#survival bracelet with knife

[doctor-prophet]

Items for the day

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead. 

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest. 

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable. 

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED��signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath. 

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb. 

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks." 

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod. 

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours. 

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?" 

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty. 

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning. 

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open. 

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi. 

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead. 

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are. 

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Lando. I swear that boy and his hospital pics and turning up at the paddock still with his hospital bracelets!

Recovery smut thoughts???

Pity Fuck {1} || LN4

Part Two

“If you want this then lie still,” you warned him.

“But baby…”

“No, you’re meant to be resting,” you pointed out as you slowly began to rock your hips. “This is not resting.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you rode your boyfriend, trying to be gentle but also losing rhythm as your pleasure grew. Lando knew better than to argue so he let you have control, he would enjoy himself anyway. But he really wanted to put you on your back and pound into you.

His hands roamed your body before cupping your breasts and you opened your eyes to see his deft fingers pinch and roll your nipples. The plastic of his hospital wristband scraped across your skin and you shivered at the feel of it. "Can you please cut them off?"

Lando smirked as he pushed the band back up his forearm before gripping your hips and pulling you more vigorously down on his cock. He groaned as he felt his high coming from the gorgeous sight of your tits bouncing and his cock being buried deep inside you, but he was a gentleman and he would wait for you to come first. He knew it was only moment away from how tight your walls were around him and the slick heat running down your thighs.

"Oh, Lando, fuck," you moaned and he reached between your thighs to press his thumb to your clit. Bolts of lightning shot through you as his touch tipped you over the edge and you shuddered with your release, Lando quickly joining you.

You collapsed in relief before throwing yourself haphazardly away when you realised you probably hurt his bruised ribs, but he was still smiling in his happy haze. Unharmed.

He barely noticed you reach into his side drawer and find the pocket knife he had kept since he was a Cub Scout, but he did notice when he felt the tug on his wrist and the band snapped in two.

"Hey! I needed that," he complained as he picked up the reminder of his Vegas crash. "I still had at least three more pity fucks left."

"Boohoo, my love. You'll just have to survive with a regular fuck," you teased as you dropped it into the drawer with all the other random crap that had been amassed over the years. "Maybe I'll let you have my ass for your birthday."

His eyes lit up with the idea since he had been quietly hinting it at for a long time, but they quickly fell with a pout. "My birthday was last week."

You winked and got up to clean the mess between your legs. "It's a good thing they come around again every year."

His groan followed you to the bathroom and you laughed at his whine. "It's a whole year!"

Click here for his birthday.

[nightingale2004]

Severus Snape Hunger games au hcs

Severus is obviously district 12

Would work in the mines as a teenager

Severus would be a chemistry nerd here. He would also venture out into the woods to collect herbs and such to trade, make his own medicine, to cook with, to make disinfectants, repellent, or for his drinks

His family life still sucks. Tobias is an abusive drunk who survived a mining accident (he didn't survive unscathed), and Eileen isn't mentally present with Severus

He would like going in the forest outside his district. It would be his only freedom from mining and facing his dad's wrath.

He would know what plants would be poisonous or not, and he would be very handy with a knife

Since he works in the mines, Severus definitely would put on some muscle and would be a little stronger.

He would be friends with Lily and her family. I also feel like Lily and Petunia would be the mayor's daughter (in my opinion, at least)

If he was chosen at the reaping, either Lily would be chosen along with him or a random district 12 girl

His district token, I think, would be a black leather bracelet with either a moon or a black feather charm on it

When he goes to the capital and trains, he mostly shows off his brain power, but he does train with a weapon, which would be knives, swords, and/or whips

I feel like he would win his games by hiding until everyone has killed each other. If he had encountered an enemy, he would probably run (he's a fast runner and you can't tell me otherwise). But I also feel like he would make allies with the careers and then poison them if they even tried to get rid of him

I'm thinking Tom Riddle would be the president Snow of the capital in the universe while Dumbledore is obviously president Coin leading the rebellion

If/when Severus wins the games, he would be rewarded for his victory, but since he's not much of a "looker" in the president's opinion. He would find use of Severus for his intelligence and abilities in chemistry.

But if Severus went home, Lily's and his friendship would've been strained and eventually ended due to what Lily would have seen in Severus's games

Severus would've continued working for his president, thinking his life was getting better and that he was actually being appreciated for his skills, and he was doing some good and getting over the trauma he faced in both the games and from his father

He would've also been a part of Tom's inner circle of Panem that he would call the Death eaters who help control Panem and make it the way it is.

But soon, Severus found out what his inventions were really used for and why. So he tried to stop it, but it wasn't successful. But he found information on President Dumbledore, who led the rebellion, and Severus became his spy in exchange for his loyalty, his skills, and for the protection of those he loved

So Severus became Albus Dumbledore's spy and helped him, his order and entire rebellion. Spying on Tom Riddle and his group. Destroying the old Panem from the inside............but no one knew that. Not even Lily

He also made friends with Regulus Black, who was a previous victor of the Hunger Games along with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius is a mentor, and Narcissa is a stylist

If severus was a girl in this universe and Lily was picked, Sev would volunteer in her place

Regulus is also one of the youngest to ever win his games, and since he had handsome features and admirers in the Capitol. He went through a similar situation to Finnick Odair. The same can be said for Sirius

[lowtaperfeyd]

A Scintilla of Excitement (Chapter 1)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mentat!reader

author's note: This is the first chapter of the mentat series I am writing! I'm so excited for you to see what else I've come up with for this :D (It has now taken the spot for longest thing I've written.) Also go check out my beta-reader @zzleeper!!!!

warnings: house harkonnen, death, mentions of knives,

wc: 1529

You sat on the cold, metal seat of the ornithopter the Harkonnens sent to come and get you from the heighlinder. The scraping of metal startled you when they screeched unexpectedly.

 How tragic, you thought, my final moments will take place in a world with no normal sun. And no normal sons either. 

The entire two day trip on the heighliner was not so bad. You were allowed to wander the empty ship corridors and explore even up to the staff decks. The only part that was scary were the ‘servants’ aboard the ship. Their bald heads, that seemed to engulf any light that shined on them, made you feel uneasy. 

If this is how I feel when I see people like this, I wonder how I’ll feel when I see the baron. 

They always seemed to look at you as if you were an alien. Which I supposed you were. The color to your skin that made you look more alive than them. It probably scared them just as much as it scared you. 

As you continued to sit there in the cockpit, thinking about the heighliner, you fiddled with your fingers and did not sit fully still. 

“We have a nervous one I see!” Shouted a voice from the front of the cockpit where the pilot was. A voice that had a distinct inflection that just screamed Harkonnen, even if the owner of the voice was whispering, 

“Don’t worry the baron doesn’t play with his food.” The pilot laughed out, “But the Na-Baron, oh boy watch yourself around him!” 

As you sat there, mildly disturbed at what you just heard, the pilot went on and on about the things he had seen the Na-Baron do. Almost like he was proud of him,

“There was this one time Na-Baron took a butter knife off the table and stabbed one of his uncle’s advisors because he didn’t agree with what he was saying!” He exclaimed, “One of my friends was there, he barely survived with just one eye left. Told me all about the story.” 

“That's,” you swallowed so as to not hurl at what you heard, “really something…” 

FACT: HARKONNENS AND THE PEOPLE OF THE PLANET, IN GENERAL, ARE USED TO THIS VIOLENCE AND ENJOY IT. 

INFERENCE: DON'T ACT LIKE YOU HATE THOSE THINGS, BE VERY NEUTRAL ON IT.

HYPOTHESIS: IF YOU CAN ACT LIKE YOU FEEL INDIFFERENT ABOUT THESE THINGS MAYBE THEY'LL PUT IN A GOOD RECOMMENDATION TO KAITAIN. 

“It’s incredible, ” The pilot responded, “But the real question is, why does the baron need another Mentat?”

“Another good question is where’s the store that doesn’t sell chatty pilots?”(Y/N) retorted, feeling a little sick and tired from the traveling and what they had just heard.  

The snap seemed to shut him up just long enough before you landed on Giedi Prime. 

“About an hour before we land on the surface, Mentat.” The same pilot muttered in annoyance. 

Actually, 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 23 seconds. But who's counting or keeping track? Definitely not you. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the heighliner ramp went down, it allowed you to fully see the polluted land around Geidi Prime. The black sun changed the red, metallic bracelet you were wearing to a dark and shiny gray, almost sliver, instead of its normal vibrance. You saw the guards and their multitude of weapons and dark armor. 

If they were standing inside, that would be black. You thought, but that isn’t a surprising detail.

“Are you ready to walk down, Mentat?” one of the other workers on the heighliner asked.

“Yes.” You responded courteously, because you had a pretty good idea of what would happen if you disrespected someone with all the guards and important people around. 

The ramp underneath your feet was extremely slippery and steep and forced you to take very slow and precise steps to reach the end. At the rate I am moving I’ll get to the end after the sun goes down. You eventually got to the end of the ramp. But, you only looked at your feet the entire time. Once you looked up you saw a man with a black hood and robes, as well as the lip tattoo you had. 

That’s Piter de Vries. 

You took the final ten steps to walk to him. As you walked you noticed him look you up and down in an arrogant and almost disgusted manner. 

You put your hand out waiting for him to shake your hand. As you did this you said, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), the new Mentat.”

Instead of him talking your hand he just continued to look up and down. Most likely reviewing the clothes you were wearing and the way you held yourself. Awkwardly, you put your hand down back to your side. 

“Well your arrival in the ornithopter was on time. But, the way you traversed down to the ground was quite untimely.” He remarked, “It must be quite exciting for you to have your first assignment.” He added sarcastically. 

Just a scintilla of excitement, it would be more if I was not here. 

“But, there is no time for talking,” he exhaled, “I can’t have you seeing the baron in such attire.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You looked around at the small bedroom you were given. The room had a hospital type of antiseptic-ness. The walls were bare besides small vertical groves and bolts into the walls holding things together. There was a little gray desk that had shelves that were indented into the walls above it. Beside your desk, was the little chest of belongings that were sent before you had departed from Tleilax. 

I’ll unpack that before I go to bed tonight. 

You turned toward your bed, a relatively small bed with dark covers and pillows. On top of that was a black butcher paper package. On the front of it, in clear print was, TO THE MENTAT, (L/N). In the package was a set of black clothes that looked similar to the ones you see de Vries as well as other people wearing, except without the cloak. On top of the clothes was a note from de Vries himself. 

(L/N), I have taken the liberty of getting rid of all the unnecessary clothes in your trunk and replacing them with more suitable attire for a Mentat. In your closet, you’ll find more of the same kind in the package.

De Vries.

What an asshole.

Quickly, you walked over to your closet and sure enough when you opened it. It was like the same outfit had been cloned over and over again. Black shirt, black pants, and a shiny black belt. Three pairs of black, leather dress shoes were in there too. At the back of the closet, there was a small amount of colder weather wear. A couple of insulated black coats and cloaks. 

Unwillingly, you shed your bright clothes from the academy for a dreary uniform instead. The fabric of the shirt was silking and smooth, but the pants itched badly when it met your skin. 

Once you were done, you exited your room to see two, bald headed, slave girls standing outside of your room. 

“Why are you here?” You questioned. 

“We are here to take you to the baron. Under the order of Mentat De Vries.” The girl on the left said timidly. 

“Alright…” you whispered as you closed the door behind you. 

