#or maybe he was. idk. its been 5 years. he can do what he wants

[the-good-luck-anomaly]

[skunkes]

[faaun]

pls i need to provide updates

[arolesbianism]

Take some Fydd's I just realized I never posted

[fardf150]

fuck

[tinylittlebab]

HEYYYYY i have a scale and i didnt even have to buy it!!

[vityaposting]

WRITING REQUEST HIII

what about reader going to viktor to get augmented for a non physical reason - like maybe mental illness or addiction or something (idk dealers choice) and viktor slowly getting to know them over time. eventually reader overcomes their problem, and viktor realises that he likes reader just the way they are - unaugmented or not.

don't feel obligated to do this lol just saw that your requests where open

HI!!!! i love this request so much i decided it needs to be a multi chapter thing (4 or 5 probably?) i got broken up with yesterday so i ATE this prompt up lol

how to heal a rusted heart - mh!viktor x gn!reader - part 1

wc: 2100

You approach Emberflit Alley with no small amount of trepidation. The house is smaller than you expected, shoddier on the outside; shutters hang from foggy, cracked windows, and ivy like claw-scratches makes its way up the worn brick walls. You know—as does every Zaunite you’ve ever met—that there is more to the Machine Herald’s residence than meets the eye. You don’t know exactly how—somewhere, some way, there is a massive laboratory tucked behind the house’s unassuming facade. Maybe a separate underground sector, or even a pocket dimension supplied by the Herald’s knowledge of thinning the barrier between tech and magic. All these speculations are, of course, rumors—you’ve never had a reason to solve the mystery yourself. Until today. Today, you’d snapped.

Your chest still burns with the fury of it all. Betrayal. And to think they’d claimed to love you. Sickly-sweet self-satisfaction rises like bile to the back of your throat, putting a little more power behind your knock on the door. You’d been right. Paranoia, your doctor had proclaimed years ago—a not-uncommon symptom of your particular ailment. Well, was it true paranoia if you were always proven right in the end?

It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t care.

A thickly-accented voice cuts through the speaker above the knocker: “You may enter.”

Ominous. You push away your trepidation, another instinct you’d be free of sooner rather than later. The door is heavy steel—you have to use your shoulder to pry it open, but once you’ve managed its weight, it swings inward for you on well-oiled hinges.

You emerge into a wide space thick with the stenches of metal and oil, cast under an ambient glow in various shades of orange. Lights flicker at you from lanterns on the walls, from faint bulbs hung across the ceiling. A lab bench spans the entire length of the room, which seems impossibly large compared to the house’s outer facade. A pocket dimension it is, then. Maybe. You still can’t be sure. The equipment littered across the bench is foreign and complex-looking.

The whistle of steam and clicking of gears greets you before the Herald himself can.

He’s tinkering with something. Something sharp. He sets it down, turns on his stool, lowers his hood and pushes his goggles onto his forehead. You aren’t quite sure what you expected the Machine Herald to look like under his armor and mask. If he even takes them off at all. Whatever you expected, this isn’t it.

“Good evening,” he says levelly. His voice rumbles in his throat, his accent lending the greeting a soft, alluring quality. He tilts his head, an oddly innocent gesture, considering his reputation. “With what can I be of service?”

The words you’ve been rehearsing for hours lodge themself in your throat, and even a heavy swallow can’t force them out. The Herald is unblinking. Molten orange pupils burn into yours, piercing against his dark scleras. His face is pale and his features sharp—he’s beautiful, you note, not completely willingly—and his frame is thin and willowy beneath his cloak.

“Well?” he prompts, and shame floods you, reminding you why you decided to take measures this drastic in the first place. “Nobody comes this deep into the Lanes just to visit me. Not to say I mind the solitude.”

He doesn’t want you here.

You’re here for a service, scolds the rational side of your mind, a side which seems to grow more and more powerless with every passing week, with every friend you lose, with every burst of rage and every bridge you burn. A service he openly advertises. He allowed you to open the door. He could have… have death-rayed you.

“Mister… Machine Herald,” you begin, horrendously embarrassed at how your voice quavers. The air in the lab is muggy. You wrap your arms around your middle anyway. “I’ve heard of the… the services you provide, and I—”

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “Viktor will suffice.”

You cough. His eyes narrow.

“Go on. You seek augmentation.”

“Of the… unconventional variety, I guess you could say. Less of a physical augmentation and more of a…”

“You are at war with your own mind,” he observes. “I can see it in your eyes. Come closer.”

And you do, because there’s something in the rumble of his voice—which is so close to a growl you feel weak in the knees—and the sharp glow of his eyes that draws you in like a moth to a lantern. He gestures to the second stool at his side. You wonder who it’s normally reserved for. Patients? Experimental subjects? A partner, perhaps—or has he always only worked alone?

“You’re tense. Relax.” He speaks with such calm authority that it’s impossible not to listen. “I will not touch you without explicit permission. If it’s only emotional suppression you seek, I may be able to offer a solution that does not require me to lay hands on you.”

You don’t know why this disappoints you.

He tilts his head as he gazes at you, one gloved hand fidgeting with a trinket on his workbench. “Tell me. In detail. What is it you want out of this? What causes you such pain?”

“Everything,” you say. It’s almost a whimper. He raises an eyebrow. Clearing the embarrassment from your throat, you try again. “Everything is… is so much. I’m scared. All the time. I can’t love anyone anymore, I… I’m afraid they’ll all leave me.” Oftentimes, they do, you neglect to add. This won’t concern Viktor. He has no reason to care. “And it can change on a coin. It’s like you said. It’s like being at war.” A war between your body and your brain, you’ve realized, would never be one worth fighting. This, however, seems to be the only way to put an end to things. You look at Viktor plaintively, hoping he isn’t judging. If the rumors are true, he removed his ability to judge long ago.

“Ah,” he said after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons. “I understand.”

“My doctor says it’s an… ailment.”

“That may be,” he says. “As such, you have a right to want to heal it. Procedures with the intent to alter emotions are harder and riskier than procedures focused on the physical. I am happy to give you what you ask for, but you must be aware of the potential consequences. Do you intend to eliminate all emotions, or… only their extremities?”

“Only the extremities.” Life will be much easier, you think, if you never have to love another person again. Amicable acquaintanceship, however, hurts nobody.

“Good,” he hums. “Complete removal is difficult. If I weren’t so stubborn I’d nearly say it was impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried,” he says plainly.

“And you failed?” You don’t know what emboldens you to say it.

“I simply have not yet succeeded.”

You look at him, then, really look at him. And behind those beautiful eyes that glow with the light of a hundred fires, shine with the darkness of a hundred polluted Zaun nights, you almost swear you see your own loneliness staring back at you.

“It’s risky,” he continues. “In the case that something goes awry, do not say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

“May I take a closer look? I’d like to get a feel for the incision site.”

You nod a silent confirmation and bow your head, gripping the sides of the stool. He wheels himself closer. Lifts his hand. You hold your breath.

The Herald’s hands are gentle when they card through your hair, pushing a few strands away from your forehead. His demeanor now is a far cry from the terrifying villain you know him to be—the chaos-wreaking force of evil most of Zaun insists he is. You wonder, as your breathing calms, exactly how many of the tales are wild fantasy, because this soft touch is the realest thing you've felt in a long, long time.

“All I can promise you is that I will be careful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from the center of your forehead to the crown of your hair. “This particular procedure is immensely detail-oriented, even in comparison to the others I’ve performed. To dampen your emotions, I will be altering your limbic system, in the simplest of terms. However, if I am not meticulous, I risk damaging other functions, such as reasoning or memory.”

Truth be told, waking up without any memory of the hurt you’ve endured doesn’t sound too awful.

But, you realize as a shiver runs down your spine—you want to remember this.

“There is another option,” Viktor goes on. You’re forced to draw your attention away from his soft, prodding touches. “Implants in the form of pills. Those, however, I’ve not yet managed to make permanent. They’re finicky, and they don’t last long. You’d have to take them twice a day—one separate medication for each emotion you wish to suppress. I imagine it would all be a hassle. This, however… if you consent, I can perform the entire procedure in one process, and your desired results will be immediate.” He draws his hand back, lightly scratching your scalp—it’s enough to relax, but not enough to hurt. “You don’t have to decide today.”

“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll take the… the surgery.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Finality settles over you like a chilly breeze as he pulls away. You’ll finally be free. Free of heartbreak, of fury, of flaws. There’s something in his mechanical gaze that unnerves you and enthralls you simultaneously. Something human.

“Being that this is a complicated procedure,” he says, “I will have to schedule it in advance. I will reserve an entire day for you and I cannot free the time for a week. A week from today. Is that alright with you? I can give you the medication to temporarily curb your symptoms in the meantime, if you like. It’s experimental, but I am relatively sure of its safety.”

He looks so hopeful. You know the joy etched in the lines of his sharp face is nothing more than the joy of scientific innovation, but it’s endearing all the same. The Machine Herald of Zaun’s urban legends is a completely different person. You find it hard to believe that the cackling, murderous tyrant rumored to haunt the Lanes even shares a name with the man in front of you. There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and a few locks of hair sticking up haphazardly from beneath his goggles. You find yourself cracking a grin for the first time in days.

“No,” you say. Your chest feels lighter. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, enough to instill the certainty that trusting your life to the Herald is the right decision—malicious cackle, terrifying armor, death laser, and all. “No, I’ll be alright.”

He crosses his arms over his lap. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says softly. “But the ache in your heart… someone put it there. I know the feeling. You are not the first to be driven away from loving altogether. I once thought I had a simple fix. I… do not know if it was the foolproof solution I thought it was. I will perform any procedure on you that you wish. But you should know this. Metal is perfection, yes, but love… love can rust the strongest steel.” He swallows, fiery eyes flickering. “I thought I’d warn you. However, I do my best for all my patients, and you are no exception.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’re grateful for the lab’s low lighting—it’s unlikely Viktor can see the blush crawling up your neck. “I—thank you.”

“Do you still want this? Even considering the risk?”

He looks at you so softly. He must look at everyone that softly, you realize, but the knowledge doesn’t make you feel any less warm. “Yeah.”

He gives you a businesslike nod, and you can see the Machine Herald’s persona sliding back into place. Cold. Unfeeling. For a moment, though, you saw the truth. “Thank you. I will see you one week from today—be here as early in the morning as you please. I’ll walk you out. Be safe out there. I can only complete the procedure if you return to me in one piece.”

What a gentleman, you think, but you say nothing. You accept with a small smile.

His hand brushes your shoulder as you reach for the handle of the door. Your whole body sparks, as if you’re a machine already.

“Goodbye,” he says. “And best of luck. I will pray that the next week treats you kindly.”

