#mayflower series

[chaosology]

mayflower i

warnings: ivf, pregnancy mentions, slight angst

pairing: sam kerr x fem!reader

my masterlist | series masterlist

“Ouch! Do you mind?”

“You’re so dramatic; it’s just a pinch, dummy.”

“Why are we even doing this?”

You giggled, putting the needle in your newly dedicated sharps bin as Sam re-tied the strings of her grey track pants. 

“I’m starting to become uncomfortable about how much you enjoy this,” she teased, staring you down from the counter she was currently perched on. You passed her the icepack as she continued, “in fact, I’d go as far as to say you look forward to it.”

“Oh do you, now? I’m hurt, Sammy. Truly hurt. I’m thinking about the children, and if you just can't see that - Well, I just don’t know if this relationship will work out..”

“Oh, piss off!” She laughed, shoving your shoulder lightly as she leaned in for a kiss, her hand coming to lift your chin. 

“But do you kiss all your patients after you stab them, babe?”

“Only the cute ones” You fired back. She laughed softly, repeatedly poking and then wincing at the injection site. Her thigh was littered with small purple splotches, something she was strangely fascinated by.

You finished up what you were doing in the bathroom, following her out into your shared kitchen. Sam pottered around beside you, chopping vegetables before haphazardly throwing them into the bowl. It was a comfortable silence that you revelled in, but one you both secretly wished to be soon filled by a small baby's soft, nonsensical babbling.

“Did they say we could confirm the ninth for our retrieval date? I’ve got training the next Friday so I’ve got to be back at it by then and I swear that woman over the phone wasn’t even listening.” She asked from across the kitchen, passing you a pan. 

“Yup. And it’s Michaels for the procedure, so don’t worry about one of those Jane the Virgin things happening. She’s great.”

Sam’s response came almost immediately, followed quickly by a small laugh. 

“Why can’t you do it? I don’t need a stranger poking around down there.” 

“I’m not even on gynae rotations, dumbass. No way they’re letting me near something that precious… they barely even trust me with forceps.”

Sam only grunted stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest as she sighed deeply. She was stressed about the procedure, you could tell. It was your first cycle of IVF, and you were still young but the success rates weren’t in your favour. The ultrasound had confirmed everything was going as well as it could, but that couldn’t settle her nerves. And how could you blame her? With the retrieval procedure only days away, the whole process was beginning to seem more real. 

Besides, the extra dosage of hormones wasn’t helping. You noticed at around day three of the injections when you walked into Sam hunched over on the couch crying at the tv, because “all the dogs just look so sad”. You cursed out the RSPCA, joining her on the couch and pulling her into you. She sniffled into your neck, slightly embarrassed by her outburst. 

“Are they moving? I swear they are, I can feel it!”

You rolled your eyes, watching as she squinted towards the bottom of the bed.

“Sam, your toes definitely aren’t moving. I’m looking right at them.”

She huffed, fiddling with the hem of the light blanket covering her. The walls of the room were a soft yellow, with two small chairs and an instrument trolley in the corner. 

A knock at the door caught your attention, watching as your fellow resident (and closest friend) Carmen walked in. Her blue scrubs were swapped out for a soft, baby pink set - a sign she was working on the OB/GYN floor today.

“Piss off, you are not doing my procedure,” Sam yelled jokingly, reaching for a small balled-up tissue to throw in her direction. One of your favourite things about Sam was her ability to fit seamlessly into your friend group. When you first started dating, you were nervous to introduce her to your friends - after all, they were such opposites (or so you thought). But in true Sam fashion, she found her place within minutes, joining in on jokes and insisting on hanging out more often. You loved it. 

Carmen deflected the shot with ease, coming to hug you from the side. 

“No way, mate. You wish. Just here to yell at Y/N for getting today off when we’re all stuck doing paperwork.” You smirked proudly, jabbing her in the ribs as she released a small oomf. 

“You’ll be right though, Sammy K. Michael’s is a beast, this is her bread and butter. Like, I dunno, your equivalent of lightly tapping a ball.”

“Hey,” You intervened, “they miss the ball half the time, you know!”

“Y/N!”

You laughed at her shocked face, affectionately ruffling the top of her head until she swatted your hand away playfully. Carmen rolled her eyes at the two of you, pulling out her phone to capture a sweet photo.

“Look, I’ve gotta run. But let me know when Sammy has to put the hairnet on, I’m going to make it my contact photo!”

Sam scoffed as Carmen left the room, returning to quietly picking at her nails. You watched intently, coming to rest your hand on hers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I dunno, I’m not super nervous. But I am a little bit…regular nervous,” she replied, looking up at you. “What if something goes wrong and it doesn’t work? What if the injections haven’t worked?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, baby. The scans looked good, they said it looked better than they thought.” You stroked her arm, kissing her forehead before you continued. “We’ll be ok, I know we will.”

She sighed into your neck, allowing herself just to breathe. For a moment, it felt like just the two of you in the whole of the hospital as you lay together, hand in hand.

The room was lit a soft, pale blue. The whirr of the ceiling fan filled the silence, the only other sound being the soft breathing beside you. Sam’s body was spread to your left, her legs twisted around the duvet, reminiscent of a pretzel. She always slept so strangely (and apparently the general aneathesia just exaggerated it).

You stared longingly at the space beside your bed, which had been cleared of its normal pile of junk. Up until recently, it was Sam’s throw-it-here-and-worry-later spot, often home to a few different pairs of shoes and a jersey that probably needed a wash (or two). Now. it was cleared in the hope it would soon be filled with a tiny little bassinet, and, of course, your tiny little baby. To others, the clearing of that part of your room probably didn’t mean anything at all, but it was so much more than that.

“Y’know,” Sam said, panting as she rolled off of you,  “you’re so lucky we’re gay.”

“W- Huh?”

She giggled breathlessly, turning onto her side to look into your eyes. 

