#mallory cabin fever

[ur-fave-is-julia]

hi oomf. can i request umm mallory cabin fever (link is to a postimage gallery of photos of her since there isnt a cabin fever wiki as far as i know LOL. if you dont want to make a transparent ummm she has sprites on the crushcrush wiki) please 🙏🙏 and thank you if so

Mallory from Cabin Fever with Sucker!

[cosmic-nebula356]

HELL NAH🗣🔥🔥

oh shit 😭 apologize for reloading this twice

[marniemallow]

mallory

[deliciouskeys]

Cozy Corner Domaystic prompt #12: Sourdough starter

Hughie, Homelander. 1.5k. Gen (sorry guys, not this time). Crack. I maintain this counts as a domestic fic but ymmv.

It was only going to be for 48 hours, Butcher said. As if having to host Homelander in his apartment for a couple of days was a reasonable request in any universe, something that was going to be easy. Hell, he didn’t even manage to have complete control over a washed up porn junkie like Lamplighter. How the hell was he going to manage keeping Homelander entertained enough that he won’t get inspired to leave?

It was a simple enough deal. Homelander would get Ryan if he stayed out of Vought Tower for a crucial 48 hours. Butcher never explained what he was going to do with Vought Tower, but Hughie has the feeling this is going to be an explosives kind of gig. The man isn’t all that subtle. With him it’s explosives, machine guns, or, rarely, the occasional verbal negotiation. Usually coupled with threats of violence anyway. He’s creative in the improv, not the planning stage, and maybe that’s why there’s no grand plan. How Mallory convinced Butcher to execute this plan, and how they decided that dangling Ryan would be enough to persuade Homelander to stay away from Vought Tower, Hughie doesn’t know. Frankly, he has his doubts that if Butcher decides to stage a fifth of November type of event, Homelander won’t bolt out the window and come to his employer’s rescue. Not like Hughie can do anything to stop him. He doesn’t even know what Butcher has planned. But what else is new? He was charged with the babysitting, and everything else is on a “need to know” basis.

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know the details, lad,” Butcher said, winking, and Hughie objected that no, no he wouldn’t, at ALL, after hearing that kind of reassurance but he knew his objections were going in one ear and out the other. Homelander likely knows more details than he does, and that feels insulting. Hughie wonders if they’ll get to a point in these 48 hours where Homelander would explain it to him out of sheer cabin fever boredom. Right now he’s behaving quite normally- eerily normally, Hughie might say. He’s been planted on the couch for hours, not requesting anything even though Hughie tries to be a good host and offer things periodically. Maybe the supe doesn’t even eat or drink. Homelander just watches Vought News at a slightly obnoxious volume, and takes a slightly suspicious number of bathroom breaks, especially for a supe who may not need water to survive, for all Hughie knows. Hughie goes in to the bathroom just to check if something has been rearranged in that room or if there’s a secret phone Butcher hooked up in there, or maybe a portal to Narnia. He can find nothing remarkable. At one point, and against his better judgment, Hughie creeps closer to the bathroom door while Homelander is in there, to try and overhear if he’s doing some kind of communication, maybe to Vought, right under Hughie’s nose. If he was texting it’d be silent anyway. All Hughie can make out is something that sounds suspiciously like very short moans of effort or pain. Was he listening to Homelander straining to take a shit, right now? Is this what his life has become? Hughie feels the blood drain from his face when it dawns on him that Homelander might be seated on the toilet facing the door and might be staring right him.

“What’re you doing, Hugh?” A gruff voice from inside the small room, echoing off the tiles, right on cue.

“Uh… you okay in there?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay.”

“Just- just checking. Sorry, didn’t mean to… well, never mind.”

Hughie staggers back into the living room, trying to will the color back into his face.

Homelander walks out, after running the faucet, Hughie notes thankfully. He wonders if Homelander even takes his gloves off in the bathroom or just washes them like skin.

“You think I’m gonna bolt out of your tiny bathroom window? Trust me, I wouldn’t leave out that way if I had a mind to leave.”

“But… you’re staying because Butcher promised you Ryan?” Hughie just can’t help himself and wants to verify.

“Yeah. And if he has any plans to renege on that, trust me that I’ll take you as first hostage. Butcher seems oddly fond of you. Not to mention our resident blond ditz.”

Hughie thanks his lucky stars that Annie bailed out of keeping him company during this sit-in, just on principle. She would be escalating the situation right now. Hughie sighs. “Not sure Butcher will care about me as much as you expect.”

“Oh he’ll care. He talks a big game about not caring about anyone, but I’ve seen how he talks to you at HQ.”

“Wait, you … you know our HQ?”

Homelander rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t need X-ray vision to know. Vought Analytics has it bugged.”

“Wait, seriously?” Hughie blanches.

“Yeah, what do you think? I’m telling you because you’re all are so pathetic it’s just not a fair fight at all. Consider it charity.”

And yet you’re sitting here waiting for Butcher to decide to hand over Ryan to you, Hughie thinks. “Wait, so… do they have my place bugged too?!”

Homelander takes a cursory look around. “No. Nope, don’t see or hear anything. You’re just not consequential enough, I guess.”

I’m pretty high up in the FBSA! Hughie’s brain protests, but thankfully he keeps his mouth shut.

“So…. does it seem to you like I’m going to the bathroom a lot?” Homelander suddenly asks, and Hughie shakes his head in disbelief.

“What?”

“You asked if I was having trouble. Did you think I was going a lot?”

“Uh…” Hughie can feel sweat that’s broken out earlier start to actually trickle down his back. He tries not to think about the fact that Homelander might be able to see this. “I just… yeah I guess I thought so, but we all have days. Drink a lot of water, need to go more often, right?….” Now he’s just babbling nonsense, and laughing weakly at nothing funny, but in his defense it’s a nonsensical question that he’s answering.

“Sure,” Homelander says in a strange tone and turns back to the TV but looks like he’s lost in thought.