You almost want to hug him goodbye—out of thanks if nothing else. You hold yourself back. “I’ll see you then.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you are his eyes. Two pinpricks of light in the darkness of the Lanes. Mechanical though they are, you realize they still crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

[starkeygirlposts]

Goosebumps in my Sleeve V

This chapter has been a labor of love. I feel so lacking in creativity, but yet writing is all I can think about! Once I sit down to write, my mind goes blank. Anyway, this chapter is a little all over the place but I wanted to delve into some other topics/scenes from the timeline. I hope you enjoy this one! Please beware that this is NOT proof read and most likely contains several errors. I will eventually get around to proof reading it. Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader Trigger warnings: angst, stepcest, drugs, swearing, pregnancy, smut(a whole drawer of warnings), discussion of suicide, swearing, domestic violence, mama and daddy kink, breeding kink, mention of abortion, talk of death and killing, idk what else lol 18+ mdni

SERIES MASTERLIST

THEN

To say that Rafe got possessive once you found out you were pregnant would be an understatement. Nothing you did was okay with him if he didn’t know about it first. No schedule change or unpredictable plans were allowed to be made without an argument ensuing and a slew of angry texts and missed calls.

You’d try telling him that you needed to keep everything normal and the same as it was before so to not draw any unnecessary attention to the two of you and your situation. But he’d tell you he "didn’t give a fuck”, and “that’s my kid you’ve got in there so you tell me this kind of shit.”

More times than not you’d wonder if you’d only become an incubator for his precious cargo. Whether or not he cared solely about the baby under your heart or also about its mother. So when you go grab tacos with two of your closest friends, you finally lose it when Rafe blows up your phone wondering where you are and why you didn’t tell him you wouldn’t be home. You’d left the house at 6:30, not knowing where Rafe was or when he would be home. Maybe it’s the sinking feeling in his gut when he silently opens your door to find your bedroom empty, his mind racing to the worse case scenario, or maybe it’s the demon buried deep inside of him needing to control your every move.

Your sat at the table at your favorite Mexican restaurant not even five minutes from tanneyhill, chip half dipped into the bowl of guacamole when your phone chimes. The conversation between the three of you halts, and you wave your hand, telling them to continue as you flip your phone over, already knowing who the alert was from. You try to keep a straight face as you read the message.

7:02PM Rafe: Where are you?

You look it over, re reading it three times before debating sending a simple reply, instead deciding to push the power button and set it back down on the table, flipping the silent switch before you do so.

You don’t exactly know why you don’t want to answer, as if the reply takes too much energy. But the two things that come to your mind first is that you not only feel suffocated, but you want to forget for just a moment.

Then at 7:08 he calls you. You obviously don’t answer.

7:08PM Rafe: This again?

2 more missed calls.

7:12PM Rafe: Am I really that shitty of a boyfriend that you don't even want to answer me?

7:15PM Rafe: You’re testing me aren’t you? Why?

7:19PM Rafe: You know I can see where you are right? You’re sharing your location with me.

You stopped sharing your location with Rafe.

7:21PM Rafe: Are you fucking kidding me? I swear to god I will show up there in 5 minutes and drag your ass out of there. Turn your location back on. I’m putting my shoes on right now.

You started sharing your location with Rafe.

7:22PM Rafe: So you can read all my messages and turn your location off and on but you can’t reply?

7:23PM You: I’m with my friends. Girl friends. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.

7:24PM Rafe: Yeah but that doesn’t work for me. I want you here now so wrap it up. If you need me to get you let me know.

You can’t help but scoff, raising your eyebrows which elicits a question from one of your friends asking you who’s texting you. You put your phone in your purse and try to forget about Rafe’s overbearing for an hour with your friends. Casually, you tell her it’s your mom going off about you not telling her you wouldn’t be home for dinner like you’re 14 years old. But when not even fifteen minutes go by and your friends are sat across from you looking over your head at what’s behind you, you ball your fists and finish the last sip of your drink before relaxing in your seat. You almost wish you would’ve just told them the truth. You can see the confusion on their faces as they blink from above you to eye level with you.

You can feel him next to you, but you pretend you don’t. Your friends mutter a confused “Hey Rafe…” before he’s bending down to your level to look at you. Reluctantly, you turn your head to look back at him and his brows shoot up. He silently places a $100 bill on the table and calmly tells you “Let’s go, we’re leaving."

You make the mistake of rolling your eyes, looking back to your friends.

“My friends said hello, Rafe. Why don’t you say hi?” You briefly look to both of your friends, hoping your gaze offers a silent apology.

He straightens back up, pulling your chair out for you. You finally look up at him, his eyes still locked on you as you now meet them with yours. “We haven’t even ordered dinner. I’ll be home in an hour.” You try to tell him, but he’s got your bag in his hand and his hand wraps around your upper arm, pulling you to your feet. His lips are next to your ear, hot breath casting a wind across your neck.

“Do not make a scene here. We’re leaving. Say goodbye.” He tells you, and you look back at him once more before looking down at your friends and telling them that your mom made your favorite and you’d rather avoid a blowout. The girls nod skeptically, looking at you and then at each other and then back to you.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll text you.” You tell them simply, before Rafe is tugging you to walk in front of him. His hand finds your lower back to guide you out of the restaurant and your phone vibrates in your hand. You glance down at it to see the name of you and your friends group chat pop up in your notifications. It reads a simple question.

“Are you okay?”

You take a deep breath, as deep as you can as you walk to Rafe’s truck before you type out a quick reply.

“Totally fine, so sorry. My mom’s been a maniac she Rafe’s just trying to avoid another explosion. I’m actually grateful lol"

Both girls love the message, and you quickly slip it into the pocket of your jeans as his arm leaves your back to open the door of the truck for you. You look back at him and he raises his brows, thrusting his hand forward for you to get in. You huff and relent, grabbing the inside handle and climb in.

You scoff and shake your head, pissed and upset as he climbs into the drivers side. He starts the engine and pulls into the street, not saying a word to you so you take the silence as an opportunity.

You don’t think before you speak, and you regret it instantly.

“Maybe I should’ve had an abortion."

The words fly out faster than you mean for them to, your tone dripping venom as you look ahead at the lit up road, totally vacant. He doesn’t respond, and you look next to you to him, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. His brows are furrowed and his lip is curled in disgust. You know he heard you when he cocks his head and swerves the truck violently into the shoulder.

“What the fuck did you just say?” His tone drips with hatred, his head cocked but keeps his gaze straight ahead. You’re watching him, turning your body fully in your seat. You wonder for a brief moment if you should grovel, mumble out a quick “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” But for the briefest moment you wonder if you actually did…

“No…no, no. Say that again. Say it, I dare you.” He says darkly, finally turning his head to look at you. Your eyes connect and he’s staring at you so deeply you wonder if he can see the turning of your insides.

You’re silent, and his eyes squint like he’s trying to see better.

“Come on baby say it. Say it again. I want to hear you say that shit to me again.” You flinch when his hand jets out to grip the back of your neck harshly, and you cry out in surprise, muttering a “Rafe, stop.” before he’s dragging you closer to him, your belly jutting into the console. His nose presses against yours and he shakes your head as if to wake you up.

“Did you actually fucking say that? About my baby? Wish you would’ve done it, huh? You hate me that much?” He’s seething, seeing nothing but red, glitter sparkling his vision as he tries to focus on you. You try your best to pull your head back, but it’s no use as his grip is strong on your neck keeping you pressed to him. The bow breaks and you can’t help but shout;

“I don’t know, do you hate me that much?! It’s so fucking hard to tell!” Before you continue, his head cocks, his cheek meeting you nose as he takes a deep breath and laughs humorlessly.

“What the fuck? What are you talking about? Are you okay? I mean shit I know hor-"

You cut him off, pushing him back with your hands on his chest to be able to look at him.

“No Rafe! I’m not fucking okay! Thank you for finally asking! Why did you have to ruin tonight for me? Why wasn’t I allowed to get dinner with my friends? Five fucking minutes away from our house? Did you see any guys there? Any drugs on the table? Any alcohol? I didn’t even get to eat dinner! But because I’m having your baby it doesn’t matter right?"

He scoffs and furrows his brows in confusion, trying to get a word in but you slap him instead. His cheek burns, his lips parted in shock as he looks at you and rubs the mark. He shuts his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at you with intent. Your chest heaves and your hand goes to cover his on his cheek and you can’t help but mumble a “sorry…I -"

He cuts you off, hand leaving his face to grip yours.

“I am fucking terrified, okay? Aren’t you? You’re not — you don't get it! Baby you don’t fucking get it. Listen to me…no, listen to me!” You try to wrangle your head out of his grip, but both hands reach over to grab both of your cheeks between his hands, forcing you to look at him. His pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and his nostrils flared.

“Look at me, you remember that night don’t you? I know you do. Look at me and tell me. Do you mean it? You wish you aborted the baby?” He asks you this rhetorically, but maybe you really do wish you’d just done what Ward told you to. You take a deep breath and fight the tears that threaten to spill over, and they do when you clench your lids closed in regret. Your hand subconsciously drifts to your middle and you shake your head in Rafe’s hands.

“Say it, I need to hear you say it.” His voice is soft now, coaxing you to open your eyes and when you do, he’s ducked his head to look as close at you as he can and you quietly say “No.” He silently nods his head once, and you can’t help the tears that fall down your cheeks and over his fingers.

You’re still shaking your head and you tell him again. “No, no I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean it. I want her.” You tell him honestly and you see him smile for the first time in so long and he leans down to kiss you, pecking your lips deeply. Your body is rigid against his, sobs shaking your form as you say again “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, I know you didn’t baby, it’s okay, I know.” He tells you like he’s comforting a child. “I need you to hear me right now, okay?” He asks, serious, pulling away from you to bring your head up to meet his gaze.

“I paid people so you’d get to keep the baby. My father will pay people so that we can’t. Whether that’s right back where we were, or ripping her from your arms. Tell me you understand that. You are not safe. We are not safe.” He says, shaking his head.

You look at him, silent for a moment, and your mind betrays you. You allow yourself to imagine the moment your baby comes out of you and instead of Rafe there, it’s Ward. And instead of your slimy baby being placed on your bare chest, they’re whisked away from you without any words exchanged.

Your hands absentmindedly find Rafe’s forearms that are still holding your face in his hands and you mutter a small “I understand."

“Yeah?” He asks you, and you nod and tell him again that you understand.

“Don’t bring me back there tonight, I - I can’t go back there right now.” You softly say, your mind mushy and your emotions ruined.

You see him nodding, and he calls Topper, asking him if you can use his pool house.

Next thing you know you’re pulling into Top’s driveway, his parents away on vacation and it’s probably the only reason Rafe came here rather than paying for a hotel room.

When you get inside, and the blinds are drawn, you settle on the edge of the made bed having kicked off your shoes and unhooked your bra. You’re watching him pace around to make sure the windows are locked and covered well enough, and when you assume he’s satisfied with the barricade, he finally looks at you. You and all your messy glory. But you’ve shed your pullover and now you’re just in a thin tank top, your bra removed and he looks down to your bump. It’s more prominent, unable to be hidden in regular clothes, and he laughs when he sees the makeshift hair tie closure on your jeans.

You can’t remember the last time you heard him actually laugh. Not laugh without humor, not scoff, but actually laugh with genuine joy. You can’t help but smile with him as he closes the space between you, brushing your hair back from your face and tipping it back so you can meet his eyes.