As you walked through the halls of the Harkonnen’s castle you saw portraits of past rulers who were equally as bald as the next. After four minutes of walking, you ended up in front of a heavily guarded door. From outside the room, you could hear the sounds of yelling, screams, and a thud against the wall.  

Remember, indifference, and then you’ll get your way. 

You nodded toward the guard, signaling to him you were ready to enter the room. Slowly, the guard opened the heavy, metal door with a slight grunt. Walking inside, you saw a long table that had chairs on either side of it and a huge spread of food on top of it. But, there was only one chair at the head. The Baron was sitting there enjoying the elegant feast on the table. 

For the baron… all that food. 

You walked past important officials and advisors to Baron Harkonnen sitting in the chairs. You noticed De Vries sitting right next to the baron and opposite two bald headed men. These men were dressed not like the slave or advisors, but men of higher standing. 

The baron’s nephews Count Glossu and Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Rabban. 

Beside De Vries, there was an empty seat. As you walked to sit in that seat, you noticed the younger man who was sitting opposite of you, the Na-Baron, eyeing you down and biting his lips at the same time. 

He probably picks the member of staff that gets eaten when a couple mess up. Is he imagining me fried or boiled?  

“I appear to be late, I’m sorry about that, my baron.” You apologized as you pulled the chair out and sat.  “Don’t be sorry, Mentat." The Na-Baron jested, "It’s not a good look for you.”

[hils79]

Hils Watches The Spirealm - Ep 35

I'm being very brave and continuing with this even though after the last episode I just wanted to curl up in a ball and stop watching it forever. I've only got 4 episodes left so I should at least push through and finish it

Because he totally did

YES FUCK THEM UP!

Okay, I will admit I was kind of mad at him for just leaving an important object behind to get stolen. He's always been kind of immature given that they're in a literal life or death situation. But now I'm worried he's going to do something stupid like sacrifice himself to try and fix it and I don't want that either. He's just a kid!

If this turns out to be some sort of matrix shit I am going to lose my mind

Okay now you're being just as stupid as him. He's trying to tell you something important. Maybe listen to him?

I mean his best friend/husband literally just died

Yeah, he gives no fucks now. The rest of you are on your own

Look at all these amazing cakes on the table and no one has touched any of them. If I had to literally risk my life in order to earn the ability to touch the food the cake would be the first thing I would go for

Maybe don't taunt the man who is out of his mind with grief. Killing you won't bring Zhu Meng back to life but it might make Ling Jiushi feel better for a bit

Oh he is going to fuck you up! Where is my popcorn?

...or maybe he's going to end up held at knifepoint after 2 seconds

Wait, what?

You say that, but the box demon literally told you she needed help to kill the other players and you agreed!

Wait, the whole death thing was fake??? HOW DARE YOU PLAY WITH MY FEELINGS LIKE THAT 😭

I ACTUALLY DID CRY! A LOT!

Oh! Ling Jiushi wasn't actually in on it! That is so much worse! Why would you do that to him?

Oh you in trouble now. And rightfully so

Are they going to explain how he survived?

Thank you for asking

Zaozao's bracelet saved him. Great, now I'm crying again

I'm not saying you couldn't hurt someone with a butter knife if you really wanted to but it would take a lot of effort and mess

Wait, why is he smirking? Is this a trick? I don't trust anyone at this point

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!!

Well, shit, I did not see that coming

You just killed his twin brother so good luck not being murdered

I love that now he's no longer pretending to be nice he's decided he doesn't need to wear his glasses any more

Well, that was a fucking rollercoaster of an episode

[gingiesworld]

Even In Death

Natasha Romanoff x GN! Maximoff Reader

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Death.

18+ MINORS DNI

Taglist @gb12d @lifespectator

Now

The compound was extremely silent. There was no laughter. No joy. Just pain and anguish could be felt as soon as you walk inside. All of the team were off doing there own thing.

Tony remained in his lab, scouring through every nook and cranny he could think of until he found a sign. A sign that Y/N Maximoff was still alive.

"It's been over 6 months Tony." Steve stated as Tony shook his head no. "They are dead by now if Hydra has them."

"NO! I am not giving up on them." Tony told him sternly. Steve sighed as Bucky entered the lab with two cups of hot coffee, handing one to Tony.

"You believe this fools errand too?" Steve questioned his friend.

"I do." Bucky told him. "We never leave a man behind, that's what you told me." He used the Captain's own words, like a knife straight to Steve's heart.

Although with Y/N gone, there was a huge hole in the family. Everyone was drifting, surviving, just barely living. Both Wanda and Natasha had barely left their rooms.

Wanda held the bracelet Y/N had gotten her in her hand, it was the first thing she had gotten since they lost their homeland. Her first birthday spent on foriegn soil, and her older sibling made it the best experience she could have had, regarding the loss of Pietro. Her eyes teared up at the engraving in the gold.

'My Butterfly' was the name that Y/N had always called her since they were children. They were their protector, especially after they had lost their parents in the bombing. Y/N made sure the twins had food and shelter, safe from the soldiers that still roamed the streets of Sokovia.

While Nat lay in their bed, numbness had overtaken her as she had cried all of her tears. She knows that Tony wouldn't give up on them, they were like a kid to him. Especially as they took an interest in his inventions and such. Wanting to learn from the genius himself.

Nat sobbed at the memories she had with them. The moment they confessed their feelings to her.

Then

Y/N and Natasha were sparring, Y/N wanted to brush up on their hand to hand combat since they have barely trained since they were a part of the Winter Soldier Programme. Escaping Siberia before they put the remaining five into cryofreeze. Finding their way back to Sokovia just in time to find their siblings.

"Fuck." Nat groaned as she lay on the mat, Y/N held their hand out for her to take but she just tackled them to the ground herself. A smirk dorned on her face as she straddled their lap, a victorious smirk on her face.

"Do you know you're actually beautiful." Y/N stated making the assassin blush profusely.

"What?" Nat questioned confused.

"Would you like to have dinner with me." They asked her confidently.

"Yeah." She whispered in shock as she removed herself from them.

"Great. How does Friday at 7pm sound?" They asked as they sat up. Nat just nodded before Y/N smiled, kissing her head before they left the training room with a pep in their step.

Now

Wanda tried to use her powers, she could still feel their connection, hoping to find a way of finding out where they could be. Soon screaming as she felt pain, alerting Natasha and Vision.

"What is it?" Nat questioned with worry.

"Pain." Wanda whispered as she squeezed her eyes closed. "They're in pain. So much pain."

"They're torturing them." Nat whispered, declaring their worst fears as she turned to Vision. "Help Tony find a location. Search every traffic cam in the world. We need to find them."

"Yes Ma'am." He told her before he disappeared.

"We're going to bring them home." Nat told the witch who only nodded. Tears falling from her eyes as she held onto Nat for dear life.

Then

Y/N and Wanda were having their daily walk through the compound grounds. Wanda held onto their arm. Y/N had been on multiple dates with Nat, well given it has been 6 months since they asked her to be theirs and she of course said yes.

"I'm in love with Nat." Y/N told her as Wanda just smirked.

"I know." Wanda spoke softly. "I see the way you look at her, just how Papa used to look at Mama."

"I want to tell her but I am nervous." They whispered. "What if she doesn't feel the same way?" They questioned unsurely as Wanda smiled endearingly at them.

"I can say this much, she most definitely feels the same way." Wanda told them. "And if she isn't ready to say those three words then that doesn't mean it is the end of you both."

Now

Tony, Bucky and Vision worked endlessly to find a location, using every tool they had to find Y/N. Wanting to bring them home where they belong.

"I'm not getting anything." Tony groaned as Vision turned to him.

"It appears that you haven't slept in days sir." Vision told him. "I can always carry on the search while you both rest."

"No." Tony shook his head. "I have to find them Vision. I have to." He muttered as he continued to search.

As the hours went on, Nat stayed with Wanda, laying in her bed as Wanda slept for the first time in a while. Everything within the compound didn't feel right to them, especially when Y/N wasn't there.

Then

Nat was shocked when Y/N turned up at her door at 2am. Watching as they paced her floor as she sat on her bed.

"What is it?" Nat pressed on as Y/N paused their movements.

"I am in love with you Natasha." They breathed as she watched them. "I have for a while, I knew the moment you cried at that movie Wanda recommended to you and you forced me to watch it. That moment I knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives." They gazed at her softly. "I love you Nat, and I don't expect you to say it until you are ready. I just needed to get it off of my chest."

Nat rose to her feet and stood before them, holding their face in her hands as she gazed in her eyes, inhaling shakily before she spoke.

"I am so in love with you Y/N, there isn't really enough ways that I can show you how much I love you." She told them emotionally, they caressed her cheek as their other hand held her hip, soon placing a loving kiss to her lips.

"Just being by my side is enough to show me." They told her before kissing her once more.

Now

It had been days since Wanda had felt the connection with her sibling, although it gave her some hope that they may be just in time, but she always dreaded the high possibility that they may be too late.

The pain was too much for them to bare, the countless burns and lacerations turned into beatings with a crowbar. Broken ribs and a punctured lung, something they didn't need a doctor to know about. Their face was almost unrecognisable as they were covered in cuts and bruises.

Even tied to the chair, their head was too heavy for them to keep up. Even as the cell door opened, wheels sounding on the concrete floor as a trolley of instruments was wheeled inside.

"You know, in some countries they removed nails as a form of torture." The agent spoke. "Something about the acute pain from it can make someone pass out from the simple technique." They gripped Y/N's hair, pulling their head back as they smirked. "And this has surely been the best six months of my career." They let go of Y/N's head, letting it drop harshly before they picked up some pliers. Gripping Y/N's thumb and getting the pliers in position of gripping the fingernail, soon pulling hard and steady as Y/N let out a scream. The sound of the nail being ripped from the bed was muffled by the screams.

The agent relished in the pain he was inflicting, the agonising screams were like music to his ears. Even the previous wounds they had treated, only to be reopened again and again.

"Your beloved sister isn't going to save you in time." They sneered as Y/N groaned in pain as they worked on a third nail. "You will be dead before they even find a location." They looked at their hand before lifting their head up. "And don't think we don't know about your friendship with the traitor either. James Buchanon Barnes will meet the same fate as the Maximoff siblings."

As they were busy inflicting agonising pain on Y/N, Tony and Bucky had come up with a plan. The two of them, with the help of Vision had started to look at old SHIELD bases that were no longer in service.

"There's one right outside of New Jersey." Bucky told them.

"Why would they be so close to us?" Tony questioned.

"The closer they are, the less likely we are to check." Bucky told him. "Hydra know what we think like, they have been inside of Shield for decades and we never knew."

"Ok." Tony hummed. "I'll use the Stark Satellites to get a thorough scan of the base, search for heat signatures."

"I'll get the jet ready." Bucky stated as he ran straight for the hangar. As Bucky was running through the compound, Vision decided to notify both Natasha and Wanda.

"We may have a location." He told the two as he phased through the wall. The two didn't need to be told twice before getting in their suits ready before heading down towards the hangar, seeing Tony, Steve, Clint and Bucky already there.

"Are you sure they're at this location?" Steve questioned as the two girls walked.

"Yeah, why would Hydra use old Shield bases?" Clint questioned as Tony groaned.

"If this is a possible location to find Y/N and bring them home, that is what we are going to be doing so deal with it." Nat bit at the two as she and Wanda got on the jet. As Tony came up with a plan, Steve and Clint remained silent as everyone listened to their parts.