“Because if we were straight, you’d so be pregnant right now… it’s a thing! It’s our wedding night, and everyyyone knows the first baby is always conceived right then.”

Your face fell into your palm, hiding your smile. 

 “Oh my god, Sam.” You playfully flicked her forehead, watching as she only smiled in response. 

“That implies no sex until marriage, and last time I checked,” you brought your hand to your duvet, lifting the covers to show your uncovered, tangled-up bodies underneath, “we did NOT play by those rules.”

“Technicalities” she waved dismissively, “You’d be knocked up and everyone would be like, ‘yeahh, they did it on their wedding night’.”

“You’re such an idiot…. And no thanks to you, everyone already knows we’ve done it anyway.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault Alanna overheard… that hotel had thin walls, I swear.”

You both laughed at the memory, recalling Alanna’s shocked expression and furious apologies as she walked in on the two of you years earlier. She was just drunk and stumbled into the wrong room by accident, but she sobered up pretty quickly afterwards. The next morning at breakfast she affectionately congratulated Sam and you at breakfast, giving Sam a firm pat on the back as she did so. 

You both lay quietly, your head nestled into Sam’s neck as she played with your hair, twirling the same little strands back and forth. 

“Do you ever think about it?”

“Kids?” 

Her hands stopped briefly, before continuing with their rhythmic motions in your hair. She hadn’t predicted that.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I think about it too.”

“A lot?”

“Yeah.”

She waited a few moments, before lifting her head and turning to you once again. Her eyes were serious this time, almost a little glassy. Almost.

“I want kids. With you, Y/N.”

“I want kids with you too, Sam. I always have.”

She smiled back at you, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the faint red blush that painted her cheeks; she must’ve been sitting on this for a while. 

“I dunno…It’s so scary, though. And it’s such a long process, I feel like I’ll always be too nervous to say anything. What if it’s the wrong time?”

“Yeah,” her hand coming to delicately line your lips, “I know. Maybe we can just take it slow, build ourselves up to the idea?”

You grinned back, holding back a small giggle. “You’ll have to make space in our room, you know - are you ready to part with your messy pile?”

“I didn’t even think of that,” she exclaimed, teasingly feigning shock. “We may have to reconsider this whole baby thing.”

Silence fell over the room once again as she wrapped her arm around you, the both of you off in your own little worlds. The post-sex fatigue was creeping up, pulling you down into a peaceful slumber.

You yawned, opening your eyes to look at her for the first time in what felt like ages

“How will we know when we’re ready?” 

“Well, you said we have to make room for the bassinet, right.”

“Mmm?”

“I think when I move my shoes… and you don’t move them back. Then we’ll know.”

You smiled at the memory of your wedding night, looking to your now wife by your side and the gold ring that sat perfectly on her finger, then to the small clock on your bedside table - 12:51 am on the 23rd - almost two months from the day you both decided.

You had spent the morning ambling around the apartment in the early morning light, taking sips from your coffee each time you walked past the mug on the bench. Sam was already at training, having left your sleeping form with a small peck on the cheek and water boiled in the kettle. 

Laundry on your hip, you picked up her bright pink soccer boots from their home on the bedroom floor and put them back in the cupboard, along with a few crumpled hoodies and spare jerseys. You often wondered if she had forgotten what you had spoken about the night of your wedding… After all, she DID have a lot to drink. 

The day lagged on until Sam came home, rushing through the door with the energy of a hyped-up golden retriever.

“My god, swear Guro was on fire today. She must’ve had crack for breakfast because I couldn’t even keep up, my calves fucking kill!”

You greeted her with a kiss and another mug of coffee that she delightedly accepted, walking into the bedroom to shower and change. The ache of last night’s…activities were still fresh on your mind, and the sound of the now running water drew you to the ensuite.

Instinctively, you went to kick the clothes Sam undoubtedly left on the floor out of the way

“Fuck!”

Your foot hit the side of the bed, a warm ache spreading up your leg. You looked down.

Nothing.

Upon opening the cupboard, you found Sam’s shoes tucked neatly on the rack with the rest of them, her uniform in the hamper. The floor was completely clear, not even a sock in sight. Maybe it was a mistake, did she really mean it? Maybe she was just worked up from training and forgot about your unspoken rule. Right? 

You were in a state of almost shock, walking slowly into the bathroom. Your attempt to close the door was futile as you mindlessly stepped forward, kicking off your slippers to stand opposite Sam, separated only by the glass door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sam’s face was fresh from the shower, her eyebrows creased slightly in the middle. You could see from her face that she was deep in thought, most likely overthinking her decision to move the mess on the floor.

“You didn’t move it back.”

“I didn’t.”

You opened the door to the shower, now face to face. The hot water let occasional spits hit your skin, your clothes getting more and more wet by the second. Sam’s soaked hand reached out to find yours, her fingers nervously interlocking around them as her eyes met with you 

“Are we having a baby?”

Yeah,” she cried, pulling your face to hers under the water, “we’re having a baby.”

“Oooh, I’ll take that.”

In the blink of an eye, Carmen had snuck behind you to steal your freshly poured coffee straight from your hands. Sam had designated her the official “Y/N watchdog” for the time being, seeing as Sam couldn’t keep an eye on you around the hospital. 

“Hey! It’s decaf, plus I’m not even pregnant yet anyway.”

She took a sip, immediately wincing at the bitterness

“Fuck no it’s not decaf,” her face soured, “is this a double shot? Christ.”

You laughed, reaching back for another sip that she barely resisted. You paced around the wards, chatting on and off about the consultants and the latest nurses station gossip. You were likely to be the next topic of conversation once they found out about your plans for a baby. 

It was hard enough being a female resident. The medical profession was still far behind the rest of the world when it came to gender bias at work, and you were no exception. There were whispers of the male paramedics that frequented the ER doors having a “rating” for the female staff; they called you over for gruesome work in your first weeks just to see you squirm. Where the boys could slack, you pushed to work overtime and impress the old consultant who saw you only as hospital decorum.