“Getting bigger, huh?” He asks, still smiling and you nod, hand resting on the biggest part of your belly. At 14 weeks, you were unable to wear most of your clothes, save for 2 pairs of jeans that still closed with a makeshift tie, and some oversized tops and sweaters. You were afraid that you were approaching the point where wearing sweaters in the heat of summer would raise suspicions. You mumble a quiet “mhm”. Your other hand drifts down to said makeshift tie to undo it, freeing your lower belly from the restriction. You shift so you can wiggle them down and over your hips, Rafe watching your movements. You move to stand in front of him and tug the denim all the way down to your knees, allowing them to slide the rest of the way off and kick them off with your feet. His hands drift down your neck, over your arms, to your hands and he grips them, bringing each up to his mouth to kiss each palm while watching you.

You’re watching him back, eyes glued to his as he presses slow, open mouthes kisses up your arm until he drops them and palms your lower back with one hand while the other cups your neck to tilt your head up so that he can crane his neck and press his lips to yours. It feels like too long since you’ve been kissed like this by him, your shoulders slumping in relief as his tongue slips past your lips to flick against yours.

You’re putty in his hands, kissing him back as eagerly as you can while your hormones rage and your emotions are tangled. Your hands rub up his back and around to his biceps, falling down to his elbows where your hands cup, trying to pull him closer to you.

As he takes a breath, you pull your head back to speak.

“You’re gonna love her more than me, aren’t you?” You ask shyly, unable to look at him when you ask, your hands falling away from his body to find the edge of the mattress, lowering your body down to sit.

You don’t see the furrow in his brow as he looks at you confused, his fingers reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear as he cradles your chin in his palm. He moves to his knees before you, and you allow yourself to look at him as he does, looking at you with worry.

“Why would you say that? Gonna love ‘em just as much as I love you.” He tells you, trying to say the right thing. Truth be told, he did love the baby inside of you more deeply than he understood. But wasn’t that normal? Wasn’t he supposed to? Did he love the baby more than he loved you? How was that even possible?

“There wouldn’t be any baby in there if I didn’t love you as much as I do.” He tells you softly, and you nod in acceptance.

“Not just a way for you to continue your legacy?” You ask quietly and now he’s truly confused. He tells you to look at him, and you do.

“I’m gonna tell you this because I don’t want to hear any stupid shit like this again. M’kay?” He asks you, and you nod.

“If we didn’t make her, I don’t think I’d still be here right now.” Now its your brow furrowing, and your hands move to grip his, cautiously asking him what he means. He takes a deep breath and flutters his eyes closed like he’s ashamed.

“You know what I mean, baby. Don’t make me say it. Can’t live without you...you know that.” He tells you honestly and the tear that falls from his eye as he looks at you through saggy lids tell you everything you need to know.

You gasp without meaning to, and you can’t help the guilt brewing in your gut. The idea of a world without Rafe in it makes you want to throw up, your hands gripping his like a vice, and you beg him to never say that again.

“I can’t…I couldn’t do this without you.” You tell him, tears threatening to fall and he pulls you to him to cradle your head under his.

“You don’t have to. I’m here.” He says simply, pulling back just enough to lower his head and kiss you again, his lips soft and hesitant against yours like he’s asking permission, and you lean back on the bed in approval, relenting and his hands snake up to your bottom, fingers squeezing to drag you further up the bed, settling on his knees in between yours.

Your lips find a pace against his, allowing him to find clarity in your movements. Your hips mindlessly buck up against his and he breaks away from your lips to run a hand down the valley of your breasts down below your belly to the hem of your tank, pulling it up and over your head to leave you bare except for your panties that remain the only barrier he can’t see past.

Your chest is heaving, watching him hover above you, and your hands find their way to the hem of his own shirt, tugging on it trying to lift it but needing his help and he chuckles, pulling the shirt off from behind his head, throwing it to the growing pile of your clothing on the floor.

He watches your face as he drags his fingers past the top of your panties to use the tip of his pointer finger to brush down the middle of your panties, the pressure against your clit making you arch up off the bed to gain friction. You moan his name and look down at him. He’s leaning back on his calves, shirtless and watching you squirm in need of more.

“What is it baby?” He teases, cocking his head while he watches you in fascination, his fingers ghosting over your clothed slit, and you nearly cry in frustration. “Please don’t tease me, Rafe.” You groan, using your feet to try to tug him closer to you. But he tuts and tells you to “Relax”.

“Mama’s needy huh?” He croons, watching your expressions with lust, finally using his fingers to tug the crotch of your panties to the side so he can rub your cunt properly.

You throw your head back with a “yes!” falling from your lips. He uses his pointer finger to push inside of your gummy walls, his thumb coming to rub firm circles on your clit, the pressure tightening the knot inside of your gut. He adds his middle finger inside of you, curling his fingers upward to push at the spongey spot inside of you, knowing your body so well.

His other hand comes up to rest on the swell of your belly, your hand instinctively covering his and lacing your fingers through his. His fingers thrust in and out of you at a rapid speed, your hips bucking up off the bed when you’re about to snap. “Gonna make me cum Rafe!” You squeal, pushing out to feel yourself gush around his fingers, pushing up on your elbows to watch him. He’s watching his fingers fuck in and out of you, the wet squelch of you taking him in over and over. You collapse back against the soft mattress again after your chest stops heaving.

Rafe’s fingers leave your core and you can’t help the frustrated grunt that leaves your lips without intent. He climbs off the bed to unbuckle his jeans and push them down his hips to the floor, his boxers going with them. You lean up on your elbows again, watching him with hooded lids, heavy with bliss as he climbs back between your legs, using his palms to trail up your calves and behind your knees to press them into your chest, leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead.

“Such a pretty mama, doing so good for me baby. You ready for my cock?” He asks sweetly, trailing kisses down your cheek to your jaw and finally locks his lips with yours and pulls back to look at you. You nod at him meekly, looking up into his eyes and he tell you to “Use your words, pretty girl."

“Yes, yes please, need your cock. Please fuck me Rafe.” You ask with confidence, chasing his lips with your own, craving the contact. His hands tighten on the backs of your knees, almost folding you too tight. He’s careful not to rest himself on your belly, though. He locks his lips on yours as he lines himself up with your cunt, but collects your wetness on his mushroom tip as he lets go of one knee to guide himself up and down your slit before guiding himself inside you in one smooth thrust. He stills when he’s buried all the way inside and your mouth falls open in a sharp cry.

“Oh, fuck…so fucking deep. Oh my godddd”. You whine, craning your neck up to press your forehead to his, his bangs hanging in your eyes. He pulls back to rest on the backs of his calves, using both hands to once again press your knees beside you in a mating press and tells you to look down at yourself.

“Look how good your pretty pussy swallows me baby. She takes me so well. Shiitttt” You whine in defeat, trying to drift your eyes downward, but at this angle flat on your back, you realize your belly is too large to see past. You huff in defeat and tell him “can’t see, rafe…tummy's too big.”

Something snaps inside of him and he hastily brings a hand behind your neck to grab a fistful of hair from the back of your neck to crane your neck up at an uncomfy angle, and you try thrusting your head back, but he stuffs a pillow behind you instead, tugging your head up farther. “Look down baby. Look at yourself dirty girl. Watch daddy fuck you.” You whine a moan at the name he gives himself and you look down again with the pillow behind you, watching as his cock drags slowly out of you, shiny with your slick before disappearing again. It’s painfully slow and you groan out.

“Fuck, Rafe…so deep, hurts so goooood.” You whine out, hands finding his forearms to steady yourself. The pressure he’s building inside of you is becoming too much and you can’t help but clench around him. He feels it and chuckles, leaning down to breathe against your lips. “Noooooo baby, don’t do that. You can take it, you’re doing so good baby girl don’t push me out.” He’s speaking to you in a higher pitch like he’s coaching you through it, continuing "Just…fucking…take it” punctuating with each thrust his long cock makes inside you, bruising your cervix over and over. You whimper at his words, your nails digging half moons into his skin and you can’t help the mewls and whines that pour out of your mouth.

He starts to fuck into you at a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with lewd wet sounds, white cream forming around the base of his shaft as his sock leaks seed into you. “Fuck baby, m’gonna cum…need you to cum too. Can you cum for me?” He asks, lightly tapping your cheek with his hand, too fucked out to hold his stare. You look back down to where he’s disappearing inside your body, his thumb now rubbing your pearl and you clench around him before letting go, pushing out again and gushing around him. He groans and paints the inside of you with his seed, mouth agape with curses and moans pouring out like music to your ears. Hearing Rafe cum was one of your favorite moments together. Getting to hear how blissed out he was to be with you. How you were the one who made him fall over the edge.

He’s breathing heavily, hot breath fanning over your face as he all but collapses on top of you, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and up to your ear lobe where he nibbles and whispers; “I love you so god damn much baby. Don’t ever wanna hear you question it again, kay?” His voice is lazy and groggy, but you nod eagerly and crane your neck so he’ll look at you.

You’re searching his eyes, finally telling him that “I love you…and I love her too.”

----

NOW

Rafe’s hand on your belly moves to leave your skin but the hand resting atop his keeps it where it is. You break your stare with Sarah to look over to him, his eyes trained on the road but you see the clench in his jaw and cringe on his face, his nose scrunched in revolt at having to listen to you describe that night to his sister.

Your other hand snakes around the back of his neck to cradle the cheek that faces the truck window and you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder to press a gentle kiss his neck. You know how hard it is for him to relive one of the worst nights of his life, knowing that somewhere inside of him almost believes that it was real.

“I’m sorry.” You mouth against his neck and bring your cheek back down to rest on his shoulder.

Your eyes flutter closed before quietly saying “I think I’ve shared enough.” Before opening your eyes again and locking them with Sarah’s, her head nodding briefly and you can see the tears brimming her bottom lids.

It’s a sick thing to talk about, you know you’ve overshared, but it’s reality for you, Rafe and the little girl underneath your hands. It was the only way to really allow her to understand any of this. It’s hard to still give a shit about other people, but you think salvaging an aunt for your daughter isn’t beyond reach. So you’re trying. Whether that’s okay with Rafe or not.

His voice jolts you suddenly. annoyed and tired. “How much longer am I driving here, Sarah?” He asks while keeping his gaze ahead. She nervously fumbles her phone, stuttering with nerves, you watch her hands tremble as she turns her phone upside down and tap it back open. “U-Uhhh, it’s just straight ahead for another mile and then you’re turning left.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her answer, instead following John B’s tail closer, clearly antsy. He huffs out a breath, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Y/N and I are going to the Bahamas after your friends load the cross into that piece of shit. I need you to keep dad occupied until tomorrow.” He’s curt and to the point, looking over at her briefly, Sarah nodding once and saying “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.”

You wonder if you’ve traumatized her, dragged her into your fucked up reality. How could you not have? It was not an easy pill to swallow knowing her father truly was a monster. You think that up until now she thought that family was above all else to him and that he’d prioritize herself and her siblings above all else. You’re a little bit sorry you had to be the one to crush that idealization.