“Can I- get you something? I might start making dinner soon, and I don’t know what your preferences are. We can order in or—“

“Do you have milk?” Homelander interrupts him, sounding strangely urgent.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I think so, it’s just…”

Homelander brushes past him to go into the kitchen and Hughie trails off.

Great, now he’s actually acting strange. Should he be alerting Butcher? It’s not like he can even say much. He has a code word that basically means ‘come quick, Homelander is in process of killing me,” but nothing less dire than that. He’s not about to start describing that Homelander’s acting weird about the bathroom when the supe will hear him even if he travels over to a different a borough.

“WHAT THE FUCK???!”

Hughie’s entire spinal column gets tense as he hears that voice and then glass breaking somewhere outside. He cautiously approaches the kitchen and just sees Homelander standing there, breathing hard and looking angry.

“W-what happened?”

“YOU FUCKING TELL ME. You had some milk in a jar or whatever it was, but when I cracked it open it smelled like the vilest shit on earth!”

Hughie looks around, thinks for a moment, then buries his face in his palm, not knowing if he’s going to laugh or cry, and worrying that either reaction is going to earn him a lasering.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS IT, HUGH? You trying to poison me or something? Heard I like milk?”

“What? No… no… wait where is it…”

“I chucked it out the window! Don’t tell me you needed that, it smelled about forty days expired!”

“It’s…”

“WHAT.”

“It’s not milk. It’s … a sourdough starter. Fren- um a friend gave it to me. To make bread. It’s not milk at all.”

“Fucking vile,” Homelander says, but a bit more quietly, and a bit more defensively, realizing the error may have been his. “Don’t just leave that out on the counter.” He throws the fridge door open violently enough that Hughie is nervous that he might tear it off the hinges, but he finds the real milk, inspects it very suspiciously, uncaps and smells it. If Hughie is being honest, he’d probably not going to drink this milk after seeing Homelander sniff it cautiously, from a distance, then bury his nose into the opening to huff it, way more deeply than anyone in their right mind should.

“1% huh.”

“Uh… yeah, Anni- we like the 1%.”

Homelander eyes him up and down critically. “You can probably afford to grade up. But your girlfriend, yeah, stick to the 1%.”

Hughie sighs and shakes his head ever so slightly, trying not to process what his charge is saying. Homelander walks past him back into the living room, back to being glued to Vought News. At least he’s not watching porn. And it looks like Hughie won’t have to worry about making sure to throw out that 1% jug after all, as Homelander drains what is most of a quart in about fifteen minutes.

(AO3 link)

[fvkmallory]

closed starter for jackson | @rxscss​

Today had been perfect, well as perfect as a day could get when you spent it worrying about every little thing. Hadley had been tucked up safe in her house for the past few weeks and it had been Jackson to point out the young Wells likely had cabin fever and they couldn’t keep her locked up forever. Mallory wasn’t sure she agreed but she had let him talk her into the beach day nonetheless and the could still hear the little squeals of joy form Hadley as Jackson had played in the water with her. He was right, it was what she had needed, he always seemed to know what they needed. For weeks now he’d been in the guest room and catered to their every need, only nipping out here and there, always on call when she needed him. How she was ever going to repay him she didn’t know, she didn’t even know how to tell him how much he meant to her. What did you say to someone who had saved your entire world and then rebuilt it with you even when the two of you hadn’t been talking? There weren’t words, and any semblance of awkwardness between the two of them was long gone. Padding into the kitchen with freshly washed hair and a now sleeping Hadley tucked away safe in her bed, Mallory paused at the sight that greeted her. “Jack…you okay?” It was likely an odd question given the way he was standing at the sink, still like he was trying to figure the world out.

[team-express]

ughhhhh it is deeply homophobic how much my back hurts after a night on the couch </3

anyways it turns out that mallory just had a mild case of cabin fever; we went for a walk in the woods at three in the morning and she was very affectionate and doing just fine! did see a park ranger, but he didn't see us. or much of anything after we decided to take care of him and moved on. why is this bitch out here enforcing safety. if i was stranded in the woods i wouldn't accept help from a stranger i'd just decompose?????

oh and i did get some more ideas for the anti shadow weaponry; i'll be working on some close range delivery systems. kind of a shame that aura guardians are mostly extinct and largely unpredictable, but i've got some academic papers to parse on the riolu line once i get back to sleep. i think i had an unfortunate disruption to my internal self regulation last night but thankfully all systems are functioning normally now!

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Iiiiiiiiiiiii- did not know that I have Mallory.... I wasn’t being told about it or anything, I think it was a freebie with Cabin Fever game on Steam cause I’ve never purchased the bundle that comes with this:

(This is also permanent.)

So here’s this character as mysteriously as she is. (Probably I didn’t have it on my news fed Steam.)

Screen shots are from CRUSH CRUSH.

[hullabaloo-circus]

Mallory ; cabin fever stimboard

🔭🥔🌌-🌙⭐️-🌌🥔🔭

[petalstims]

A Mallory (Cabin Fever/Crush Crush) stimboard with farmcore and some space for @timetravel-arc! I hope you enjoy!

Please do not tag as kin/id/me if you are not the requester!

Credits:

🌿 ⭐ 🌿

⭐ 🌱 ⭐

🌿 ⭐ 🌿

[7-wonders]

Almost Feelings

Summary: Just when things were starting to get back to normal, an accidental confession by Michael sends shockwaves through your relationship.

Word Count: 3148

A/N: Another chapter of Mad Love, done. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Life manages to slowly reassume a state of relative normality. After Dinah Stevens had checked you over and declared you free of Satan’s influence, you were allowed to actually leave your bed and once again have freedom. Well, limited freedom. Michael has been wary of letting you out of his sight, terrified that Satan will once again attempt to control you. Your father-in-law hasn’t made an appearance in your lives since the night that he possessed a cocktail waitress, which is what scared both you and Michael the most. 