Getting pregnant during residency wasn’t as dangerous as it once was, but you were still fearful of the strain it would put on your career. Would they look at you differently? Would they exclude you because of your “condition”?

It was one thing you and Sam were able to connect over. Sexism in your respective industries was so prevalent, both of you were often overlooked for your male counterparts despite performing equally as well (usually better). Despite these shared experiences, it was still the cause of one of your most heated arguments with Sam.

Sam’s hands ran down her face, dragging the skin in exaggeration as she sighed with frustration. She was opposite you, standing across the shared bed as she attempted to defend herself. It had started as you both made the bed that morning, pulling up the duvet and chatting about whatever was on your mind. However, Sam’s offhand comment of “when you’re pregnant”  had thrown a curveball on the mood.

“Oh my god, I don’t even know why you’re being like this. You know I can’t afford to be pregnant right now, Y/N.”

“Oh, and I can?”

You were fuming, arms folded across your chest as you stared her down, challenging her to continue. If she wanted to go there, you’d happily comply. She wasn’t wrong when she said that, after all, her career was physically demanding and undoubtedly dangerous for a pregnant woman further along. But why did she have to assume that it would be you? She didn’t even ask. Your job was just as challenging in other aspects, why didn’t she understand that?

“No- You know what I mean.”

You did know, but there was no way you were backing down now. 

“I get bashed all day, Y/N. And if I stop to have a baby now, then take leave and recover? That’s ages gone, they might not put me in next time.”

Sam worried constantly about her career; if she was taken seriously, if she could keep playing for as long as she wanted. 

“I get it, Sam. I do. But you didn’t even stop to ask me. A baby could fuck with my career too, you know. Did you even think of that? I’ll be the hospital liability.”

Sam’s eyes briefly flicked to concern, watching as yours welled up and your face reddened with each passing moment. But as soon as it came, it was gone, and she was back to her previous exasperated expression. She grabbed her keys from the nightstand, slipped on a pair of sneakers and turned to walk out the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I can’t even deal with this right now, I’m going for a walk.”

You stood in the doorway as the front door slammed shut, Sam exiting your vision. Your face fell into your hands, the tears falling freely as you cried silently. Were you really ready for this?

The memory of your argument was still fresh on your mind as you paced the halls, now separated from Carmen as you continued with rounds. Knocking on the door of your next patient, you shuffled your thoughts to the back of your mind.

“Aye, a bit shorter than the last one. Tall and mean, she was.”

Mrs Zielinski was newly admitted to your ward on account of her stomach pains. She was short and slight, with a thick accent - Eastern Europe, you guessed. Her notes had a little warning at the bottom, stating she was confrontational and suspicious of most treatment she was offered. You had heard rumours of how she apparently threw her ice chips at Alex for offering some ibuprofen. 

You only smiled, flipping through her chart and making your way to her bedside. You fiddled with the heart monitor, watching her stare intently at you. You grimaced at her heart rate - she was still tachycardic, with her blood pressure having risen from last night.

“Mrs Zie- Martyna, may I call you that?” 

“No.”

You had hoped to be friendly with her in an effort to persuade her to accept treatment, but it seemed no matter how many smiles you offered, she only intensified her glare. 

“Well, Mrs Zielinski, have the nurses been in to talk with you about your heart?”

“Heart is fine. Nice and strong.”

She patted her chest as if it was an achievement, smiling proudly. You held back a small laugh, difficult patients, while annoying, were often the most entertaining.

“Actually, it’s going a lot faster than I’d like it to.” You explained, smiling down sympathetically. “I’d like to give you something to calm it down.”

“Pfft, none of that. You people always trying to poison me, heart is fine.”

You sighed. While aggravating, the well-being of patients was always at the forefront of your mind. You often struggled with watching people make decisions that harmed them further, coming home and crying to Sam about how tough it was to sit back and watch. She would stroke your hair and soothe you, rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled. She was your rock in this profession, answering her phone late at night even when she was exhausted just to listen to you rant.

“Alright. Can I cut you a deal?”

She looked up suspiciously.

“If you let me take you to get an ECG and see what’s going on, I’ll get that male nurse back in here for you to throw ice at.”

She hesitated, before scoffing. You piqued your head towards her for clarification, and she sighed a quiet fine under her breath. A gleeful smile painted your face as you grabbed your pager, letting her know you’d be back later to take her down to the cardiac floor. 

Two hours and an argument with the technician later, you were pushing Mrs Zielinski down the halls towards the elevator. It was around 9 in the evening (maybe even later; you could barely tell these days) and the halls were quiet, filled with the soft beeping of machines and the nurses chatting at the stations. 

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the small cable running across the floor. The bed jolted as you pushed over it, snapping you back to reality.

“God, girl, look where you going!”

“Sorry, sorry. We’re almost there.”

“Take me to basement to kill me, ‘ey? Sound like first husband.”

You laughed, continuing to wheel her carefully into the ECG suites where you would hand over to the technicians. Bidding her a polite farewell you left, heading towards the locker room.

Finally you could return home to Sam. With the embryo transfer tomorrow, you had taken a week's leave to recuperate afterwards. Sam would stay home with you for company, ensuring you didn’t find an excuse to just “pop over” to the hospital. 

Maybe this round would be successful, maybe not. You pushed it from your mind as you packed your things and walked through the hospital door, the setting sun shining straight in your face. You could barely see right in front of you, almost missing the figure right in front of you.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, darl"

Sam! There she was, standing by the door with her sunnies on and a bouquet of flowers in hand. She smiled at your shocked face, grabbing the stethoscope from around your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

"Ready to get pregnant?"

"Wha- Sam!"