Sarah’s telling him to turn left and as he does, suddenly questioning “Hey Sarah?” almost innocently. You look up at him in wonder. You couldn’t have guessed what came from him next.

Sarah hums as he asks almost petulantly; “You think dad would ever make you kill your kid?” He turns his head to look at her and she looks back at him sharply, sucking a breath between her teeth, taken aback. Your own head flies to look at him and you can’t help but rush his name out of your lips in a scold, and you tense, stomach clenching in unease, shocked tears forming in her eyes and she finally shakes her head. It’s a trap question - that you’re smart enough to know and you know she is too. He doesn’t expect an answer. Because he knows that she knows the answer and that he knows it all the same.

No. Ward would never. And that’s why he wrapped his hands around her neck that night and shoved her underwater. Ward seemingly took away his little girl, so he’d take his away, too.

You wince and it hits you hard that your daughter will not be having a relationship with her aunt. Not if her dad can help it. The hatred he feels for his own sister stems so deep inside of him that allowing the idea of his child to grow to love someone he so deeply hates makes him sick. He will not allow his own flesh and blood the chance to be rejected by her like he had been his entire life.

It was his way of telling you without telling you that no - Sarah would not remain in your life and more importantly, your daughters.

For the first time, you have no rebuttal. Because you finally understand how deep the betrayal and loyalties lie, and there was no way to explain it away or reason differently. And for the first time, you're okay with the outcome.

Please leave a comment, and reblog! I’d love to hear from you guys what you’d like to see in this story via ask box/requests. I will answer any and all submissions! NOTE that I will NOT add you to the tag list if you are only commenting to add to the list.

See y’all soon!

[lovewireds]

been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

[dangopango00]

ABYSS RAZOR CRUSH HCS BC IF I DONT GET SOME CONTENT I WILL DIE

Abyss Razor x gn reader

Prompt: yall r madly in love he has a crush on youuu (boyfail situationship hcs more like tbh)

A/N: sorry if this is rambly i cant live like this i keep rereading the same 4 or 5 posts over and over again ive been waiting for like a year and im getting teased with the tip PLEASEEE WRITE HIM 😭😭🤞 i cant ever escape the ‘nobodys fave but mine’ curse help

Ily losermen

Ily high ponytail men

Ily abyss razor

more utc

- Im gonna jump he is so kewt. Idek what to say im just ill

- You’d probably often compliment his eyes and you have this image that hes so calm and collected— which he is! But! Not with you! So every conversation with you is him just fighting for his life trying to look cool and not implode at the same time

- ^^^ THIS is one thing. But what really gets him falling for you is when you get a bit closer and have a talk with him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he’ll always have someone to return to if others are cruel because you won’t be leaving him

- Gives you things VERY often, usually little things because hed die if he had to directly give you a gift and then have to explain why, so he shows his affection in little ways like letting you have his best pencils and pens if you need it (lets you keep it too)

- oh he absolutely loses it if he sees you continue to use his pen hes so touched that you’re taking good care of what he gives you it shows that it means a lot to you and that he means a lot to you

- The only actual gift he gives you during this stage are things he has an excuse for like origami (idk why but i feel like he makes cool ass origami) he can just say he made too many so hes giving them away yet you and maybe Abel are the only ones who received some…

- He wants so badly to be useful to you he gets so flustered and happy just hearing you say thanks when he answers your question about the assignment or when he lends you his materials

- Immediately stiffens when you make any sort of contact. Dont stop though, he can count the times hes been hugged on one hand

- Speaking of his touch starvation, he’d let you play with his hair and looks forward to it tbh he’d just rather not initiate anything it’s too much for his heart

- If you have him take down his hair and play with it (like braid it or try different hairstyles) he’d feel so content; ofc he’s nervous but at the same time he just feels so at peace as if it’s only you two in the world and all the people who have ever wronged him never existed in the first place

- He’s a little bit delulu, i fear

- He gets so nervous texting and calling you bc what if you tell him ily. No that could never happen. Wait but what if it did— do you see his dilemma?

- He’s a chronic overthinker and in a way its a bit sweet because he used to worry about you randomly saying you didn’t want to be friends with him but now he wouldn’t even consider that possibility; it just no longer enters his mind

- He’d also find himself drifting off, losing himself in thought and end up daydreaming about if you two were in a relationship

- It’s very innocent, it’s just you two being cute and going places together while holding hands and such until it drifts even further to imagining you two kissing

- His face is on fire and he has to stop thinking NOW but hes in too deep hes imagining kissing ice cream off the side of your mouth and other cliches like that it’s so over

- Abel wondering wth is wrong with his right hand; all he said was that he was going to make mother happy by doing his homework today meanwhile Abyss can no longer be normal

- The kissing is just his guilty pleasure but Abyss constantly imagines holding hands with you like if you walk too close to him his hands will get clammy and his fingertips will get cold because he wants to hold your hand but is scared to initiate it

- God forbid you actually hold his hand even for a second while he’s having his entire internal monologue. He will die. You killed him. How could you?

- He won’t let go though like. Ever . Handholding is his favorite thing 5ever and as soon as he gets a taste he’s hooked

- He likes handholding so much that if you held his hand enough times then one time he’d accidentally grab your hand and initiate for once (immediately gets flustered after but it counts)

- Really really REALLY likes when u trace over his magic lines. Ruins his life everytime and he just melts in your touch; subconsciously leans in and his face softens and EVERYTHING

- Ok i wasn’t gonna say it bc itd probably involve sm sneaking but: Sleepovers. IM JUST SAYING 🤞🤞🤞 I feel like this is where most of the softer moments happen tbh like your roommate being out and you two have a sleepover

- I think this is where the playing with his hair and tracing the lines on his face would happen if not this then when you’re bored in class

- Not a fan of PDA even if ur not dating so he does play with your hair but usually during the sleepovers if you’ll allow him (not quite trying new hairstyles like you do but letting it fall through his fingers, running his hands through it or just rubbing the ends with his fingers to feel how soft it is)

- If you are bald he would slightly hold the back of your head and rub your temples with his thumb to help you relax

- Idk ik i just went on about how hes a loser but I feel like when it comes to affection relating to hair or like anything not affectionate in a cliche sense he doesn’t really pay attention and does it without thinking; only realizes its too affectionate if you point it out (please do not, he feels very comfortable right now. He will stop and never do it again if you point it out)

- You have a lot of deep talks and give him encouraging words during sleepovers tbh it just gives you both time to just… enjoy each other uninterrupted

- Sometimes instinctually distances himself from you because you make his heart do somersaults and his head feels like it’ll explode around you though he doesn’t last long, he needs you with him everyday atp 😭

- Although the above is true, sometimes he gets clingy ish (just by your side all the time) and protective over you even knowing you aren’t his

A/N: a ridonkulous amount of these r based on things ive done erm. Ok. Ig next thing i should write is him with an equally loser gf i def fit the bill LOL

[mohntilyet]

i’m having illario dellamorte thoughts. what if instead of knowingly betraying lucanis he did it like, unknowingly. idk how this would work but i’m intrigued by what it gives us. illario ‘i accidentally caused my cousin’s death & can never tell anyone’ dellamorte. genuinely grieving. blaming himself. does he take advantage of the year before lucanis comes back?? does caterina still ignore him the whole time?? how different is the canon plotline once rook shows up with lucanis post-rescue…..

anyways i would love your thoughts!!

95% of what i do with illario operates on the idea that he is frighteningly competent so you can see why the way the crows plotline plays out in the game might frustrate me. it’s also this reason why i don’t actually think too much about “illario got lucanis killed, but didn’t mean to do it”, because i like the idea that everything illario does in his life is planned to the second and that he’s too well trained to mess up this badly, if that makes sense. with that being said. 5% of my brain power does sometimes go towards “and what if he just sucked actually” and it was a theory i enjoyed before the game even released. so i have in fact been thinking about this anyway LOL . maybe he tries to honeypot zara, accidentally actually reveals lucanis’ next assassination job, and zara gets rid of him as a ‘gift’. illario is horrified and that gets even worse when lucanis’ body shows up, and he assumes this must be because he spurned zara by leaving her and not having the guts to seize power.

i think we could make his inferiority complex worse. illario’s worst fear confirmed: he is as worthless as his grandmother believes he is, botching something so badly that he accidentally sentences his cousin to death when what he wanted was lucanis just… out of the way for a bit (maybe while he kills caterina. LOL. i still think his resentment of caterina trumps his jealousy for lucanis though those two things are very intertwined its hard for him to differentiate them). so incapable that he got the only person who actually supports him killed, and now he’s dreading the idea of becoming first talon. he doesn’t want first talon without lucanis backing him, and now the only person left is caterina which is suffocating and makes him even unhappier. at least he hadn’t lived through her alone, and now through consequences of his own decisions, illario has no choice but to.

i think that would affect his plans for talon because of how horribly he’d fucked up, and tries to mask it because if he suddenly actually doesn’t want to be talon that would be a red flag for everyone. lucanis coming back would delight him (talon is within his sights again if lucanis comes back!) and freak him out. i think the plotline would actually be pretty similar because of this freak out, so he still shows up to zara’s fight to cover his tracks. lucanis can never know, caterina can never know, because what little faith they have in him will be lost. like he committed fratricide and didn’t even MEAN to😭 ...corpse whispering still happens, and zara is like “ohhh that coward. he can never finish what he started, can he?” + “elaborate.” + “i gave him what he most wanted in the world and instead of being grateful, he ran away.” so lucanis finds out about what happened but feels a mix of “illario, you idiot” + pity because turns out he didn’t even mean for it to happen, and keeps his secret for now, otherwise he’d probably have to kill him.

i also think not meaning to kill lucanis would sour his feelings towards the venatori, who are a reminder of how badly he failed, so the alliance wouldn’t happen. this does mean if the story goes on as it does in canon, he has to take desperate measures another way and kidnap caterina for some other reason but i can’t think of why….. maybe a thing where illario is like “ok. lucanis is distracted by the elven gods. this time i just have to kill nonna for real and then nothing is in my way” and recruits disgraced houses or houses that don’t like caterina to do so? not sure tbh but i don’t believe caterina made it so far without making enemies lol. this would happen post bloodbath + corpse whispering— lucanis leaves his cousin unchecked because while he knows illario didn’t mean for him to die, he has no idea how far he would go to have caterina dead. teia could find out about this and send word to foil the kidnapping and assassination attempt

so ‘murder of crows’ is still about saving caterina, the illario-lucanis fight still happens, but it’s a little more hesitant and lots of “why won’t you just let me kill her? i’m doing this for the both of us”. he’s had to live with being the un-favorite, but never would have thought lucanis would actually pick caterina if it came down to it. with all of his missteps here, i think the final decision (and i think it should be like this in canon anyway) would be to imprison illario or kill him. imprisoning him is just a lot of “i can’t kill illario as much as he couldn’t kill me”, vs killing him as is expected from him as talon, and what he knew he would have to do after finding out about illario's failures. unlike canon, where illario is actually meaning to kill him and can be seen as a 'good crow' despite the sloppiness, here he's like. just bad at everything. the allied traitor houses that went against caterina would also have to be imprisoned or killed. no happy ending at all here, and lucanis still becomes first talon. now that i’ve written it out this is actually probably the worst ending LOL

the above sticks a lot to what is canon to the game (plot points, choices, etc) and i didn’t go very far away from it so it's like canon 3 inches to the left. tho my thoughts on this are not fleshed out* because i think illario works better as an antagonist character that sets things in motion !! not necessarily the villain in a cain-abel story, but a character who opposes lucanis while still not wanting to hurt him. that kind of discipline where he finds a way to get what he wants (first talon) without compromising what he also cares for (family) is so much more fun for me than a man who apparently just loses it and decides to enact a bad plan to get rid of his cousin. if he waited 20+ years to become talon i think he’d be more careful when it came down to it. if i had my way illario would be playing insane 5d chess to rival solas (insert black sails “i once thought that to lead, to be liked was just as good as feared. and that may very well be true. but to be both liked and feared all at once, is an entirely different state of being.”)