Michael had fully been expecting to be swept down to Hell for a thorough scolding about “spurning” the gifts being given to him. As the days passed with none of the usual indicators that Satan was near, your worry started to wane. Surely he had better things to do than stalk you and wait to once again try the plan that had already failed? Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. If there’s one thing he knows about the being he’s never met, it’s that he’s extremely patient. 

The gilded cage in which you’ve spent the past days under Michael’s watch has become increasingly more confining. Even if you weren’t outwardly expressing your discomfort, Michael would be able to sense it. Although he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re safe at all times, he knows he can’t keep you locked in the house. Maybe if he was less of a lovestruck Antichrist, he would have no qualms about it. The power dynamics in your relationship have changed, for better or for worse, and he cares about your wants far too much for him to disregard your feelings. 

It’s only been a few days since your bout of “food poisoning” when Michael finally agrees with you that it’s safe to return to class, but it feels as if it’s been months. Even in the largest house you’ve ever inhabited, cabin fever still runs rampant. As he watches you run out the door to get to campus, Michael feels a tugging in his chest that he’s come to associate with you. Watching the one person you love most in the world leave the safety of your protection is a pain that, unfortunately, Michael’s become all too familiar with.

While Michael’s dealing with emotions he’s never had before, you’re nearly drunk on the freedom that you’ve been denied lately. It’s not exactly warm out, but the windows in your car are rolled down and the wind whips your hair around your face as you sing along to the radio at the top of your lungs.

Classes, of course, you could do without. It’s the little moments, getting to laugh with your friends in class and holing up in your favorite hidden corners when you have a break, that make the monotony of lectures bearable. Michael, predictably, breaks the established rules of communication by texting you to make sure that you’re okay at least once an hour. Prior to momentarily being Satan’s puppet, this would have irritated you to no end. Now, you understand Michael’s motives in a way that you previously hadn’t.

“You look a lot better,” Mallory says in place of a regular greeting when you meet up with her in the library after class.

“As opposed to my regularly horrendous appearance?” She rolls her eyes, obviously not appreciating your joke.

“You know what I meant.” You slide into the seat across the table from Mallory, tugging your textbook and laptop out of your backpack. “The endless bout of food poisoning is finally gone for good?”

“I think so. I started feeling human a couple of days ago, and this is the first day I haven’t felt like crawling into a hole and dying since I got sick.”

“Well that’s good. I almost thought you were avoiding us after revealing your secret.” You look up, panicked at what she could mean before realizing that she means your living arrangements.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t avoid you guys, because it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really? Because with the way that Michael looks at you, you would think that you were married.”

You laugh nervously and pretend to search for a pen in your bag, attempting to hide your anxious expression. “Like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends and he was nice enough to help me out when I was facing a tough time.”

“It’s not a bad thing if you do have feelings for him, (Y/N).”

“I just don’t get why you and Kate are stuck on this idea,” you grumble.

Mallory’s gaze softens when she sees how her comments affected you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. Let’s just work on homework before we get too off-track.”

Of course, this plan works for a good twenty minutes, giving you just enough time to read and take notes from one chapter of your text before your attention is drawn away from the task at hand. Mallory had merely asked for your help in identifying the proper use of ‘affect’ versus ‘effect,’ which almost immediately led to discussing topics that have nothing to do with schoolwork. 

“I think we need to focus on the real issue here,” you comment as Mallory laments Kate and Brennan’s latest argument, this one about moving in together.

“Which is?”

“Your own love life, of course.” Mallory groans, making you pout. “Mal, you haven’t mentioned any sort of romantic interest once since I met you.”

“Because I have better things to do than spend my time swiping on Tinder.” You can tell that there’s more she’s not divulging, and a good minute of remaining silent while sneaking glances at her has the brunette finally speaking again. “I...my last relationship didn’t end well at all.”

“Was this while you were still living in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. Actually, my decision to transfer here is what led to our break up. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to go, and that was that.”

You feel for her, but an interesting bit of information captures the majority of your attention. “‘She!’”

Mallory flushes, attempting to stutter out an answer, but you’re far too excited to allow her to speak.

“Ooh, that doubles the potential dating pool for you! I know so many people who would be so interested in you, and they’re just the ones that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“While I appreciate your excitement, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready for another relationship yet.” You nod in understanding, but Mallory’s phone chiming ends the conversation before you can suggest slowly diving back into the dating pool. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. I have way too much homework that I haven’t gotten started on.”

“Wanna make a deal?” Mallory asks as you walk towards the parking lot together.

“A deal?”

“Mhm. I won’t bring up the Michael issue anymore if you won’t try and drag me out to go and meet new people.”

You have to hand it to her; she’s extremely good at bartering. “Alright then, we have a deal.”

//

Shockingly, Michael’s not waiting at the door for you when you arrive home. You find him in the kitchen searching for food, although he does look like he’s trying not to seem like he’s waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet, hopping up on the counter and pulling Michael into a hug that he begrudgingly returns.

“Hi. How were classes today?”

“I survived, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“And you’re feeling okay? Nothing odd happened to you?”

“No, I’m great.” Just to prove how great you are, you shove Michael away from you. “Could someone possessed by Satan do that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Getting off of the counter, you snag a sandwich from a plate and take a very well-deserved bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve asked me many questions about many things, all without asking beforehand if you can.”

“Well it’s a touchy subject, and people usually like to make sure that it’s okay to ask.”

Michael looks at you like he’s not sure he wants to know what you’ll ask, but nods anyways. “Ask away, then.”

“You’re treating this whole situation like it’s your fault.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Sorry. Why are you treating this whole situation like it’s your fault?”

“I’m not.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest and glare. “I thought you hated lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he scoffs.

“Michael, you’re terrified about me leaving your sight and you do anything and everything I ask. It’s okay to feel like it’s your fault, but I need you to know that it’s not.”