[gameofthunder66]

Fargo (2014-2024) tv series

(started) watchin' Season 4- 8/29/2024- on Hulu (FX)

[a-morningstar-120]

The smell of fresh fruit carried on the breeze to her, along with the sound of a child’s laughter.

Emerald Mayflower had never been one for peace, and love. But now, as she strummed her harp, fingers stroking softly across the strings, she couldn’t help but think of peace.

As she played a melody of new life, old life, the memories of sadness and happiness, she thought of an Imperial she hadn’t seen in years. He had been peace, peace to her. The only person to calm her thirst for blood. She had been a fool for running, but Emerald Mayflower feared commitment. She’d rather have a good time, not fall in love. But she did, and she ran.

The cool winds picked up, tossing her hair in waves around her face. Maybe she would find him.

Her finger struck the last note, ending on remembering an old life, as clapping filled her ears. Emerald stumbled back, hand over her heart, head bowed and hair falling in her face. Someone took her arm, whispering for her to follow.

[the-delta-42]

How the Turns Table: Airfix Mayflower

[navree]

at the risk of sounding facetious but if you’re categorizing the targaryens as colonizers then i think you also need to categorize nymeria and the rhoynar as colonizers too or just realize that the dragon incest show and all its varied source material written by a white guy who thought these ideas up forty years ago is not in fact that deep

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.���

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

What passes for identity in America is a series of myths about one’s heroic ancestors. It’s astounding to me, for example, that so many people really appear to believe that the country was founded by a band of heroes who wanted to be free. That happens not to be true. What happened was that some people left Europe because they couldn’t stay there any longer and had to go someplace else to make it. That’s all. They were hungry, they were poor, they were convicts. Those who were making it in England, for example, did not get on the Mayflower. That’s how the country was settled. Not by Gary Cooper. Yet we have a whole race of people, a whole republic, who believe the myths to the point where even today they select political representatives, as far as I can tell, by how closely they resemble Gary Cooper. Now this is dangerously infantile, and it shows in every level of national life.

—James Baldwin, "American Identity," a Talk to Teachers working in the New York Public School System, Oct 16, 1963

[Robert Scott Horton]

[innies-goth-gf]

Things aren't what they seem

Things aren't always what they seem - Ch 2

Pairing : Ot8🗝️ x Reader Genre : Supernatural 🦇, Romance 💌, Angst 🌧️, Fluff 🪽, Smut 🥀, Crack 🪿 W/C : 1.5k Notes : Hi sorry I meant to have this done yesterday but I got writers block lol. Anyways I just wanted to say I didn’t expect my posts to get so much attention even tho I only made this like four days ago now, it’s a bit overwhelming ngl but I’m grateful! Ty to everyone who’s reblogged and liked my posts, very much appreciated! (Ao3 : Seungmins_goth_gf) (Wattpad : Hansgothgirlfriend) [Master list] [Things aren’t what they seem - Series]

“And finally, we have the sitting room,” Han said, slumping down on the sofa. He had spent the last 25 minutes giving you a tour of the first floor.

“Wow, this place is massive.” You said looking around the room.

The room was long with high ceilings, the espresso wood paneling on it following a grid-like pattern, along with intricate foliage designs on the crown molding. Paintings adorned the side walls, and a blood-red mayflower pattern ran 3/4ths down the walls. The bottom of the walls followed a similar design and color to that of the ceiling. On the wall opposite to the arched entrance was a large fireplace, it stuck out from the wall with two shelves on each side built into the wall that extended from the ceiling to the floor. To the right of the room was a pair of deep-set windows that rounded at the top with thick velvet drapes that were pinned off to the side, their color almost matching the dark espresso color of the ceiling wood. In front of the fireplace hung a chandelier, right above an antique coffee table. Surrounding the coffee table and fireplace was an equally antique and fancy sofa set. There was a large carpet laid out on the floor a deep red color that went along with the color of the wallpaper.

You couldn’t help but feel small and out of place in such a house.

“Ji, are you done showing her around?” You and Han both turned to look at the entrance of the sitting room. Minho stood there, leaning against the arched doorway. “Yeah, actually I just finished.” Han stretched as he stood up from his spot.

“Well, I went and told Chan you were here. None of us knew when to expect your arrival, we apologize for that,” Minho explained as he walked over and sat on the couch next to Han. “He was just coming back from a jog when I talked to him, he said he’d be here after he looked more presentable.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize really!” You exclaimed quickly, waving your hand in the air dismissively. Seeing as you were now the only person left standing in the room, you too made your way towards the couches, sitting down on the empty one next to the one Han and Minho were occupying.

“No, he’s right, me and the others were really excited to finally meet you. We should’ve prepared better.” Han said with an apologetic look.

“Others?”

“Yeah, didn’t Chris tell you about me and the rest of our roommates?” Han questioned as Minho simply nodded in response to your question.

“Roommates? Wait so there's more besides you two?” You replied a bit shocked. Chris hadn’t mentioned either of them in the note, much less tell you he had multiple roommates. Although you did initially wonder how he could live in a place of such a size all by himself.

“There's five more excluding me, Han, and Chris. We all have our rooms up on the 3rd floor.”

“Ah to be honest Chris didn’t tell me much of anything in his letter, I kinda came in here knowing next to nothing.” You explained.

Minho and Han paused and looked at each other, honestly if you blinked you would’ve missed it, but you didn’t.

“Well, we're glad you got here safe and sound! Hopefully, you’re not too jet lagged.” Han chirped, changing the subject.

You continued on the convo while your mind was elsewhere. How you wished you’d blinked at that moment because then you wouldn’t have noticed that glance, that glance they shared that had a look of concern. A look that showed that they might know something you didn’t.

You couldn’t help but overthink it, it’s just the way you were. Why? Why did it bother you so much? You knew you were the type of person who often misread and looked too deep into things, but you just knew this was not one of those moments.