[danieyells]

hai again :3 idk if youve already done him but can you do tohmas voicelines? he is sooo interesting i, once again, want to study him

Tohma is one of the I think two characters I haven't been asked to do yet!! I think he wouldn't appreciate you studying him either, anon, but I think he'd be willing to let you studying him becuase he didn't think you could actually succeed. . .but if you did, he'd have other uses for you lol

ANYWAY VOICELINES his are. Pretty expected in their nature lol he's like ritsu in that you will never see this man sweat.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Well, hello there—I've been expecting you. May I ask for your assistance with something?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Seems you have some mail. There could be some helpful information in there."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"What do you mean? I lend a sympathetic ear to those in need—that's all."

"Honestly. This academy has far more than its fair share of loose cannons, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm no more than a servant. Frostheim is ruled by a king, you see."

"I hope you'll join us for a party some time."

"No need to be nervous. I've nothing but the noblest of intentions."

normal people don't need to say things like this. you see why i feel like it's too obvious that he's shady! he comes out the gate with this shit!

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"An orderly life and a well-managed schedule are the key to keeping one's self fit and healthy."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How delightful... It seems our king's peaceful slumber has yet to be disturbed."

look at how annoyed he looks lmao He'd love to slam Jin's door open and yell WAKE THE FUCK UP BITCH

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Is that everything? I'm afraid there are several matters I must attend to."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Please excuse me. There's a small matter I must attend to. No, it's nothing serious. Of course I'm being honest—whatever do you mean?"

yeah your affinity is too low for me to think you're honest. LET US IN.

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Look at you, you're trembling. You must have had quite a frightening encounter. You poor thing."

considering what time this can happen maybe some anomaly was lurking in the darkness and scared you?

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Providing this level of assistance goes without saying. Only once you can do so without instruction can you call yourself qualified."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"So this is where you've been idling your time away. Our captain is waiting for you."

stop trying to hide you are a servant and your king demands your services.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Honestly. If he'd just take action, everything would be resolved instantaneously."

(In case there's any doubt, "he" is specifically referring to Jin--in Japanese he says "Dorm Leader". I wonder if this relates to the spy situation or the Institute. . .or something else entirely--)

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This conversation never happened. Understand?"

Either he needs someone to believe he wasn't here or he told you something ~Secret~

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"An appropriate amount of sleep is essential to maintaining your physical and mental health, you know."

he's very worried about your health. . .as has been pointed out, perhaps because his own isn't stable. . . .

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Honestly. The second years have been making quite the racket this morning."

KAITO AND LUCA ARE HAVING FUN LET THEM HAVE FUN

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I tend to eat lightly at lunch time. Would you like some? Don't worry—I assure you, it's not poisoned."

WHO SAYS THAT IF IT ISN'T POISONED. IT'S YOUR FOOD WE KNOW YOU WEREN'T POISONING YOURSELF. . .PROBABLY. . .COULD BE MICRODOSING POISON TO YOURSELF FOR IMMUNITY REASONS.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Seems you've become involved in a difficult situation. How do I know? I just happened to overhear, that's all."

WHICH DIFFICULT SITUATION. THERE ARE SEVERAL. IT FEELS LIKE THERE ARE MORE EVERY DAY.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"It appears we're in for another full day."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning. Would you like to start the day with a cup of tea?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How about a game of chess to aid with digestion? I'm a patient teacher. I can show you how to win—against opponents other than myself, of course."

how would that help with. . .don't you usually have to exercise for. . .well I'm glad he's a patient teacher even if he won't teach you to beat him lol good strategy, make you a powerful ally.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Good health is the greatest treasure. You shouldn't push yourself too hard. Good night—I'll finish up here."

He wants you to take care of yourself. . .so he'll do the hard work when it's time for you to rest. He wouldn't want something bad to happen to you because you were unwell.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I always achieve my goals—using any means necessary. That goes without saying, don't you think?"

why restrict your means if you truly wish to fulfill your goal? Others use you for their means, so why not do the same yourself? If your ends are truly good perhaps the means aught not to matter so much.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Please don't overexert yourself. There are many people here who need you."

that may sound like a reason to overexert yourself, but if you overdo it you won't be able to help anybody. You have to help yourself if you want to help anybody else. There's no shame in that.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Take care not to overdo it today. You may insist you're fine—perhaps you even believe it—but I can tell at a glance that you're fatigued."

he's worried about you. Maybe it doesn't sound that way, but he wants to make sure you're well. He can tell you're wearing down before you can. He has an eye for others, that's all. Also maybe it's just me but he mentions health and wellness so much I can't help but wonder if he's had some sort of health problem in the past, or maybe Jin or someone else he knows and cares for. Also, hilarious that speaks to highly of caring for one's health when he smokes.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Inexperience is not a crime. The important thing is choosing not to remain ignorant when you don't know something."

knowledge is in fact power

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Errant and Fuji lack polish, but they've got potential. They're sincere, and that's what counts."

he really looks at them and says "those're my boys. my loud annoying sons."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Welcome to high society. That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you'll have no trouble fitting in here."

he dressed you up and brought you to a party because he likes and trusts you and wants to be seen with you. . .get used to the high life, he'd like to keep you in it as long as possible.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Forgetting about everything I've got to do and be, just for a night every once in a while... It's not a bad feeling."

no titles, no images, no fronts, and no lies. no manipulation. no doing somebody else's job--no doing any job. Just. . .time for himself. And, presumably, someone he loves very much. I think he's earned that kind of break. Does this sound like you're about to fuck to anybody else--

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"In times of difficulty, I hope you'll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe."

Don't be like him and take so much upon yourself. . .rely on others. Ask for help! Find your people. Support each other. Don't try and go at it alone. It's okay to be united with your community. He is one of your people too, of course. Rely on him and he will keep you from harm. He's quite sweet, isn't he?

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That was quite the yawn. No need to apologize. Who wouldn't want to take a nap in this pleasant spring weather?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I once heard a poem that went, "In spring, one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn." I'm sorry to inform you dawn must come eventually, Captain."

translation: 'WAKE THE FUCK UP JIN. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY BITCH.'

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"With every advent of spring comes a wealth of gleaming new foliage and a pleasant breeze. I still find it moving each year."

reminds me of that if you ask Tohma what his hobbies are in his character story chat he says he likes being out in nature and taking walks. . .which also reminds me that Alan likes camping. I bet they used to go camping together all the time.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The blossoms of spring fall so quickly. Though beautiful, there is something almost brutal in their brevity."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ha ha. My apologies. Your face is so flushed I couldn't help myself."

'lol you're so sweaty you look like a wet rat'

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sweltering days like this make me sincerely grateful to be in Frostheim."

i wonder how hot it was in the vagastrom garage in the summer. probably sucked ass in there. and smelt like big sweaty dudes.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Would you care to enjoy the evening cool here with me?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"If the heat becomes to much for you, please feel free to come visit us in Frostheim any time."

inviting them to frostheim late at night? how scandalous. . . .

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Pleasant days like this make me want to go on a trip somewhere far away."

i mean if anyone could get away with it it's definitely you. darkwick trusts you enough.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Tea enjoyed while appreciating the colors of the fall leaves has a unique charm."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The early dusks in the fall can take one by surprise. Be sure to stay alert when walking in the dark."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There is nothing better than a book to while away the long fall nights. My eyes are rather tired though... Perhaps some exercise will be a good change of pace."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I thought Frostheim had gotten me used to cold weather, but I suppose this is what they mean when they say "chilled to the bone.""

my god he's admitting weakness. someone call the papers.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Even the cold weather doesn't seem to deter the second years from gallivanting about... Rather charming, isn't it? In the way barnyard animals are."

my noisy sons who play in the snow like puppies

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'll take my leave earlier this evening. The nights are getting colder, after all. And there's a small matter I'd like to look into."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Haven't you had your fill of winter scenery after frequenting Frostheim? Ha ha. You truly are a strange one."

His birthday: (May 31st)

"Thank you for putting together such a wonderful celebration for me. Oh? You've even gotten me a gift..."

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. Perhaps it was a little presumptuous of me, but I've prepared a gift for you... Come now. There's no need to be so formal."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year, {PC}. I expect you will help bring Frostheim to even greater heights this year."

why? are they being promoted to fuckin captain of frostheim or something now? tf?

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Oh my, is this for me? How kind of you. I very much look forward to finding out what's inside."

White Day: (March 14th)

"I ordered you these sweets from a famous confectionery in Asakusa. Hopefully they suit your tastes."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"What I wouldn't give to knock that bastard Jin's head off... Oh come now, what's that face? I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. Oh? So you prefer tricks... Interesting."

what do you think he's dressed as? Oh no you didn't have any treats for him. . .be worried about what's coming i guess

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We'll be holding a party in Frostheim later. Would you care to join us?"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Ignoring me, are you? You've certainly got guts."

(13 affinity and above)

"If something is concerning you, perhaps I could lend an ear. There may be something I can do to help."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I've no interest in hearing your excuses. I suppose I'll need to be stricter with you going forward—I hope you've come prepared."

much like Jin. . .he believes you'll need to be retrained. Bad servant. Time to be reminded of your place.

