#this idea has been rotting in my drafts for like two years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaliforniahigh · 21 days ago

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now you've got nowhere to run, now you've got nowhere to go - n.s.

Zombie Apocalypse AU | Nurse!Reader and BestFriend!Noah. The story is set on February 25, 2024. Roughly 2 years after the start of the apocalypse. Check summary here!

I'd like to say that this does not mean that I'm back to writing. I just felt so bad because this story was sitting in my drafts, so I decided to finish and post it. I'm still not writing for Bad Omens or anyone else!

Warning: a zombie apocalypse, duh. Curse words, reader has to kill an infected dog, graphic descriptions of decaying bodies, reader alludes to suicide but doesn't elaborate on it, probably innacurate descriptions of a medical treatment, mentions of vomiting, major character death (I'm sorry), no happy ending, heartbreak. I'm sorry if I missed any warnings.

WC: 6.6k words.

You were used to walking around alone.

Walking around alone meant there was less risk of being spotted.

It's been roughly 730 days since you've been alone. As you walk around the streets, or, what was left of them, you think about how life was before hell began.

You catch yourself thinking about mundane life often. When you weren't thinking about what to eat next, how to find water and keeping yourself away from any doors and windows, so no creatures would grab you - you've had that experience before - you thought about how your life was before all of this.

You specifically thought about the people you had in your life.

You thought about your parents, and how they lived in another state. You never spoke to them again, ever since the cellphone towers stopped working and communication was made impossible. Sometimes, you thought about walking all the way from California to Virginia just to try and find them. But, the thought of finding them devoid of any humanity stopped the ideas from floating around in your head.

And then, you thought about Noah.

You thought about your last interaction with him, when he dropped you off at work on that godforsaken day. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and told you he'd pick you up at the end of your shift, so you could grab some dinner together, like you usually did.

The end of your shift never came, and neither did Noah.

You regretted not saying you loved him on that day. You're pretty sure he knew, but you wish you had told him anyway.

It's been 730 days since that day, and you still wonder what happened to him. What happened to all of the boys, all of your friends.

Were they together? Did they even make it?

The thought of any of them walking around as one of those creatures brought tears to your eyes, and you willed yourself to think about literally anything else.

If there's one thing you learned in all of this, is that there's no space for emotions. They made you weak and vulnerable, two things you couldn't afford to be.

The stench of decay, mold and dead bodies rotting filled the air, but you were used to it.

Every time you saw a body in the distance, with one too many tattoos adorning the colored and sickly skin, you couldn't help yourself from taking a look at it. You had to make sure. You sighed a breath of relief when you saw it wasn't any of your friends. It wasn't your Noah left to rot in the streets with no dignity left.

It meant they could still be out there.

And, as much as you weren't someone with a religious flare, specially in the last two years, you found yourself praying that one day, your path would cross with his, and you'd be able to find just a smidge of the familiarity you felt whenever he was around you.

You felt cold ever since that day. And it didn't have anything to do with the weather. Even though you did think about the people who lived in areas covered by snow. How many of them have died already by hypothermia. How many of them are buried beneath the thick layers of snow.

You though about the worst way to die in this situation. And there were so many ways. The worst, of course, is being bitten and turned into one of these things, and praying to God there is someone to take you out of your misery. You could also starve to death, you could die from dehydration. You could catch a disease.

Or, you could end the misery by yourself. You thought about it time and time again, hand gripping the .38 you carried around with yourself. You found it in somebody's house and didn't think twice about taking it, and all of the ammunition you could find.

For someone who always fought for gun regulation, you found the thought of being happy when you found ammo in some abandoned store a giant contradiction.

Right now, you still found yourself struggling with your morals as a completely rabid and infected dog made it's way towards you. You knew what you had to do, but your hands hesitated nonetheless.

Images flashed in your mind. This dog was once a happy animal, probably with a family who took it on walks, fed it and made sure it lived a comfortable life and slept on a warm bed. It probably played with kids too. Or maybe it was a couple with no kids who adopted it, thinking it was gonna have a life away from the streets.

You thought about your friends' dogs, and how many times you slept with them soundly curled up against you. How many times you fed them some piece of chicken without Matt, Davis or Orie catching you in the act.

But this dog was none of that.

You watched closely as it approached you, and right when it was about to jump, opening it's mouth and baring it's teeth, your finger pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot reverberated across the abandoned buildings, and the animal layed lifeless on the ground.

You thought about how it was probably the time for you to hide, since the creatures were highly sensitive to noise, and you just fired a gun in the middle of the street.

You looked around you, ears straining to detect if you would hear the distinct gurgling sounds. Your hearing became quite good over these two years, specially at night. There was no light, except for the moon that still shined in the sky, mindless to everything that was happening down here on Earth.

You had to rely on your instincts most nights. And it's saved you on more than one occasion.

The area you were walking around right now was new for you. You have spent so many hours walking around and roaming the streets, that it was surprising that you haven't passed through here before. But that didn't mean other people haven't raided the place, taking everything and leaving dust behind.

You noticed that it got harder and harder to find canned goods, or bottled water. Every place was ransacked, including grocery stores and pharmacies, which were the first places people looked through two years ago.

You kept walking, your eyesight settled on a sign in the distance that read "The Three Sisters Market". The place wasn't too big from what you could tell, and, usually, people walked past them without even noticing. You gave up trying to find things in big supermarkets, finding that it was a waste of your time.

As you approached the place, you looked through the transparent glass windows first. Fridges lined the walls, and you could see some shelves knocked over, some stuff fallen on the floor. The cashiers were empty, and if money was worth anything in this world anymore, you would try and look if there was any left.

Standing in front of the door, you looked up and saw there was no bell to alert your presence. You gripped your gun just in case you needed to use it, even if the place seemed empty.

You opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The stench of spoiled food filling your nostrils, and you scrunched up your nose in disgust. Dust filled the air, and you could see the little particles floating in the space, illuminated by the sun streaming in from outside.

You checked every isle before you sorted through whatever they still had in here. As you set foot in the last one, you saw a figure standing at the end of it, and it startled you a bit. Adjusting your eyesight, you could tell the person was a man, and well over 6 feet tall. He was wearing a black tank top and black pants, and as you observed more, you could've sworn you've seen those tattoos before.

He didn't look infected, but you couldn't tell if they were armed or not. Usually, you'd back away and find somewhere else. But, every voice inside your head was screaming for you to talk to this guy. Call out for him and see what his deal was.

So, that's what you did.

But before you had a chance, you stretched your arm in front of you, gripping your gun tight, preparing yourself for retaliation.

"Hey", you called out, voice firm and steady. Your breath betrayed you a little, and you didn't know why you were so nervous. It's not like you haven't come across people before in the two years you've been roaming the streets alone.

The guy froze for a second, as he heard your voice. He was gripping a bag of chips in his hands from what you could tell. But, his hand froze midway, as he was about to put it back on the shelf.

He turned around and when your eyes landed on his face, you cocked your head to the side in confusion, straining your eyes to make sure they weren't deceiving you.

This wasn't possible. You were definitely imagining things. You knew you had gone too long without eating, and now your mind was playing tricks on you.

You took a step back in your shocked state. The gun pointing forward now more slack in your hand, and you decided to lower it altogether, putting it back under the hem of your pants.

"Y/N", he said, and you felt your knees give out a little from under you.

"No, no", you murmured to yourself. "This isn't real", you rubbed your eyes with purpose, hitting your head with your hands a couple of times. When you looked back at the isle, you half expected him to be gone again, but there he stood, tall and demanding, like always.

He took a couple of steps closer, but you stopped him.

"I don't know what this is, or what you're trying to do, but I'm armed", you warned him.

"Y/N", he said your name, softly, but loud enough for you to hear, and you could feel your heart kickstart just from hearing your name falling from his lips again. "It's me. I swear this is no joke"

His hands were trembling, and he was dying to reach for you. But he didn't want to startle you. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and held it up for you to see.

You gasped. Even from a distance, you could tell he was showing you the same polaroid you've kept with you, even after all this time. Your hand flew to your mouth, as you eyes widened and filled with tears that spilled freely down your cheeks.

"Oh my God", you muttered, still in disbelief that Noah was actually standing right before you. Once you were able to shake yourself from your stupor, your feet acted on their own accord, your boots hitting the floor below you, as you just about ran into his arms.

Noah enveloped his arms around you, in the tightest hug you've ever gotten. You couldn't help but pat your hands all over him. On his back, his sides, his chest, to make sure he was real, made of flesh and bones.

He was here.

You sobbed in his arms, and you could feel his body shaking against yours, feeling the same tsunami of emotions you're feeling. Soon, though, the emotional and physical exhaustion took over you, and your knees buckled from under you, and Noah followed you into a sitting position, not letting go of you for even a second.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours. You started to notice the changes that took place in the years you separated. Noah's hair no longer cascaded down his back, in soft and silky strands, instead, it was short, and framed his face nicely.

Even through his jacket, you could tell he has built muscle in his arms, and his torso, as his arms that held you close to him, felt firmer than ever.

You noticed that he smelled the same. It was inexplicably him, and as the scent filled your senses, it took you back to the countless memories you both shared over the years. And you had no doubt anymore that it was your Noah here with you.

In your haze, you couldn't see the mixture of emotions passing through Noah's face as he nuzzled his head further into you.

For him, it was a movie going through his head. The day he dropped you off at the hospital and was never able to come back to get you. The way that things progressed so quickly, the country collapsing right before his eyes. The way he went back to the hospital only to find it devoid of any life, decaying bodies spread around every floor and room he went into. And no signs of you.

He looked for you everywhere, and as the months went by, he could see it in his friends' eyes. They would never say anything to him, especially knowing the bond you two shared, but Noah knew. He knew that the chances of you still being alive were slim. Still, he didn't want to speak it into existence.

Separating from you, but still keeping himself close, he grabbed your face in his hands.

"I thought I was never going to see you again", he whispered into the space shared between you. "But something inside of me knew that you were still out there. I never lost hope"

You eyes were shining with tears and so were his.

"I was so scared", you admitted, voice small and hands still trembling, as you placed your hands over his. "I was scared of what might've happened to you when I couldn't be there"

Noah was about to respond, when you heard the front door to the small grocery store open. Following your instincts, you stood up abruptly, hands grasping and pulling the gun at whoever - or whatever - had just entered the store.

"Woah, hold on", a man with a cloth covering his mouth said, raising his hands in surrender. "Holy shit", you heard him murmur under his makeshift mask.

"Nick, you really gotta be more careful", Noah's voice filled the sudden silence, and you blinked twice, taking in what he had just said.

"Nick?", you asked.

"If you lower your gun, I can take my mask off", he remarked, and you sensed a little teasing in his voice.

Oh, how much you missed it.

"Shit, sorry", you lowered your gun, and tucked it safely back into your waistband.

Ruffilo took off the cloth covering half of his face and his smile came into view, prompting you to smile with him.

"Surprise?"

"Best surprise ever", you answered and walked towards him, opening your arms and letting him embrace you.

"You don't know how good it is seeing you again", he murmured, face tucked into your neck, with one hand moving up and down your back.

You separated after a few seconds, and you stood there, between Noah and Ruffilo, not really believing this is your life now.

"Where are the others?", you asked, a little hesitant, scared of the answer.

"They're outside as we speak. We should probably get back to them before they get too worried", Nick pointed out.

"You go ahead and tell them everything is fine. Y/N and I will hang back, there are few things in this place we could probably take with us", Noah instructed, and Nick put the mask back over his face, and made his way out of the store.

"I didn't even get the chance to look through this place yet", you chuckled lightly, but Noah didn't answer you. He just stood there, staring at you, with a look of contemplation on his face.

"I can't fucking believe you're standing right in front of me", he said, voice quiet, as he shook his head. "I've spent so long trying to prepare my heart for the fact that I would most likely never see you again, never feel you again, never hear your voice again. And now that you're here, I don't know what the fuck am I supposed to do"

You closed the distance between you two, and stood right in front of him. Grabbing his face in your hands, you touched your forehead with his and saw his eyes flutter close, enjoying the warmth of your skin on his after what felt like forever.

"You don't have to do anything", you murmured. "Just be here, and promise me I'll never have to let go of you ever again"

"I promise", he said back you, eyes open so he could look right into yours as he told you this.

"Now, we gotta look through this place. I assume we don't have much time left", you reminded him. Staying in one place for too long was never really good, and you avoided it if you could.

In the next few minutes, you and Noah searched through the shelves and stored anything that would be of good use inside your backpacks. There were some canned and packaged foods, that you hoped were still edible.

"I think this is everything", you pointed out.

"Yeah, I think we'll be set for several days. Surely this is was our lucky store", Noah said, and you definitely agreed with him.

"Where are you guys headed?", you asked him, as you adjusted the straps on your backpack.

"We were actually trying to get to the hospital where you worked at", Noah closed his backpack, setting it on his back and made his way over to you.

"Why? Do you guys need medicine? I got some on me, we can see if it's of any use for you", you offered.

"Unless you got a tetanus shot, I don't think it'll be of any use, unfortunately", he sighed.

"Who has tetanus?"