"We don't know the extent of Y/N's injuries so we need to get to them and fast." Bucky told them. "So none of this protecting the lives of the enemy shit. Shoot to kill."

"We don't fight like this." Steve told them as Tony just laughed. "It makes us no better than the enemy."

"Giving up makes us no better than the enemy." Tony sneered at him as everyone watched Steve shrink. "We do the plan our way and that's final."

Soon enough, the jet was fadt approaching the location, everyone made sure they had everything they had needed so they can just leave the jet.

"Vision, you go ahead and phase through." Tony told him. "You will be the one to get to them quicker as the rest of us take care of the agents." Everyone watched as Vision disappeared through the wall. "Let's do this." Tony told them as everyone went to their assigned locations.

Fighting agent after agent as they made their way through the base. Aiming to kill each of them, even with the disapproval of Captain America. Vision blasted the Agent who was in the cell with Y/N, plunging a knife in their stomach.

"I have them." Vision notified the others. "But their vitals are weak."

"Get them to the jet." Tony told him. "Bruce is there ready to start." Vision done as he was ordered, racing through the corridors, finding Bucky and Clint who covered him towards the exit.

"Everyone retreat to the jet!" Bucky ordered the others who only followed. Once Vision was on the jet, he placed Y/N on the stretcher as Bruce started to hook them up to the machines and a drip. He could tell that this was indeed an unsuccessful rescue with the extremely slow heart.

"There isn't anything you can do is there?" Vision asked him as he shook his head.

"They won't survive the flight." He admitted sadly as both Nat and Wanda rushed to their side.

"Y/N, baby." Nat cupped their face, a weak smile forming on their face as they opened their eyes weakly to gaze up at her.

"Hi." He whispered hoarsely. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She whispered as the tears started to fall. "So much."

"You're going to be ok." Wanda stated as she approached the other side of them. They glanced over at their younger sister, reaching for her hand. They shook their head with a small smile.

"I'm not." They whispered as everyone stayed around them as the A.I flew the remainder of the journey. "I am living on borrowed time because I wanted to see my family one last time."

"You're going to be ok." Nat told them frantically. "Bruce is going to save you, right Bruce?" Bruce looked away with his eyes squeezed closed, unable to look at anyone.

"He can't." Y/N told her. "And that's ok."

"No it's not." Wanda cried as Y/N wiped her tears away.

"I'm sorry Butterfly but I am going to die." They whispered. "But I have lived a good life. The best life. I got to see you grow up into this wonderful woman. This hero who is going to take Hydra down." They turned to Tony who also had tears falling. "Thank you Tony for letting me know what it's like to have a father again, but please try to rest. Saving the world shouldn't always be on your shoulders." They said their goodbyes to everyone before they turned to Natasha, holding her saddened gaze. "I love you Natasha, there isn't really any other way for me to say it."

"Just stay by my side." She told them, using their own words as they took a labored breath.

"I will always be by your side." They told her. "Even in death my soul is meant to be yours." Natasha kissed their lips one last time before they looked between everyone. "Thank you for being my family." They turned to Bucky and Vision. "Please look after my girls."

"We will." The two spoke in unison as Y/N soon closed their eyes. "I love you all." Everyone watched as they took their last breath, slipping away from the family they haf built over the years, reuniting with the family they had lost.

The funeral was a small service, just the people who were close to them. Heartfelt words and stories were shared from the people who had known them. But as everyone filtered out, leaving just Nat and Wanda stood at the foot of the grave.

"Y/N was going to propose." Wanda stated as she reached inside her pocket, holding a small velvet box in her hand. "They really wanted to spend the rest of their life with you."

"I would have said yes in a heartbeat." Natasha told her as Wanda smiled.

"Take it." Wanda told her. "It's yours anyway." Nat opened the box, a small smile on her face as she saw the ring. Wanda watched as the assassin took it from the box and placed it on her ring finger. "Right where it belongs." Wanda smiled as Nat wrapped her arm around the witch's shoulder. The two of them vowing silently to Y/N to look after the other. Especially since family is everything.

[neon-kazoo]

A Misunderstanding

[Context: A vigilante and a villain have an arranged, cooperative deal between them. That is, until something goes wrong, much to the vigilante’s confusion. This story takes place from the POV of the vigilante, beginning in the middle of an unrelated mission/project that the villain is unaffiliated with.]

(Warnings: threats, kidnapping, gun mention, knife violence, blood, fairly descriptive cut/stab wounds, interrogation/torture, helplessness, self-harm kinda, more language than usual, sexual harassment mentioned with implied past experiences)

Note: Technically these are ocs of mine, so if you catch any unexplained details that’s where they’re from. This whole snippet was intended to develop their dynamic, but at this point it’s really just whump lol. I just realized I had over 4000 words written that would otherwise never see the light of day so I made some tweaks to post it. If I missed any name replacements you saw nothing; there was a lot of words ok?

This is extremely long and heavier than most of my snippets, so be careful!

———

“Vigilante, grab some tubes from that room down the hall. I think it’s the third door on the right.”

I left the room to grab the materials for the project. Walking down the hall I lazily counted: one…two..

I reached the third room, and I could see the PVC from the doorway. Eyes locked on the stack at the back of the room, trying to figure out how I was going to carry so many large pieces, I missed the uninvited guest lurking beside the open door, allowing him an opportunity to catch me off guard and shove me into a wall. I opened my mouth to yell for the team but my eyes processed faster than my mouth and stopped me in my tracks.

What was Villain doing here?

I must’ve looked shocked- because I was. A personal appearance from this man could mean nothing good.

I racked my brain for any reason he might have to come find me. I came up empty. I certainly didn’t remember doing anything to him worth wall-slamming me over.

The slight ease I had at identifying the familiar face disappeared when I looked closer at his expression. There was a subtle anger painted on his usually-carefully-blank features.

“I’d suggest coming quietly,” he stated in his signature effortlessly-menacing tone. He spoke easily, like he executed an impromptu abduction every Tuesday morning.

“Come where?” I questioned, immediately suspicious. What was this?

“Somewhere to answer some questions,” he replied. His words were vague. Empty. His tone suggested I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, but I felt the urge to press.

(Why not here, why now, what was so important?)

I knew better than to argue, but I hadn’t quite grasped the gravity of my situation yet. I shifted, ready to plead that I was in the middle of something rather important, when a knife appeared at my throat, pulling me right back down to Earth.

“Or we can skip the questions.”

Questions it was.

I walked obediently when prompted and he held solidly to my arm. We exited the building via fire escape (how did he know I was here?) We reached the doors of a black SUV parked conveniently in an alley a block over from my operation. As slowly as I could manage, I worked my fingers up into my sleeve. PSAs about the odds of surviving being taken to a second location flashed in my head but were interrupted by the introduction of a gun at my side.

“Press it, and you’re dead.”

Well, fuck.

On second thought, I actually adored second locations. I dutifully climbed into the back and used my remaining energy trying to stay calm as my hands were secured to the seat and a bag placed over my head. My bracelet was, of course, removed.

I love car rides. I tried to imagine this was just another trip, it was just….dark out. At 9 in the morning. Yeah, and I had no idea where we were going. I would be trying to think of how I was gonna play this—whatever this was—but I genuinely didn’t think I had ever risked pissing Villain off. As a result, I was painfully unprepared for whatever was about to happen. I wanted to say how unnecessary this all was, that I would come willingly if asked, but something stopped me.

Fear. Something was wrong.

It was probably just a misunderstanding.

Probably.

I lost track of time and turns, instead just counting my breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four, repeat. I successfully held my panic at bay and was able to stand on my own two feet when I was finally pulled out of the car and led to who-knows-where. I blindly shuffled all the way through somewhere to a chair in front of a table to which my ankles were secured. My hands were left free and the blinding sack was removed.

The ceiling was covered in fluorescent lights that my eyes struggled to adjust to. I dropped my gaze to the floor, which was clean white tile with a silver disk in the center. Villain stood by the door, and apparently the ride had given him enough time to re-craft his careful features back into a perfectly smooth slate. The air in the room was uncomfortably cold, enough to raise goosebumps on my arms if it weren’t for my jacket.

A proper interrogation, but for what.

“Empty your pockets onto the table.”

He was all nonchalance now, and it was extremely off-putting. He studied me closely, and I barely refrained from squirming under his gaze. In the spirit of cooperation(survival), I obeyed the order, laying out a substantial array of multi tools, first aid, gadgets, and more onto the table top. When I finished, Villain strolled over to the table, studying the items before swiping them into a bag which he settled by the door. All but a switchblade, which he left sitting closest to his side, out of my reach.

He rounded the table to my seat, gesturing for me to slide off my jacket—which he threw by the door, much to my chagrin—and kneeling to pat the rest of me down. He found nothing.

He was silent as he returned to sit in the chair opposite me across the table.

Logic told me to copy his stare and his silence, but my anger and confusion made me reckless. The urge to speak overrode my rational mind.

“Dude, what the fuck.”

Hopefully, that statement would confirm my innocence, as it was definitely designed to do. I was not at all pissed about the deliberate jacket move, or being dragged out of an important mission against my will. Humanizing myself. That’s good, right?

“What? Are you surprised your actions have consequences? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” His voice dripped with condescension.

He placed his hand over the switchblade and I came to the sickening realization that there was a drain in the floor.

“I thought you were smarter than this, I really did.”

“What the fuck,” I repeated slowly, “are you talking about?”

He stood, and the knife was open. I ignored the blade and kept my eyes locked on his.

“I cannot defend myself if I don’t even know what you think I did.”

“You do not play dumb with me. I do not give second chances.�� His voice entered a register that I had never had the misfortune of hearing before.

This was not the man I knew. This man was somehow more dangerous, and he wasn’t making sense. He wasn’t listening.

“I wonder if you keep your knives sharp,” he spoke aloud with mock curiosity, twisting and turning the tip of the blade against his fingertip. He advanced around the table and I could do nothing to stop him. This stubborn, arrogant man was about to hurt me over nothing.

I had my hands, but they could not reason with him. They could only hold tightly over his wrist as he held the knife close to my skin. Rapid acceptance flushed through my brain as reality finally registered like a heavy weight descending upon my shoulders.

If he could be stubborn, so could I.

“Fuck you, Villain.”

The tip of the blade pierced the skin of my arm and I held my mouth firmly taut. He was cutting right above where the foundation and concealer covered the tattoo on my upper arm. The leaking blood was going to ruin my careful color correcting.

Blessedly, he skipped over the rest of the upper arm and focused his efforts on my lower arm instead, which he now held in an iron grip. I hated the feeling of being grabbed but I wouldn’t show it. He did not need any more power over me.

“You’ll take a lot for that man,” he noted incorrectly as he traced down my skin with the metal.

I was at a loss.

“For who?” The pain made my words fierce. I was angry and there wasn’t anything I could do about it except let it leech into my mouth.

“I am not an idiot, [real name].” He leaned in, and fuck him.

I seethed, “Apparently, you are, since you’re spending your time cutting up someone who doesn’t know shit about what you’re on about.”

The knife plunged deep into my forearm, and I gritted my teeth hard.

“Is he worth it?” Villain taunted.

“WHO?” I demanded, still trying to guess, to figure it out before I got diced like a vegetable but the pain made my brain foggy and I just couldn’t concentrate. The knife twisted slightly, and with it brought heat and a sickening pulling sensation.