“How is it not my fault? It happened at an event that I took you to, it was my father who poisoned you, and it’s because you’re an unwilling part of this prophecy that I dragged you into.”

“Are you your father? Are you the one who made me drink that potion? Did you take advantage of me when you could have?”

“No, I’m not, and I didn’t, but I’m the reason he tried it in the first place!”

The room falls silent, and you watch as Michael’s eyes widen. You wouldn’t have thought anything about his statement in the first place if he hadn’t shown any fear in his eyes, assuming it to just be a blanket statement since Satan’s his father. Now, you’re starting to suspect there might be something more.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the reason he tried it in the first place?’”

“I-I--” Michael shakes his head as he stammers, taking a cautious step back from you.

“Michael,” you snap, patience running thin.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re shocked at his uncharacteristic use of a swear. “I was impatient and frustrated, and so I sought out my father’s advice for help. I knew it was wrong the moment he gave me a solution, but he was so angry that I even thought about turning down his ‘gift’ that I...I took it.”

“You knew he was going to give me that drink at the Cooperative event?” You’re oddly calm, something that frightens Michael more than any amount of anger could.

“No! No, I knew nothing about that.”

You take your time digesting this information, letting Michael stew in his anxiety as your jaw clenches tightly. “So there was another time, then?”

“Yes, there was.”

Thinking through every interaction you’ve had with Michael in the past couple of months, you can only think of a couple of occasions where he’s acted stranger than normal. Only one of those, however, involved Satan’s ironic choice of apples.

“The day where I had the weird dream that I couldn’t remember, and then you freaked out when I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl,” you say bitterly. “You put that fucking apple there!”

“I didn’t have a choice--”

“Yes, you did. You contacted your father because you were pissed I wasn’t your adoring little wife, you put that apple in the bowl, you watched as I ate what you thought was your father’s gift, and you kept this little secret from me!”

The lights flicker ominously above you, a silent warning to watch yourself before Michael loses control. Today, however, those signs of Michael’s immense powers couldn’t mean less to you. 

“I wanted to protect you. The second you grabbed that apple, I regretted even contacting my father in the first place. I assumed that, by not telling you in the first place, that would mean you weren’t living every day in fear.”

“You don’t get to decide what information I should and shouldn’t know, especially when it directly concerns me and my life.”

“I know that, and you need to trust me when I say that I am so, so sorry for the way that this happened.” Michael reaches a hand out to try and physically convey just how sorry he is, but you shove him away as you shake your head emphatically. The tears brimming in your eyes physically cause him pain, and all he wants to do is feel one of your hugs as he wipes your sadness away. 

“How do you expect me to trust you anymore? You lied to me and put my life at risk, solely for your own selfish reasons,” you cry out, spinning on your heel and marching up the stairs.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, and I’ll spend every day trying to earn that trust back--”

“No,” you spit, coming to a stop at your bedroom door. “This isn’t something that you can just apologize a few times for and then everything is okay again.”

Michael watches helplessly from the threshold of your room, not willing to go in as you grab a bag and start throwing clothes into it.

“I know you’ve never really seen the dynamics of any sort of a healthy relationship, but surely even you should know that this is not the way that people are treated.”

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”

You ignore his question, walking into the bathroom before returning with an armful of toiletries. “You say that you’re in love with me? What you did is not love. Love is honesty, and protection, and admitting your mistakes when you make them. Love is not lying to save face, or believing that you know better than the person you claim you love.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says brokenly, hoping to somehow find enough of a gap in your sentences to attempt and repair what’s been broken.

“You’re not supposed to hurt those that you love, and you hurt me.”

“I do love you, and I never wanted any of this to happen!” Now Michael’s crying too, blue eyes stormy as tears trail down his cheeks.

“You don’t love me, Michael. You love the idea of what I’m supposed to be for you. You think that I’m just going to wake up one day and fit into this role that supposedly is mine by prophecy, but I’m not. It’s been almost a year; either release me from this sham of a Satanic marriage or kill me, because I will never be what you want me to be.”

Michael feels like his entire world is crumbling around him as you zip up your bag and toss it over your shoulder. He has to do something to fix this, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place. You can’t even look him in the eyes as you pass, knowing that you’ll lose your resolve if you do.

“Just because your father doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the excuse to have a skewed idea of love.” You pause at the front door, hand on the doorknob as you look back at him. “I need to be alone for a couple of days. Don’t bother trying to contact me, I won’t answer.”

Closing the door behind you, you can hear Michael’s screams of agony as you run to your car and fumble with the keys. The key’s barely in the ignition before you’re driving away, angrily swiping tears from your face to attempt to keep your sight clear.

How could he betray you like this? How could he sit by, hearing you thank him profusely for saving your life, when it was all his fault? Your mind whirls with a cacophony of questions, all of them leaving behind a bitter disappointment.

He’s supposed to be your friend. Up until today, you had thought things were going well, and you genuinely liked your Satanic roommate. Now, you don’t know if you can ever even trust him again. This deception stings more than you would have expected. After all, you used to despise him; why should this hurt you when you had expected the bare minimum? Maybe this is all your fault for placing your trust in a person who should not be trusted under any circumstances.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register movement out of the corner of your eye until it’s too late, a small deer jumping directly in the path of your oncoming vehicle. Gasping, you slam on the brakes in an attempt to save the animal. Startled by the sound, the deer dashes across the road into the tree-line. You should be in the clear, but a quick rainstorm earlier in the evening has left the roads wet. As the car hydroplanes across the road, you quickly realize that there’s no stopping its path.

The car careens through the deserted road, crashing in the ditch and coming to a stop when it hits a tree. Although you try to brace yourself, the force of the crash overwhelms any strength you may have. Your head smacks against the steering wheel, and though you only lose consciousness for a second, it’s frighteningly disorienting to wake up again.