୨ৎ ˚ /) /) ༉ ‧ ₊˚

“I have 3 cats of my own,” Minho said matter-of-factly. Somehow the conversation topic had shifted to pets.

Just as you were about to chime into the conversation you heard a cough come from the archway.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,”

Minho stood from his seat clearing his throat, grabbing your attention. “Han, we should go grab a drink for our guest.” Han then nodded, following Minho as he made his way towards the kitchen, excusing himself.

You barely managed to process your surroundings, you sat in shock. Although your whole reason for coming here was to reunite with Christopher, you still couldn’t believe he was standing here right in front of you.

He looked so different since you last saw him, his short black hair a longer blonde color. He was taller now. His face had matured from one of a high school boy to now a grown man. His once skinny lanky build is now a bigger, broader, muscular one, apparent through his plain black tee. Despite all those changes you could tell the man standing before you was the friend you lost all those years ago.

You can’t exactly remember how long you sat there staring, nor can you remember exactly when you’d gotten up and engulfed yourself in his arms. You sobbed into him, your cries muffled as you buried yourself further into his embrace. He held you gently, alternating between patting and rubbing your head delicately to rubbing circles on your back.

“It’s ok Y/n, I’m here yea?” He whispered to you, his words full of emotion. His voice wavered, and he sniffled as you felt his tears on you. “I’m here for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

You two took your time in each other's arms, holding onto each other for dear life. The longer you stayed in his arms the more you started to feel at ease, your emotions coming down.

“You don’t know how much I missed you,” You said sniffling as you pulled away from his embrace, your hands resting on his waist while he did on your shoulders. You looked up at him, seeing his red and puffy eyes glossed over from the tears that had left stains on his face. He wore such a warm smile on his face, one that you’d seen so many times before.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, placing his hand on your cheek and wiping your tears. “I hate to see you like this.” You leaned into his touch, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Shut up Chris, stop getting all sappy right after I stopped crying,” You replied jokingly, giggling a little. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you after all this time.”

“I can’t believe you actually showed up,” He chuckled. “I was almost sure you wouldn’t even open that letter.”

“I’d be stupid not to. I would’ve done anything to see you just one more time again,” You said wholeheartedly. Chris was the closest person to you in your life including your family, when he left you felt like you’d lost everything. “You mean so much to me Chris.”

Chris then took your hands into his, interlocking your fingers together. “God there’s so much I want to say to you, I can’t figure you what I should start with and-“

“Okay wait a sec all of that can come later,” You spoke up, cutting him off. “I think I'm at my limit right now. We can save that for tomorrow ok? I’m way too jet lagged.”

Chris smiled. “You might’ve grown up a little more but you’re exactly as I remember Y/n.” He chuckled.

Just as you were about to speak you heard another quiet voice coming from your right.

“This is so beautiful,”

Both of you snapped your heads towards the sound. Just as you turned you noticed three men huddled over peeking and eavesdropping from around the corner.

One of them was Han whom you’d encountered earlier, the two others were new faces. One had short silver hair with a very sharp-looking face, while the other had long blond hair and a slim face.

They all froze, realizing they’d been caught. Before anyone could say anything you began laughing your head off.

What was up with these guys? They were all so hilariously strange, that you almost found it endearing.

Chris then started shouting something at them in Korean, which you barely knew a thing about but you were too busy cackling to yourself to listen to whatever he was saying anyway.

“I’m sorry, those are my roommates and they tend to be annoying sometimes.“ Chris spoke up.

“Chris it’s ok, I don’t mind. I thought it was ridiculously cute actually,” You replied. “But now I really want to get some rest. I’m kinda feeling like I could fall asleep right where I’m standing.”

“Yeah of course pretty. Want me to show you to your room?”

“Lead the way, Chris.”

[nekodere07]

Can you guys recommend me Evil X centric fics? And provide a summary and major spoiler to convince me to read them? I listed the ones below that I discovered/read so far, so you don't need to recommend them again. It also functions as me recommending stuff to EX enjoyers :D

Asking for Nothing by mayflowers fr "i can be the one you call" series (Evil X redemption saga after traumatizing Keralis w/ Zed's help; you need to read everything for context since it has diff events and has continuity) ✨

Anthophobia by residentevilxisuma (Evil X has platonic Hanahaki disease) ✨

Make Me Hurt, Make Me Bleed by residentevilxisuma (Reaper Evil X got tortured by Mumbo but doesn't have physical scars due to his regeneration, but it's been hiatus/discontinued since 2021 😭) ✨

residentevilxisuma's Reaper AU by residentevilxisuma (collection of Evil X reaper au)

Another Chance by Ronin_Resistance fr "Void Medic EX" series (Evil X is in charge of respawn while in the void)

Homesick by Inquillitory (Evil X redemption arc after being indirectly responsible for s8's doom)

Can't Even Hear My Own Sobs by GoodTimeWithCip (EX has meltdown after being ripped fr the void)

Here is Home by Shrug (Icynightsky) (not centric but major role; Evil X rescues Impulse fr the void who was banned due to Imposter Syndrome)

The betrayal of brothers doesn't mean the betrayal of others. by JustAnotherMutantKid (Evil X was banned by Xisuma for not doing what he wants but got help by Team ZIT + Wels)

The Road to Hell (Is Paved with Good Intentions) by Random_Reviewer (not centric but antagonist; Evil X tortures Etho and streamed it for the Hermits to see)

this is about a stuffed bird by Bee_4 (downloaded it but didn't have the motivation to read since MCD)

The Hermits And The Mystery of How Evil X Eats by thatgirlfromasgard (not centric; like the title suggests)

it takes two to play (the game of mutual secrecy) by kiwinatorwaffles fr "the hermitcraft hero au (VDHAU)" series (Evil X vigilante due to admiration of a hero, not knowing it was his older brother Xisuma, and those two were just oblivious to each other's identity when all their friends already figured it out a long time ago) ✨