This was not what I signed up for.

The blade came up to my face, mixing blood with sweat and the salt of involuntary tears as it slid across my cheekbone.

“To think, all this time, you were just [Politician]’s bitch,” he whispered.

Affronted was an understatement, but my offense was overridden by confusion.

“Who the fuck is-“ I stopped as the gears in my brain finally started to turn, greased by the crimson dripping across my skin.

“Are you talking about that asshole counselman?”

The gears were rusty but- what was his name? CM [Olitic]? [Politi]? [Politici- Politician]! CM [Politician]. The man I blackmailed into tipping me off about low-profile cases because he couldn’t keep his hands off interns? I was getting scored like sourdough dough with my own knife for HIM?!

Villain didn’t react, just continued to drag the knife down my neck and lined it up at my collarbones. He had to cut and pull my tank top down slightly for better access.

“You’re his spy. What have you told him?” He hummed, and I took a second to gather myself despite the biting pain.

“His WHAT. Where the fuck did you get that from because let me tell you I would not kill an ant for that man let alone spy for him-”

The knife slashed over my other collarbone, and I raged.

“ARE YOU INCAPABLE OF A CIVIL CONVERSATION? LISTEN, YOU ARE WRONG. Wrong. Use your fucking words.” I wanted to spell it out. One more cut and I would be sent over the edge. “You absolute. Mother. Fucker.”

“Just a loyal. Little. Dog.”

He punctuated his dig at my supposed obedience with a hand wrapped around my throat. Possessive.

Oh, so he was trying to make me angry. I really should have seen the angle earlier because damn him it was working.

I couldn’t keep giving him the satisfaction. I took one deep breath and then another, ignoring the sting it brought up across my chest, and the restriction around my neck.

“Ask me a question, and I’ll answer it.” I looked him dead in the eyes when I continued, “or kill me and go fuck yourself.”

“What is your deal with him?”

A silent sigh of relief. Finally, something productive.

“He tips me off for counsel cases,” I explained-rather graciously might I add, given the circumstances. “He didn’t ask me to do shit for him, nor would I. I am not his personal spy. I keep the association off his back, and that is it.”

I reserved a few more choice words about his questioning techniques and waited while he absorbed my response. I sounded far more civil than I felt.

“And why would he do that for you?”

I thanked every god I knew that he seemed to finally be playing ball. Words I could work with, knives I could not.

“Blackmail,” I answered simply.

“Explain.” He raised an eyebrow, and also my knife.

“The association opened a case on him for sexual harassment. I have evidence that would prove rather unsavory for him, I hold on to it in exchange for his information. Basically, he tells me shit and I don’t bury him.” I looked to Villain expectantly. I had nothing else to say on the matter.

He tilted his head. He wanted more, or worse, he knew I had more.

My lips stayed shut.

He had a dangerous glint in his eyes when he spoke, “You don’t withhold from me.”

“Since when. That was not part of our deal.” Anger, deeper and older, burned cold inside me.

“It is now.” It was not that simple.

“I gave you enough,” I told him. I intended my words to be final. He had no right to ask anything of me anymore.

“You don’t get to decide.” Like Hell I didn’t.

“It is none of your business,” I spit back.

“I’m making it my business.” He just kept going. What I wouldn’t give to wipe that self-assuredness right out of every cell in his body.

“Cut me again and I swear you’ll never hear another word out of my mouth,” I blustered. With every fresh drop of blood, he was taking a middle finger to our entire arrangement, everything I had built.

“I highly doubt that.” He flipped the knife around in his hands. He ran his eyes along each of my new, bloody, decorative lines. Fine, maybe I was all talk. But he definitely didn’t need to know that.

“Put the knife away.” I smiled sweetly, but I was getting angry again, and I was losing the will to stop it. My self control spilled out of me in the streams of crimson blood that ran down my face and chest and arms to where it would ultimately flush down the drain and leave me defenseless. Still, that was exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t let him win.

“Or are you too scared of an equal conversation?” I challenged. Two could play at the angering game.

Unfortunately for me, Villain was focused elsewhere and didn’t take the bait. He had found a thread and he intended to pull it.

“Tell me the proof.” Impressively, he just didn’t know when to stop.

“No.” Welcome, Villain, to the hill I was willing to die on. “You cut me up for being a spy, which I’m not. I didn’t break our deal, but you just did. I owe you nothing. I will give you nothing.”

I wanted to tell him that he would never see another cooperative action out of me for as long as I lived, that he should watch his back, that he should expect to see me again soon, but I still needed to live through this and threats were definitely not in my best interests. I wouldn’t betray myself like that.

My skin burned and my arm throbbed. My heart beat aggressively against my rib cage but my adrenaline was crashing. I hurt and I was tired and I just wanted this to be over.

All that trust, and all for nothing.

Villain did not get the hint that I was done. For real this time.

When he brought the knife back, I grabbed it. I pulled it towards me to catch him off guard, sinking it inches into the flesh of my hip before ripping it from his hand and flipping the blade back towards him. He must not have thought I would do it, because he stayed close enough for me to be able to sink the blade into his stomach before he wrestled my arms under control.

A second later, I couldn’t move and I knew it was over.

“I hope it fucking hurts,” I spit coldly, blinking away my burning tears.

A flash of something–maybe surprise?– passed briefly over his face. I hoped it was fear. I needed the win. Before this all got worse.

My wrists got strapped to the chair and Villain was out the door quickly, knife still sheathed in his abdomen. I rolled my head towards the ceiling, eyes unfocused and blinking out tears. I felt satisfaction, then something darker tried to push its way to the surface.

I paid it no mind, just breathed and let it pass. That wound would not be fatal.

Exhaustion soon sent me into a state that was a pitiful excuse for rest. My head rolled forward and the burning faded into the background. I floated for an indeterminate amount of time.

The door opened, closed. A prick. I didn’t care.

I dreamt in flashes of hands and grabbing and helplessness. Fingers, digging into my arm, pressure, where there shouldn’t be-

When I awoke, I was on a cot covered in a thin layer of sweat. I was confused by the freedom of movement and the light smell of laundry detergent. I must’ve slept like a rock, because my cuts were cleaned and my forearm bandaged. I was also bundled in my freshly-clean jacket.

What on Earth-

Was this a motel?

No sooner than thirty seconds after I sat up did the door open and none other than the devil himself appear.

“I figured we’d try again,” the ghost of a grimace passed over his face as his eyes landed on me. “…differently.”

I blinked.

Unconsciousness had returned a bit of my clarity, and if I looked closely, Villain appeared…sheepish. A slight hunch, face pained like he was trying hard not to avert his eyes. Was he…remorseful?

I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to maintain a plain face.

“Uh huh,” I sounded cautiously, shaking off the last of my sleep-induced disorientation. What exactly did that mean: differently?

I gathered something had changed, but I did not voice this, knowing the man in the doorway would never bother to explain himself to me.

Instead, I added humorously, “be a shame if I didn’t believe you.”

I rubbed my eyes and smiled ruefully and he actually looked away. Villain, the original Big Scary Man, was unable to make eye contact with me. Instead, he pointed out a bathroom and said he’d be back in five minutes. The win was too good to be true.

It wasn’t until I made to slide down my waistband that I remembered the self-inflicted wound on my hip. It had also been tended to, a medium size gauze pad taped over the opening.

Now that I was once again aware of its existence, I noticed certain movements did send a shooting pain along the skin and into the fat that had been cut. I wondered how I didn’t notice it earlier. I suspected I would find stitches if I removed the patch.

Carefully pulling the elastic back over the medical tape, I stood in front of the sink, cupping my hands under the faucet and drinking until it no longer burned to swallow. Water drenched the front of my tank, but I didn’t care.

I checked my bandages and studied the open cuts in the mirror. A few had the skin held together with butterfly closures, the rest slathered in Vaseline or Neosporin. I ran my fingers gingerly along the cut on my cheek and wondered if it would scar. Keeping still had worked in my favor though, it didn’t seem too deep.

My left arm took the brunt of the damage. The rose on my upper arm was uncovered and wiped clean, and I thanked several deities it was untouched. I opened and closed my fist to make sure the hole in my forearm didn’t take out anything too important. I was no doctor, but I determined it was probably fine. Villain knew what he was doing, after all.

I studied my reflection one last time, shrugging my jacket back over my arm carefully. I took in my face, discarding the uncertainty and anger and leaving my features assured and closed. The Villain special. I walked out the door.

Villain was waiting.

He didn’t touch me, instead we walked side by side back into the room I had woken up in, which now had an apple sitting on a table to the right when we walked in. Ignoring all of it, I went straight to sit on the bed. I didn’t know what to make of his complete 180, so I drew one knee up to my chest and waited. I let a little hope trickle into my thoughts.

Maybe it just took a good stabbing to force some common sense into Villain.

He paid my refusal to sit at the table no mind and just casually tossed the apple to me after taking his own seat. The hunger I felt must have been built over many, many hours because I did not hesitate to take a bite. And another. And another. The juice dripped down my chin and I didn’t bother to catch it.

Villain respectfully waited until my more ravenous bites had passed before he spoke.

“I propose a trade.”

I just about spit out my apple. Pushing past my knee-jerk response of dignifiedly telling him to “eat shit,” I studied the man to try and determine if he was being serious. His gaze was unwavering. He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but I wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. I felt clearer but also…off.

“Information for information,” he continued.

Wow this was a really good apple. I turned it over and studied it in my hand. A gala, maybe?

He clarified, “I want your evidence on the counselman.”

Yeah, no shit. So he does know how to use his words after all.

My apple was reduced to just a core. I supposed I had to speak sometime, lest the knife make a reappearance.

“Do you slice, dice, and drug every person you want to make a deal with, or am I just special?” I cocked my head but cast my gaze past the table towards the door.

In my peripheral, I caught his face still impassive.

“I acted on bad intel.”

Villain? Explaining himself? And I thought anger-inducing Villain was scary. Remorseful Villain was straight up terrifying. I was probably reading too far into it, just telling myself what I needed to hear, but—if I squinted—I could imagine it was an apology.

But on further evaluation, I accepted that it was all an act. Every moment I’ve spent with him carefully crafted. This was just another angle.

But what could I do about it?

Knowing didn’t make it better. The cuts were real, my fear was real, my pain was real.

In the end, I still put myself into this world, and I wasn’t going to stop.

“And what do I get out of this?” I questioned. My life? To leave? Some negotiation that would be.

“What do you want?”

Putting the ball in my court is new. Concerning. Is this a trick? How badly does he want to bury this guy?

A terrible, horrible idea hit me. I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

I couldn’t resist.

“Apologize.”

I stood up, walking over to the table and taking a seat, looking him dead in the eyes, and waited.

It was his turn to blink.

For what I presumed to be the first time in his life, the man in front of me had been stunned to silence.

Because of me.

Joy flooded me with the thought.

“I-“ he coughed, and I smiled with a sweetness that would send anyone without a functioning pancreas scrambling for insulin.

“My apologies,” he started, and to his credit, it didn’t sound too forced.

“For?” I pushed, and the look in his eyes suggested I was seriously pushing my luck.

I didn’t care.

“For,” he forced out, “the ‘slicing’ and ‘dicing’. The drugging, I believe, was justified.”

“You stabbed me first,” I shrugged nonchalantly, adding, “You got a pen?”

