoilers… Baring in mind as to what has happened to Mystery and his corruption, is this… is this what Ben was talking about…?

[ylfva-remade]

What type of angel powers does mina have like what can she do

HIIII TYSM FOR ASKING!!!

ok so basically um um she has like several forms right? like one is full human, one is somewhat angelic, and one is super angelic, and the other is her True Form™, and in each thing she has different abilities and a diff appearance.

her powers come from a limited amount of energy, unlike other angels. (think like the angel version of a spoonie) so the more power she uses the more exhausted she gets and the longer she has to recover from it. (this is bc she was kinda banished from heaven and is part of her punishment)

ALSO, all of these came into her life AFTER she turned 16, she was completely normal before then. she also doesnt use them very often bc she just tries to live as much of a normal life as possible

ALSO ALSO, because she's in a mostly human body, she is NOT immortal. she will continue to age until either she is 1. killed or 2. reaches the age of 101, upon which she will die and depending on her actions in her human life, will either return to heaven as an angel who is fully under control, or her soul will be destroyed. she can't die of diseases though

gonna put this below the cut cause its long LMFAO

basically, her main powers include:

-the ability to heal flesh wounds. she can't regrow limbs, heal head injuries or remove the effects of paralysis, but she can heal most things. depending on the severity of the injury, it takes more energy out of her.

-flight (when she has her wings out), this one isnt limited by power, in fact hiding her wings takes more out of her than just letting them vibe

-she can summon a flaming sword with eyeballs on it, she pulls it out of her chest a la RGU.

-she can summon golden chain whips (that looks like a castlevania style whip if you know what i mean?) that can hold pretty much any human (those w superhuman strength, or people who aren't human can break out with ease)

-language acquisition: after hearing a language spoken to her (must be in person, by someone who speaks that language), she can speak this language fairly well. it doesn't work on text, or over video.

-extreme agility: this one is actually the result of her taking martial arts and sports as a kid, it has nothing to do with her angel powers. its actually worse the more angelic she gets.

-pyrokenisis: so she has the ability to light things on fiire with her mind like all angels, but because she has EXTREME pyrophobiia, shes terrified to use it and never does. (some words misspelled on purpose so my blacklist doesnt catch them)

-enhanced sense of smell: this one is actually just because shes autistic. shes very sensitive to smell and has used it to save ppl before (smelling something burnning or a gas leak, etc)

-vocal projection / ability to speak without mouth: this only works in her two most angelic forms, but she can speak without moving her mouth in a booming angel voice. she mainly uses it to scare people.

her weaknesses are these:

-satanic sigils (dont really affect her much in her human form though)

-demons (she can't heal wounds caused to her by demons)

-sufficient physical trauma

-cursed blades / weapons

-because she has extreme pyrophobiia, she will freak out around fiire, even though it can't kill her

-holy fiire / hellfire can kill her

-gunshots and knife wounds to the head (the brain specifically) will kill her

-drowning

-trauma triggers make her unable to function

-sensory overload (gets worse the more angelic she is at the time)

if you want like a full explanation of what powers mina has in which forms, i have a spreadsheet abt this!

traits + abilities spreadsheet

weaknesses spreadsheet

thank you soooo much for asking um um i love mina lots.