"Jolly", Noah told you. "He got a nasty cut on his leg when we were trying to climb over a fence, running from another group of people that were looting in the same area. And since everything is fucking rusted over around here, he probably contracted tetanus"

"Is he showing any symptoms?", you asked him.

"He's having more difficulty with moving around these last couple of days. Which isn't ideal, because we need to get there fast"

"Yeah, that would be ideal. But how are you so sure you're going to find what you need there?"

Most hospitals have already been looted by now, just like drugstores, leaving empty shelves and people painfully dealing with diseases with no medication for treatment.

"Because I remember you saying that the medication used to be stored in a room that needed a code to get in", Noah started to explain, and you nodded. He was right. At your hospital, only authorized people had access to the medication. "And I thought that was our best shot at it", he shrugged his shoulders, and you could see the worry for his friend slowly seep into his expression.

"You could be right. We won't know if we don't try it", you tried to ease his worries a little, but knew that the words woud do little to calm him. "You're lucky I still remember the code. I mean, what would you have done when you got there?"

"Break the door down?", he said, as if it was the obvious choice. Which, you guess it was, but it wasn't the best choice, given the situation.

"And risk the infected hearing you and trapping you inside a hospital?", you questioned, with an amused expression on your face. You knew you got him there.

"Ok, so we might not have thought this far ahead", Noah admitted, stepping closer to you, and placing both of his hands on your shoulder. "I guess I'm just the luckiest man on Earth for finding you, then"

"Guess you are", you winked at him and you both smiled at each other.

"Ok, we gotta go now. The guys are waiting for us", Noah grabbed your hand in his, and led you both out of the store. You looked around, but found no sign of danger, so you followed his lead.

You didn't have to walk much before Noah was leading you into a secluded corner on the street. You could see five other people there. Four were standing up and one was sitting on the ground.

The closer you got, the better you recognized the figures. Matt, Nick, Ruffilo and Davis were the ones standing up. Jolly was sitting on the ground, due to his condition, you guessed. He looked like he was trying to catch his breath as much as he could, since you still had a rather long journey ahead until you arrived at the hospital.

They all had smiles on the their faces as soon as they saw you and Noah approach them, and one by one, they all greeted you with hugs and disbelieving remarks.

Despite all of the craziness still going on in the world, it felt like Earth started to spin on its axis again, and you felt the most content you've ever felt since Noah dropped you off at the hospital on that dreadful day.

"Ok, so, how are you?", you kneeled down in front of Jolly.

"It's getting worse, day after day", he sighed out loud. "I've been feeling my body ache all over. I've also had fever and I can't seem to stop sweating"

You only nodded. Those did seem like symptoms of tetanus, and they would only get worse as the days went by.

"Did you take your tetanus booster shot in the last couple of years?", you asked him. But by the symptoms he was showing, your guess was that he hadn't taken his booster shot in a long time.

"I don't even remember if I've ever gotten one"

"Ok", you got up and looked at the other guys. "We need to get him to the hospital, and fast. I need to administer the right medication and treatment, and that's me assuming we're going to find it there, before the disease gets worse and we're not able to get him there at all"

"Ok, so let's go, guys. The hospital is not too far away, but it's not too close either. We need to walk as much as we can before it's nighttime"

Everyone agreed and got ready to leave. Jolly stood up with the help of his friends and we all started heading towards the hospital.

After what felt like weeks, but were really only a couple of days, you found yourself standing in the same place you were two years ago. Noah was beside you, just like he was two years ago. But, the hustle and bustle of the busy hospital in front of you was nowhere to be seen.

You often complained about your occupation as a nurse, always feeling the exhaustion of the job seeping into your body after every shift at the hospital. The feeling that you were going to burnout looming over your head day after day.

Now, you wished you could go back to how things were before the world went to shit. Back then, you didn't have to worry if you were going to get eaten alive, or transformed into a monster, half dead walking on the streets.

"Y/N and I are going to look for the medication, Ruffilo is staying with Jolly, and Matt and Davis are going to stake out the place for any sign of those creatures", Noah instructed everyone.

Over the days you spent with them, you noticed how easy it was for Noah to take on the role of a leader. You guess it was always like this, even before now. He always felt comfortable calling the shots. It meant he had things under control. It means that they had a plan to follow, and he always worked better that way.

"You guys be careful. We don't know what's hiding in there", Jolly said. You could tell that, deep down, he was feeling guilty about everyone having to do this because of him. Doesn't matter if everyone had already told him that they didn't mind, that no one was ever going to get left behind. You could still see the guilt dancing behind his eyes.

Checking on your guns, you got ready to enter the building. The other guys going through the same motions as you.

"Find somewhere close and safe to be. When Noah and I get the medication, we'll go and find you", You told Jolly and Ruffilo, and they stood up, Jolly leaning on Nick for support, as they surveyed the streets for somewhere safe and hidden enough to stay.

Matt and Davis each went to one side of the building, making sure there were no creatured lurking around.

"Hey", Noah turned to you before you had the chance to start walking towards the entrance. "No matter what happens, we stay together, ok? And you have to promise me to be extra careful. I'm not leaving this place without you again"

"I promise I'll be careful", you combed your fingers through his hair, trying to get the strands to stay back, but they ended up falling over his forehead anyway.

Stepping foward, Noah's chest was almost pressed into yours. You could feel his eratic heartbeat, probably nervous about what was awaiting the two of you inside the hospital. His hand traveled up your arm and rested, warm and reassuring, in the back of your neck, pressing your faces even closer together.

"I'm not gonna lie. I wanna kiss you so bad right now. But I don't wanna do it in front of this rotten hospital, or on this vacant street, devoid of life. You deserve better than this", Noah admitted, his breath was fanning across your face, and you had to restrain yourself from closing the distance between your mouths.

But Noah was right. You've been waiting so long for this moment, that you wanted it to be perfect. You figured you could wait a little longer.

"As soon as we're done with this, you and I are going to find the perfect moment and place to do this", you told him. "Take this as a little motivation", you wiggled your eyebrows and his lips twisted up into a smile.

"Spending the rest of my life beside you is motivation enough", Noah caressed your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss on your forehead, before you parted ways.

Tightening the hold on your weapon, you started to make your way to the hospital entrance.

As you expected, the automatic sliding doors didn't work anymore, so you and Noah had to pry it open with your hands. As soon as you got inside, you noticed the stale smell, and the mold decorating the walls.

Pointing in the direction of the pharmacy, you went ahead, since you knew the quickest path.

You and Noah avoided any kind of verbal communication, not wanting to attract any creatures that might be lurking inside the hospital. You watched your steps, since there were hospital beds, cabinets, and syringes thrown around all over the floor. No doubt from the day everything in here descended into hell.

You tried all of the doors as you passed them, checking the rooms to make sure they were empty. So far, the place was completely vacant. The only sounds you could hear were the soft thumps of your boots hitting the floor as you walked. And your heart beating wildly against your ribs.

As you approached the stairs to the second floor, Noah went in front of you, slowly climbing up the stairs, gun in hand and pointing forward. You went a few steps behind him, and stepped into the second floor corridor when he gave you the "ok".

Taking a left and walking all the way to the end of the corridor, you approached a double swing door, that had a "hospital staff only" sign. Looking through the round glass window, you could see that the rest of the corridor was deserted, much like the rest of the hospital you've seen by now.

Giving Noah the "ok", you slowly and carefully opened the door, holding it open so he could step in and close it behind you with a soft click.

You could already see the sign on the door at the end of the corridor that read "pharmacy". Your goal was close, and you wanted to run to it already, but you couldn't let your anxiety get the better of you.

Taking all of the necessary precautions, it took you and Noah a couple of minutes to arrive at the door. When you did, you tucked your weapon in your waistband.

"Cover me while I type in the code", you whispered to Noah, as you clicked on the keypad installed on the door. The screen came to life, and you typed in the first number, and a rather loud sound echoed in the empty corridor and you grimaced. You forgot there was an annoying "ding" sound with every number you clicked.

Waiting a few seconds to see if you had attracted anything, you took the chance and typed in the second number, then the third and the fourth, hearing a wirring sound coming from the door as it unlocked.

"I'll go in first", Noah murmured to you. From the side, you slowly opened the door so he could carefully step inside. Retracting your gun again, you waited for him to tell you that you could come in. After a few seconds, he approached the door from inside the room, signaling that it was safe.

"It's better if we don't close the door. I don't want to risk getting trapped in here", you told him and he nodded.

"Ok, you look for Diazepam, Penicillin and Morphine. They should be over there", you pointed to the end of the room. "I'll take care of the rest", you instructed him, giving him the names of medications he already knew, so it was easier for him to find.

Making your way to where the shots and vaccines were usually stored, you started to look for the tetanus antitoxin. Luckily, you saw that there were a few left, so you grabbed a couple of them before making your way over to Noah.

You noticed that the room was emptier than normal. Usually, there would be a lot more medications in here. Apparently, other medical staff members had the same idea as you, and you thanked them for being kind enough to leave some behind.

"Did you find them?", you asked him.

"I found Morphine and Diazepam, but I couldn't find the other one", he held up the two medications he found.

"It's ok, let me help you look for it"

You sorted through the shelves, and noticed a few things were out of place, making it more difficult for you to find what you were looking for. You tried to find Penicillin, but came up empty, so you went ahead and tried to find another antibiotic.

On the back of the shelf, almost hidden from view, you found a box of Clindamycin, you reached for it and saw that it was still closed.

"This should do it", you told Noah. But you weren't done yet. Since you were here, you were going to grab some Tylenol and Ibuprofen if you could find them. You usually had lots of these at the hospitals, and they weren't too hard to find.

"For when I have a headache", you pointed out and Noah smiled at your remark.

Noah opened his backpack and you put all of the medication in there. He made his way to the door, that was left slightly ajar, and carefully looked outside. Deeming it safe, he stepped out and you went after him. Looking to your left, you saw the sign for the women's bathroom.

"Hey", you silently called out to Noah. "I'll use the bathroom real quick, can you stay out here?"

"Y/N, we have to go. I don't want to stay here for longer than necessary", he said as kindly as he could, but you could tell that he was slightly annoyed by your need to go to the bathroom.

"I'll just check to see if they have running water", you argued. Noah sighed, but nodded anyways.

"Be quick", he instructed, and you gave him a thumbs up.

Opening the bathroom door, you peeked inside. The stalls were open and they all seemed empty, so you stepped in. You made your way to the sinks and tried all of the faucets, but no water came out. Sighing in disappointment, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The dark circles under your eyes were apparent, and you could also see the wisps of hair sticking out from your ponytail coming loose.

Reaching both of your hands up, you undid the ponytail, running your fingers through your scalp. You closed your eyes at the feeling, and that's when you felt something grabbing your ankle, along with a hissing sound.

Startled, you opened your eyes just to see an infected creature crawling on the floor. It's hand was still gripping your ankle tightly. You reached for the waistband of your pants to retract your gun, when you felt a sharp tug, prompting you to loose your balance and fall backwards. Your gun sliding on the floor and landing where you couldn't reach it.

You felt a sharp pain on the back of your head, no doubt you had hit your head hard on the ground when you fell, because there were little black spots in your vision.

Kicking your legs desperately, ou tried to pry the creature away from you, but it was persistent and strong. In a matter of seconds, you were fighting it with your hands, trying to keep it's face away from yours. It's teeth were barred, and it exuded a rotten and vile smell, you had to keep yourself from vomiting all over the floor.

When you noticed one person wasn't enough to fight this thing, you called out to Noah. The sound of your voice was enough to make the creature even more agitated, and seconds before the bathroom door opened, you felt a sharp pain on your wrist, and you screamed out in agony. Wailing your hands, you tried to pry its teeth from your skin, but once it latched on, it was impossible to remove.

A single bang rang across the room, and the half dead creature fell limp against your body. You felt it's teeth loosen, and blood seeping from the wound.

"Noah", you called out his name, breathless.

"It's ok. I'm here", he removed the creature from above you, and kneeled down on the floor beside you. "It's ok, you're ok", he said, but you shook your head. Tears were already gathering in your eyes.

"No", you said, meekly, and shaking your head.

"What do you mean? It's ok, I shot that thing dead, alright? It's fine", he reached for you, and you rested your head on his lap. You started to sob into him. Slowly, you pulled your sleeve up to show him where the creature had bitten you.

Once his eyes fell on the wound, Noah started to shake his head, not believing what his eyes were seeing.

"No, no", he denied, grabbing your arm to inspect it closer. "It's superficial, alright? I'm sure you're going to be ok", he said, but by now, you both knew that was not the case.

"Noah. It's ok", you nodded, but he only shook his head more fervently.

"No, Y/N. This is not happening. Please tell me this is not happening", he started to cry with you, cradling your head in his hands, and bringing you closer to him. Your bodies shook from the intensity of your cries.

"Seeing you again was the best thing that's ever happened to me", you mumbled into his stomach, where you had buried your head. "I'm glad it's with you, rather then me being alone"

"I just got you back. I can't lose you right now, not after all of these years looking for you", Noah brushed your hair away from your face. "No, I'm not losing you"

"You and I both know what needs to be done", you put into words what neither of you wanted to admit.