He held my gaze for a moment, before slowly getting up to retrieve a branded notepad and pen from the nightstand across the room.

He slid them towards me, and I clicked open the pen with a motion that jolted my forearm. I hid my grimace and somehow refrained from dropping the writing utensil onto the carpeting. I wrote down the number with a degree of difficulty. I pushed it towards him, but kept my fingers on it for a second.

“Wait 24, then call it.”

I could tell he wanted to ask for more details, but he wisely considered this ordeal to be over and my civility worn out.

I walked right out the door, and he didn’t stop me.

I thought about trying to get word to the team, but decided against it. I wasn’t integral to the plan. They could go on without me, and most definitely had considering the importance of the mission and the estimated time I had been gone. If they even knew I had been taken—I seemed to remember the building we were using having cameras—the chances that they would interfere in my business were limited.

So I probably had about 12 hours, give or take. Long enough for a natural nap and a rushed processing session with fuzzy pajamas and ice cream. I would have also indulged in a nice warm bath, but unfortunately I was correct about the stitches, making the whole watery adventure ill-advised.

After I had totally-effectively self-cared the whole experience away, I went out on the town.

I was making a round up City avenue when I spotted a shadow trailing behind me.

Round two, baby. Let’s go.

I stopped, and the shadow closed in.

“What kind of game are you trying to pull?” The shadow confronted angrily.

“You didn’t call the number,” I stated plainly.

“I traced it. It comes back to one [full legal name]. Do you think this is funny? We had an arrangement.” I couldn’t say why, but his words just didn’t seem as scary.

“You’re one to talk about the sanctity of arrangements. We did have one. One that you spit on. Or have you already forgotten?” I could tell he wanted to advance on me, but he was hanging back. “Speaking of which, I don’t really know when to take these stitches out.”

“So you think you can just walk away from this?”

It didn’t seem like he really believed that. It didn’t really seem like he knew what to believe.

“‘I am not an idiot’, Villain.” I threw his words back at him. It was the least he deserved. “I don’t work with people who break my trust. I made an exception. Do I need to take it back?”

He’s smarter than this, isn’t he?

He took a single step forward.

“Wow, you are thick lately. I gave you exactly what you asked for but you just can’t open your eyes and see it.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he held the scrap of paper up in a tight fist. “I asked for evidence, and if you’re not gonna give me what I clearly asked for-”

“Put your threats away and use your brain for once. Dust off the cobwebs and whatever the fuck has you so messed up and just think.”

I wasn’t angry, just exasperated. I knew my words were entering dangerous territory, but I felt they had to be said. This was not what I was used to dealing with. A brick wall would be more reasonable.

“If I was trying to trick you, I’d give you the number of the local pizza place. If you can’t get this I can’t help you.”

A pregnant pause.

“You,” he breathed.

Finally. A connect-the-dots champion.

“Me,” I confirmed.

“Witness?”

So close.

“Victim.”

I could almost hear the click. His whole demeanor shifted, his walls building back up, self-assuredness back in place.

“I see.”

He looked me up and down one more time with newly-appraising eyes before abruptly turning around and walking away. He melted back into the darkness, disappearing without so much as another word.

Asshole.

[dariaslookalike]

Needing Miller pt 2.

Summary: It's a shit hole of a world that you're living in, and it gets even shittier when you're ambushed in your sleep. It's a slippery slope that leads you from being tucked cozily in your sleeping bag to joining the raiding group lead by the most infuriating (and intimidating) man you've ever met. You need to survive, above all else- either in this group (without smacking its leader over the head), or in the world alone after somehow escaping. Easier said than done, when your mind loses all sense of focus, tactics and skills the second that Joel Miller rolls up his sleeves and shows his godforsaken forearms.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: thought i should note while this is joel as a raider it is *not* dark joel- he is not going to be anything dubious to our protagonist- at the end of the day that is my sweet husband joel miller, not someone who is going to swing on a woman in the name of romance.

also more often than not i'll be updating this first on AO3 because i am like bugging out about tumblr formatting [desperately trying to make a masterlist]

Next Chapter: Pt 3

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You don’t sleep for long. It’s hard to. The pain that’s shooting from your cheek and the tension held in your body means that after a few pitiful hours, you jolt awake. The only thing you can be thankful for is that you’re so exhausted, no dreams visit you.

Night has completely fallen onto the mall now, and everything is cast in harsh shadows from the fire still burning off to the side. Soft hues of orange and yellow light up the pale floor, and the shadows are darker, deeper, than if they were made just by the moonlight above.

You force your breathing to still even as the memories of the day flood back in. Where you were. What happened to you.

You twist in your sleeping bag, and Ryan glances down at you, still sitting on the edge of the fountain. You stare at him for a second before you clear your throat. You sit up, the material around you swishing.

“Thanks for staying. And stitching me up.”

“It’s fine.” Ryan nods. “Only a few hours- I can stay longer if you want to go back to sleep.”

“No. I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

His eyes flick to yours, but he doesn’t question you. He just nods again, and pushes to his feet, and begins walking over to sit by the fire.

You nod to yourself. He was good at stitching you up. To stay true to his word and watch over you. But the both of you clearly aren’t interested in being friends. He knows you’re only here because Joel let you be here. You know he was only tending to you because Joel made him. An odd, forced arrangement that you weren’t going to push any further. Right now you wanted to focus on staying alive in this group, not making friendship bracelets.

You settle against the fountain, still sitting in your sleeping bag. You can see everyone from here. While it’s later than before, only one person remains sleeping, and the rest circle around the fire. A nocturnal bunch. It makes sense. Sure, the light of day gives you the benefit of sight, but now, when the moon’s high up and everything is washed in darkness, it gives them coverage, security.

Your hand reaches up, and edges across the thick gauze pad taped to your face. It’s wet on the outside, and you know you’ll have to change the dressing soon if you’re able to. Your cheek is blooming with heat. You remembered it when you grazed your knee as a kid. Warm throbbing pain that was your body’s way of trying to kill any infection. Right now it feels like your body is trying to melt away your face. The skin beneath feels sharply prodded and stretched by the stitches, but you tell yourself that’s good. Better to feel that pain and hurt and heat than be the one with their head blown off.

Your hand drops from your face.

Terry. That was his name. Carving your own knife into your face. His head splattered across the floor. Your shoe crunching into his ribs with a kick.

You don’t know his dead friend's name and you won’t ask for it either. But in your mind, you still see the drop of his body to the floor, the slow, self-assured lowering of Joel’s gun as he tucks it back into his waistband. Two bullets. Two men. You’re only making up for one of them, and you wonder if he thinks you’re even more indebted to him now.

You clench your jaw. No. Joel was going to let you go- your hand wasn’t forced in joining this raiding group. You weren’t repaying a debt. You were trying to save your hide from raiders who wouldn’t just cut you, but carve you up and play with the pieces.

But Joel did you a favour. Spilled the blood of two of his men as a result of you. Took you in when he could have shot you for your limited supplies or left you to become septic.

And…you didn’t have any place better to be. You had run from the QZ; from the loss. The despair. The control. Everything that had happened, you had to get away from it. Head East. That was all you were doing.

It was a crack pipe dream thinking that you’d just keep heading East. Reach the coast. Swim abroad against the current and the tides and the waves and find a place on a continent you had never visited.

But something in your gut knew you were never going to make it to the coast; knew you weren’t truly following that day dream. Knew that you were going to get bit. Or caught. Or hell, step wrong, twist your ankle, and starve to death because you couldn’t walk the rest of the way.

You could make this work. Like Joel said, you’d do what he tells you to and you’d live. That was all you needed to do right now. Live.

You nod to yourself and get acutely aware that you aren’t alone anymore; that you couldn’t mutter to yourself without someone hearing now or hum under your breath if you got bored. You focus, and let your eyes trail to the campside. There’s two more people in the group than you counted before.

You focus on their forms. You see Ryan; the dirty blonde of his hair, your blood on the cuff of his jacket. He bumps his shoulder into the man sitting beside him, and they laugh about something you don’t hear. You don’t know the name of anyone else but spend time taking in their faces; rooting it to memory. All men. You’re not sure what that means for the group. Did they think they had no use for women outside of abuse and simply discarded them before you had shown up? Or were they just close knit, unwilling to let anyone into their protective circle? Neither option filled you with confidence.

Your gaze catches on Joel. He’s here now; you wonder where he walked off to, though you know you’re not entitled to ask. He’s facing the fire, and you’re able to take in his side profile. The sharp slope of his nose. The intense heaviness of his brow. The tightness to his lips, his jaw, his temple; as if even here, sitting at a fire with the group he commanded around him, he wasn’t at ease.

Your eyes sweep up and down him. He’s got a heavy, tanned jacket on, even that close to the flames. A pair of dirtied jeans. They hug his legs, and you think about him, wrapping himself around you just to stop your rabid attack. The thought swirls in your stomach, and becomes a flurry when you take in the slouch of his shoulders, the firelight catching on his hands that are clutched together in front of him.

He was handsome, and you feel nausea rise at the thought. When was anyone ever handsome to you? He was older than you, more brutal than you, more experienced than you. He should revolt and disgust you. Your logical reasoning does absolutely nothing to convince the pounding in your bloodstream to calm. You swallow. You have to forcibly drag your gaze away from him, force yourself to settle onto the new figure beside him.

But the man beside him is grinning, and already staring at you. You flush, realising you’ve been caught looking at Joel for what felt like hours. The man ducks his head closer to Joel, chuckling and saying something too quiet for you to hear. Joel doesn’t laugh, and instead his head spins, and he looks directly at you.

You sink further into your sleeping bag, and instantly look away, training your eyes onto the entrance of the mall, the slope of the walls, anything but him.

You flick your eyes back momentarily, wanting confirmation that you weren’t still being eyed. Instead, you catch the man beside Joel patting his shoulder and pushing himself to his feet. You stare at him, and shake your head slightly; praying to yourself that this wasn’t happening.

The man smiles, and he leaves the fireside, walking over to you. Joel’s staring at him, that notch in his brow again, before he scoffs and faces the fire again. You force yourself to look at this man, take him in; don’t cower or slink back; face him head on.

He’s got dark, black hair that’s curling below his ears, and the same carved nose of Joel. He’s wearing some kind of flannel and jeans, and he brushes his hands off on them as he comes closer, and sits down beside you.

You back yourself up, sliding against the fountain edge to put some distance between you but you still keep your eyes trained on him. Distance, not retreat. The man notices, but he simply smiles and sticks out his hand. You don’t shake it, and he laughs, withdrawing.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

You nod, and whisper your name back to him. His lips curl into a smirk. He’s got the same confidence as Joel. But Joel was domineering, commanding, authoritative. Tommy just came across as cocky. He taps his own cheek, eyebrows raised. You’re reminded of how Joel did the same thing, warning you that you’d bleed out if you left.

“What happened there?”

“Take a guess.” You bite.

He shrugs, unfazed by the harsh tone of your voice and huffs out a breath. “I was the one who cleaned out Terry.”

You feel anger burn white hot in your chest at the thought of him. His entitlement to you, his assault to your face. You swallow the anger down, aware that you were still being watched. You think of the body dragged out only metres away from you. You weren’t aware that Joel had directed the same to be done with Terry. It makes sense. You don’t want to attract rats, or other raiders who got it in their mind that the nearby group was smaller, weaker. Or something more vile than a rat, sniffing out after the death and decay in hopes to spread it’s virus.