Late Night Visits by Lackyducks (not centric but major role; Evil X sends a stressed Xisuma to Scar since he can't shapeshift back)

Family Revelation series by PickleGirl23 (Exil X found and adopted Grian as his son; didn't continue the series tho since they crossover w/ DSMP)

Iron Bleeds Green by MawoftheMagnetar (not centric but major role; X and EX were formerly the same person but separated due to a tech fr their home planet, and an individual fr there was hunting both of them down)

Cat Among Pigeons by qvill (Evil X was spit out by the Rift after being void banned, shapeshifts into a cat so no one will know it's him)

Love Me Like I'm Dead by Dani_ofCrows (ongoing; major role; X and EX were secretly some kind of creature but X keeps it a secret fr the Hermits until this was forced to be discovered, Hermits shortly realized that both siblings have Hanahaki disease)

I'll Take You By The Hand by ScarletHalo (Evil X was captured by the Watchers but Grian helped w/ his injuries until Xisuma comes to theit rescue)

Words Are Hard by BDbSafe4U (BlueDblue62) (depressed Evil X can't communicate how much he was hurting to X until he tried to off himself in Decked Out)

voidfishing, the new sport that nobody regretted partaking in (eventually, anyway) by kiwinatorwaffles (major role; Xisuma fishes out kid Evil X out of the void)

Well well, look who's inside again by rorythewriter (ongoing; Evil X is freed fr the void but has amnesia and is suicidal due to the pain fr sensory deprivation/overload, EX and Zed friendship for the win)

Cold and broken and hurt (Warm and healed and protected) by Moonflowers24 (EX disappeared in s8 and was stuck in the void until s10, assumed X hated him since he banned him to the void again and never responded to their texts)

A Nether Return by Sharo (EX glitch spawned in the 1.16 Nether after being banned, got sick but was taken care of by team ZIT and Zed got pissed after discovering X banned EX)

[luimnigh]

Okay, wait, so in various Scooby Doo series, it's shown:

Shaggy's family, the Rogers, are wealthy.

Scooby's family, the Doos, have been linked with the Rogers since at least the arrival of McBaggy Rogers and Yankee-Doodle-Doo on the Mayflower in 1620.

Scooby-Doo is descended from an Eldritch Being.

...Shaggy's ancestors absolutely did a demonic pact in exchange for Scooby Snacks and bellyrubs, huh.

[burningfaith]

behold! half-Polish Ryusui be upon ye

more about my headcanon under the cut

Okay, so I'm really nervous while posting it, because I usually don't talk about my hcs with anyone and especially in public fandom spaces, but wanted to scream about this one for a very long time. I personally headcanon Ryusui as half-Japanese and half-Polish, because:

His birthday is on November 11th, which is widely known as Remembrance Day aka the end of the First World War. In Poland, we celebrate National Independence Day on this exact date and to be honest, when it comes to such things as characters’ birthdays (especially in the series where they usually have deeper meanings, ex.: Ishigami villagers named after chemical elements having their birthdays on dates corresponding to their atomic numbers, Gen’s b-day being on April Fool’s, etc.) I don’t believe in coincidences. So of course, I checked out other historical events that have happened/are assumed to have happened on 11.11. and found some connected to sailing  & exploration such as: Mayflower making its first landing in America, but also those related to astronautics: launch of spaceship Gemini 12 and launch of Progress M-25 to space station Mir. So as you can see, these are more likely to be the reason for choosing such a date for Ryusui, but let the girl dream. 😔 And yes, I’m fully aware of the fact that it’s also the Pocky Day lol

Many Japanese DCST characters look like they’re mixed (I’m not talking about astronauts’ descendants, because y’know) and Ryusui is no exception, probably due to the anime logic™️, but maybe they are? Who knows. But anyway, straight to the point: when I saw Ryusui for the first time I was thinking “Why did they give us another Shamil?”, so Slavic pass? Checked ✔️, I can continue spreading my half-Polish Rysui propaganda. And to quote my dear Tumblr mutual @/szyszkasosnowa “That would explain his golden (as polish wheat) hair.”.

Knowing what’s going on with the Nanami family (and specifically Ryusui’s shitty father) it is, in fact, quite possible. Sai is half-Japanese and half-Indian, so there’s nothing against the possibility of Ryusui also being mixed. I mean, there’s no mention of Poland or Slavic countries other than Russia in Dr. Stone (but these guys are always getting too much attention in literally any fiction), but we Poles barely get any representation, especially a good one (and in eastern media), so when my brain started connecting the dots I was like “haha yes, after all this time something’s happening!”. 

Thanks for reading about my delusions. I hope no one gets offended by my silly little headcanon. :]

"clear" pic as a bonus

[chaosology]

mayflower masterlist

— A look at Sam and Reader's relationship and journey to parenthood.

warnings: differ per chapter - pregnancy struggles and IVF

pairing: Sam Kerr x reader

some will have corresponding social media fics !!!

— series

1 | round one

more to come...

— extras

from the beginning

A brief snippet of Sam and the Reader's first meeting

[call-me-strega]

I was tagged by @datfearlessfangirl

Rules of the challenge are: "in a new post, show the last line you wrote or drew, then tag as many people as there are words"

This is so fun! I actually stopped writing mid-sentence while working on one of the next chapters of my How To Become a Step-Dad series lol. I guess it’s a sneak peak ;)

Here it is:

“ ‘Mm I don’t doubt that, Ellie’s safety will always be my first priority. But the whole thing kinda brought [insert rest of scentence].’ ”

If it’s chill I’ll tag @mirigold-mayflowers, @ghost-bxrd, @deadsetobsessions, and @puppetmaster13u

No pressure if you feel like participating go ahead!