"No. That's not happening"

"Noah, you have to go", you spoke softly, sensing that if you spoke any louder, the boy would crumble to pieces before you.

"I'm not going. I wanna stay here with you. I don't want to leave you alone. I'm not leaving you alone", he was barely able to speak over his cries. You reached up and delicately brushed your fingers over his cheek, that was wet and red from crying.

"I think this is the perfect time for you to give me a kiss", you told him, and in a millisecond, his mouth was fitting over yours, his hand firmly grasping the back of your neck, bringing your faces impossibly closer. You could taste him, but you could also taste yours and his tears, and it registered in your mind that this was the first and last time you'd be feeling his lips on yours.

Parting, but staying close, you enjoyed having him this way for a few more seconds.

"You gotta go and get the medicine to Jolly, ok? He needs you, and the rest of the boys need you as well", you told him. His eyes were screwed shut, and his face was twisted in agony.

"I love you. I love you so much, you gotta know that, ok? You were the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm the luckiest man alive just to have had the opportunity to know someone as amazing as you, and getting to spend so many years with you in my life", Noah confessed, and you smiled at his words.

"I love you too, so much. You're going to do great things still. Even if the world if fucked, I know you and the boys are going to do great. And I'll always be watching over you", you told him. You could already start to feel the difference in your body. "You gotta go now, ok?", so you told him, sliding off his lap and landing on the ground. "Can you grab my gun for me?", you asked him, and you could see the puzzled expression on his face. "I would never ask this from you, Noah. So please, grab my gun for me".

With a solemn look, and shaky legs, he made his way to the other side of the room, where your gun had landed. He grabbed it and gave it back to you. Leaning down and placing one last kiss on your lips, he told you "I'll see you on the other side".

"I'll see you"

Noah got up and walked towards the door. He didn't look back, because he knew that if he saw you one more time, he wouldn't have the courage to step out of that room and leave the hospital.

As soon as the door closed behind him with a click, he heard a loud shot echo around the hospital, and he knew then that the Y/N he knew, cared for and loved with all of his being, was gone.

He crumbled on the floor, a mess of limbs and tears falling from his face, body shaking in pain and agony.

He knew then, that the Noah you loved and cared for, was gone too.

Tag list: @concreteangel92 @foliosgirl @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @stardustsirenmelody @concretejunglefm @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @babygirlchuuya @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lacy1986 @romanreigns-supreme @xmads-omensx @missduffsblog @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc @badomensgoodomens @floatingkiwi @collective-heartbreak @dontwantthemoney @dream-machine-love @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @amelia-acero @montgomery-929496 @stardustsirenmelody @triedbimsoblu333 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @noyaisasimp @w0manof-flesh44 @geminigirlfromfinland @zozaline @deardelirium @turn-your-life-into-folklore @dominuslunae @shelbyrlxoxo @super-btstrash-posts @shayzillaaaa @wordskeeper @enemiestolovershoe @haehihello @anameunmusical @blade-dressed-in-red @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro @ohheykayyyxo @chey-h @fuck1ng-queen @ichoosetenderomens

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian angst #bad omens one shot #bad omens angst #nick ruffilo #nick folio #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #joakim jolly karlsson #matt dierkes #davis rider

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planetdream · 5 months ago

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VAMPIRE SEVENTEEN

this post contains: vampirism, canon vampire lore depending on who you ask. mentions of blood, bloodsucking ofc. and mentions of sex [grinding, strength kink, orgasms] darker themes for wonwoo’s [hypnosis + kidnapping, sorry]

💌 sorry, this was rotting in my drafts. each entry has a different vibe. enjoy <3 this was requested btw

the man, the myth, the legend; SEUNGCHEOL is one of the greatest vampires out there (up there with dracula and nosferatu). he’s thought to be a myth, a story passed down generation by generation of an evil vampire that lurks in the night, you know, the usual. but every so often there’s proof, small hints that seungcheol is actually out there, lurking amongst the living. he rarely shows his face, only to seduce—plucking off one, maybe two, or groups of people for his dinner. seungcheol lusts for blood over anything. [he is indeed very dominant and very sexy—if you ask him to bite you, he absolutely will but he's more than likely to turn you.] kinda gives dracula 2020 vibe if you’ve seen it; he’s adjusting to the new world.

JEONGHAN is a rather "stereotypical" vampire. gorgeous, elegant, got turned when his hair was bleached, thus he's blond, bloodthirsty, and somehow even sexier. he's not one to lie about being a vampire, nor is jeonghan ashamed of it (he has no regrets); he'll flash his fangs or drink from someone in public, he doesn't give a fuck. and of course, what a slut he is. he loves to drink the blood of the person he's fucking, right as they're creaming for him. has allegedly had the most threesomes out of the thirteen. patrick bates type, flexing in the mirror as he's fucking; mind u, he can't see himself. has had a hand in the creation of a few vampires (direct result of him being slutty)

in his current lifetime, JOSHUA has decided to lay low. he's had several lifetimes of partying, drinking freely and the usual drama in the vampire community (centuries of arguing over the same shit). right now, he feels a bit lost, like something is missing. but he’s gained way too many hobbies to keep track of and he’s even started that wine company he’s dreamed of (mind you that was 100 years ago). he’s yearning, aching, lonely. envisioning him to be the type to be constantly searching for a soul that's like his long lost lover…signs up for hinge (bad idea); all of his matches want him to drink their blood once they find out that he’s a vampire, he’s not really into those that are eager for it.

ok im thinking vampire prince JUNHUI. you meet eyes with him in passing on a busy day. since then, he's appeared in all your dreams (most of them being of the romantic/erotic variety besides the small, sudden glimpses of blood and horrors, physically feeling a piercing sensation in your neck despite being asleep), he's shown up across the street of your work only to disappear in a blink, you've seen him in crowded places, just staring at you—strange, soft music playing in your head whenever he appears, seemingly caught up in his mystery. he doesn't appear for you until he's sure you need him; typically when something fairly traumatic happens. he sweeps you away in a time of uncertainty, offering to be your protector and to show you 'a new world'.

vampire boyfie SOONYOUNG. in classic vampire suitor fashion; he wines you, dines you, and if you want sixtynine (and other pleasures) are definitely on the table as well. i just imagine him to be extremely sweet and well meaning; which leads me to believe, he doesn’t tell you that he’s a vampire until like date five (he already assumes ur his partner by then). has a dilemma of ‘will they really love me if they knew about my affliction’. so he tells you, voice shaking. and you’re just like ??? hoshi? a vampire? LOL…. then he shows you his fangs—you watch how they protrude from his gums in real time; it’s quick, if you blinked you would have missed it. realizes that might’ve been a little off-putting and gets embarrassed. it’s okay tho, bc it makes him hotter :p

WONWOO, your incredibly hot history professor. you catch him on a dark street near campus one night, teeth buried into the neck of one of his students; veins popping out of his skin, face red in hunger as he feeds and feeds. once he spots you, he drops his prey—eyes filled with a look that’s a cross between fury and disappointment as he stomps over to you. it’s unnecessary to run, he’s already caught you before you’ve even turned your back. he whispers in your ear, tone enchanting like a lullaby. when you wake up, you find that your dark surrounding is actually a small, velvety box that contains you; stripped of your clothing in exchange for old satin material.

another vampire of the elegant variety JIHOON knows exactly how he wants to live the rest of his life, and he's not exactly looking for anything 'new'. he sticks to his bubble, his same set of friends and he only gets out every so often; preferring to bury himself within his own darkness and stench (a singular coffin in a singular room with no windows) only to come out for feasting purposes. i think that the one thing that does keep him tied to the earthly world is music; and often, he has published his own throughout the years under various names and genres. to jihoon, the best part of living (or lack their of) is the music; in addition to experiencing as much history as he has.

vampire boyfriend SEOKMIN longs for your blood. he craves to bite you. literally just say the word and he'll bite you. but only if you want. did i mention that he wants to bite you? has to look away from you when you're talking because he gets distracted by the pulsing vein in your neck; it speaks to him, whispering the breezing sound of blood rushing. he has to either look away from you or lock eyes intently with you; which ends up just looking like he's begging for pussy. and truth is, it absolutely does get him hard just thinking about drinking your sweet crimson nectar….oh the things he’d do..

ok so MINGYU has an advantage bc not only is he a vampire but he's built! like yeah, his physique won't change now that he's a vampire, and yeah, he now has vampire strength—he still goes to the gym. kind of just out of routine, but he says it still gives him a euphoric feeling. that being said, loves to pick you up and throw you around. strength play. you remember the type of sex bella and edward had in breaking dawn? that’s a regular for mingyu. almost regularly having to by new bed frames because when mingyu fucks, he really fucks. don’t worry though, he’s not always rough!

i am inclined to believe that MINGHAO is throwing blade-style, sexy bloodbath vampire parties as a sort of side gig or he's just been swayed into the club scene this lifetime. he's the guy you keep seeing at the club for weeks on end, and when you lock eyes with him, you hear a whispering in your ear. and all of a sudden, you want to approach him but he's gone before you can. one night he's the one to approach you. thus queuing a heavy, steamy make out in the club followed by some grinding. next thing you know, you're at his place and he's showing you all that life can truly be, all of the pleasures and curiosities. he shows you his fangs, as well, doesn't care if you're scared or not (he likes the fear, though). he does ask to bite you; and if you say yes, he indeed marks you up.

VERNON got bit rather recently (couple hundred years). in his human life he was very curious about the concept of life as well as life after death, immortality, and subsequently, vampirism. he drove himself into become a madman until his studies led him to becoming his own study subject. he projects that, if he's lucky, in the next hundred years he'll be able to build a vampirism research facility. despite being a vampire, there are still some things that he doesn't know. and for some reason, even after becoming a vampire, his research is always with humans in mind. he wants to help humanity improve, evolve, possibly to something greater.

SEUNGKWAN found a way to get rich off of being a vampire. he's a celebrity; a multimillion dollar 3-book deal (the first being an autobiography, he's thinking of making a vampire 48 laws of power next) and a late, late, late night talk show. occasionally joins the news to talk about the latest in vampire society (he's a spokesperson of sorts, often campaigning for vampire rights and such) and politics. inclined to believe he was a vampire therapist at one point. he’s more than just a pretty face and excellent conversationalist, though, he's had to overcome a lot of trials and tribulations in his many lifetimes (the perseverance of a vampire now available at your local bookstore)

vampire lee CHAN is dangerous!!! he's snatching hearts and breaking them (and slurping the blood out of them). the type of vampire that just needs some black sunglasses and he's fully able to walk in the daylight (no, he doesn't sparkle, but he wishes he could). doesn't have many enemies unless you count some of his exes then well.... he's not into turning anybody because although he loves being a vampire, those first few thousand years were filled with so much agony—watching your loved ones pass on, witnessing horrors beyond your imagine and knowing that there is nothing you could possibly do about it despite your gift of immortality. he'd rather just drain people of their blood and leave it at that (genuinely thinks its foolish to want to be a vampire, and will be offended if asked to turn someone). seriously, don't ask him to turn you.

#☁️ — daydream.svt #seventeen headcanons #seventeen smut #vampire seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt headcanons

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darsynia · 8 months ago

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Surprise blurb bomb!

You’re at a conference and a little worried because your boss has enlisted you to present. You’ve got about a day to go, so you’ve been in pacing in your hotel room rehearsing. However, the frustration mounts every time you hear yourself make a little mistake. Your next door neighbor has heard all of this, so they come to knock on your door, checking that everything is alright. When you explain what’s going on, they nod sympathetically, having to present as well. They kindly offer to help you practice, which leads to the two of you falling asleep collapsed on top of each other on your bed. What happens after that? Who’s your babe?

Thank you so much for this!! I chose Steve, and this is teeth-rotting fluff with my signature little characterization moments. I hope you enjoy!!

gif from @askthesuperhusbands

Notes: Pre-Ultron, no warnings, 2,447 words, first draft so I get it out without fussing

Excerpt:

“I get it. Public speaking is hard enough when it’s important, but it’s even harder when there are no friendlies in the audience.” Steve smiles wryly. “That won’t happen here, I promise. I’ll be in the room, because just like with the war bonds, I’m a symbol of what you’re fighting for.”

Always On

“The idea of ‘public relations’ has fallen into disrepute, just like ‘human resources’--and I think their tarnished reputations are related,” you say, hands clutching the edges of the wooden desk chair ‘podium’ precariously balanced on the hotel bed. “I know everyone in this room is well-acquainted with the concept of finding common ground with a myriad of people-- Argh!”

You frown, feeling the judgment of the rumpled sheet hanging on the wall. It’s covering the mirror that had pulled your focus away for the first twenty minutes of this practice exercise, but you still know it’s there. At this point, the sheet is a fig leaf covering your dignity and your inability to stay focused.

It’s past midnight, and the long day is getting to you. The introductory paragraph of your presentation is in the bag, but paragraph two isn’t working at all. It’s your thesis statement, the crux of the whole project, and you know you’re fighting an uphill battle. Without help from the well-respected UNITY Project, the governments of the world might try something extreme to keep the Avengers in line. Each year the group of philanthropists, aid workers, humanitarian lawyers, and other notorious do-gooders meet and choose ten groups to endow aid or oversight on. You’re hoping for the oversight, but it’s a long shot. The group has a sterling reputation, and their clout might be enough to get Secretary Ross to back down.