Your head screams in pain as you lift yourself up, and you can feel a warm liquid coursing down your face. Gingerly touching the source, you examine your fingers and confirm that you’re bleeding. Throwing open the car door, you stumble and land on your hands and knees. When you attempt to stand, the world tilts under your feet, so you settle from crawling away from the wreckage.

Of course this would happen to you when you’re attempting to put some distance between you and Michael. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this crash was orchestrated by Satan himself to voice his displeasure at the situation. You try your hardest to crawl towards the road, hoping that a lone car will spot you and get help, but your arms give out underneath you and send you falling to the ground.

Staring up at the darkening sky, you can only hope that this concussion isn’t the kind that includes internal bleeding. There’s a chance for you to make your way to safety if you can regain your bearings, but the dropping temperatures make you worry that you’ll be out in the cold all night. Just as you’ve resigned yourself to freezing to death, the sound of feminine voices approaching you gives you hope.

“Over here, help me!” you call weakly, attempting to sit up to see who’s out there.

Four women walk towards you; an older woman with crimped red hair, two blondes, and a brunette. One of the blondes bends down beside you and, instead of calling for help, smiles at you with perfectly-painted pink lips as she strokes your bloodied hair away from your face. You panic as you feel yourself losing consciousness again, wide eyes darting around the group as you try to ask what’s going on. Right before passing out, you lock eyes with the brunette and feel a flicker of recognition.

“Mallory?”

//

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[rockbell1003]

Secrets, Goose Grease and Whiskey ~Out/lander snz fanfic

Alright I’m back with a new and different kind of fic! This my friends is my first attempt at snz fanfic, it’s also a multipart fic rather than my usual oneshots for Kai and Mallory. 

This fic is kinda a combo of the books and tv series. I’d also like to introduce my Outlander OC Alyssa MacLeod a girl who traveled approx 250 years into the past...oh she also has the kink 😉

As always please feel free to send me asks about my fics and OC’s, and I hope you enjoy 😊

It was uncommon for me to wake up before my husband. Usually by the time I opened my eyes, he was already awake and helping Jamie or Roger with a task or two on the property. Today however, he was still asleep wrapped in the quilt of our bed. Slowly I eased myself off the mattress and got dressed, it was already light out and the chirping of birds could be heard intertwined with my husband’s soft snores. I closed the cabin door behind me and made my way to the herb garden to collect some new materials to make my soap and other cosmetics that I’ve been selling at the local town and trade posts. It hadn’t been longer than an hour before I could hear footsteps approaching accompanied by a thick sounding snuffle that sent a shiver down my spine. 

“Come to join the living have you?” I ask not bothering to look up from my work. 

He chuckled, it was a nice deep sound but raspier than usual, confirming my earlier suspicions, “you should have woken me, mon amour, I would ha..ha..haNXTch snf have helped you,” 

I turn around and quirk an eyebrow up at Fergus, “helped me with what?” I gesture to my basket on the ground next to me, “my fifty pound basket?” I chuckle and push some hair that had come loose from its tie behind my ears, “I didn’t want to disturb you, seemed like you needed the rest,” giving him a good look. He was now dressed in more than just his nightshirt and his dark hair is neatly qued back, but his usual sunkissed skin was pale and his nose was pink around the rims. 

Self conscious of my staring he ducked his head and smothered a few coughs in his fist, “I’m alright Lys, no need to worry,” 

Not wishing to make him more uncomfortable I stuck out my hand gesturing for his assistance in standing back up. He took it and once I was standing I lifted a hand to his cheek, which felt a little too warm. Concerned, I checked his forehead with the back of my hand, “You feel warm,” 

He shrugged, “am I ndot to feel warmb? I am alive ndo?” his French accent still prominent even with the congestion of his voice. 

I rolled my eyes, “I meant that I think you have a fever, smart ass,” I reach down to grab my basket. 

“I’b fi..” Fergus began but tapered off, breath hitching he let go of my hand in order to fish for the handkerchief he kept somewhere in his shirt, “fuh..huh..HECPTCHU..uh,” nestling his nose in the fabric he pinched and squeezed. Perhaps due to my close proximity he refused to blow his nose and get some real relief. 

My gaze shifted from Fergus to Claire’s surgery then to the basket of herbs and flowers in my hand trying to decide my next plan of action. Although Fergus wasn’t a Fraser by blood he was still just as stubborn as one and I knew he would fight me tooth and nail before allowing Claire to examine him. Which left me with only one solution, go about my day like normal and if he continues to get worse, drag him to the surgery by the ear...even if he’s swearing at me the entire time. With his good hand still holding the handkerchief around his nose, I lightly grasped his hook and tugged him in the direction of our cabin. 

“Heh-HEPTCHUU….hempCH..hih..huh..heXNGT,” the sneezes caused Fergus to stumble a bit but he remained upright and allowed for me to guide us home. As soon as we were through the door however, I set my basket down and immediately steered my husband to the nearest chair and plopped him down.  The sneezing had subsided and Fergus now being home and with me rummaging through our clean laundry for a new handkerchief, let out a long and relieving blow. I walked back towards him, having found a new clean handkerchief and held it out as I waited for him to finish. “ Berci,” he muttered before taking the clean handkerchief from me and stuffing the new one back into one of the various hiding places I could never figure out in his clothes. 

I lightly placed my hands on his cheeks again, “you sure you’re feeling alright?” I asked. He didn’t feel alarmingly hot but I also didn’t wanna take my chances. 

Fergus lightly gripped my wrist with his good hand, “I’m fide, snf, just a touch of cold in the neb that’s all,” 

I leaned forward so my forehead touched his and let out a little laugh, “cold in the neb huh? Is that a Scottish term or just an old people's word?” I teased. 

I could feel Fergus’ chest rumble with laughter, “It’s a Scottish word,”

I smiled, “A Scottish term spoken by a Frenchman, what an odd specimen you are,”

Fergus scoffed and then pulled away to muffle a cough, “This coming frob a lass who traveled through stodes frob snf the future,” he gave a wry smile and I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, I was the more curious specimen out of the two of us. Sure Fergus was a Frenchman who was raised by a Scottish Highlander, but I was a 21st century American girl who somehow got stuck in 1700s Scotland - an odd combination we made indeed. 