IT FEELS LIKE HIS ARE VERY LOW KEY. He's secretive about his interests and so very busy as Jin's servant, it feels like they don't share much about him. . .hopefully we'll get more study opportunities, anon. I wonder if this makes his intentions seem more or less clear/honest for some? It could really go either way lol. WHAT REALLY GETS ME IS THE "just one night to not have to think about who i am and what i have to do is nice" ONE TBH. . .like he really works so hard trying to play every side for the outcome he wants. he works so hard keeping frostheim in order. no real hints to what his goals are, just that he acknowledges that he will do whatever it takes to reach them. Makes you wonder, but we probably won't learn anything for a long while haha

[yourclumsyguardianangel]

the seven + a few others future headcanons

percy:

becomes a high school teacher

teaches high school marine biology (idk how it is in other schools but when we hit sophomore year we got to choose different bio classes ie: marine bio, ag bio, med bio + regular bio)

also teaches the mythology elective and is the swim team coach

annabeth:

we already know this queen is an architect with obvious inspiration from greek architecture

learns how to make blue food for percy and their kids from sally

has traveled all over the world looking at different architecture

learns the basics of many languages so shes able to communicate with the locals

her and leo team up to build a small school near camp half-blood for year rounders so everyone can learn consistently but dw they get summers off

piper:

love her but shes a nepo baby

she doesnt act like it tho

”are you tristan mcleans daughter?” “who?”

loves her dad to bits but does not like being seen out in public by the paparazzi

marries shel, they dont have kids tho, neither of them want to bring any into the world especially with america’s downfall and the government erasing women and poc rights

is basically leos big sister atp

leo:

him and calypso dont last, maybe a year and a half in they split bc calypso wants to explore the world and leo is very emotionally unstable and calypso has a hard time understanding

they end on good terms but dont ever talk unless its with a group of friends

he goes into a trade to become a mechanic and owns his own shop

starts smoking cigarettes/vaping

his friends dont really approve but they understand he cant quit just yet as hes not in a mental space to do so

goes to therapy with a psychologist whos a demigod that specializes in grieving and war trauma

they all go to therapy but hes the last one to do it

he’s still the ‘happy go lucky’ guy hes always been but as he gets closer w the others they start to see the true sadness in him

piper and him grow a lot closer after jason died and have a big sister little brother relationship

hazel:

my girl stays at camp jupiter

takes nicos place at camp

horse trainer

her and frank also dont work out as a romantic relationship, they felt that the age gap was too much after frank turned 18 and hazel was 15 theyre still friends tho

hazel often visits leo in his shop

as much as leo reminds her of sammy, through therapy she has recognized that theyre separate people and to not push all her past feelings for sammy onto leo

not only does she train horses but she also teaches little kids basic math, science, and history to the younger kids

they all call her ms. hazel

she prefers to teach the really young kids (age 4-7)

wears her hair in different braid styles after BOO

frank:

my friggin HOMIE

i relate to frank a lot personality wise

therefore i think hed be a 4/20 fanatic after BOO

hes not stoned during training or during important camp duties

but otherwise you try talkin to him and you dont really notice until you look and see the far off look and red eyes and he just goes “huh?”

other than that hes a great leader

after he gets his cool new look from mars he takes really good care of his body including consistent exercise and eating really healthily (maybe he has a soft spot for fast food when hes hi)

him joining the military does not make sense to me

he lost his mom to war, and he was in one himself, idk about you but i would not wanna join the military after being the main character in a war

he studies to be a veterinarian for exotic animals

when no one is around he shifts into the animal to find out whats wrong

”dr. zhang prefers to work by himself” “why” “idk but hes always right, if it aint broke dont fix it”

jason:

rip home-slice

nico:

my other homie

my guy does not get taller than 5’8

stays at camp during the summer to train the new and old kids

him and will get a house together

teaches history at the camp school

cat dad (5 cats and counting)

will:

takes nicos last name when they marry bc its cooler

him being a doctor doesnt click w me i more picture him being an EMT

EMTs are hotter anyways

does med training with new apollo kids whenever he gets time

if he’s not busy during working hours he drops by nicos classroom w his fav drink from dutch bros (starbucks is MID) and hangs out with him and his students

[ddlcbrainrot]

What do you think the girls would do in college? And how do you think they would look like?

well @heartbeatbookclub had a similar ask a while back and honestly i kind if agree with most things he mentioned. im gonna give a quick rundown of my headcanons but they are probably pretty similar lol

monika sweetheart im sorry but you are NOT having a good college experience. She definitely chooses a really demanding major like law and then surprise! the academically challenging major is academically challenging! who would have thought. she has been used to understand the meterial first try in highschool so now that she doesnt? ohhhh boy :). it definitely doesn't help that she went to college immediately after highschool. anyway what does she do? i have no idea. id like to think she takes a break and recollects herself, but lets be honest, monika is the type of person to keep at it until she like genuinely cant take it anymore. on the bright side, im sure the others would be a great help to her during this time

sayori does not go to college immediately after highschool, and that helps her a LOT. during her gap year, she focuses more on her mental health as well as figuring out what she wants to do in the future. and i think that leads her into some kind of elementary school work. maybe during her gap year she started babysitting around the neighborhood to make some money (and also so she wouldnt be sitting in her house all day) and she figures out how much she loves working with children

yuri i think would go to college right after highschool, but not because she feels like she needs to prove herself like Monika, its more of a "uhm i guess the next step is college" type of thing. i dont think college would be as bad for yuri as highschool. i actually think that this is the time she get a bit more comfortable and confident in herself. as far as majors go, she studies something literature-writting related. she probably has a draft for a book somewhere that she refuses to mention to anyone (at first). after college she probably ends up working at some sort of library whike she maybe does some writing on the side

natsuki is NOT going to college. i just cant see her putting herself through 4-5 years of more school. idk maybe she thinks about going to culinary school? but like, in my experience most culinary schools are super expensive. plus she thinks experience is way more valuable than any sort of class. so yeah she immediately goes into working. she starts off low, maybe she finds a job helping out in some local bakery for minimum wage. the best case scenario for her is to get to the point she can open her own bakery, but if we are being realistic, opening your own business is like.. a very big risk. so idk how possible it is

(in a perfect world they all open a book café/bakery together)

Here's a quick sketch of em :

[i-yap]

Can I request a Platonic Yandere Batfamily x female reader. I wanted to to read some thing because it was my birthday 5 days ago.

Batfamily is known for being manipulative and sneaky. Y/N an adult (18)living in Gotham,and have lived there since child hood. Your life is good well and even became a professional figure skater,until you meet them.

Summary: Reader is a professional figure skater. The batfamily goes to the skating rink to see one of Bruce's friend practice skating,that's until they first meet reader. The batfamily and reader are introduced by Bruce's friend. Ever since then they couldn't get reader out of their heads,they even went as far as stalking and kidnapping reader and bringing them back to the mansion.

Happy belated birthday!! Ive never written yandere...or the whole batfam x y/n so I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations.

warning- yandere , stalking, pain, torture, just plain old yandere stuff okay? manipulation mind games , cold, hunger

there is mention of cas, steph, duke..idk them that well yet

Yandere Batfam x reader (PLATONIC ONLY)

Woosh , there you go, as graceful as a swan . A warm beauty on a sheet of white. In this cold cold city , you were like a ray of sun, the pride of this city. Ever since Bruce had brought you home for a private dinner to further discuss his generous funding to the sports facilities in public schools where you volunteered to teach underprivileged kids for free, the family hadn’t been able to pull their eyes away from you.

 On the rink and outside it. Be it your home, your training centre or you grocery shopping. You were used to eyes on you. After all you were the star of the city! And in a city that only ever produces cynical, evil and cruelty …maybe it was foolish to assume you would shine so bright forever.

It was Dick who suggested bringing you in. He found tim’s cameras that were strategically placed..well everywhere, and then Damian’s stash of drawings of an ice princess that strikingly resembled you and finally when Jason beat up the reporter that criticized your latest performance.

Bruce regretted not making sure to hide you better, but after the cards life had dealt his family, they all deserved to have this one good thing in their life. After everything they have given this city, this world, why cant they have just this one gift as repayment.

After all, its not like they want to hurt you right? At least not until you misbehave that is. They want to protect you. This city turns the brightest star the dust, good people cant survive here. It was best they take you before you hardened or broke. But even as they patiently explained all that to you, you refused to cooperate . So stubborn, so strong, on and off the ice. No wonder the family was so drawn to you!

Even as they brought you an entire ice rink to put shows that you missed so much, you continued to complain. Well maybe a couple days without food would help? Don’t worry Tim got soft and brought you your favorite snacks. Hm..still not cooperating. Maybe a couple days sleeping on the ice will help, you do love spending all your time there. Don’t worry, Jason came to cuddle you.

When Alfred was not allowed to interact with you, that’s when you finally broke. With no one else to give you company, the lonliness got to you. Suddenly the Cheery sunshiney dick Grayson seemed much more funny and lovely to be around. And Bruce acted like the father you never had.

 All these years you trained so hard for attention you never got as a kid, and now you had it ! at least that’s what tim told you..and why would he lie? He always looked out for you, helped clean your wounds when you were punished. And Jason! Why would he want to hurt you ? after everything that has happened to him, would he really hurt someone else? Someone as nice as dick could never be cruel and Damian? You mean your little baby? The kid who called you Ummi and drew you pretty paintings? No you must have lost your mind. This was your true family and its good you finally realized that!

( I COULD FINALLY PUT IN ALL MY TAGS MUAHAHAHHA)

[darkdemeter]

Hi idk if I sent this request your way,if so feel feee to ignore it.

But could you write a death x reader but the reader is an oldest sibling too? Maybe their (3) younger siblings are in Haven with the makers while their big sibling travels with death for supplies.

I was thinking that the reader could be a foil to death,they have an excelent relationshipp with their siblings, their younger siblings always try to act all tough when Deaths around to "make sure he doesnt hurt their big sibling"(its harmless though).

And ive always hc Strife being the second oldest,and its clear him and death "hate" eachother(or at least dont get along). So maybe the reader has more affinity with the sibling that follows them in the birth order.

Maybe during their travels the reader swaps "sibling advice" with Death(more Like they talk and he listens. I dont think he'd Open up much about his relationship with his siblings). I think the reader would be like "talk to them like adults,dont underestimate them,sometimes you gotta accept they need to get hurt to learn a lesson" that kind of stuff.

And I think the reader would also share how it kind of felt like their childhood was taken away from them and replaced with the duty to take care of their siblings (and that they would still accept taking care of them,they just wished they had more time to experience their childhood). just sharing those kinds of stories to Bond with Death.

Maybe after the supply run they return and Death watches from afar as the reader and their siblings are just chaotic forces of nature and play around and give the makers a stress ulcer lmao. Maybe he gets a little sentimental and hey maybe he puts the reader's advice to the test (with strife or with any of his siblings really)

Also,one more bit of info: Death has confirmed hes the eldest but thats about it, And the reader's siblings are all close in age to the reader,just a 4-5 year gap. (I imagine the reader being in their 20s)

(Pd: I wanted to request this since its heavily based some Real life experiences of mine as an older sibling! And the idea has been going around in my head like a DVD screensaver.)

As always take your time! Your writing's amazing!!!! Have a nice day!!!

THE BONDS BETWEEN KIN

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE Death x GN Reader

NOTES ↳ Firstly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JER!! Wishing you the best day and I hope this makes for a well waited gift! 🎉 I agree so much with the hc that Strife is the second oldest (or that he and Fury have this sort of opposite twin energy?) Writing this was actually a unique go because *LORE DROP! Demeter here, I am the youngest of my siblings. WARNINGS❕ ↳ a mixed concoction of fluff and angst — some profanity — Death is a bit grumpy at the start — we got a wholesome ending! — I think that’s it?