Your hands ache from where you’ve been clutching at your makeshift podium, but you square your shoulders and try again. “What we’re seeking is a partnership, a way to celebrate this team’s efforts and smooth over their rough edges.”

The sheet is mocking you, so you close your eyes and picture the faceless group you’re going to be appealing to.

“Citizens around the world trust your judgment and their heroism. Together we can ease fears and--” You stop, struggling to remember the word you’d thought up in the rental car on the way to the hotel. No amount of squinting at the note cards does any good. Your notes are rain-splattered and ruined in exactly the wrong spot, of course.

Throwing your head back, you let out yet another miserable groan.

Seconds later, there’s a gentle tap on the door. You recognize the pattern.

“Go away Steve, I’m busy dying of frustration!”

There is silence for over thirty seconds, but you’re not fooled. After counting to fifty-five, you stride over and throw the door open right before Captain America’s knuckles strike the wood again.

“Yes?” Your withering glare doesn’t faze him. Steve just raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a ‘surrender’ gesture.

“Three ‘arghs’ in fifteen minutes gets a visit, you should know that,” he tells you with mock sternness.

Hot embarrassment has you stepping back in dismay. “You could hear that?”

“A few words of the speech, too,” he nods, prompting another ‘argh’ from you.

Your choices are to spontaneously develop superpowers so you can drop through the floor, or do as you always do in this friendship--or let Steve Rogers be the hero. Your dilemma must show on your face, because for once, he doesn’t wait for you to ask for help.

“Something tells me the board of United International Continuing Acronym won’t be convinced by those noises,” Steve says, using Stark’s nickname to cover for the way he pushes past you into the room. For a few seconds, the fronts of your bodies brush against each other, and the heat from those few seconds burns through you.

By the time you recover, Steve’s already across the room, clearing his throat. “I sympathize, believe me. Doesn’t matter how much public speaking I’ve gone through, it still ties my stomach into knots.” He turns and gives you a look of teasing determination. “I have a few suggestions, but I’d have to swear you to secrecy.”

Your crush surges up to color your voice with maybe a little too much affection as you say, “Captain America has secrets?”

The look he shoots you has the same sort of heat from seconds ago. “Here,” he says, pulling a folded page from his pocket. “This is a new one, but back when they first put me in tights, I practiced my script in a room set up with some of these.”

Steve hands you a drawing of a crowd of people, some smiling, some frowning, some turning to their neighbors instead of looking forward. It’s got all of the charm of his usual drawings, despite being more simple than usual. When you look up at his face, his sheepish expression tells you why. He must have drawn it right before knocking on your door.

“Steve,” you breathe, touched by the gesture but also the way he’s captured the spectrum of audience reaction. It reminds you of everything he’d gone through to be the man he is now, the man you’ve fallen for as inevitably as a crowd cheers for a brilliant performance. You couldn’t help it.

“Not now, all right?” he whispers, a kind of pleading in his eyes. “Speech first.”

You blink at him. Did he just acknowledge that something’s different between you? What is it about this corporate hotel hundreds of miles from the home that’s turned everything deliciously sideways? He’s already on the next Act, and you shove those feelings aside to focus like he’s asked you to.

“My place was a quarter this size, but maybe we can…” Steve trails off, propping his drawing on the draped wall sheet and flipping off all but the lights above the bed. Somehow it works, limiting distractions and changing the covered mirror into an easel for his thoughtful drawing.

There’s only one problem.

“Are you planning to lurk behind me?”

“Well, I’d sit in the chair, but--”

“Steve!” You can’t even glare at him, because all you can see is the glint of the fluorescent light reflecting off of his shined shoes. He pushes off the wall and steps forward just enough so you can see the kind look on his face.

There’s no way he could know how romantic that sounds, so you swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat and nod at him.

You start again, and suddenly it works. The chair is a podium. The crowd is real. Steve is somewhere out of sight, rooting for you. You get through the whole thing, and it feels great. You can hear Steve clapping for you through the relieved buzzing in your ears.

Then it all falls apart. When you let go, the chair falls over and smacks you in the face, and the little breeze from your flail of pain knocks the drawing down. Steve rushes over to help, but he bumps into you, and you both fall sideways onto the bed.

The giggles last for a glorious few minutes, and then he says, “Okay, since everything went sideways, can I make it worse?”

You’re lying on a bed with Steve Rogers and his smile is like an early sunrise, so you say yes.

“The concept is good, but you sound like you’re using big words to impress. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not really us. Tony’s irreverent, Clint’s the salt of the Earth, and Bruce is the kind of scientist that puts everyone at ease, at least until he turns green.” Steve turns onto his back, but he doesn’t get up, which feels consequential, despite his criticism. “Nat’s public persona is standoffish but not pretentious, and I’m--”

“You’re folksy,” you interrupt, still stinging from the unfortunate truth of the word ‘pretentious.’ “The epitome of ‘plainspoken.’”

Steve shoots a look over at you, and you realize those two words are exactly what he meant.

“The guy next door,” you add. Inside, you’re crumbling a little bit. Does he think you’re pretentious? Are you pretentious?

Steve rolls to face you again, reaching out to brush his thumb gently across the place the chair had struck you. It’s covered by your hair, but he somehow knows exactly where it is.

“You still have a full day left of the conference before it’s your turn. I could have colored that drawing and given it to you tomorrow, but that wouldn’t have helped tonight.” He pulls his hand back, but sets it on the bed between you. “That’s what makes us a team.”

You’re confused, but comforted nonetheless.

“You paint with words. It’s not that different from art, and every artist chooses how much effort to put in each piece,” he explains patiently. “It’s the same for this. You’re representing everyone, and that means you have to save some of that energy for the physical part of it. Not everyone realizes that.”

“Oh, God,” you blurt out, sitting up. “You are a symbol, just like you said. You’re always on, even at the Compound! How much energy does that take?”

He looks up at you, and the truth in his eyes is painfully intimate. “It’s not as bad now. When I came out of the ice, it kind of felt like I was still in tights. Always exposed for the greater good.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It’s your job to book him for events. You’re the one shoving him onto the stage.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Steve says, sitting up and framing your face with his hands. “It was worse before, when it was Tony or some random person at SHIELD sending me out. I trust you. This conference was your idea--”

You scrunch up your face with guilt at that, and Steve gets this look of determination on his face. The next thing you know, he’s leaning forward and kissing you. It’s electric, stage lights blaring, orchestra in crescendo, and the velvet curtain rolling closed on the triumphant final scene to the roaring of the audience applause.

Then he’s pulling back, standing, and running his hand over his face. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“It was a masterpiece,” you say, looking up at him with your hands clutching the blanket and your heart in your eyes.

The way his nervous tension completely leaves his body is even more reassuring than the softly-spoken “Oh. Good,” he lets out. His encore wins all the awards your heart has to give: “I didn’t practice that at all.”

Joy colors your voice. “You’re a natural.”

Steve’s ears turn red, and he says, “Well, I should let you get back to it. It’s past one--”

“You could stay,” you rush to say, standing up and stepping past him to pick up the drawing. Behind you, he makes a strangling sort of coughing noise, and you realize what you’ve said. “To practice!”

That just makes Steve gasp your name, clearly amused and scandalized in equal measure, and you groan in frustration. Feeling giddy just destroys your cognitive abilities.

“The speech! What is it about this hotel??”

“A new medium. Canvas instead of watercolor paper. A speech instead of short stories,” he says, setting the fallen chair back upright.

“You know about those?” you ask, surprised. You’ve made a point of working on them only during your downtime.

He has the grace to look apologetic. “Tony made a comment once, that I’d turn up in one of your stories if I offended any world leaders, when I was sent to the UN Grand Assembly.”

“Shit, I forgot I threatened him with that one time when he was being an ass.” Your grumble ended in a colossal yawn. “What time does breakfast start tomorrow?” The conference is a multi-day affair, and missing the early meal had not set you up to stay awake through the panels today. “I won’t have any time to practice this tomorrow night and you’re right, I really need to clean up the wording,” you add, feeling your elation at the kiss drain away with worry.

“Then let’s keep at it,” Steve says, taking the drawing and setting it back up on the sheet. He turns and gives you as wicked a look as you’ve ever seen on his face. “The speech, I mean.”

You wake up to the alarm with a sore neck, your dress pants digging into your hip, and a bed partner. He’s the farthest from a pain in the neck as a man can get, but falling asleep fully dressed with your head on his shoulder wasn’t the wisest decision you’ve ever made. You pull in a deep breath, trying to clear out the mental cobwebs scattered in happy glitter, and Steve tenses up under your head.

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately.

“Don’t be. I’m the one who should have left you to sleep.”

You sit up so he can slip out of bed, knowing that he needs to put distance between you for his own peace of mind.

“Be honest: have you ever voluntarily abandoned a woman who needs your help?” you tease. “In all seriousness, you were a huge help last night, and I’m sure that was outside your comfort zone. That was probably the most I’ve ever seen you talk outside of lecturing Stark!”

“I didn’t even notice,” he says, pulling the sheet off of the mirror expertly folding it over in the corner of the room.

He’s faced away from you, so you indulge in a back-arching stretch while muttering under your breath, “You have no idea how hot that is.”

“Right back at you,” Steve retorts, looking back at you with the sheet in one clenched fist. “I need to get going. Want me to pick up breakfast for you?”

You’re off script and floundering, trying to reconcile the sexy rasp in his voice with this attempt at professionalism. It’s exactly the kind of relationship you’ve always dreamed of, and you find your heart slipping further into romantic oblivion.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you,” He says, holding out a hand to help you up. Once you’re standing, Steve holds your gaze and lifts his eyebrows in a very clear question. Heart pounding, you nod, and he takes your lips in a brief but fervent kiss. He moves back, pausing at the door. “I just thought of something, but it’s--”

“Tell me anyway,” you interrupt. “You don’t have to alter your wording for me.” It’s maybe too symbolic and cheesy, but you’re sleep deprived.

“I’m looking forward to another collaboration,” he says, flashing you a brilliant smile.

Note: I may have to write a sequel with what happens AFTER, given that I impulsively wrote this and missed that the prompt was 'what happens after that' I feel so dumb haha

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x reader #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #first kiss #friends to lovers #thank you so much for the prompt my dear!#i found a way to get permanent dark mode on google docs and it means i can actually effing write omg

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avernusreject · 1 year ago

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Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days.

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes).

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

#the durge timeline makes me want to scream sometimes #the dark urge #durge #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #enver gortash #orin #kressa bonedaughter #balthazar #durgetash

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hunter-sylvester · 8 months ago

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Skullflower is Autistic: A Breakdown.

Buckle the fuck up.

Disclaimer: Don't take any of this too seriously.

Also all of this was written over a year ago with only minor edits. I'm just posting it now cause it's been rotting in my drafts and, like, fuck it.

I've wanted to try and make a comprehensive breakdown like this for a while just because I love these characters and very heavily interpret them all as autistic (with ADHD as well.) But this is just the perspective of one guy. And I probably overstate it but the fact that we can all have our own very personal interpretations about media is what's great about analysis & fandom.

Hunter Sylvester.

Yes I'm doing Hunter first, what do you think I am? Unbiased? Please.

Autistic Perfectionism. Hunter's autistic perfectionism is something I've mentioned before and somewhat struggle to describe satisfactorily. But to me the most obvious example is his inability to deal with the idea of Emily joining Skullfucker as a cellist. Obviously, there's the queer angle to this but I think two reasons can play a role at once. He's in love with Kevin so he doesn't want a girl that Kevin picked to be a part of their band. Additionally, I'd argue that he can't deal with the idea of having a girl cellist as their bass player because it in NO WAY fits the mental image that Hunter has in his mind of what he wanted Skullfucker to be. It doesn't match the perfect idea that he's dreamed of, that he holds onto for dear life, so he can't deal with it.

Hyperfixations. "Hunter's been into a lot of things since I've known him but he's stuck with metal longer than any of them." - Kevin. Need I say more? Well, I will anyway. The guy hyperfixates. I think the closest thing we have to a canon confirmed hyperfixation is Dungeons & Dragons. Because of what in my mind is a combination of Autism and ADHD in Hunter, they don't fully leave him. He still likes and plays D&D, but he's not as obsessed with it as he used to be when he made his dad buy him the most ridiculous game terrain that fucking lights up.

Special Interests. I think one of the easiest claims to make is that metal is a special interest for Hunter. He entrenches his entire life in it and reaches for it when a stressful situation happens to try and make himself feel more okay. (getting his hair cut off by Skip and relating his new look to Jason Newsted) It's clearly something that comforts him, having been obsessed with it ever since his mom left. Which, regardless of the specific circumstances, is a horridly stressful situation for any 12-13 year old.

Struggles with social interaction. He doesn't seem to have a lot of friends. He gets along with Robbie, Kevin (obviously) and the people he plays D&D with but that seems to be it. Especially whenever the situation gets very stressful, Hunter's mind immediately reaches for his comfort interest to try and make it through (or to lash out). He can't easily just be comfortable in a strange social situation. Or a strange situation in general.