A bit reluctantly Fergus was the first to pull away muffling a, ““hii’PTCH,” into his shoulder. He sniffled loudly before turning back to face me, his nose was already a shade darker and his eyes were beginning to look a little glassy. “I’ve got to go dow,” his pink nose wriggled to dispel a tickle and he sniffled to clear the congestion, “I’ll be back for dinner,”

 I nodded mutely, trying to taper down my building desire and knowing that anything that I’d say in regard to his health would be unwelcome. With a small smile he gave me a chaste kiss on the lips and was gone. 

[always-the-cleric]

Cordelia x Reader - Why Would you? Part 3 -THE FINAL ONE-

finally gonna finish this fic, sorry for not doing it sooner, the inspiration just didnt strike me as much, but then I got a request to continue, so I’m gonna :)) also be ready for a really long chapter my dudes

links to the previous parts: 

PART ONE: https://mattie-hawkins.tumblr.com/post/183650829502/cordelia-x-reader-why-would-you-part-1

PART TWO:  https://mattie-hawkins.tumblr.com/post/183921585657/cordelia-x-reader-why-would-you-part-2

You leg burned like hell and your eyes watered as the adrenaline of the moment wore off and the pain properly settled in. Fuck him. Fuck Hank and his little witch hunter buddies. Fuck all of them. And finally, fuck this entire fucking world.

The silver in the cuffs made you unable to do anything about them, and the burn wound from the acid was starting to infect ever so slowly. Of course, they left it out in the open as they laughed at you and taunted you with questions about the academy and about Cordelia.

Cordelia... Would she be missing you by now? Or would she just, you know, forget about you. She had done that for seven years. That’s what it had felt like at least. With these men talking into you whilst you were hurting, whilst you felt scared and naked without any magic to keep you safe. You didn’t even have the simple pleasure of having your cat close to you. You missed all simple comforts and your mind turned dark.

She could live without you for seven years and only looked for you once she needed it. Not because she just wanted to see you again, but because she had needed help. Was that all you were good for? Helping her when she needed it, and after that you went back to being as bad as trash ready to be thrown out.

“Nobody’s coming to save you are they? They’ve all forgotten about the little wicked witch of the woods haven’t they?” Hank said. He had returned to the little prison cell they had locked you in. You didn’t even remember how long he had been gone for. 

It had felt like ages, but also just like a few short minutes. You knew how your mind could wander to dark places, and you hated the fact that they were using this against you. It was working though. You hadn’t even felt this low when your heart was breaking as you watched the love of your life get married to the piece of trash standing in front of you.

Instead of verbally replying to him though, you just spit on his shoes and lookes away from him. Not giving him the satisfaction to see you breaking from the inside. Crumbling to dust.

He let out a growl and reached for something a man had come to hand him. Before you could even be afraid of what he was handed there was a scorching pain on your shoulder and it dripped down your arm. You made a sound that was so inhumane, even you doubted where it came from.

The pain was searing and you were trembling. How long had you been here for? The wound on your leg was infected now. Hank was laughing, so were some other people. You mind was becoming a jumble. You couldn’t really make out much through the pain.

Were you getting delirious? It felt like the room was slowly spinning, it was thankfully empty now though. That, or your equilibrium was severely off-kilter at the moment. Maybe it was from the fever. Your leg was definitely and properly infected now. Somehow you heard familiar voices near. They sounded so near that they must be whispering in your ear, but when you looked around, no one was there.

It felt like an eternity down here. you felt sweat dripping down your neck and your face. Some antibiotics was what you desperately needed, but of course no help was granted. 

Hank came in again. His laughter seemed faint. You squinted your eyes at the figures that entered behind him. They looked like Cordelia and maybe some other witches. But, the voices were laughing at you. Was Cordelia cruel enough to do this? No. She made mistakes and wasn’t perfect, but heartless wasn’t something you could ever describe Cordelia as.

You struggled to keep your eyes open at all. The fever and pain were really getting to you.

They were murmuring something. Was it Hank? Was it someone else? you couldn’t make out the voice anymore. How long had it been now? Weeks? or maybe just a few days and you were really losing it.

You woke up to the sounds of violence. You heard gunshots, you were sure of it. Then you heard a panicked Hank enter your prison cell. You opened your eyes and looked him in the eye. “They’re coming for me, aren’t they? Cordelia choose me over you. And you fucking lost. She’s mine.”

You didn’t know where that confidence suddenly came from. Perhaps because freedom was close enough that you could taste it on your lips. You would finally see your Cordelia again. She was coming for you with a vengeance by the sound of it. 

“But will she still want you when she sees what you’ve become?” He sneered at you and then trows that last bit of acid he had in store for your torture at your eyes and your whole world becomes pain.

The freedom that felt so close had now evaporated and pain had taken its place. Pain and an immense darkness that would be there forever. Your eyes burnt by the acid.

Cordelia broke into the cell to find you screaming in pain, with Hank laughing like a maniac. Madison made quick work of him. The only sound coming from him was his dead body hitting the floor.

Cordelia tried to talk to you, but all you could register was the pain that felt it was still eating away at your face. 

Cordelia, Madison, Zoe, Queenie and Mallory looked at each other in horror at you. You leg and arm swollen with infections, and your face freshly eaten away at by the acid. 

After that it became a blur for you. You felt Cordelia lifting you in her arms, but you missed the worried glances at the amount of weight you had lost. You felt yourself being transported to some other place, but you didn’t notice it was the academy. 

All the girls that had been busy around the academy had frozen at the sight of their Supreme in tears with you, beaten and battered, in her arms. The other witches that had helped in your rescue had taken in upon themselves to calm all the girls and explain the situation, whilst Mallory and Misty followed Cordelia up the stairs and to the master bedroom, Cordelia’s room.