✎ 4.9k ────────────────────────

Everything moves together in sync with each other. Hammers and mallets pound posts and pieces into place, platforms rise and lower at the controlled helm of a steady rope. Crafts are honed and day by day a further stretch of home is made. Humans engage and tidy and work, doing what they must and can for each other; for survival. And that’s what you must do with the pale rider.

He stands idle by Haven’s entrance like an outcast, back set against the old and creaking oak that overlooks a jungle of branching pathways. To those around Haven, he is walking trouble; he is Death after all. So when nobody goes out of their way to greet him or offer him a piece of hospitality, he returns the favour by not batting an eye their way. Most of them keep away. Most of them shrink away in fear of him.

Most… 

The flicker of burning amber slims finely into a narrowed glare as he watches you from that darkened corner of Haven. His hands tense against the cold skin of his arms that are squarely crossed over his chest, huffing and tsking his tongue to himself as he waits for you. 

Things haven’t been the same for any of you since the apocalypse, so you do what you must for what remains of your family, keeping them safe and well supplied. You can’t bear to see them go hungry or cold, you can never settle with the heartbreaking thought of them going without a place to lay down their heads out of risk of being compromised. You never could, now that you think of it. 

They understand why you must go, you’re one of the stronger and healthier humans who can hold themselves well enough in a fight or two. It still didn’t make the going away part any easier. Not since your parents died. 

“Alright, I’m off.” Your announcement only bears furrowed brows and sunken frowns. They fear that this time you won’t come back. 

“Do you really have to go?” Your youngest sibling cannot hide the slight tremble in their voice. Despite their old enough age to know how this new world works around them, therein lies the terrible and voided feeling of abandonment. 

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

You know Death has this habit of watching you, you feel it even now, the way his piercing eyes bear a weight that almost forces your body to be pushed forward. You notice it too whenever you’re with your siblings, silent and watchful of how you play and mess around, how you coddle them like newborns whenever they’re in fear and how attentive you are to their wounds, troubles and failings. Not so much like him. With his siblings, he is coarse and ruthless, very rarely shedding that toughened exterior to be kinder. It’s how he was raised to be. And so, it’s only natural for him to continue to be that way. 

In comparison, you hold your ground when scolding your siblings when they do something wrong or dangerous, but nevertheless you temper your strict lectures with a level of care and love. You tell them to not go outside after dark because it’s dangerous and you don’t want them getting hurt. You correct them if their sense of play converts into discord. You don’t spit venomous judgment and tell them how it must be done, you guide and show them how it can be done. You’re a mender of broken things, a leader to lost and hopelessly wandering ones. 

You keep balance within the confines of your family, and Death keeps balance on the outskirts. Out of reach from you. Sometimes he feels like he envies the way you and your siblings get along. But that’s not right, it’s not envy. He can’t explain it, not even to himself. It’s just this insecure feeling that he’s done everything wrong by his brothers, that their so-called brotherhood is naught by an empty shell of petty lies, spite and disagreeable alliance. 

And Strife… he scoffs to himself at the mere thought and pictured recollection of that sibling. He thought Fury’s relationship with him and their brothers was a demon stirred nest. His estranged kinship with Strife was an entire beast all its own. The two of them always butt heads, caught in a state of arguing with no hope of a middle ground, even when there are options. The two can never seem to be on the same page. 

It’s one of the many sad reasons he admits is why he seeks solitude rather than the companionship of his kin; the very and actual last of his kind. 

Sighing, he pushes himself off the tree’s wall and stares sharply in your direction. There you are, still attending your younger ones with gracious and overbearing care. You spoil them with lavish affection, grabbing each one and embracing them tightly and peppering them with a treasure trove of kisses that they can miss you by. 

The youngest is given a tad more than the others. The baby of your little clan, much like War is of his own. 

Death stalks over with a harrowing crunch under each step, it’s noticeable like a literal announcement that the reaper has come for your soul. An ice cold chill runs down your spine and pricks along your skin with goosebumps.

Each of your siblings are torn from that tight and warm embrace you supply them with, a halo that hovers over them all protectively, and they each visibly tense up. If he didn’t find your stern eyes in that moment, he would have questioned why they all puffed up like a murder of fat crows. But he bites his tongue, he bites down the passionate stir of sarcastic aggression. 

“Are you finished?” he questions instead. His tone has a harsher bite to it then he cared to let on. 

“Yeah, just… give me a second.” It’s a second more you ask for. Surely the reaper can spare you that. He rolls his eyes, a fiery haze lacking direct and knowing pupils that flow about in the carved out sockets of his mask like wild fireflies. 

Knowingly, you direct your gaze to your siblings. You see through their toughened charade easily because you know them — each of them an open chapter within a book. They mean to hide their worries and carry on as if your going away doesn’t leave them haunting around Haven as ghosts that float anxiously until you inevitably return. As if something to prove to Death, they hold their heads a little higher and furrow their brows a bit harder with determination. 

“We’ll get to work on those tasks for you,” says your middle sibling, the youngest nodding in agreement. You huff quietly to yourself. “Alright. Take care of them now. Stay out of trouble and be sure to help out the Makers when they need it. I mean it.”

The rise of your brows makes it fundamentally clear that you will not hear another tale of your siblings running amuck rather than helping the Makers. 

“I’ll keep them in check for you,” assures your second oldest sibling. 

Your nearance in age makes it easy for you both to converse often and come together for the better. That’s what Death has come to understand. You pat their shoulder with a smile, proudly fond of their commitment to ensure things run smoothly in your absence. 

You turn to Death, daring to meet the soul-shuddering cold of his gaze and gruffly, he saunters off with you not far behind. A chorus of voices familiar call after you in bidding you goodbyes and reminders to stay safe. 

Out of all the survivors in your little enclave, you’re really the only one that embraces Death’s skulking presence, his quiet and brooding nature that leaves him on the looming outskirts as he remains watchful and vigilant. His trips are usually short and few in between his other priorities, to what accomplishments you have little idea, but your company is at least familiar to him. Still, you can be subjected to the brutality of his cold shoulder. 

“So what has your scythes in a twist this time?” you ask, your eyes highly observant of your surroundings. He only grumbles in response. The voided silence is only occasionally disturbed by a drawled caw that circles from above, Dust languidly surfing through the air. 

“I’d wage a penny for your thoughts, but you don’t strike me as the gambling type.” He’s scouring some corner of the area, sifting through a bundle of half splintered and damaged crates in search of supplies. 

Years ago, this exact spot was a graveyard of a small and docile park, smothered ankle-deep in ash and decay. Now, the trickling resurgence of growth sprouts freshly, the sunlight dances in soft haloing rays through the crackling rubble. Flowers are beginning to bloom. Much like Humanity in a way, the world itself is slowly finding its footing again in this changed world.

You wander over to him after dragging a sorted amount of supplies that you already found. The sun would be setting soon and it was best to remain close in numbers. 

“C’mon,” you chide with a wistful breath of air and you join him at his side. “I know that burdened look when I see it. Out with it, Horseman.”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Your lips purse sharply, brow slightly raised higher than the other, a pure visage of ‘Oh really’ on your face. 

He continues to ignore the idea of looking at you and instead focuses his search on the crates before him. A Horseman reduced to a lower task, he’s almost brought into the far past of his youthful days, a time where he saw worlds conquered and thousands slaughtered. 

However, he only had himself to blame for offering to go with you, noting how despite your skills, you wouldn’t last out here by yourself. Not without him. 

Shaking his head with a short tut jabbing in his throat that pulls tight on his vocal cords, he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes. You walk forward until you situate yourself against a fallen structure, half sitting on it and cross your arms. It’s not too long after that Death’s feathery companion lands beside you with a throaty warble, bristling his feathers into a puff.

He cranes his neck and the flaming core of his stare meets yours, intentionally ignoring the lazy bird that chirps a velvety purr while you absently pet a finger along his back. He sees that same look you give your siblings when you’ve caught them in a lie. 

The amount of times he’s given Strife that same pressing look and still, he never yields any similar results that you do. 

Death sighs to the wind that carries it up in the air to be discarded and forgotten much like his many attempts to reconcile and temper his brothers. Every turn had been for nothing in the end. 

“Your siblings giving you trouble, Death?”

You sound sincere and it almost visibly shakes him. So genuine in your knowing, in your concerned question. His chin falls with a steep incline that you read as an affirmative nod. Yes, you know just which brother in particular that Death’s mind is tormented by, leaving him bitter and lonesome. 

“My younger siblings do things that drive me crazy at times. There’s times where we fight, there are days where it’s hard to juggle the roles. I want to give them a promising world yet I have to also be realistic. I always let them know that my intentions for them are sincere. That I want what is best and most safe for them.”

Death is silent. He can hear the inaudible but…

“But… there are times where I have to stand on the sidelines and let them do their thing. I have to watch them fall so I know they can get back up on their own feet. Because when I’m not around, I want to know they’re going to be okay without me.”

“And yet you coddle them to no end,” he remarks. You hear the rasped judgment in his tone and you chuckle to suppress the thin layer of tears coating your eyes. 

“I do,” you admit with a nod, “I do, yes. What I’m trying to say is that it’s not easy being the oldest, okay? I know what it’s like. All the responsibility shoved on the shoulders, made to be the lookout, the judge, jury and executioner. To be gentle yet stern and understand when and what was necessary.”

Death stands to his full height after he moves a few crates aside, possibly littered with some supplies you can take back to Haven. 

“I have noticed… you treat them more like soldiers than anything. Especially Strife.”

“I do not—”

Your lashes beat fast at the sudden defense he fronts and he catches himself, eyes thinning into a glare. Either way, you know you have him there. And he knows it too. He joins you, leaning against the structure while crossing his arms and undoubtedly scowling under his mask.

“You try to hold them back from their capabilities and mold them into compliance. More than anything after everything that’s happened, they need a brother. I think you’ll find that if you talk to them, really talk to them, that you can find common ground. A stable union.”

He turns his head in your direction but doesn’t exactly meet you. His raven locks fall over the white contrast of a bone and placid visage, the dimming orange of sun emits a glowing aura around him and the wind gently breathes through his hair. 

He almost looks thoughtful, heavily seated in an internal channel that studies your words like ancient scriptures. 

Perhaps humans did have a shred of intellect. His shoulders jump as a low and gravelly note comes from his throat, it sounds almost like a dry chuckle. It still brings a hopeful smile to your face that he’s found something useful in your advice. 

“How exactly did it all fall on you to look after them?”

It’s a loaded gun more than a question, so heavy with a leaded tale of many days that seemed uncertain and scary. Your body slumps forward a little, lips pulled in to sink your teeth into them. “My parents weren’t around a whole lot, they were kept busy working longer hours each week to bring in enough money. My dad’s job had him travelling a lot anyway and…” You pause, rolling your tongue over your teeth.

“Meanwhile, I was left to look after my siblings. I was the one who made them dinner, got them washed and ready for bed and checked if they brushed their teeth. Some nights the power went out and I’d have the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to make shadow puppets. Kept them from getting scared of the dark.” 