Stims. Hunter stims by playing guitar. That's it, that's the whole point. And there's this little move:

Kevin Schlieb.

Neutrality. The way Kevin just takes Hunter and Emily as they are feels autistic to me.

Struggles with social interaction. And he clearly wants it to be easier for him. He wants to connect to people but he doesn't know how. It's not like he doesn't understand people. He does. He understands Hunter better than Hunter understands himself. "sometimes he's not so nice to people when he's uncomfortable" "You are afraid of everybody" "you treat everybody like shit and you make them hate you" But that understanding of how people think and work doesn't translate to his direct interactions with most of his peers. Maybe because he understands other neurodivergent people but not neurotypicals. The fact he does have a decent read on, at the very least, his best friend could also be indicative of the extra work Kevin has had to put in over the course of his life to try and understand people to begin with.

Directness. A lot of Kevin does feel direct to me. I suppose in a 'what you see is what you get' sort of way. He obviously has the whole protagonist thing going on which tends to end you up with pretty neutral, earnest and open characters.

Stims:

Emily Spector.

Gets overstimulated. Emily's outbursts could be attributed more to a struggle regulating her emotions. It's not a huge stretch to assume her mystery medication is a mood stabilizer. However, the idea of it being a combination of being overstimulated and then no longer being able to deal with her anger on top of the distress she's already feeling feels apt to me. This is a stretch, but, we only ever see her have outbursts at school. A nightmare environment for the stimuli sensitive. Emily is by far the character out of the main three we spend the least time with, which could easily explain my previous point away. We hardly see her out of school to begin with. But I think there can be merit in taking it as a part of the story, rather than an incidental effect of her being left by the wayside.

Black and white thinking. "So first you tell me that I should hate him, and now you want me to help him?" - Emily. No, he didn't say you should hate him, Emily. "You have every right to be mad- especially at Hunter!" - Kevin.

Directness. I mean she literally calls up Kevin to ask him if he wants to go fuck in a parking lot and more power to her. But it is very direct.

Struggles with social interaction. And apart from Skip & Co. having a particular hate-boner for Hunter, Emily might actually be the most widely ostracized for her lack of social finesse. Which would check out because society is brutally cruel to girls. Kevin is shown to have some positive interaction outside of the other two main characters, so is Hunter. And, yes, so is Emily. But it's only with the janitor of the school, who she is implied to have had previous interactions with. Having your only friend at school be the fucking janitor is not a neurotypical experience. I know I certainly got along easier with a handful of teachers than I did with my peers back when I was at school.

Whatever this is. Fam, I've BEEN there...but it's not neurotypical:

A 'little' note to end on: I want to state that I love all three of these character very dearly. I don't pretend that I don't have a favorite, but they are all amazing. There's various reasons why Metal Lords is such a comforting movie, but a big one, is that the characters act in a way that feels incredibly familiar. They act like me. They act like my autistic friends. We make weird facial expressions, we understand the world and each other through our interests. The way all of them talk feels so close to home. (The swearing is actually part of that. A lot of real people swear and over-censoring of that tends to bug me but that's kinda beside the point lmao)

#this has been in my drafts since march 17th 2023 #reread it and yaknow what it reads good enough #old tags >#decided to finally start this on a whim #running on depression fumes #metal lords #metallords #hunter sylvester #kevin schlieb #emily spector #hunterwriteswords #huntermakesgifs #autism #adhd #hunterposts #character analysis

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midnightshindig · 10 days ago

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hiii this isn’t a request i just wanted to counter ur post abt being a cecil apologist 😭😭 i know cecil isn’t wrong when it comes to his point abt being tje good guys or saving the world. like with how many L’s mark takes i would lowk do the same. but think of it from marks pov it’s hard to just tolerate someone that tried to kill you. cecil just handled the situation very poorly by refusing to communicate properly with mark. nothing extreme would’ve happens if cecil just have mark a two minute lecture on what he went through. and it was extremely unfair of cecil to expect mark to understand something as complex as this after a simple order when it took cecil three years in prison to learn the same thing. i’m not saying cecil is wrong for having a contingency but he’s wrong for immediately whipping it out when he should’ve deescalated 🗿

AHHH this has been in my drafts for WEEKS- oh my god fucking object permanence- what's that?

ugh okay so like this is a long one, everything under this line is the og draft I wrote in its entirety (written like two days after episode 3 dropped):

Okay- I should preface this with: I love arguing on the internet about shit that doesn't matter, your opinions are valid and you're 100% allowed to interpret this piece of media this way.

Okay so now i'm gonna break down season 3 episode 2's conflict between Mark and Cecil and explain myself better;

(preface: I believe strongly in prison reform and am a big advocate that almost all crime is systemic, and that anybody can be rehabilitated. This belief system colors how I interact with media. I'm around Mark's age so I won't use that as an excuse for his character, but I will take it into account)

So episode one kicks off their fight with Mark busting into Cecil's office. It looks like he's gone through the proper channels, and Cecil willingly let him in. Cecil is willing to see Mark, even knowing why he's there (via Darkwing II's warning). Mark bursts in, an aggressive tone, accusatory pointing finger, all at Cecil.

Cecil tells Mark in a stern, warning voice to calm down, Mark responds by approaching more and slamming his hands onto Cecils desk. No matter how you cut it, that's aggressive. Even if you and I know that Mark is a good person, and didn't come here to murder Cecil, that's still an aggressive act.

Mark is clearly upset about D.A. Sinclair, and Cecil gives him a-- very reasonable-- explanation that he can't fix his mistakes in prison. The idea of these people fixing their mistakes is so foreign to Mark-- rehabilitation is such a non-option to him, that he responds with "What are you even talking about?" Anything less than the fairy tale ideal of bad guys rotting mindlessly in prison isn't on the table for Mark. This is because he was raised by Nolan, with a very empirical view of morality and authority. Those who broke the law died or went to prison. End of story.

Mark expresses his disbelief that D.A Sinclair in particular can do good, that his mistakes cannot be rectified due to the continued impact they have on people. Cecil responds to this by assuring him that every reaniman D.A. Sinclair makes is from a donated corpse. He isn't hurting anyone else. It is HEAVILY implied that the "severe psychological reprogramming" Cecil mentions is straight-up psychological torture. Mark just. Isn't listening. He doesn't have the space in his head for an alternative worldview.

To Mark, the last time an authority figure tried to 'broaden his perspective', was when his father pummeled him into a mountain. It makes sense Mark is acting this way, but Mark is a child. Mark's superpowers don't make him qualified to decide right from wrong, Mark is not an elected or chosen official, and he hasn't even really been to college. He doesn't know where the Declaration of Independence is.

Cecil explains his rationale, that these people are repaying their debt. DA Sinclair could be in prison making license plates, or he could be making soldiers that save lives like they do twenty minutes earlier in the same episodes. and Mark's response? "That's bullshit and you know it" Like, not even an argument. He's just, angry. Which is fine! Mark is a teenager grappling with things he shouldn't have to, but that isn't Cecil's fault either.

Cecil tries to get Mark to think differently, asking if he should arrest Mark. This is where we see Mark's tangled internal logic, he can justify it however he wants, but the fact remains that Darkwing II killed for the same reasons Mark did, to ultimately save people and make the world a safer place. Mark didn't have a choice, or he didn't mean to, which is worse?

Cecil extends and olive branch, asking Mark very nicely to go home. Mark doesn't leave. This is a telling moment. Objectively, Cecil doesn't owe Mark anything. He gave him an explanation, he sympathized with Mark's concerns and validated the ethics of his operation. Mark is only able to continue his verbal assault on Cecil because... who's going to stop him? No conversation can happen in good faith under that kind of power dynamic.

ONLY after Mark tells Cecil "uh fuck you I do what I want and I'm not leaving until you do what I say" does Cecil even enter the white room. the room meant exclusively to protect Cecil. EVEN AFTER HES IN THE ROOM, Cecil gives Mark an "out", and tells him to go home before Mark does something he'll regret. It isn't a direct threat, it's simultaneously a threat and a genuine warning. Attacking Cecil starts Mark down a moral path that's hard to turn back from.

I want to note that throughout all of this, Cecil is levelheaded and calm, while Mark is gesturing and aggressive in his stances, and yelling nonstop.

Cecil says "please go" which, knowing Cecil in context of seasons 1 and 2, is likely a genuine plea for Mark to not have to become an enemy. Cecil doesn't WANT Mark to become another aggressive Viltrumite. He asks Mark SO nicely. and Mark is still in his battle stance, unwavering.

On to episode two!

I'm choosing to ignore Cecil's backstory, since this information isn't directly brought up and isn't available to Mark.

Cecil tells Mark the white room is for Cecil's protection, and we get that line again from Mark

"What are you even talking about?"

Mark is so insular, so isolated in his worldview that he cannot comprehend that yeah, duh, a totally normal old man would find it TERIFYING that you, a viltrumite teenager, are encroaching on him with aggressive body language and a raised voice. Me? I'd be fucking terrified. My boyfriend is like 6 5" and built like a fridge, he's strong as shit and has been since he was a kid. One of the things intimidating strong people learn is that they have to watch themselves, when you're so much stronger than everyone else, you don't get to show up and throw your arms around and yell and scream and point fingers when you're mad. It's unfair to Mark, but it's terrifying to Cecil. And Mark isn't even self-aware enough to know how scary he is on a conceptual level. He's so emotionally removed from what a viltrumite even is that he can't comprehend that he's capable of the same damage his father did to Chicago.

Cecil tries to explain this concept to Mark, and Mark responds with "Okay but I ONLY use my powers for good", he isn't able to even CONSIDER that to anybody who isn't him, that's not a guarantee. Omniman was good until he wasn't. Who's to say it couldn't happen again? Notice how not a single reaniman touches Mark in this scene. This is important for later.

Cecil is banking on his authority as an adult, lecturing Mark like a bratty child, with his hand on his hip. He can't show Mark the amount of power he has over Cecil or Mark WILL take advantage of it. There can't be a world where a nineteen-year-old strongarms a military official. Not to Cecil. Cecil calls Mark on his shit, and shames him for abusing his power and being closeminded, then he shares a vulnerability. Mark is scaring the shit out of him right now.

Mark responds by freaking out more, and the SPECIFIC LILT OF HIS VOICE- ugh. It reminds me of when later in the season when Mark is scolding Oliver. "I'm not even doing anything!!" while throwing his arms in the air in his superhero suit, eyebrows furrowed and his voice like a whiny child being told to knock it off.

He approaches Cecil, and a reaniman grabs him by the arm. This is meant to detain Mark, NOT hurt him.

Mark responds by going "you're not the boss of me" (in effect, not direct language) and SMASHES THE REANIMAN.

I have beef with the whole "Cecil doesn't try an talk to Mark" angle, Cecil is watching Mark crash and burn through the creatures he EXPLICITLY says are only meant to protect him, and offers to talk to Mark. He tells Mark that he isn't keeping his operations a secret from anyone within his facilities, that this is par for the course within the GDA, and this is his attempt to de-escalate. Calm down, this isn't a fight worth having, let's just talk.

MARK engages this fight, MARK refuses to talk. The scene of Mark post-destroying the reanimen is almost a one-to-one of the s1e1 frame of Nolan after killing the guardians. This is a direct parallel. There needs to always be a bigger fish.

and instead of continuing to argue about the actual issue, instead of bringing up DA Sinclair or Darkwing or actually trying to be productive, or demanding Cecil go public. He asks

"Is that all you got?"

at this point Mark is picking a fight, and making it clear that this is now an aggressive encounter. He's demanding Cecil show him everything in his arsenal, implying no matter what it is, Mark will mow it down and get to Cecil.

I am FLOORED by the way Cecil says "I wish you hadn't asked that, kid."

NOTE Cecil calling Mark, kid. he's still offering him the grace of being considered a foolish kid and not an intentionally menacing adult. Adults don't get to be this type of threat, they don't get extended the grace a rowdy teenage rebel does. Cecil is offering another olive branch to Mark, so that he can still turn away and be protected under the 'kid' moniker.

and we get the reveal of a room FULL of reanimen. Who didn't move until initiated. Who Mark plows through like nothing.

Mark threatens Cecil, and Cecil calls him out on his hypocrisy "I thought you don't do threats?"

Mark, AGAIN, instead of being able to recognize conflicting world views or broaden his perspective, bitterly and dismissively goes "Yeah? Well people change."

WHICH IS FUCKING INFURIATING

especially since twenty minutes ago Mark was arguing that people CANT change and that trying to change bad people was a worthless pursuit.

Cecil warns him literally "Don't, Mark, i'm warning you."

at this point Cecil has told Mark to stand down or else, SO MANY TIMES, slowly increasing the severity of the defense mechanisms.

I find it VERY interesting that Cecil explains, in detail, what and why Mark is being hurt. He gives Mark all the information on his earpiece. Why? For power. To show Mark exactly what is happening and that he can't stop it. Mark needs a taste of powerlessness, to curb the unchecked God complex he's struggling with. There needs to be a bigger fish. Then Cecil releases the mind fuck thing. and tells him to be reasonable and go home

Marks response? "We are so far past reasonable"

WE. We are so far past reasonable. This shows that Mark is lumping himself in with Cecil, that somewhere in him he knows this is insane, jumping and cornering a man like this? This isn't right. He knows that.