Misty had brought her special mud and slathered it unto the wounds on your leg and arm. Your eyes were more difficult. The spells Mallory and Cordelia were trying weren’t working. There still seemed to be traces of silver inside of you that prevented any magic from helping you.

When you woke up and opened your eyes, the world was still dark. panic flooded your system, as you feared you were still held captive. You wildly felt around you to become familiar with where you were and hit something soft and warm.

Cordelia gasped as she felt your hand hit her thigh as she had been sitting next to you, watching over you.

“You’re up!” She said happily and she carefully went to hold your hand.

“We had feared you might not wake up.” She softly whispered, her voice seemed filled with sorrow and pain. And perhaps a little guilt as well. Guilt because of the fact that she could have prevented this if she had been more careful. 

“Where am I?” You asked tentatively. You still didn’t trust this. It could be possible that the fever was feeding you this as an elaborate fever dream.

“You’re at the academy. You’re safe now, I promise.”

“Just like you promised we’d be best friends and that we’d be there for each other?” You shot back before you could think it through. You were hurt and bitter and you didn’t know if you could trust anyone anymore.

“I know I made mistakes, and I know that it will take a long while before I can ever have your trust again, but we could start here. With you letting me help you through this.” Cordelia sounded defeated. her tone made you frown and even though you couldn’t see you eyes looked in her direction, always searching, but never finding.

It broke Cordelia’s heart to see your once stunning eyes, turned milky white.

“If you were really trying to help me, you would help me see again. You’re the supreme, right? Shouldn’t you have already come up with a fix for this?” You know you sounded petty and hurt. It was just, you were hurting. You didn’t feel at home here anymore. Cordelia didn’t feel like home right now.

“We are trying our bests. I know it all sounds like a lot of empty promises, but we are going to fix this. For now, I hope this helps a little at least.” She said and then you felt to warm familiar touch of Pandora against you. Her ugly little paws pressing down on your stomach as she settled herself there.

A small smile tugged at your lips. At least now you had something that reminded you of home. She still smelled like all the spices of your little cabin. Your hands trembled as you held her close to you.

It took a total of six whole weeks before they figured out you still had traces of silver in you which had halted you from healing. When Cordelia had gotten rid of it, the wounds on your leg and arm had healed amazingly well with the help of Misty’s mud. 

You and Cordelia had discussed a lot in those weeks. She had told you about the terror she had felt for the two weeks that she couldn’t find you. You had told her about the torture. About your own doubts that had flared up and the taunts of those men that didnt help.

She still didn’t have your complete trust, but she was slowly but surely winning it back.

Another four weeks passed when Cordelia enthusiastically burst into the room you two had now been sharing, since you still weren’t very mobile. 

“I’ve got it!” She almost yelled and sat down next to you as she grabbed your hand. A move that was now familiar again to the both of you. 

Pandora looked a bit annoyed at the disturbance of being jostled awake when she was calmly sleeping on your stomach, but she soon settled back onto your stomach again. 

“Got what, Delia?” You asked softly, scared of the answer. Was she going to give you false hope or was she actually going to deliver on her promise to finally make this all all right?

instead of an answer, she smeared something the smelt awful on your face, ad confidently said a spell. She repeated it multiple times, all the while ignoring the questions you were asking her.

After a little while of chanting, she wiped the stuff away with a wet cloth and told you to open your eyes. You held them tightly shut and shook your head. What if you couldn’t see and your hopes would just be crushed?

Then you felt Cordelia softly caress your cheek with her thumb.

“Please, trust me. This will work. Just open those beautiful eyes for me.” She whispered in your ear, and she pressed a soft kiss just under it. It sent shivers down your spine, and ever so carefully you opened your eyes.

It took a few blinks to adjust to the sudden stream of light and colours, but when you realised you could see the massive smile Cordelia had on her face, you finally, after all those weeks, properly smiled back at her.

“It worked. It actually worked!” You cried out. You were so overcome with happiness and you pulled Cordelia in for a celebratory kiss before you knew what you were doing.

Before you could pull away out of embarrassment however, she held you close and kissed you back.

“I told you, you can trust me. I will always have your back.” She said breathlessly when she broke the kiss. 

“I trust you.”

[leagueofbane]

Cabin Fever Sale!

Cabin Fever Sale! One day only. Get The Prodigal e-book for only .99 cents. Just what you need to help pass the time in quarantine. Offer good only today, Sunday, May 3. Available exclusively on Amazon.com .

A story of relentless pursuit, betrayal, and revenge: As a young boy Jack Mallory knows horror and desolation when James Logan and his pirates murder his father and abduct his mother. Falsely accused of piracy himself, Jack is thrown into jail. He survives seven years in London’s notorious Newgate prison and emerges a hardened man seeking revenge.

His obsession with finding his mother’s kidnapper drives him to the West Indies where he becomes entangled with a fiery young woman named Maria Cordero. With a score of her own to settle with James Logan, she disguises her gender and blackmails Jack into taking her aboard his pirate brig, Prodigal, in his desperate search for Logan. Their tumultuous relationship simmers while Jack formulates a daring plan to rescue his mother and exact revenge upon Logan for destroying his family. But Logan has no intentions of losing what he now treasures more than life itself—Jack’s mother, Ella.

[aion-rsa]

Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 3 Review: Alaska

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Fear the Walking Dead review contains spoilers. 

Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 3

I have to say, we may only be three episodes in, but I’m really enjoying Fear the Walking Dead season 6 so far. Sure, maybe it’s the prolonged cabin fever talking—we are seven months into a pandemic, after all. Or maybe Fear the Walking Dead has finally hit its stride. 