[lol-jackles]

Talking about prequel ideas, I was rewatching the episode with Henry Winchester where he talks about his father's father being a Man of Letters, which puts him about the turn of the 20th century. With the Campbell's history of coming over with the Mayflower, they could have a Winchester MOL partnering with a Campbell hunter in the early 1900's, almost like a parallel of Sam and Dean. You could have the series end with a falling out, or maybe they lose track of each other during the war, something that could bring the two families together and tie in to Sam and Dean without breaking SPN's continuity. What do you think?

(I'm sure there are a ton of ideas out there, and pretty much all of them would have been better than AU John and Mary.)

I seriously like your idea! Maybe because while I don't necessarily think about the Roman Empire every week (more like every other week), I do give a lot of thought to AU history filled with historical figures armed with steampunk-like weaponry against aliens, monsters, and demons. It's one of the reasons why I liked Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter so much.

I always thought one of the missed prequel idea was centering on Samuel Colt and his posse fighting monsters and ghosts in the Old West. You know the writers of Independence would have written an awesome Supernatural spinoff.

[thatcheeseycandle]

//OKAY TO THOSE WHO ARE IN THE TTTE/TIDMOUTH SERVER, OR ANYONE WHO SEES THIS, YOU KNOW ITS TIME FOR A YIAU REACTION

TW SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF CHP. 37 AND SOME BITS OF A GOLDEN SOUL

(Notes on my last post will be at the end)

OHFMSJAHAJAKSHDHSJAJSHD ITS HERE YEAHAHAHAHHDHD ITS HERE FRESH OUT OF THE OVEN

Oh OH THEYRE THERE ALREADY THEYRE AT THE HOUSE, MANSION, WHATEVER IT WAS

Ah gosh RIGHT THE HYBRID THING. Thank God I did a refresh read before this chapter came out

GADWALL BEHAHAJDB HOLY GOSH

"She has to be okay. I can't just abandon her!" Oh you loyal man, considering she's not.. Yknow in there anymore, I'll be bracing myself for whatever emotions are to come to both Oscar and the readers BEGAJAKDJCB

"You're going to be a part of this family very soon, need I remind you" YEAAASSS THAT TOO! Still feels like a feverdream to now see that these two are engaged considering long ago they were a bit messy with their relationship (aka, A Golden Soul and perhaps many other series-es)

Wait a click GADWALL IS A SILVER SOUL????

Okay now that adds onto my theory of (most likely) all the revived constructs (aka people like Quicksilver) being silver souls, cause to think about it I think Gold dust would've been too limited (most likely) around the time they were actually revived

So then, silver souls were one of the few ways to get ehm back during said times, as to not risk wasting Gold dust

But then- It wouldnt make sense considering HENDRICK HAS VILES OF GOLD DUST but I suppose it could've been gained around recent years and not like by the minute he was revived

ANYWAYS CONTINUING THE CHAPTER! I'll be saving those theories for seperate posts I suppose

Sorry Oscar you just YOU GO WITH HIM TO TELL HER THAT, SHE REALLY REALLY NEEDS TO HEAR IT.

"I know. You always come back running to me, one way or another." Considering a lot, same goes to you Truro to Scot LMAOAIDH

Woag WOAH GADWALL

WHAT ON EARTH?? IS THIS IMPLYING THAT SILVER SOULS HAVE ABILITIES SIMILAR TO THAT OF A GOLDEN WARDEN OR IS GADWALL ONE?????

GOOD LORD-

Oop OOOOOOO WE'RE BACK TO MAYFLOWER AND (Actually) BLUE PETER

Lack of stamina, waif WAIF WAIT

I might post the note I saved this theory on onto my tumblr after this, but is this- IS THIS BLACK SMOKE

Okay now thats sortve an exaggeration considering lack of stamina can be a sympton of a lot of things, BUT ANYWHO CONTINUING ON

Oh yikes YIKES OKAY, INSISTENT, NOTING THAT DOWN

I love how 9F was used in that sentence, fits well!

Friends FIRUABAB OKAY WE GETTING INTO THE LITTLE PEEKS LETS GO

"He'd push everyone that might have given him a place to rest his wheels." Sorry I just I nearly exploded at that sentence, ITS SO AIHFJDUFH Its relatable in a way

CLASS 37 MENTION LETS GOOOO

Her name has a ring to it, lovely!

"We so rarely get larger engines visiting our small piece of paradise."

"Excuse me, I'm a larger engine!" mAYFLOWER BEHAHAJDBXNZ

CRACKED ME UP RIGHT THERE LMAO

(Insert words that describe me just going suddenly quiet reading Blue Peter's thoughts and basically whats happening between the three)

Now wasnt that lovely! Yknow yhe title card got me all tense when I read out Blue Peter's name when I started reading this bit LMAO CAUSE I THOUGHT SOMETHING WAS GONNA YKNOW YEAH HAPPEN

HOLYGO I NEARLY LOST MY OXYGEN, BITTERN MY GUY HAHAHAJAHDHXN

"You act like this is a common thing, Grey"

"That's because it is!" I am not getting over these two australians BEHSJDHDB THIS IS ONE OF THE MOMENTS THAT GET MY CURIOSITY ALL UP FOR FLASHBACK BITS TO PENDENNIS' PAST

shy SHYAHAHAJFB

I love how this bit of the convo is just:

"Well you didnt tell me!"

"How could we? We didnt even know shite about how it works for you!"

FIAYR DUDT

New nickname for Gold dust, Fairy dust

Grey that is one of the most poetic interesting things you've said HOLY GOD

Honestly I cant blame them, even if they knew, that sentence wouldve been magnificent either way

"I mean, who better to run a railway museum than an engine, right?" The way Olivia is technically half an engine (or is she?) and now theres this lad BEHAHAJAKDH

Wait GREY. LORE BIT LORE BIT- Okay I mean why am I surprised, SILVERFOX AND WHO I SUSPECT TO BE BLINK BONNY WORK ON THE BLUEBELL RAILWAY OF COURSE THERES CONSTRUCTS LIKE THAT

(For context, in aGS Godred says he met this person named "Bonny" alongside Silverfox when he was on the Bluebell, but thats from what I remember)

Aait WAIT HORATIO HE

IS THIS IMPLYING HE ALSO TAKES A SIMILAR ROLE????