But he also makes it clear to Cecil that this is now something Mark has to "see through" and not something he's willing to talk about.

Mark hasn't mentioned DA Sinclair or Darkwing once in episode 2, it's not even the core focus anymore

now, to Mark, it's about power. It's about Cecil acting like he has authority and power over Mark, and like any other teenager who feels like their opinion is being ignored, he lashes out

but again. When you're god, you don't get to lash out.

Cecil is TERRIFIED. I hear a lot of "Cecil wasn't mature enough" BROTHER IS FEAR. bro probably pissed his pants.

Cecil explains to Mark WHY he puts it in his head, that he still believes Mark isn't his dad, so stop acting like him. Cecil keeps giving Mark out after out, olive branch on the olive branch. And Mark is so caught up in his own sense of ego and power and betrayal that he feels truly helpless for the first time since season one, can't even hear him. He doesn't even let Cecil finish his sentence.

I find it very interesting that Mark goes to the GHQ, knowing they're on Cecil's payroll. Mark really has nobody else to turn to. He goes, specifically, to Rudy. He trusts that Rudy will do the right thing and help him.

Cecil immediately tries to disengage the guardians, saying he isn't going to kill the kid. Note the repeated use of kid. Kid is affectionate. I'm not going to kill the kid, it implies that he still has some kind of emotional attachment, killing a kid would be insane, it shows he's still extending that protection that being called a kid offers. even now, Cecil is offering him an olive branch.

Cecil tells Mark he's coming back to the GDA, and only when Mark refuses three times does Cecil use force. It seems brutal, like, stuff in his brain? How AWFUL. but also? There's not really any other way to hurt the guy.

Only once Mark has proven REPEATEDLY that not only is he not open to discussion, he isn't even open to peace, does Cecil enact any true violence against him.

Cecil calls Mark an "arrogant little asshole" and calls him on his hypocritical bullshit. and then Mark chokes him so hard he coughs up blood.

You can argue about the semantics of who is right morally, but Cecil made every attempt to calmly engage Mark, escalating slowly and only in response to the threat levels he perceived in Mark. To criticize Cecil for not being calmer or not deescalating undermines the point of why he does it: He's human. He's scared. Of course we can sit here and say, oh Cecil should've told him, or Cecil should've blah blah blah

Cecil doesn't report to Mark. Mark isn't the law, he doesn't get to decide the law any more than any other civilian does. Cecil doesn't owe Mark shit past basic decency, and he gives him that, Cecil gives Mark more grace than I would have. And we know his fears aren't baseless, either, the second Cecil stops defending against Mark, MARK CHOKES HIM SO HARD HE COUGHS UP BLOOD. It's a huge purple bruise on his throat.

but Mark is a child who has no business putting himself above the law and above peaceful conversations. He could've told others without directly confronting and attacking Cecil. Mark could have demanded answers, and then gone and acted on his own. He could've contacted local police, the news, the GotG, anyone else to make this a more fair protest of Cecil's actions. But Mark knows he's hot shit. He knows that- up until episode two- he was untouchable. and he flagrantly abuses this power. All Cecil does is respond.

and still continue to offer him grace, up until he just can't.

Uh thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

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rainydayathogwarts · 1 year ago

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ʀᴇᴘᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ

bi!cheerleader!reader Summary: Nancy leaves you a crying mess after your breakup and you find comfort in the person you least expect. Warnings: angsty at start, fluff, internal homophobia almost, anxiety attack if you squint. Flashbacks in italic This idea has been in my drafts since november 2022 and here we are, one year later. I do have to say, I'm really happy with how it turned out. wc: 2.4k

Seeing Nancy with her was the epitome of having something reach straight into your chest to grab your heart, only to pull it out and toss it away in a dark corner to rot and be forgotten about. Not only did she break your heart, she disgusted you. She disgusted you for trusting her, confiding in her with the secret of your sexuality, one that could ruin your reputation, only to find out she didn't care about it at all.

"No because I got worried about you when you didn't show up to pick me up from practice. Silly me right?" You spoke with a shaking voice, standing in the open doorway, watching as Nancy gasped, pushing a girl you barely recognised from the school band off of her. The girl stumbled, almost falling off the bed as Nancy rushed towards you, throwing her shirt back on. They were both topless and the blonde girl's pants were off. She desperately scrambled for her clothes, covering her chest from you. You tried holding in the tears as you waited for an explanation from your girlfriend. "Look it-it's not what it looks like!" Nancy argued, and you scoffed, but from the look on her face, even she wasn't impressed by that excuse.

A single tear drop rolled down your cheek before you broke down, a sobbing mess in front of Nancy and her side piece, completely humiliated and hurt. "Get out!" You heard Nancy yell at the girl, who staggered out of the occupied bedroom, forgetting her purse. You covered your face from Nancy, wildly trying to wipe away all your tears at once. She stood in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort but you stepped away from her, sniffling angrily. "How could you? I thought- I thought." You cut yourself off, scoffing at her with a cold laugh before turning on your heels, ignoring her calls for you as you stormed out of her house, face wet and eyes red from crying.

It'd been three weeks. You'd missed school for the first two days after the breakup, dreading the moment you would lock eyes with her in the hallway or she'd come find you, looking to apologise. Even though continuing that routine for the rest of the month seemed appealing, you held an important role in the school, and couldn't possibly miss another day of your senior year.

That's why you stood in the now emptying gymnasium, congratulating the basketball team for winning the game, arm linked with the most popular boy in school, Billy Hargrove who threw you a dazzling smile as you walked out onto the field, where everyone would gather before separating into cars to go party. "Y/N! Ride with me?" Suggested Billy, and you smiled at him, winking in his direction. That what how you kept your reputation, stayed relevant to high school standards. Be popular, show interest in attractive boys, talk about your hook ups, show up to games, be the passionate cheer captain you are, and stay at the top of your class.

All at once.

It was exhausting, but that was who you were going to continue to be, especially for this last year before you went off to college. It was only when you laid your eyes on Nancy and the same girl from the band talking next to her car that you jogged along to catch up with Billy. You ignored the pang in your chest; clearly she wouldn't be looking for you to apologise anytime soon seeing as they were together. Billy was waiting outside his car for you, two other people you didn't recognised having climbed in the back seat of his car. He grinned upon seeing you and you placed two hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly as you got on the tip of your toes, pressing your lips against his. A few people whistled at you while Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss slightly.

"Just for congratulations." You say when you separate, opening the passenger door of his car. As you tighten the seatbelt around you, Billy starting the car engine, you make eye contact with Nancy, who despite everything, looks betrayed. It only makes you feel worse about yourself. Just for congratulations, you remind yourself. It doesn't mean anything, so she can't call you a slut for it. Hell, if it brought you more attention, you would do it again.

The party is great, and you'd really really enjoy it if Nancy wasn't the only thing you could think about, littering your mind like a piece of garbage. Normally, you wouldn't mind it being so sweaty. After all, a game did just end and all of the players were now shirtless inside, to your - and other girls' - advantage. However, your cheer uniform somehow clung to your skin uncomfortably and you felt like you couldn't breathe, tearing your eyes away from the shirtless bodies.

You step outside of the house, taking a deep breath and looking around. The only people around were a couple making out against a wall and some people in the back buying something off of Eddie Munson, famously known as the freak of school, which was ironic because he was extremely popular and well-known because of his side hustle. He even got along with some of the boys on the basketball team, who bought from him and invited him to parties on the down low. The only thing missing for him were the ladies.

You sighed, looking around to see if there was a third option on places to be, starting to get overwhelmed. One hand came up to play with the necklace around you neck and you sniffled, tears starting to cloud your vision. You turned back around to go inside but stopped in your tracks, shaking your head once you were reminded how big the crowd was.

"Hey. You okay?" A hand on your shoulder grasps your attention again, and you bring a hand up to aggressively wipe away the tears, and inevitably, some mascara. Towering over you with a concerned look on his face is the one and only Eddie Munson. You nod "Mhmm, I'm just gonna-" Your voice breaks and your lip wobbles, and only as background noise, you hear Eddie ask "You want to hang out in my van for a bit? No funny business, I promise." And you feel yourself nodding, allowing him to lead you into the back of his van, where he conveniently guides you onto a red beanbag, sitting down next to you on the hard floor.

He lets you sit down in silence, the only sound in the van being your quiet sobs. He plays with his rings the same way you tug at your necklace for comfort, waiting for your sobs to slow when he says "I'm all ears if you want to talk about it."

You should be wary, learn from your lesson, but instead of doing either of those, you find yourself being comfortable and safe around Eddie. That's how it all comes out, every detail from start to finish. How Nancy had asked you if you liked women after you drunkenly flirted with her at a party, to both of you confessing your feelings, to becoming official. You talk about being happy like you never had been before to finding out that she was a cheating scumbag.

Your relationship with Nancy had been so secret for the reason that she was the only person to every find out that you were bisexual, and here you were, spilling it all out to Eddie Munson, who you had never properly met before in your life.

The silence when you were done was astonishing.

You wiped the last of your tears away, finally taking a proper look at Eddie, who just passed you a cigarette, a look of shock on his face. You don't take the cigarette, so to fill in the silence, Eddie puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply, before letting the smoke disperse in the van. You watch the white vapour make shapes in the air, sighing. "Look, I get it." He says. "Well- I don't, but I once dated this dude who-" You looked up at him in surprise.

"You like guys?" And he only nodded, grinning widely and nudging you with his elbow. "Well look at that, we already have so much in common. You like girls, I like girls. You like dudes, I like dudes. Wow, we're just meant to be, aren't we?"

And it's the way he's smiling, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear to show off his dimples and his silver helix piercing that has you grinning shyly, making space on the small beanbag for him, where he joins you, and you finally snatch the cigarette from his lips to take a puff yourself.

It was the security of his friendship that made you so willing to be pulled into it. You were both vulnerable, but knew that neither of you would go around spreading each other's secret because you shared the same one. No one wanted to be outed to everyone they knew without even knowing so. Your friendship built up, became strong. He often sat on the bleachers writing something while you were at cheer practice, and he drove you home, cracking jokes with you in the car. You started talking to him in school, trodding along with him to your classes, and he became comfortable around your friends, joking around as though he was part of your friend group.

And eventually, he was.

Ignoring the odd looks people still gave you, you accepted the arm Eddie offered you, guiding you outside so he could have a smoke. "I have to say, sweetheart, you've made me quite popular." You laughed, shaking your head "You've always been pretty popular, Eddie." But he shook his head at you. "No, no, like people are liking me, openly inviting me to things. Including me in conversations. Hell, today someone even paired up with me in class. And here we thought our friendship would ruin your reputation." He plays his shock coolly, opting to tease you instead, as per usual. You shove him by the shoulder and he chuckles, watching as you jump up to sit on the hood of his van.

You squeal when you start to slip off, but Eddie only moves to stand between your legs, putting a hand on your thigh to help stabilise you. There's a moment of silence, and he looks in your eyes, as though looking for signs of discomfort, but he finds something more. Something good. You lick your lips, putting a hand on his shoulder and giggling. He joins you, turning his head so he can blow the smoke from his joint away from you, and he spots her.

Her. The one who broke your heart.

No matter the rare positive things he's heard about her from others, he can't help but hate her - can't force himself not to glare. You follow his gaze, scoffing at the sight. "I don't know why little band girl doesn't think she'll cheat on her too." You hum, agreeing with him, your free hand coming up to his jaw to turn his face towards you. "You just defending me Eddie?" You tease, head cocked to the side.

He shakes his head angrily, eyebrows furrowing, and he finally stumps out his joint on the floor. "No- I mean yeah but I'm honestly more annoyed sweetheart. Like honestly, everyone knows that if someone cheats on their partner to get with you, the same way that relationship ends is with them cheating on their new partner. No one can be that dumb!" He huffs, gathering his hair into a makeshift bun before letting it all go, looking around in search of his joint. When he realised he put it out, he curses, looking back at you who's smiling down at him.

You push a couple of stray strands of hair away from Eddie's eyes, leaning closer to him. He puts his hands on your thighs and you both hear the giggles of Nancy and her girlfriend, to which he rolls his eyes at. Your heart skips a beat when he does and you open your mouth before closing it shut again, deciding to finally show him how he makes you feel instead of saying anything.

You cup his jaw in your hands, leaning downwards to kiss him, and he immediately reciprocates it, his hands wandering from your thighs to grip your ass tightly. He pulls you closer to the edge of the hood of the van, humming into the kiss when you swipe your tongue against his bottom lip. He gives it to you, immediately deepening the kiss, and taking control by moving one of his hands to the back of your neck, not giving you the space to separate from him. It's all lips and tongue and hands on each other's bodies, that when you finally start to push against his chest to pull away, you're both panting.