Tommy’s gaze finds yours, and he studies you, as if trying to take you apart and sort through what the pieces meant.

“I know his ugly face was ‘cause of Joel- no one else that headstrong to put a bullet between his eyes. But he had a nasty shoulder. Skin clawed off his wrist.”

“What, were you friends with him?”

You resisted the urge to pick under your nails, to clean out anything left of Terry. There’s a beat of silence, and then Tommy’s lips spread out in a wolfish grin.

“No. Was gonna put a bullet in ‘im myself if Joel didn’t. Just wanted to say that I’m glad he suffered before. Especially if he cut up your pretty face.”

You nod, and turn your head away; half to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks and half to hide Terry’s assault. Tommy tilts his head to follow you, maintaining your gaze.

He smiles, eyes scanning over you. “Don’t worry- I dig chicks with scars.”

You laugh and it’s so unexpected that even you blink in surprise. You compose yourself, but Tommy’s smile is just wider, accomplished.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what my life goal is, for raiders to think I’m hot.”

Tommy’s jaw twinges at the word ‘raiders’, but he just shrugs. “Well, congrats then- mission accomplished.”

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head. You flick your eyes back to him and allow yourself to examine him closer. His hair is combed back, and he’s has a slight stubble to him. As if he was a man who preferred to be clean shaven, but had been without a razor for a bit too long; a contrast to his brother. Smooth skin, cheekbones that drag your eyes down to his lips. He’s older than you but you struggle to pinpoint by how much.

He smiles as if it’s the easiest thing in the world; as if you were both just at some bar, chatting with each other, and the world hadn’t ended; as if you hadn’t done things you weren’t proud of and he hadn’t probably done worse.

“Seems ya to like to stare at Miller men.” He says, teasing.

He has the same Southern drawl, but his voice is higher, not as weighted. You blush and turn away but he waves his hands in defense.

“‘It’s not embarrassin’. I get it- I’d stare at him too to take in my handiwork.” He waggles his thick eyebrows. “Or were you starin’ at him for some other reason?”

You scoff, and turn back to him; glaring as the anger in your chest rears its head back up. “Handiwork?���

He smirks, nodding. “Yeah. Saw the scratches on Joel’s neck.”

He reaches up, gesturing his hands clawing down his neck. “Just a shame you didn’t give him a black eye too- would’ve paid money to see it.”

You should feel embarrassed, or wary to be discussing your earlier grapple with Joel’s brother. But instead your lips tug up. You look at Tommy from the corner of your eye.

“I kicked him in the balls. If that’s worth anything.”

His eyes blow wide and his mouth drops open a bit until he laughs, tipping his head back. “God. No wonder he was so moody when he came and got me.”

He chuckles to himself before he looks back at you. “That’s good. If you can kick him in the nuts and get away with it, you’ll make it here. No doubts.”

You nod, not sure how to respond. Did you want to make it here, wherever here was?

The conversation flows on. Tommy gives you the names of everyone, pointing them out around the fire. You’re able to laugh with him, and offer a little bit to the conversation.

You’re not sure where you stand with this man. How truly trustworthy he is beneath his charming facade. But Ryan’s antiseptic and skills were something you’d need to keep close by before you were fully healed up. Until the wound on your face became a scar, you couldn’t leave.

So, when he asks about where you came from, what you’re doing all the way out here, you feed him little pieces of information- not enough for him to gather the full story, but enough that he leans in closer; as if deciding to trust, or at least entertain, you too.

You don’t register that Joel’s walked over to you until Tommy’s gaze flicks upwards, and you follow.

Joel’s glaring down at his brother, and Tommy’s easy smile slips off his face; replaced with a hard carve of his lips and tense hunch of his brow. The charming man fades away, and in his place is a hardened, now seemingly older man. A raider- not a man you met at a bar that didn’t exist anymore.

There seems to be unspoken words between the two, communicated in the flare of Joel’s nostrils, the square of his shoulders, the clench of his fists. You simply watch the exchange, enraptured and feeling like you’re intruding. Finally, Tommy sighs, and his gaze slides to you, a bashful smile put back in place.

“Nice meeting ya, Dollface.”

You laugh, and when he offers you his hand again, you reach out, shaking it. He lingers, holding onto you, and you’re stuck staring into the dark of his eyes; you can see the firelight flickering in them.

Joel clears his throat, and Tommy rolls his eyes, shooting you a smirk as if to say Can you believe this guy? But he pulls back, pushing himself to his feet. He raises to his full height, and stares at Joel- more unspoken conversation, and now it’s Tommy talking in the set of his jaw, the tilt of his head, the twinge in his temple. The tension snaps and dissipates when he simply shakes his head, brushing past Joel and returning to sit by the fire.

Joel scoffs at him, and shakes his head. He doesn’t look at you as he sits down, taking Tommy’s seat beside you.

“What was that?”

His jaw clenches, and he keeps looking across to the fire. “Nothin’.”

“Yeah, sure seemed like nothing.”

Joel’s tongue darts out to lick across his lip and he shakes his head slightly. “None of your business.”

You force yourself to exhale through your nose, to not slap him across the face. “Sure- but I was having a nice conversation with him. Doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of that to go around here amidst all the shooting.”

He scoffs, and finally turns to you fully. His face is half cast in light from the fire, and the thought catches in your throat that Tommy was only sitting here a minute ago and didn’t look half as handsome as the man in front of you.

Joel glares at you, the notch in his brow deeper. “Those two needed to go- not gonna have some fuckin’ punks walking around like they make the rules.”

His eye dips down to the bandage on your cheek and you wonder if he sees the knife stabbed into it as much as you still feel it. He drags his gaze back to yours, hissing. “And Tommy only wants to get in your pants. Nothin’ nice about the conversation.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff, words slipping out before you can stop them. “Bite me.”

He scowls, lip tugging down. “Real creative.”

“What?” You demand, leaning forward, fire licking up inside you. “Am I supposed to sit here and think of a fucking essay when you tell me all your brother wants to do is fuck me?”

Joel’s brow furrows, and he clicks his teeth. “Watch it.”

You huff but you’re left with a moment of tension, and it leaves you with flashes of images- Terry’s head splattered across the floor. Your wrist nearly broken by Joel’s hand. His gun glinting at his waist.

But you also see the obedient turn of heads. Tommy’s annoyance yet subordination.

You’re angry. Angry that you were so exhausted you had to sleep. Angry that you weren’t prepared more in that fucking shop. Angry that you got caught. Angry that you got stabbed. Angry that you’re stuck with this group when you were doing just fine on your own before you met them. Angry that the man beside you is talking to you like you’re a child. You yield to the fire inside you and scoff.

“Fuck off Joel.”

His eyes widen and it’s the same minuscule, near-unnoticeable change that reveals his shock. But he just clenches his jaw, showing more restraint than you had. “Sure got some gall.”

You run your tongue along your teeth, and his eyes track the movement. “I ‘had some fight’, right? Thought that’s why I’m here.”

His eyes stay trained on you, and his gaze is heavy, stern. “Just ‘cause you can run your mouth doesn’t mean jack.”

Your eyes dip to his neck, and you see what Tommy was talking about. Where you had scratched him earlier, there is jagged lines down the smooth column of his neck, some speckled with blood. Your eyes flick back to his.

“Yeah?”

His nostrils flare and it’s the only indication that he knows exactly what you were looking at. He snarls, and leans even closer.

“Tomorrow we’re on the move. You slip up, you fuck up, you don’t have any of that ‘fight’ in ya, and you’re done for.”

You clench your jaw but you don’t flinch back, instead holding his gaze. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He scoffs and is the first to lean back, shaking his head. “You’re gonna learn some respect.” He pins you with a glare. “Don’t ever mouth off like that in front of anyone- or you’re gonna wish I left you for dead with that knife in your face.”

You swallow, and your cheek burns in pain and shame. You clench your hand.. Force yourself to feel the strain of your bones where he had nearly crushed them and the nails digging into your palm instead of reaching across and slapping him as hard as you could.

You could see the imaginary line you had to toe. Not subordinate enough for him to step on you and treat you like shit. Not insubordinate enough for him to put a bullet between your eyes. Tell him to fuck off when you needed to. Bow your head when he told you to.

So you just nod, and turn from him, leaning back against the fountain. You had clearly pushed enough of his buttons tonight, and you weren’t ready to push anymore. Yet.

He huffs beside you, and turns away, facing back to the group.

Finally, after what feels like tortuous hours of uncomfortable silence, he clears his throat. “You ever used a gun?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye but don’t turn to him. “What?”

He scoffs beside you, as if repeating himself is his own personal hell. “Have you ever used a gun?”

You swallow, and your hand slides in your sleeping bag, thumbing over the hilt of your knife. “Yeah. Got taught in FEDRA’s school.”

He turns his head at that, maybe just realising that you didn’t simply spawn into existence in this mall. That you had a life. A school. Maybe friends. A family. That you had gotten out, gotten this far by yourself.

He tuts. “‘T’s not gonna do you shit then. I’ll teach you tomorrow as we go.”

You swallow, tilting your head slightly to look at him. “Tommy can do that. Or Ryan.”

“Already sick of me, Newbie?”

You don’t say anything, and he leans in closer, eyes narrowing.

“I brought you in. ‘M responsible for you.”

You turn back to him fully, eyebrows raised. “You said I was free to go. I joined. I’m not some sick puppy you dragged in to fix up.”

His tongue runs along his teeth beneath his lips. “Whether you like it or not, it’s cause of me that you’re here and not bleeding out in some fuckin’ shop.”

You resist the urge to bite your ruined cheek. He’s right. You know it. You can feel the debt you owe to him thrumming between the two of you.

“So, what? You teach, and then I can stay out of your way?”

“Sure,” He snaps, eyes dark. “You learn to shoot a gun properly, and I won’t have to talk to you again.”

You clench your jaw. “Great.”

“What’s wrong, Dollface?” He hisses the name. “You should be jumping for joy.”

“What’s your issue?” You snap, reeling on him. “You take me in, get my face fixed up and now you’re pushing me for a fucking fight. What is it? Seeing how long it takes for me to snap, how long until you can put a bullet between my eyes too?”

He huffs, and shakes his head, fury evident in the clench of his jaw. “‘M not testing you.”

“So what is it?” You push, glowering. “Can’t stand the thought of your brother getting some ‘cause I told you I’d bite your dick off?”

His eyes flick towards you, and he scoffs. “No. Just don’t get why you’re buddying up to him. You’ve gotta learn something.” He hisses. “Anyone who’s made it this far, who’s survived, didn’t do so cause they were fuckin’ nice.”

You glare at him. “You don’t think I learned my lesson from Terry? From your crew?”

You jut out your chin, and his eyes snag on the bandage across your face. You know what he’s thinking- that you’re never going to be able to forget that lesson. Something like pity flashes through his eyes for a second before you see him chew his cheek for a second, as if physically biting back his response. He takes a deep breath, and then another, before he looks back at you.

“Don’t get it twisted,” He says, eyes dark and foreboding. “Terry wasn’t good. But a Miller,” He huffs, "is a different kind of bad. Stay away from Tommy.”

You swallow, and almost want to laugh at the dramatism; but something in his words is ragged, raw. True.

You clench your jaw, levelling your gaze with him. “And what about you? You said you’re responsible for me now. Miller.”

His lips tilt down but he shrugs, nonchalantly. You scoff.