Waut WUAJAJA OHMYGOD GOLDEN CIRCLE MENTION, GOLDEN CIRCLE MENTION FOLKS

WELL SAID HORATIO WELL SAID (I am speechless)

Oh God OH GOD

OKAY FINALLY THEY REALIZE THAT

WELL SAID EVERYONE.. WELL SAID (I am still speechless)

Oh so THATS WHY THEYRE CALLED WARDENS ITS OHMYGO IT MAKES SOME MORE SENSE NOW

Wait WAIT. HOLY SHIT

THE FUCK YOU MEAN THEY WERE THE ONES TO RUN IT????? THIS

IT MAKES SENSE NOW, WHY THOSE PRICKS HAD ACCESS TO BLACK-SMOKE RELATED THINGS LIKE YKNOW THE LITTLE CANISTER THAT CAUSED SCOT HIS NIGHTMARES AND THE VILE OF BLACK SMOKE

ITS A FUCKIN CORRUPT SYSTEM

Well damn I never expected that a corrupt government would pop up in YIAU, but then again YIAU is basically collecting every type of trauma so LMAOHDGHD

Oh wait he isnt blue in this timeline LMAO NEARLY FORGOT ITS STILL 2023 IN THIS

YoYOYOYOYOO A GNR SADDLE-TANK LETS GO

Yeah YEAAHH FIGHT OFF THOSE OLD HABITS LETS GO BLUE PETER

"It was what enamoured him to that King Class, his dearest Eurion" dare I say the term- BLUE PETER YOU BEHAJDHXB I SEE YOU

"He had always been good at hiding what ailed him. So why was he failing now?" WELL THAT SHOT DIRECTLY INTO MY HEART DIDNT IT

Ohmygo💥💥💥 This is why I love Mayflower, LOOK AT HER SHES JUST YEAH

SHES GOSSIPING WITH HER FRIENDS BEHAJDHDND

Cold and the pain. THE COL-

OHMYGOD OKAY YEAH THIS EXPLAINS THE TITLECARD, WELL I MEANT MAY EXPLAIN BUT YKNOW YEAH

Well I be damned, thats actually kind of true in a way. BUT I MEAN SHE IS TECHNICALLY DIRECTLY RELATED TO THEM AS A NIECE (referencing another chapter I unfortunately forgot the number to but I'll put it in the tags if I do remember it)

AH CRAP I GOTTA EAT DINNER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD- ILL COME BACK TO THIS DRAFT SOON

I AM BACK YEAH LETS GO

"After accepting Tornado he realised just how alone he was." Well THATS. THATS SOMETHING TO BE SHOT BY ON A FRIDAY EVENING

(Insert just a cacophony of "WHAT"s, "NO"s, "STOP NO"s, "LORD"s, and then silence just reading this bit)

"Don't ever feel sorry for being sick, this isn't the 50s or 60s anymore, you won't get scrapped just because you've got a rivet wrong." wHAT IS WITH THIS CHAPTER AND IT'S DEEP QUOTES

But still, wise words from Mayflower right there

Ohmygod. OHMYGOD. I JSUT

I PREDICTED IT AGAINMYGOSOAOOAOAO

THE BLACKSMOKE THE OHVYAJAOAOAOAIDB I THEORISED IT AND I WAS CORREFT

WELL SOMEWGAT CORRECT BUT I WAA CORRECT ABOUT HIM HAVING BLACKSMOKE OHMGYODOAOAKJZBXNX

OH NO ONONNOOBOOO NONO BLUE PETER HOLD ON TO YOURSELF

BE STRONG BE STRONG

NOOOOOOO BLUE PETER NO

(Future me here, I screamed my lungs out irl and my gosh I was not okay since I waa processing a lot of emotions LMAO)

Oh shet its Lode Star OKAY YEAH ITS MUSEUM TIME GUYS

OH ITS THIS BIT BEHAHAHAJXHX

Ay AY WATCH YOUR THOUGHTS ON DOTTI THERE

"He refused to admit it, but he had missed her too." YIEEEEE MALLARD ADMIT IT ALREADY

Woah WOAH KING GEORGE

OOOOOOOO DRAMA LETS GOOO

Wait. King Edward II WAIT. WAI TNOU

NONONONONOO WHAT NO THIS NO NONONONONO

MALLARD FOR FUCKS SAKE YOU JUST GOT BACK NOOOOOOOOO

(Future me here yet again reading over this review before I post it, I was in silence for a while processing this LMAO SO YEAH YKNOW THE EMOTIONS WERE DOING THEIR THING IN THIS CHAPTER)

ANYWHO. GOD THAT- THAT WAS HARD TO SWALLOW

Yet again another well delivered chapter by RedWryvernWrites aka Baku! The emotions were REALLY tugged on in this chapter, anxiety was the main emotion in this LMAO but I did also appreciate those little spills of lore in the mix!

Anywho, I'll see you lot in my next post then!

[demifiendrsa]

Judas — Trailer #2 | Who is Judas?

Judas is in development for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, and PC (Steam, Epic Games Store). A release date was not announced.

Screenshots

Overview

The “Who is Judas” trailer offers a deeper look at the game’s setting aboard the Mayflower, a spacefaring city whose citizens are trained to tear each other apart for even the most minor infractions, and where machines control every aspect of business, art, and government. You, as Judas, are the driver of every event in a mysterious story with a new cast of characters to get to know—and to change—in a world where every decision you make affects how the story unfolds. The leaders tried to turn you into something you’re not: a model citizen. And you sparked a devastating revolution to tear it all down. Will you fix what you broke, or leave it all to burn?