You look down at him, wiping away the gloss on his lips with a smile. He does the same, trying to remove your smudged gloss with the pad of his thumb and failing, wiping the residue on his jeans. "Just saying, that kiss better have been for me, not for-" "It was. It was just for you." You reassure, pressing another soft kiss on his lips, only then looking up, realising Nancy and her friend stayed for the show. Eddie turns around, staring at the look of shock on their faces, and he cocks his head mockingly "What? You guys want some of this?" He points at you, a subtle hint to inform them that he knows the whole story.

Your eyes widen, and you grab the finger he uses to point at you, giggling in shock "Eddie!" You gasp, and he shrugs, still talking to Nancy mostly, as he's making direct eye contact with her. "I would want some of you if I were them too." And you both watch in surprise as Nancy's friend storms away angrily. Your eyes widen in shock and you watch as Eddie turns back around, looking slightly guilty, but mostly amused. "I kind of want to say I told you so."

You gasp at his careless tone, wrapping both your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you again. As you lean down to kiss him again, feeling his hands wander up your back, you start to hear wolf whistles.

"And there goes our moment" Mutters Eddie against your lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Anyway, serious topic (not really) I was thinking of making this into like a series. Like seeing how Eddie and reader overcome milestones in their relationship kind of and it follows this storyline of their relationship. Like with specifically this eddie and reader in mind. Lmk if you get what I mean or not

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space-writes · 1 month ago

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friday kiss tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! it’s a wednesday but who cares, i made Sorrow and Vren kiss at last and it’s time to celebrate that fact. im posting the entire scene because! im insane about them and i’ve waited like 2+ years to finally write an Official Draft of this part

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

Sunset in Infernus came on in a blaze of purple and orange and red. With clouds scudding the sky, it made the city look as if it had been set aflame, the dark spires of the strange buildings burnt amidst the fire. Vren watched the night creep blue overhead from Sorrow’s balcony, still unsettled by the redness of the stars surrounding the three moons; the smaller two were waning, thin, faint slivers either side of the full and watchful eye of the larger third.

“Legend has it they’re the eyes of the Archdemons,” Sorrow said. He was leaning against the doorway that lead back to his room, arms crossed over his bare chest. He wore even less clothing here than he had in Valloroth—given the heat, Vren couldn’t even condemn him for it.

“The moons?”

“The stars.” Sorrow came to join him at the balustrade, leaning both forearms atop the rail. “The red ones, at any rate. Glaring down, watching and judging and resenting a current lack of physical form. Presumably also seething at having to watch their own bodies rot.”

That infernii legend Vren did know. Red had told him about how they’d supposedly killed their own gods, the Archdemons that had once enslaved them. How Naazgarash was built atop those dead gods, and how foolish the Naazgarans were for continuing to live there.

“And the silver ones?”

“Oh, those are just stars.”

Vren huffed a laugh, then wondered why he had. Sorrow was no more amusing than he’d ever been, though he was marginally less irritating of late. Most likely it was the pain, Vren thought. Hard to put effort into being an aggravating bastard when you were one bad day away from a debilitating headache that would knock you down so intensely you’d likely beg the person you’d pissed off to end you.

There’d been one day like that in the time they’d been stuck here. The first time he’d gone into Sorrow’s room, in fact, searching for him to demand—again—a way home. A few hours after that conversation, Sorrow had been dead to the world in agony, and spent the next twenty hours locked in his room in the dark. He’d emerged with a spring in his step that even Vren could tell was artificial, and gone right back to acting his usual self.

“You do know that keeping me company won’t make me find you a way home any faster,” Sorrow said. Vren glanced at him. He was closer than he’d expected, their arms almost touching. Vren shifted away.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Why else are you up here?”

“Maybe I’m making sure you don’t throw yourself off the building because your head hurts, thus trapping me here indefinitely.”

Sorrow laughed, and shifted into his space again. Now their arms were touching; skin to skin, because the heat of this place had him with his sleeves rolled high. “My head is perfectly fine, k’zat avrai.” His eyes shone, glittering cyan. “How is yours?”

“Fine.”

“You sell yourself short, I think,” Sorrow said. “I’m certain it’s excellent.”

“What?” Vren said, then frowned as Sorrow laughed again, tail flicking side to side.

“Oh, little ghost, do they not teach innuendo in the Zarahmin? Or do they call it something different in your tongue?” He emphasised the last word in a way Vren didn’t trust, and which had Aliyne’s words suddenly echoing in his head. There’s absolutely nothing here you’d want to stay for. He pushed them away. Sheer idiocy.

“If you’re talking about sex, talk about sex. Don’t couch it in pointless wordplay.”

“But the wordplay is the best part.” Sorrow’s hand touched his, and then slid up his arm, wrapping warm around the crook of his elbow. “For one thing, it limbers up one’s mouth rather well.”

Vren’s mouth was dry. Sorrow’s was all painted lips and sharp teeth and insinuating smile, and the smirk it shifted to said he’d seen where Vren’s gaze had drifted to for that handful of seconds. He tugged Vren’s hand from the balcony rail, stepping closer so they were almost chest to chest.

“I want nothing to do with your mouth,” Vren said.

“Are you certain?” Sorrow’s voice had dropped to a low purr. The few inches he had on Vren now seemed entirely too many, allowing him to loom much too effectively, taking up all of Vren’s eyeline. He also seemed to have stolen all the air from the balcony, and Vren could feel the points of his claws digging into the skin of his arm.

“Why?” Vren asked.

“Because I’d rather like to have something to do with yours,” Sorrow said. He slid his grip to fit a palm around the back of Vren’s neck, which set his spine tingling, screaming threat-threat-threat, and his thumb started towards his ring but, as if sensing the movement, Sorrow caught his wrist and lifted it to his mouth—he didn’t lay his lips on it, but let the heat of his breath ghost across the skin.

Vren wanted to pull away. He didn’t. “What makes you think I’m remotely interested in that?”

“You’re not stabbing me yet,” Sorrow said, and the look on his face said that was another innuendo, which made Vren sincerely think about actually stabbing him, which in turn brought him to the terrible realisation that he hadn’t been contemplating it until then. “You’re as stressed as I am,” Sorrow continued. The point of his tongue darted out, flicking over the crease at the base of Vren’s palm. “Have a little fun with me, take the edge off. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You’re not paying me for sex.”

“Of course not—I’m asking you for sex.” They really were chest to chest now, Sorrow’s hips flush to his. “So, what’s your answer, little ghost? Yes?” The hand on his neck slid up, fingers tangling into the loose tail his hair was tied in. “Or no?”

The scant space left between them thrummed the way the air did between Vren’s knife and a neck in the seconds before the former met the latter in a sharp and finite ending. When a blade got that close, you were already past the point of no return.

“Fine,” he growled, and wrenched his hand free of Sorrow’s grasp to pull him down into a kiss. Sorrow laughed into his mouth, biting at him immediately, claws digging into the back of his neck. Vren shoved him backwards until he hit the wall, skin prickling everywhere Sorrow touched it, and a part of him—small and long-ignored—wanted to weep in the confines of his skull. How long since anyone had touched him outside of trying to kill him? Oh, he’d taken care of physical needs before, but that had been in Zarahmin brothels, with men and women as attractive and skilled as their profession required, where they’d done everything just as he’d paid for. It was like eating, like sleeping, like bathing; a part of life that had to be tended, to keep his body running undistracted.

Sorrow’s teeth clicked against his, his hands too rough, his tail an unfamiliar addition to an already unbalancing situation. It wasn’t professional, but it felt good in a way Vren didn’t want to think about, so he didn’t. He pulled and pushed at Sorrow until they were in his bedroom, and Sorrow grinned as he tumbled down onto the pile of pillows and blankets that served as his bed.

“Shut up,” Vren said pre-emptively, tugging his shirt over his head. “And watch the claws.”

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @foxboyclit @viscerawrites @cwritesfiction and @ceph-the-ghost-writer

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads @the-inkwell-variable (ask to be +/-)

#writeblr #friday kiss tag #tag games #snippets #wip #fantasy writing #original writing #m/m #valloroth blogging #c: sorrow #c: vren #sadghost #i love them your honour #when i tell you i've had 'and watch the claws' in my notes for this scene for TWO YEARS

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0creativity0 · 3 months ago

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Since the year is coming to an end and I'm not posting anything until January, I thought it'd be fun to do a little recap of the fics I've written and go through whatever I've managed to do this year. So, let's go!

Here's my 2024 on AO3:

This year, I've published 94,779 words. This number does not include any drafts or anything, but I know I wrote a lot of words in unpublished works too, because I've been working on some long projects. In my notes I have literal dozens of nearly finished one shots, and the plans for a work that's proving to be much harder and longer to write than Rot, which is my second longest published work right now and will be my longest published work as soon as 2025 comes, since it's less than 3k words shorter than Umbrella as of right now (wow). In my AO3 drafts alone I have a four parts work that's 24,856 words long and not yet finished, so that gives an idea.

To recap my interactions, I've gotten 31 subscription, 28 of which are on my user and not works (which is weird), 350 kudos, 109 bookmarks and 6,042 hits. And way too many comment threads because I respond to everybody because it's the best part of actually sharing what you write in my opinion. I'm pretty cool with those numbers. They're great!

Anyway, now for the 2024 podium:

My most kudo-ed work this year is:

This one might actually not be true anymore in a few hours. It has just two kudos more than my second most kudo-ed work, so this could change at any moment. I really hope this one stays first though, because I actually really like it. It's not revolutionary but it's fun, and I liked writing it a lot too. I like knowing it was appreciated, and I like knowing it's technically the most renowned thing I wrote this year.

My most read work this year is:

Makes sense that it'd be this one that garnered the most hits, since it's sort of long and finished. I don't mind it too, I liked writing The Sixth Stage. All the way through I was like "wow I'm actually kind of nailing this". It felt nice, principally after finishing Umbrella which I felt like shit about, and what feels even better is I still like it. The pacing is great, I think! Which is insane because I usually, notoriously suck at pacing. I definitely was on something though, killing off so many characters. Fun fact on this one, actually. I recently got a commenter on Wattpad (kindly) cursing me out for murdering them all, just being like "no fucking way", and that was very fun.

My favorite work I've written this year is:

I had so much fun with this character study-ish one shot, even though it sort of flopped lmao. I don't care, it was great. I really love writing Killua, he's so fun. It's a challenge but one I'm willing to take, simply because the answers come to me with difficulty, but they come naturally. Which maybe explains why they're such weird takes. Anyhow, I'd been cooking this up for so long before I shared it, and there are some cheesy things and mess ups I'd rewrite to fix, but I like keeping things as my past self had intended for them to be, so that I can admire my evolution in the future. It's gonna suck anyway, I know nothing about what I'm doing.

And, last but not least, the longest work I've written this year (and I have yet to finish it) is:

I don't know how to feel about Rot. 35,304 published words, dozens of deleted chapters, pages and pages of my school notebooks engraved with fanfiction and 49 samsung notes with thousands of words each. Pure devotion. Some chapters I love, some chapters I hate. Chapter ten is amazing and I'm so excited to share it yet chapter nine makes me want to fall asleep and never wake up. Sometimes it's the easiest thing to write, sometimes it's a genuine nightmare. Again, chapters nine and ten. I will finish it, there's no doubting that, but my plans keep changing and it's messing up my sleep schedule.

Overall, statistics always make me feel like shit. They make me feel like I haven't done enough. Take last year, for example. I made nearly 1.3K kudos last year, even though I started posting last year, which means I hadn't built an "audience" at all yet.

What taking a look back through my biggest successes of the year made me realize is that, even though I sort of suck, I'm still prouf of myself. Most of what I've mentioned here, I like. I tend to forget that and focus on the part of me that regrets numbers, and that's why this little post feels so necessary for me to make.

Of course these numbers (hit numbers and stuff) will change slightly before the end of the year, but I feel this is close enough.

Anyway. Happy new year to everyone. It's coming quick quick quick, and I need to get back to studying if I actually want a job in the future!

I might do a 2023 resume some day, just to take me back in time.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 writer #hxh 1999 #ao3 link #ao3 #ao3feed #hxh fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #writing #hxh killua #killua hunter x hunter #killugon #hxh gon #gon freecss #killua zoldyck

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noir-drabbles · 1 year ago

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Drafts 1

Summary: Just an unfinished solo writing thing while playing Iron Valley. Basically it was just me testing out what it is I wanted, trying to create my own setting and characters, but then my brain got bored of it. So, I figured I may as well dump it here.

(I said I was going to start dumping my drafts here and I am going to commit to it. Drafts will be half actual prose writing and rambles on the side because I want people to enjoy the ideas and characters I have in my head. Hope this is fun!)

(Oh yeah, here's the link to the game I was playing. Lot of reading but it's easy to start and understand. Really does test out one's creative muscles.)

Today’s Spring pick for the Luminariae Post is as follows:

When a new branch grows, I always worry for what it may carry. The bark upon the trunk is many years old and yet it still insists on growing new leaves, new buds, and new fruits. A large and wise old tree, and yet it didn’t know age. It didn’t know where it should draw its limits. It simply grew and produced, as it always has, even when the threat of disease was always there.

But I’m not scornful. I’ll simply grab my polished clippers and snap off whatever rot has caught onto the leaves, onto the branches. I’ll eat the fruit it gives me, and carve a flute out of the wood I snipped off.