Before we really delve into this episode, though, I will say this: I haven’t given many 5-star ratings to Fear over the last five seasons I’ve reviewed the show, but “Alaska” is as close to perfect as you can get. So much of what makes this episode work is due to Colman Domingo’s solid direction and Mallory Westfall’s smart, heartfelt script. But in the end, strong performances from Austin Amelio, Maggie Grace, and newcomer Devyn Tyler carry the day. In short, “Alaska” is beautiful in so many unexpected ways, from little visual flourishes to small acts of kindness. 

Domingo and Westfall bring newfound clarity to familiar characters, imbuing them with a kind of authenticity that makes us root for them in a way that was difficult with the Clark family. It’s not enough that Al and Dwight need to reunite with Isabelle or Sherry—we want them to succeed, to find happiness, to beat the odds. With the Clarks, they were so often responsible for what befell them. (Seriously, they were.)

In any case, “Alaska” presents a straightforward enough premise: a recon mission that eventually goes off the rails. Just like Strand and Alicia turning the tide to their advantage in last week’s “Welcome to the Club,” Al and Dwight find a way to exploit their ongoing recon of doomed encampments. Their latest mission leads them to a funeral home, and it’s here that the episode employs first-person video. Fortunately, the first-person shaky-cam is used sparingly here, and to great effect—unlike last season’s “Channel 5.”

But as I said, Domingo is quick to dispense with the bodycam recordings, allowing viewers to truly appreciate the moodiness of both Jalaludin Trautmann’s cinematography and Bernardo Trujillo’s production design. From the lighting to the set dressing to the way the characters move through these spaces, there is a palpable, pervasive dread that hangs over every bit of action and every line of dialogue. While Al and Dwight might be proficient zombie-killers, the real danger they face is the inescapable reality that they’ve surrendered their humanity one scavenged driver’s license at a time. Indeed, this macabre game of theirs—collecting licenses from all 50 states—is dehumanizing to the dead and living alike. People so seldom mourn the dead now, to the point that a funeral home is truly a relic of a bygone era. So whatever happiness there is to be had, even if it’s lighthearted banter over a couple of skunky beers, it’s done so with a nod to existing in a world with little time for empathy. 

That is, until they meet Nora (Devyn Tyler). She’s been holed up in the same office building since the world ended. I appreciate the irony of a travel agent who hasn’t been outside in years. But more about her in just a bit. 

In the meantime, the clock is ticking on Al’s ambush/reunion with Isabelle, who’s been using the roof of Nora’s building as a drop site to conduct Civic Republic Military business. As you might recall, this mysterious paramilitary organization has been popping up throughout The Walking Dead universe. Last season’s excellent “The End of Everything” not only introduced us to Isabelle, it also shed some light on thw CRM. But it wasn’t until the new Walking Dead spin-off series World Beyond that we finally discover how far-reaching and pernicious CRM really is. 

It turns out there’s yet another mysterious group spreading trouble, though, as evidenced by the cryptic, spray-painted message THE END IS THE BEGINNING. We first saw this scrawled on a marooned submarine, and now it’s turned up in the lobby of Nora’s office building. The very same building that’s teeming with Bubonic plague. 

Which brings us back to Nora, whose fellow survivors are infected with the aforementioned plague. Dwight wants to stay and help but Al cuts and runs. She knows Ginny will never waste valuable resources on a lost cause like this one. Nora refuses to let them off the hook, though. The infected are her family, which is why it pains her to watch them suffer. But it’s not until she’s forced to kill her reanimated coworkers that “Alaska” makes the most out of small gestures. Like Al returning the sought-after Alaska driver’s license to someone who will actually cherish it, as Nora does.

In the end, Al risked everything to reunite with Isabelle, but experiences a last-minute change of heart. Who would have thought that a shot of a helicopter hovering against the night sky could carry so much hope and heartbreak? Grace plays Al with so much uncharacteristic vulnerability in this scene, especially when she delivers one of the episode’s best lines. “It is good to hear your voice,” she says over the radio to Isabelle. “Because there aren’t many people left.”

If you were disappointed that Al and Isabelle remained apart, fear not, as “Alaska” is poised to tug one more time at viewers’ heartstrings. Like Dwight, I never thought he’d find Sherry (Christine Evangelista). And yet after months (or is it years?) of fruitless searching, she’s suddenly within running distance. One could argue this scene belongs in a rom-com, not a zombie drama. But I disagree. In this bleak world, their tearful, joyous reunion offers the kind of earned happiness that was often missing from earlier seasons. In other words, I loved every second of this scene. 

Of course, Morgan shows up in “Alaska” too, in a brief yet effective prologue. Lennie James does a lot with little screen time, ruminating on what it means to start over, to become someone else in the aftermath of personal failures. “I feel like I’ve been 16 different somebodies since it all ended,” he confesses to Rachel (Brigitte Kali Canales). 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Luckily for Morgan and for loyal viewers, this really is a whole new ballgame.

The post Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 3 Review: Alaska appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3opASTK

[denofgeek]

I have to say, we may only be three episodes in, but I’m really enjoying Fear the Walking Dead season 6 so far. Sure, maybe it’s the prolonged cabin fever talking—we are seven months into a pandemic, after all. Or maybe Fear the Walking Dead has finally hit its stride.

Before we really delve into this episode, though, I will say this: I haven’t given many 5-star ratings to Fear over the last five seasons I’ve reviewed the show, but “Alaska” is as close to perfect as you can get. So much of what makes this episode work is due to Colman Domingo’s solid direction and Mallory Westfall’s smart, heartfelt script. But in the end, strong performances from Austin Amelio, Maggie Grace, and newcomer Devyn Tyler carry the day. In short, “Alaska” is beautiful in so many unexpected ways, from little visual flourishes to small acts of kindness...

[Read more at Den of Geek]

[petalstims]

mallory (cabin fever/crush crush) stimboard with some farmcore/cottagecore stuff?? and maybe a little space too! no irl/kin tags please ^^

Absolutely! This was so fun to make, here's your board! I hope you enjoy <3