You swallow thickly. “I did… everything I could for my little bear cubs. I’d get into the shittiest of scraps with kids who shoved them around. I’d sneak out of school during lunch period to make sure they were doing alright in their yard.”

It’s a flurry of memories that come back to you. A series of events cataloged into your mind, to remember the good and the bad, how much worse things could have been, but also something else. 

“Do you blame your parents for it?”

Immediately you shake your head. Out of necessity or because you truly don’t blame them. “No. I love those kids with everything I have. However… I paid the price by giving up my own childhood for it. Instead of typical teenage sneak outs or going out on dates, I stayed home on the couch helping the kids with their homework or heating up enough popcorn so we could all huddle up together and watch a movie. I taught myself how to ride a bike so then I could teach them how. I was never really taught by my parents when they were around. They would just vaguely explain it to me, then go about their own thing.”

Instead of a soul shredded and marred into something heinously bitter, you stiffened your upper lip and rolled with the punches. In the forced haste of time that hurried you to grow up, you saddled up with the responsibilities that were your parents, not yours. 

The bottom lids of his eyes flinch, a minute action but heavily betraying his thoughts as you both stare at one another. 

He’s almost… bothered by your story. As though he finds it unfair. 

You shrug with your brows rolling with a lax coil as you shove off that small grief. “But it is what it is. I didn’t get the chance to experience what my childhood could have been. It would have been nice, I would have liked to enjoy it while I had it, but I’d trade it all a hundred times over if it meant they grew up knowing they were loved and appreciated, that everything they did was acknowledged.” 

You have to take a break before the bubbling writhe of tears come undone. Clearing your throat, your fingers pluck the frayed rips in your pants, annoyed at the little imperfections that those rips represent. But then you smile. You remember those fights started on the sidewalk as a bully gave your youngest the roughest shoulder they could muster. You’d knock noses, bust lips and pack bruises if it all meant that your siblings knew you always had their backs. 

Sighing shakily, calmed, you continue, “That’s what being human — and older sibling — is about. You’d give anything for them, to see them safe, see them smile and to see the world at their fingertips.”

“You’ve raised them well. I cannot see any other doing the task better than you have.” Your brows bevel in the center, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Thanks, Death.”

He can take your response any way he likes, but you’re glad that you had someone to unload the burden to. Someone who can in some way relate. You and Death have much in difference but you see many other alignments that match up. Almost two sides of the same coin that flips round and round in constant motion. A never ending cycle, a duty never entirely complete. 

With a glance towards the setting sun, you push yourself up on your two feet, disturbing Dust’s placement that sends him flying to the winds, and you begin to sift through Death’s collected supplies. “Just talk to him like a brother, Death. Because in the end all you have is each other. And when shit hits the fan, you need them on the sidelines of the ring.”

Death hums, a steep sound that reverberates in his chest and rumbles in his throat. He straightens his posture and his eyes follow you closely, watching you with the keen intent of a hawk. And he nods. Not the sort of evasive or dismissive bob of his head, but an actual bow of his chin that then rose up. Your lips grow wide into a grin. 

“Now, shall we get this stuff back to Haven?”

Your name is shouted in burstful happiness, relief trailed in whimpers as your youngest sibling runs to you. The other two keep their pace cool as they approach, aware of the pale rider’s presence next to you while you both unload the cargo of supplies. 

Placing down a crate, you replace its company with that of your eager little bear that engulfs you boldly that it knocks the wind from you a little. You huff out a short laugh. “Hey, I wasn’t that long. I promised I’d be back.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“See that you’re both in one piece,” remarks your middle sibling, earning a soft jabbing elbow to their rib by the other.

“Yes, we’re both alright.” You glance to Death then. “Thanks for helping me out with the supply run. Should do it again sometime.”

Death had found the actual events of going through supplies mundane, funnily enough he thought he would die from how boring it was. No, it was the nature of your little talk that kept his mind occupied. 

“Try not to run out of supplies so soon,” he retorts dryly and you chuckle. “We’ll try but more humans are being found by the day. Maybe we’ll need some extra hands onboard soon enough?”

Death’s lips curl into a slight sneer to what you allude to behind the mere suggestion. His eyes roll far around in his skull and he shoves his shoulders down, releasing the tension from them as he moves swiftly to spin on his heel. 

“Be seeing you around, Horseman,” you coo over your shoulder, your attention becoming a stolen relic by your thieving siblings. 

He stands at Haven’s inviting gateway and stops in his retreating advance. Something compels him to linger in the shadows of the tree’s abode, a place he finds so hostile and uninviting to his very existence, but among it all there’s you. You always offer a greeting nod of your head, a direct line of contact with his eyes as you acknowledge him. Your eyes don’t shakily follow him like he’s a phantom to be watched and feared, you embrace the gloom and grim of his company. 

You won’t admit it anytime soon, but you always have this sense of anticipation. And when he’s not around, you find yourself missing him. 

Death hides in the now blackened corner where he stood earlier that day, his eyes flaring and dimming depending on his concentrated intrigue as he watches you. You and your siblings organise your collected haul into piles. 

“What’s this? What’s this thing do?” 

“You know what that is, you cheeky little thing,” you chuckle as your little siblings begin their cycle of mischief.

“Huh, look at this. It looks just like you.” You gasp at the second oldest, mouth agape that cannot portray anything but that insulted fun. “Oh really?” You quip before you both engage in a small scuffle. 

You become entangled in playful headlocks and knocking the other back with reserved and non-lethal blows. 

Before Death’s eyes, all four of you are causing the type of trouble you had warned them about before you left. Between the mockery of fights, you hold them tight to you and ruffle their hair affectionately. When Ulthane marches over, his eyes bearing the fearsome darkness of a scolding glare, he begins to bark and roar with fuming irate. Your siblings had gotten up to no good, and what you once warned them about, you now indulged in their mischievous plots. 

A small stone Ulthane kept in the back and higher stacked crates to indeed keep mischievous and curious humans out of reach from, was now the prized toy of a game of Maker-in-the-middle. Instead of throwing high given his advantage there, you duck low and keep your throws to the sides. 

Laughter fills the air around you as you play around, getting a little too rambunctious but otherwise it's all an exchange of kinship, a bond strengthened over the years. Death wonders if you allow yourself these luxuries now to make up for your lost childhood, and maybe you did, but it lights a feeling in his chest that it almost swells with an unknown fire. 

By the time he finally moves to take his leave, he lets out a slip of a chuckle, gentle and tenderly adoring. Out of all the humans, Death holds a more softer regard for you. 

Strife doesn’t bother in entertaining his older brother’s arrival, his gaze set on the distant view of Haven from this afar camp that he refers to as The Exiled Point. A fitting title he named in spite of Death and their recent confrontation with each other. 

He doesn’t pay any mind to the thunderous fall of steady footfall moving towards him. Strife is far too engrossed at his post, keeping watch here, no longer hindered by the need to wear the robes of his disguise in order to fit in around the humans. The closest he ever felt to belonging somewhere. 

“Strife.” The gunslinging Nephilim only scoffs with a venomous whistle flowing against his masked tongue. 

“You gonna tell me to pack up and leave again?”

The kinship is strained between them. Ever since that distasteful argument, the two have grown further apart, barely sparing the other so much as a shouldering glance. No hint of remorse, no intent to mend their breaking brotherhood. 

“That’s not why I came up here.”

“Then what is your business here, Brother?”

Death’s head falls slowly forward and his shoulders sag down. He tries to think about how you’d react, what you would do in this situation. What would you do?

“I… wanted to see you.”

Strife cocks his head to the side, body jostling with a sharp and jagged laugh that hints at his still writhing anger. “Well, you’ve seen me! So you should be on your way. I dunno, go and see the humans, go out and protect the balance. After all, what help could I be? I’ll just be a danger to everything.”

Death raises his foot to rest it atop the cut down stump beside Strife, the moonlit winds bellowing the flowing scarves and waisted tabards of the brothers’ armour. Both set their sights to the faint glow of Haven’s lights. A soft beacon in the foggy distance. 

“What I said to you was unfair.”

Strife clicks his tongue that runs over the sharpened tips of his fangs. “Still doesn’t change what you said. You don’t get it, man. When I was down there with the humans, I felt—”

Strife feels his heart rap hard against his chest. Within the blaring glow of flittering gold, tears shimmer. He wanted to yell, he wanted to cuss and roar at Death to mount up and ride away, to never come near him again. He wanted what he had seen the humans have with his own brothers; but he couldn’t.

Death shakes his head, voice sullen. “At the time, I thought I was doing what was necessary. What was safe for the humans. But I see now that I didn’t make the right choice. I treat you like a soldier, I talk to you with scorn and hatred because it’s all I’ve known. But first and foremost, you are my brother, Strife.”

With a loud, bellowing sigh that forcibly drags Strife forward to slump in his posture as he sits on a perched rock, he takes a moment to reflect. It hadn’t been fair at all that day with that fight. 

They were both ready to kill each other if the Makers, War and Fury hadn’t intervened. If you hadn’t stepped in to keep the brothers from ripping each other apart. You didn’t agree with Death’s decision then, after all, you had gotten on well with Jones. With Strife.

But Death was the eldest, the leader of the fabled Horsemen. Who was Strife, the second eldest, to fight and argue? Who was he to disobey an order?

“I’m sorry, Strife.”

It sends a volting freeze through Strife’s entire being, his muscles tense and his unresting spirit freezes. It feels like his heart has stopped beating. 

Not once has Death ever been sorry. The only time he ever expressed a shred of guilt and remorse was for their fallen brethren, for Absalom… 

Strife finally shifts to look to his side, meeting Death’s eyes. A steadfast silence passes between them that slowly begins to mend the wounds of their drifting apart. His golden eyes dart and waver behind the visor, his lips tugged and twisted into confused sneers and parted, forgotten sentences. 

“I cannot take back what I’ve said. I cannot promise to coddle you like a newborn, but I wish for our brotherhood to become stronger. I want the bond between us to become so powerful that it will take more than a mere disagreement to tear us apart. You — and War and Fury — are my kin. Because in the end you three are all I have.”

Both are settled into silence again, listening to the low howl of the wind’s carrying gusto. Their sights retrain their focus on Haven, as if the kindle in which they both knew that was you, brought them together. A far off thank you that you won’t know of until you see them again. 

A small, genuine and high-spirited laughter burns in Strife’s chest, soon joined by Death. 

“So am I still in exile?” 

Death curls his fingers into a tight fist and much like he’d seen between you and your siblings, he punches into Strife’s shoulder. “You never were. You always had a place to belong with us.”

As time goes by in a passing of shaded midnight, moon gliding slowly through the sky, two brothers that watch over Haven become three and then four with Dust finally perching himself comfortably on Death’s shoulder. Each of them embrace the cool winds at their backs, basking in the quiet contentment of their renewed bonds. And all because one human had the answer all along that finally united the four Horsemen not as soldiers, but as a true brotherhood.