I’ve been there when you were young, when each new leaf would make me dance in the mud because I keep forgetting not to over water you. When your fruits would spawn out of seemingly nowhere, like your love for the world could not be contained, so you had to give it back as much and as fast as you could.

You’ve long outgrown me. I can’t even climb up to the very top of you as I once used to with my own little sister. You could still support me, but the youth in your new branches are not what they used to be. And yet, you still try and grow just as much fruit as you can, even when it’s no longer anything anyone can eat.

You’re just an old fool. You and I are two of a kind. And that it why you will always be one of my dearest friends.

And every day, I thank you for being who you are.

– Carmen

Heyo, author Noir here. So, the idea I had for this little segment is that every start of the new season, the Luminariae Post would post a submission that was sent to them by one of the residents in this small town of Arbor Hills. Typically they pick submissions that have something to do with the current season, or just a general connection to nature that can be connected to said season. It's also meant for the regular folk to take a peek into a small part of that resident that wrote the piece. Just fluff writing things.

Oh, and Carmen is a big ol dragon man, the one that basically provides the Reader with a house and a job, a nice bouncing point since the Reader starts off with literally nothing, not even clothes. He's a nice man, good roommate and clearly misses having other people live in his house. There's this big tree that the whole town pays their respects towards because of the sheer size and reach of its roots. In fact, most of the plants and trees you find often end up connecting their roots to that big tree, as it provides nutrients to said plants, leading to them weathering even the toughest of disasters. Rumor has it that Carmen was the one that planted that tree when it was a sapling, but that's just a rumor.

Spring 2

Time: [0/4]

| Forecast: Sunny | Luck: Neutral | Lucky Color: Lemon |

“Did you hear? Apparently our dear local baker has been in need of a new recipe to put as a potential special.”

“Oh? Which one? Is it that sweetie Ivory or that nutty Obsidian?”

“Don’t be mean Martha. But it is nutty Obsidian. Apparently he’s going a little crazy from lack of inspiration and just wants something new to really make his day pop from grays to happy pinks.”

“Hehehe, well in that case, you think he’ll want to try out some of my homemade cookies? Maybe that’ll perk him right up and get his head out of the pizza oven ashes?”

“Bleh, if you want to kill him… But yes, let’s. I’ll be the merciful one and bring him some of my delicious tea.”

“Let’s poison him together, Lily.”

The idea I had here is basically a cutscene being played out every day, where a couple of characters do something or have a conversation that implies a very long request. The town bulletin is still a thing, but those quests will end up being pretty short. The short requests do change often, I'd say once every two days, while the longer requests are more persistent, changing once every five days. Obsidian is basically this mad scientist-like baker that loves to go crazy with the designs and flavors of his baked goods. And, well, he's prone to losing inspiration and just wants something to get that flow going. He's a pretty intense cosmic star dude, the kind of energy that easy to be overwhelmed with. He has a sister named Ivory who helps out in the bakery, but is mostly found working with wood as the local carpenter. She's not gentle, she has that quiet intensity about her, and is just as wacky with her woods craft. She will get the request done, and will probably add some else to it. A weird feature that you probably won't notice until you accidentally activate it. Like a table that can convert itself into a suit of wood armor. You never know with these two.

Oh, and I have no clue who Martha and Lily are. Just that they're best friends who love to gossip, and were once very competitive rivals in school before someone tried to accuse them of cheating so they'd be unable to participate in theater. Yeah, those two were theater kids, and their rivalry, for the most part, was a fun exaggerated thing on their part that got a liiiiittle too real, but they're good now. They're middle-aged and married to their respective spouses.

“You doing alright?”

You snapped out of your reverie by a rumbling voice that’s not quite meant to overpower the general noise, so much as it should rumble underneath one’s feet.

You didn’t look at Carmen. You looked at his horns instead, all scratched up and chipped at in all their ridged and curling glory. It’s hard to look at him in the eyes. They aren’t particularly piercing, they’re just filled with a love for the world around him. A gentle and boundless love that he’s willing to share with you, a fellow roommate but a stranger still.

It’s… a lot. Too much. But it’s fine. He’s good and nice. He makes you all those warm and filling meals, and lets you take up a room in his house. You had nowhere else to go, but he gave you a hand anyway.

So, are you doing alright? He did ask.

You hummed out a yes. Because words would be too much in all this noise. The sensation of your throat rumbling, of moving your lips and making a conscious effort not to stutter. You’re already a little on edge as is.

“Hmm,” he copied your tone, though you didn’t know if that meant he believed you or not, “I know there’s a lot of little noises, but a small outing like this is good. It is something to get used to, that’s for certain.”

It’s… yeah, he’s right. It is a lot. Carmen’s farm isn’t exactly all the quiet either, with all the cows, chickens and bees he has, but there’s a different quality to the noise of people. It’s a… a rhythm, of sorts. The livestock back home are always keeping out a listening ear to the nature around them, so their own noises follow that beat, usually. But people… don’t really care, nor can they truly listen.

The rhythm isn’t bad, in the sense that it’s wrong and that people should pay more attention. It’s just… different. Absorbed in their own little pocket of time. And those pockets just, overlap in your ears.

You’ll probably get used to it, in the same way you got used to Carmen when you first woke up to his face looming right over under the arbor. It was an adjustment. The man’s over seven feet tall with a broad frame to fit, built over the years from heavy farm work. But, you suppose that’s the average height of all dragons. Well, his specific branch of dragon anyway. You don’t know any other dragon.

You nodded and let your eyes wander over the sparse crowd around you, to the area you’re both sitting on a bench in.

The village’s center, built around a pretty fountain that’s filled with little seashells, all in various pastel colors of white, blue and pink. One little kid in white sandals had to lay her belly on the ledge of the fountain just to reach in and drop her shell. Her little transparent wings fluttered with her excitement, dropping flecks of pink dust here and there.

A water spout spat right up her nose and the little fairy girl snorted then gave a big powerful sneeze. She launched herself right into the air. Luckily, before you or Carmen could rush right over, her father was right there to catch her.

Chuckling, her fairy father said, “I got a precious gift from the heavens!”

“No!” She yelled, raising her arms high like claws, “I am your worst nightmare! I eat your dreams and your banana splits!”

He gasped, “A monster! Oh no!”

She kicked her feet and lost a sandal in her giggles.

You jumped when Carmen gave chuckles of his own. The sheer volume of his voice never ceases to surprise you, that his happiness can be something so… loud? Strong? It’s solid. Which is kind of dumb now that you think about it. You’ve seen him lift an entire tree trunk with his arms and shoulder alone. It shouldn’t be shocking at all to find that his laugh has just as much power behind it.

But it is, because he would always bend down just so people could hear him. He didn’t like raising his voice just as much as he hated going into the details of his private life.

And with a flinch, Carmen realized as much. He looked to the side, scratched the back of his neck, and sighed out, “Sorry.”

Did you look bug-eyed? You probably did.

You shook your head at Carmen. He doesn’t need to apologize to you. It’s not his fault that you’re easily startled. Besides, he’s the one going out of his way to get you situated in this place. He didn’t have to do it, but he did anyway.

He nodded to you then hovered a hand right over your shoulder. He stopped, waited, and when you shifted closer, he patted you. The weight and strength of his bones alone almost made your joint creak.

“I’ll be going on ahead. I need to buy some things for the gardening day this week.” Carmen reached into his pocket and took out a few notes that you don’t really need. He pays you plenty for your services, but saying no to him–especially when he wants to spoil or be nice–just leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He stuffed them in your hands. “Go around, explore. Or relax by the community garden if you’d like. I’ll be by Peach’s place for the most part. I won’t go home unless you want to, okay?”

Ah, here it is, the big send off. You can’t really complain since you asked for this kind of time for yourself, but augh… It’s difficult all the same. You’ve been here for the better part of one year and you’ve yet to make a single friend. You haven’t really been trying, to be perfectly honest. Whenever you go out into the village on your moped, you’re strictly in working mode, schedule and time all planned out. Whenever people would try and talk to you during those hours, you get antsy and anxious.

You hate being off schedule. On top of that, if you weren’t working, you were around Carmen all the time. He’s a friendly and well known face. It’s only natural for people to gravitate towards him rather than you, especially when you would rather hide in his shadow than look at anyone.

You weren’t trying to make friends. Everything was just too unfamiliar for you to do that, or even think of it. And nobody pushed you to do that. In a way, you’re grateful for that, that the people here left you alone for the most part. A nice respect of your time and attention. They made attempts to talk to you, certainly, but that was about where the pushiness ended.

And, now, you’re calmer-ish. You can take the time and try.

You can go anywhere and make a friend.

…

Augh, you still can’t talk. Words just really don’t want to come out.

Well, baby steps, baby steps.

Carmen has since left you to yourself, with money in your hands. A nice sizable amount. Can’t buy a microwave with it, but you can grab a while feast of pastries if you wanted to.

…you know what? That sounds like a good idea. Having something to munch on while trying to make a friend would help calm you down some. Besides, a lot of people frequent the bakery. Surely you’ll be able to find someone who wants to befriend you.

That and you’ve heard of the gossip between those two women over there. Apparently the local baker needs some help. You don’t have any ideas, but maybe you’ll come up with something by the time you get there?

The crowd didn’t really get any thinner as you walked down the white stone path. Lots of people were gathered in small packs, but they were polite enough to shift slightly out of your way. You followed the scent of bread and soon enough found yourself inside the cozy atmosphere of a bakery.

Honestly, it seemed more like a home than it did a bakery, which makes sense since it looked like a store/home hybrid from the outside. But, rather than a home that seeks to hide emptiness with store bought furniture the owner vaguely likes, each table, chair and even the frame of the mirrors in this place were clearly handmade.

It was small though, and all the furniture had people either gathering or sitting on it. There wasn’t anywhere you could just pick and sit down for an hour or two while you mindlessly pick at your pastry and watch the people go by.

A healthy routine makes for a good base for potential friendships. At least that’s how Carmen puts it. You’re not sure if it’s true, but you may as well try, right?

You walk to the back of the line and wait. At the front, behind the register was someone that you can only describe as a galactic black hole. The white light that makes up what you think is hair slowly swirls around in a clock-wise motion, collecting light like a vent does smoke as it slowly gathers in some dark center you can’t make out. The white light hair fades into a dark shadow dappled with white little star pinpricks, doing nothing to to take away from the bright eyes that look around this way and that.

This person had no mouth to speak of as he nodded and packaged a new box of pan dulce. It’s interesting to you, watching the way their body never quite stabilized into something truly solid, but it was enough for his clothes to hang on. He didn’t have a uniform, it was just a set of comfy billowing clothes that had little tears and big patches over what was probably holes.

His form stretched up, bending in ways a shadow would as he gave the box to the person waiting in line.

“You wanted a surprise and a surprise is what you’ll get!”

Aaaand this is where I lost my steam, and I had a pretty good pace going too.

Reader is basically this dryad person that was born from the big tree(of which I have yet to name, eh) and as such, has little to no knowledge of many things beyond the general basics. Socializing is obviously not their thing. Many of the towns people just think they're a traveler from afar that suffers from amnesia, but since nobody witnesses the Reader coming out of the tree, it can't really be disputed that they're not a traveler.

There's a biblically accurate angel just, hanging out in Arbor Hills. He's the current master carpenter and boss of Ivory. He spends most of his time sleeping, and in the rare times one manages to make a request to him, you can be sure that whatever furniture he makes will never break, and will even have a little buff to them.

The angel's name is Peach, because someone called him "an absolute peach." With the last name Angel for the sake of simplicity. No matter how you poke and prod at him, you can't get details about his past, you'll just get references about how empty of an existence he was living before coming here. Now he can dream all he likes.

There's a tradition at the start of a new year to share stories you may have or have written. Arbor Hills is all about communal story crafting, so often the whole town will come together to either craft a new fairy tale, or add on to another existing tale. The only rule is that it has to have at least one true event in there, or be based on a true event. So you could have witnessed a bug trip over grass and flip itself over and craft a tale about a malicious weed that seeks to grow and prank all the bugs that nipped at it. That kind of thing. So, one of the Promises is to get ideas and make a story before Spring 1 rolls around. There are usually two groups, one group that's full of people that have written their stories on their own, and the other group that shares their ideas for a group story making session. Perfection is not expected. Just have fun. And if you don't want to make a story, just be a listening ear.

There's also another tradition where, after reaching a certain age, kiddos go to the community garden to pick out a seed they like and plant it somewhere in the town. This tradition does stretch out beyond just for the kids, you can do this as a new adult, or when you reach a huge milestone in your life. Don't worry about having to take incredible care of it, these seeds are magical and are often deeply connected to you. They grow as you grow, and if they get sick, you can be assured that they'll be taken care of by the garden spirits of the forest.

There aren't many dragons to be found. There be different types of dragons, but their lifespan varies quite a bit between them.

Same for the dryad. There's nobody else quite like you, and if there is, they're usually no bigger than the size of your palm. Tiny, squeaky things.

I know I have more things sitting in the brain, but I need to prodded at to really remember. So, if you want to poke at my brain, be my guest!

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