“So what? Tommy’s some big bad wolf I should steer clear from, but you’re my guardian angel?”

He mirrors you, scoffing and crossing his hands across his chest. You hate the stupid flex of his forearms and the way your eye catches on the shadow. “Nowhere near that. But I’m not gonna let you jeopardise my crew until you can prove you can handle your own.”

“You brought me in.” You hiss, throwing his own words in his face.

“Exactly,” He snarls, lip curling. “I brought you in and if you fuck up, it’s on me.”

Your pulse is thrumming in your ears. “So you teach me to not fuck up- And then you won’t have to talk to me again. That’s our deal right? I do as I’m told and I get to stay. Nothing more, nothing less.” You say, repeating his words from earlier again.

His jaw flexes, but he nods.

“Can’t wait.” You hiss, turning away from him

He doesn’t leave. You can feel him practically thrumming with annoyance and anger at how petty and childish you were- but he doesn’t leave.

You’re his responsibility now, hisses the small voice in your head. You want to tell it to shut up. To understand that you could have left, still could if you wanted to; but you chose to be here, because otherwise you would have died two streets away with a raider robbing your boots off your cold feet. Hell, you might have made it a week before the dirt and rubble and spores sunk into your wound and you died a feverish death.

But you don’t. Because you know that you owe Joel- owe him for the bullet in Terry, the bullet in his other insubordinate, the stitches in your face; the protection and food and shelter you’d get now in this desolate waste land of a city. That was the deal. He provides you with the mockery of a good life in this wasteland, and you do as you’re told.

And you know that Joel is responsible for you. Killing two of his own men, even if it was for disobeying his rules, because of you was a threat to his domineering authority. You, your actions, your slip ups, your fuck ups, would all be a reflection on him.

He was responsible for you and you owed him. Two truths that coexisted in this twisted partnership you had found yourself in.

So you don’t tell him to fuck off again and to go back to the fire. Instead, you lay on your side, back still against the fountain, and tug up your sleeping bag to your chin. Your head is closest to Joel; enough that if you tilted your eyes up, you’d be able to see the underside of his jaw, his cheekbones, the messy top of hair. Right now your gaze could only find the solidness of his thighs.

You think of the quick draw of his gun, his unflinching gaze as he blew someone’s head off for the second time that day. You wonder if he meant it- if he was a different, but wholly worse evil than Terry.

You don’t think you want to find out.

He can watch your back tonight, teach you about guns tomorrow, and the day after, you would make sure you keep as much distance between the two of you as possible.

The pain is still throbbing, but it’s becoming an accepted, familiar sensation in your body. It dulls in the background of sleep.

[banquetwriter]

Paring: Season1!Daryl Dixion x (implied) fem!reader

Word Count: idk girlies 😔

Warning: shitty writing, use of y/n, death of animals, cannon typical violence, reader shoots a gun 🤑

A/N: hey hunny bunnies i have not written in 5 months and plus this was written on my phone however i wanted to make a fluffy slow burn with our fav red neck

part 2

support me

He was sharpening his knife. The repetitive scraping noise is what caught your attention. You let your fingers come to a slow on the bracelet.

You eyed his flexing muscles as he continued to scrape. He was very attractive. There weren't many singles in the group of survives by the quarry. Glenn, Shane, and Andrea were really the only ones that came to mind but, they weren't really your type. Daryl was.

It was almost shameful of you to admit how much you wanted to make him laugh or smile. It was silly. Especially when his brother Merle was just about the worst thing since Satan fell and hell opened up.

But you couldn't help your wandering eyes. You just couldn't. You really tried to keep your eyes and thoughts to yourself but it was difficult. Since you were also an able-bodied adult you were sent to scavenge, sometimes with Daryl.

Apparently letting your mind wander had caught the archer's attention. “What ‘r you staring at, girl?” he grunted out, his eyes narrow. Your eyes pulled up to meet his, slightly startled at his voice.

“Nothing Daryl sorry. Just got lost daydreaming,” you say with a small smile trying not to creep him out any. You look down trying to resume the jewelry. “Well quit your starin’,” he says walking off. “Yup. No problem,” you say, mostly to yourself as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Realistically it wasn't a big deal, had it happened with Rick or Dale you would have laughed it off but no. It had to happen with Daryl.

You knew he was an ass but you couldn't help but feel like he had a softer side to him. But who are you kidding? He wouldn't save you. He didn't care about you.

You tried to push your sad feelings down and finish tying up the bracelet. You push up on your knees and walk over to the kids and Lori. “Here Sophia! You said you liked mine so I thought to make you one of your own,” you said handing her your creation.

Lori and Carol both smiled at each other as Sophia smiled picking it up in her hands. “Thank you, Ma’am!” Sophia chirps putting it on.

“Call me y/n honey, I ain't that old.” you laugh out placing your hand on her upper back. She smiles up at you showing off her new look. “That's mighty nice of y/n isn't it? Now back to math both of you.” Lori tuts smiling and the kids. You smile and walk away.

Hearing Carl asking to see her new bracelet. You walk up and to the main area with the campfire observing the hot sun that was just getting hotter. It had to have been around 11 am, rounds were going to be started soon.

You decide to get ready pushing your hair back and loading your gun, pressing the soft button for safety. You set it in its holster grabbing your knife from your tent. You step out adjusting your gear.

“Hey, we're paired up! We're leaving in 2 minutes. Hurry your ass up.” Daryl says his drawl showing. “Ok! Be right there!” you shout in an attempt to be nice.

You sigh rolling your eyes. Just because you like him does not mean he likes you.

You both set off just tracking the perimeter of the camp. Suddenly you both heard a twig snap. Your eyes meet his, he pushes his finger against his lips. You nod letting yourself slowly crouch down.

You both stayed silent, as another twig snapped. You pointed in the direction of the noise. He nods slowly tip-toeing towards the noise. Best case a rabbit your squirrel for dinner.

Worst case a walker or another person. Daryl holds his bow in front of him, your attempt to step forward is blocked by his arm going across your chest. You eye him. “Down!” he whispers, pushing down on your chest.

Without hesitation, you follow suit. Once again letting your knees fall.

It was a deer. An almost full-grown one too. You clasped your hand over your mouth, attempting to make no noise to not scare it away.

You watch as it nibbles away at the shrubbery. Your hand subconsciously falls on Daryl's arm, pulling him slightly closer. The creature was beautiful. But what was going to be even more beautiful was all the full bellies it would provide.

Daryl shoots an arrow in its stomach then its eye then another in the torso. The creature struggles for a second and then inevitably falls.

“Damn! Look at us, girl! We are gonna have ourselves some venison!” Daryl says with a giddy smile. Oh, and there goes your heart puttering away.

He just shot a fucking deer and your swooning over his smile. “Good job Daryl,” you say smiling, walking over to him and the food. He has an impressed smile, as he looks at you.

He would be a bald-faced liar if he said you were ugly. You were damn beautiful. Funny too. And annoyingly nice. You were nice to the kitties, to Dale, and to him. Hell, you were even nice to Merle, as long as he hadn't pissed you off that day.

You bent down plucking an arrow from the torso of the beast and handing it to him. “Thanks,” he grunts out nodding his head and pushing the arrow back into his sack. “Don't mention it,” you say with a smile.

To say everyone was happy with your catch was an understatement. This would feed the group for a good few days. More if they were able to get salt to preserve it.

“That was a real find y/n,” Dale says stepping behind you. “Sure but thank Daryl, he found and shot it,” you said pointing to the man currently dressing the animal. “Yeah and carried the damn thing back too,” he said nodding at you.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, striding over and sitting down next to him. “I offered to help carry it,” you said with a grin, picking up a knife and helping him. He rolled his eyes.

“Ain't no way I'm making a lady carry back a dead animal.” he shoots back with a contorted face.

The two of you continued to dress the animal taking all the useless bits away and prepping it to cook. You stayed mostly silent just observing the man in front of you and the group as they chatted about how excited they were for the meat Daryl (and you) caught.

You sat next to him again during dinner which was odd for both of you. You usually sat with the group chatting and giggling with everyone. Daryl sat off by himself maybe his brother would join him but even that was rare.

You munched on the meat which, even with little to no seasoning, was still one of the better meals you've had in a while. “God this beats squirrel any day of the week,” Daryl says with his almost all-eaten plate.

You chuckle at him, “Oh yeah. Nothing beats food before all this shit though. I miss normal food.” you mumble shoving more food in your mouth.

“Nah this is about what I did before too,” he said. “Huh, really? I guess you do strike me as the outdoorsy type,” you say wiping your mouth off.

“Yeah, and you peg me as the sissy city girl type,” he says with a grin. You feel a shocked expression. “Now wherever did you get such an idea?” you say with a faked Southern accent, placing your hand on your chest.

Daryl kicks a little pebble with his foot that disappears in the darkness outside of the firelight. You sit up pick up your plate and Daryls for no particular reason.

You figured it was the nice thing to do. You set the plates down in the dirty bin wiping your hands off. What you don't see is Daryl’s lingering eyes on you.

The moonlight mixed with the fire’s embers was creating a warm scene. If it was the end of the world you just might have been excited about it. You needed a walk. After checking to make sure your gun is still on you, your feet take you a ways from camp.

You hadn't told anyone that you left. Stupid idea. It was getting later, you needed to head back. You stop for a second admiring the forest scenery.

You turn around only to be met with a horrifying creature. A walker. Half of its face was gone, and flesh dripped off of the bone. You gasped stepping back. “Fuck.” you mutter as he grunts and lunges towards you.

All the moments you've been prepared for have flown out of the window. You step backward fiddling to find your gun. The creature continues its lumber at you.

You point the gun and press the trigger. The walker's head explodes on impact with the bullet. The sound rang throughout the quarry. You needed to get back to camp immediately.

Shane is gonna rip your head off. You started jogging back, every slight sound making you more and more paranoid. You run back into camp as everyone's eyes are on you.

“Where is Shane?” you ask as people flood up to you. “Where were you?” Lori asks in a scolding tone. You choose to ignore her. The implication of a walker being within walking distance of the camp was cause for concern they had never gotten that far before.

“Rick where is Shane?” you say moving close to him. “He went out after the shot, he and Daryl both did,” he says eyeing you up and down with a scowl.

“Fuck.” you mutter catching your breath your hands resting on your knees. “There was a walker not far from camp,” you say to the worried-looking crowd. Sophia clings to her mother, “It's ok honey.” she says with a worried face, embracing her daughter.

“Was that shot you?” Rick asks pointing his finger at your chest. “Yes, that was me. We have to be ready the shot could ring around the mountains and draw more of them here,” you say slamming your small handgun on the table.

“What makes you think there are more? Could have been a one-off.” Dale says stepping up. “We have never had a walker that close to us ever before in camp, food is getting scarce minus that deer Daryl shot today. I'm worried that they have finally moved on from the city,” you say packing more ammo.

Rick wipes his mouth and jaw. “Ok we need to fortify, Lori, Carol get the kids outta here,” he says. Carol nods holding Sophia close. “Rick you are not going out there,” Lori says through gritted teeth.

“We have a community to protect, we have a son to protect, I have to protect you,” he says to her pulling her close. Her eyes closed leaning into the hug. “Please be safe,” she mumbled against his chest before taking Carl off to a tent.

Glenn walks up to me and we both stare at Rick. “Glenn you stay here, keep everyone calm, and stand guard. Y/n you're coming with me, take me to the spot where the walker was.” Rick says picking up his gun.

“We can't wait until the morning?” Juan says stepping closer to you and Glenn. “You willing to sacrifice the life of your kids for that chance?” you ask. He steps back nodding his head no.

You take off after Rick, determination and fear flooding your veins.

[gamerdog1]

Deadpool and Wolverine Review

If third time's the charm, Deadpool is the whole goddamn bracelet. I kinda grew up alongside the Deadpool movies. I saw the first one at overnight camp at 16, then saw the second in theaters at 18. Now, at 23, I feel like I've grown as a person, which means I can actually articulate how I feel about these films (though specifically, the newest one). I guess that whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing was right after all.

For starters, Ryan Reynolds absolutely kills it. I know the phrase 'born to play this character' is thrown around a lot, but it really fits here with him. Reynolds once again is a delight as Deadpool, with all his usual snark, pizazz, and heartfelt moments. He's always on point, either with a quick jab at another character, comical reactions, or his character's usual fourth-wall breaks.

He isn't always all happy-go lucky, though. The film, like the previous 2, has a story beyond gratuitous violence, one that centers on Wade Wilson's sense of inadequacy in comparison to other famous heroes. We see how his life has changed since the previous film (go watch that before this, it will not make sense otherwise), both for better and for worse, and watch him continue to grow as a person in a satisfying way. That, I believe, is what separates these movies from other ultra-violent movies of its type: that there is an emotionally-driven story, and it remains important beyond getting characters from setpiece to setpiece.

Though, that's not to say that this is some deep philosophical mediation on the character. Fear not, there's still as much, if not more, violent fight scenes and action here like the previous movies. After all, what would a Deadpool movie be without a few dozen (read: thousand) bad guys to kill, in creative and gorey ways? This film ups the ante, by giving more interesting fight scenes that revolve around different set ups (tower defense, 1v1 in a car, etc) to keep everything visually fresh.

There's never a dull moment in this film. Heart-to-hearts are full of little sneaky one-liners that take a minute to register. Tension between the two leads is thick enough to see, let alone cut with a knife. And all the while, the film keeps bringing in new reveals, fully using the 20th Century Fox backlog of C-listers to call back to this franchise's history, and keep them from fully being forgotten. Add that, with an army of multiverse Deadpools, and you've got yourself a film that even non-comic book nerds like me gush over.

Above all this, beyond the not-quite-irritating-like-most use of the multiverse, or the hundreds of liters of CGI blood shed, this movie did something so profound, I'm still reeling. It made me love Wolverine.

Growing up, Logan always felt like a gross old man type of character. The kind who pressures you to drink at a young age, and owns at least 20 guns that he refuses to part with. Any portrayal of his animal-ness always felt like lip service. But here... its like I've met him for the first time, and now I'm obsessed.

Hugh Jackman has practically been playing this character since I was born, but only here do I really feel like we get to meet Wolverine in full. No longer is he that hunched-over, stoic gruff weirdo that X-Men have around, now he's a deeply emotional character with valid reasoning behind it, and strong motivations. We are finally in an era where tough guy characters are being done justice and allowed to have emotions, and it is glorious.

X-Men Apocalypse gave us a taste of what he could do, but putting Wolverine in an R-Rated movie was the best decision anyone could have ever made. His animal fury is on full display here, and with a higher age rating, ever stab and slice is shown in bloody, glorious detail. Pairing him with another character who can take hits and survive, like Deadpool, was a match made in heaven.

The two are perfect foils, playing off each other in such a satisfying way that had me disappointed when it was all over. Deadpool has worked with bigger, tougher guys in the past, but Wolverine's short temper and guardedness go well with Deadpool's silly, jokester persona. Platonically, romantically, sexually, I don't care. They're meant for each other.

Above all, Deadpool and Wolverine is a loving send off to the studio that made the X-Men film franchise. Its a culmination of all the passion and hard work that went into those movies, and stands as a testament to how far we've come since the first X-Men hit theaters over 2 decades ago. With a film like this as a sample of what's in the future, we won't have anything to fear.

[willowreadsgayfanfiction]

II 17 spoilers!

Specifically, me rambling

That episode, specifically the death, make me sick to my stomach. I have 300 ocs, and the thought that someone could just make less than a corpse terrifies me. Also, would they hate me? They would hate me. I literally forced one of my ocs to go into hiding since age 5 until I killed off both his siblings. If he met me I wouldn't survive. As a character creator, Cobs is my worst nightmare.

Suitcase is my favourite character and her speech about being made broken made me want to BAWL. She is amazing. I adore her. Why the fuck is she dead? Did she know if Knife's hand at the end of it all was real? AUGHHHSGDHFGS

And also, I kin fan soo much (undiagnosed autism? Maybe idk) I literally made bracelets of all the ii season 2 cast, and I'm gonna work on the rest soon! But him explaining the theory made me so happy! I sound exactly like that, a lot. Actually all the time. But then hearing the

"I know too much."

SHATTERED me. His theory was right, at what cost? I'm cutting myself off here, don't wanna ramble too long

[fagbearentertainment]

I know I shouldn’t feel this way but everytime I see someone younger than me or around my age talk about starting hrt or going to a pride parade with their parents or showing off the pride flags hanging in their bedroom I can’t help but be so jealous of them. I’m so happy for them and I’m so glad their families support them don’t get me wrong but like I want that.

I want my mom to put her “no one messes with my kids” attitude into defending me from bigots, I want my dad to buy me a pocket knife for Christmas like me does for my brother, I want to tell my sister about the cute girl I saw at Walmart, I want to make kandi bracelets of my pride flags without the debilitating fear of one of them recognizing and questioning me about it, I want to start hrt with the full support of my parents being there with me at appointments, I don’t want to lay awake at night planning how I’ll survive when I inevitably have to cut them out

[no-truth-left]

1.035 - Return the family the photo, go to bed

Chie returns the photo to the album, closes it, and sets the room back to rights. The house is dark when she exits. Tip-toeing, she heads back to the guest room, wincing as she steps on creaky floorboards. Maybe Jethro won't realize she was snoop- admiring his storage boxes.

Going through her nightly routine is familiar enough that her mind wanders. Unfortunately, it only chases the questions running circles around her. Jewelry, monsters, Jethro's behavior. As desperately as she tries to find some sort of answer, the only thing that keeps popping up in her mind is the Pepe Silvia meme. Except Charlie Day is a twisted, bloated monster, bending over backwards, arms thrown up ecstatically as he garbles out unintelligible nonsense about the mail. Chie rubs her head. Sleep. She needs sleep.

Sct. Sc-scrrt. Tap. Tap tap.

Chie freezes, eyes slowly traveling to the window. Is it trying to get in? A small part of Chie desperately wants to believe this is a cat or a big moth. But she doubts any animal would survive living with those monsters.

Taking a deep breath, Chie grabs the pocket knife from her purse. Then she approaches the window, stopping just to the right of it. Heavy curtains obscure the glass, and she's glad she can't see what's out there.

Chie's hand shakes. “Hey,” she whispers sharply. The scratching stops. Is that good? Bad? “I'm not going anywhere. So… so go away.” She pauses. “Please.”

Silence. Blissful silence.

Then the scratching continues. Chie frowns. Perhaps the wall between them gives her courage. Perhaps it's knowing if it smashes through, she can protect herself with her knife. Whatever it is, Chie says, “If you can understand me, tap twice.”

The scratching continues in no discernable pattern. Will she have to spend the night like this? So obviously being watched? Chie shudders. The bed, which had been inviting earlier, now looks like a trap. But her eyes are heavy and thinking feels like slogging through thick mud. She needs to sleep.

Note: this part has 2 more polls. Please see the reblogs.

[tempestaslokni]

Location: The Cruise Ship (abandoned cabins) Status: Closed for @alexpanganiban Turns out that the upper levels of the cruise ship were much easier to navigate than the lower ones. Funny how that works, when things weren't waterlogged and all. Lokni found himself gathering four suitcases from around the cabins and consolidating them into one room, hoping to find clothing and other salvageable items. Currently, the cabin the Lokni was in was small and quaint, a set of bunk beds and a single vanity made of white wood adorned the room. The bedding was designed with light blue and white striped covers, overlaying sheets with a navy blue anchor pattern. It was some sort of chic beach theme, however, that was lost on Lokni. After years of living in a trailer in the middle of the mountains, interior design wasn't as appealing. That was for people who had the means to do so. Despite this, Lokni could still appreciate the aesthetic. He had to admit that the design choice helped accentuate the natural light that came through the small cabin window- and made it clearer for him to see what he was doing. His clothes weren't in the best condition, and compared to everyone else walking around on the island he felt a little out of place in his cowboy boots and tattered t-shirt. If he could just find something in his size, he would be thankful. The first suitcase was a bust, he popped it open to reveal a collection of women's clothing, something that he didn't need. He was about to discard it from his stack but a glint of silver metal caught his eye. There was a single silver bracelet, with a small, pearly pink butterfly that glinted in the low light of the cabin. It was simple, but in its simplicity, there was an elegance to it that piqued Lokni's interest. As he turned the cool metal over in his hands a certain person came to mind, someone that this would look nice on. Feeling a little self-conscious, he pocketed the bracelet. The next suitcase was a little more reasonable. This one had a collection of men's clothes, mind you, more suited for a vacation than tropical island survival. At this point, Lokni would take what he could get. There was a collection of rayon Aloha shirts- each pattern just as loud and obnoxious as the last. It wasn't his style, but it was light and breathable. Perhaps he could pull it off, using them more as a jacket than a standalone shirt. It might be too humid here for an undershirt, but he doubted that socially acceptable clothing was a concern here. Next to the shirts he found two pairs of shorts, one khaki pair and the other a camouflage one. Lokni was biased towards the camouflage pair, as he suspected that if they were gonna' be here a while, he was going to have to hunt eventually. Experimentally, he shirked his personal clothing items and tried on the green camouflage shorts with one of the Aloha shirts. This one in particular was scarlet with orange hibiscus flowers overlayed in a flamboyant pattern. He turned to the mirror at the vanity below the cabin window. It wasn't optimal, but it would get the job done. Lokni was about to change back into his own clothes when from the mirror's reflection, he glanced a flicker of movement. He whirled around, his fingers fumbling for the knife at his belt- only to find that it wasn't there as it was on his own, personal pair of jeans. "Is someone there?" Lokni cautiously called out to the hallway.

[neodracunyan]

Y/n L/n (Kenneth Parker) - The Hour of Despair AU

Smiling Critters: Hour of Despair AU Cast

The Resistance Team Member #1: Y/n L/n (Kenneth Parker) aka Poppy's Angel

Design Concept made by NeoDracunyan

As Y/n (Kenneth) became the Dark Creatures' main target, he does his best to survive their reign of terror with his late Uncle Henry's trusty pistol and bowie knife. He lives in a secluded safe house with Miss Delight and the other survivors while on the run from the Dark Creatures and the Shadow Patrol.

The birthmark on his right hand is no ordinary birthmark as it is an Ancient Birthmark that was descended from his ancestors that gave him access to a special kind of bracelet that can hold up to more than 8-10 gemstones that will help him in his mission in defeating the Dark Creatures and saving the world from their reign of terror once and for all.

The pendant that resembled the Yin-Yang with both the Sun and the Moon was a special gift given to him from both CatNap and DogDay as a symbol of their own friendship before the events of the Hour of Despair AU happened at Playtime Co.