#where a person concerned with Death is also like. No you stay in the ground where you belong

[little-piece-of-tamlin]

pov: you just climbed out of your grave and the mushroom woman does not approve (you're getting put back. swiftly)

@kikimorart ur OCs are giving me brainrot i hope you accept this humble offering. one day i will get good at colouring with markers and you will receive even nicer offerings dkfhdjdk

[donelywell]

This is just a summary of how the story goes, kinda like bullet points I guess. If the time ever comes that this eventually gets written as an actual story, It would be a lot more detailed than this. Also, I don't own Sonic Unleashed or think the story is bad (I actually really like it), this is just how a strange person (me) would handle the story in their own fan universe thing.

DEATH EGG October 1

Tails helps Sonic get up to the Death Egg.

Sonic storms the Death Egg, going Super.

Super Sonic follows Eggman, he begs for mercy, but it’s a trick.

Super Sonic gets the Chaos Emeralds ripped right out of him,

Eggman fires a beam filled with the Chaos Energy to the planet, cracking it into 7 pieces, releasing a Giant Monster, but it fades away.

Sonic turns into the Werehog, only barely hearing Eggman yell something about the Gaia Manuscripts through all of the intense pain that he’s going through, and is shot out of the Death Egg with the now drained Chaos Emeralds. Tails, on the Tornado-1, sees this happen, and chases after him.

APOTOS October 1

Sonic crashes into Apotos. He notices that there is a small being passed out near him, so he tries waking him up to see if he’s okay, this ends up scaring the kid for some reason. 

Sonic realizes he can’t talk for some reason, his throat feels off and his teeth feel weird, so he uses sign language to try asking if the kid is okay. The kid doesn’t understand, but assumes (probably not the smartest move) that he means no harm because his eyes seem genuinely worried, plus he’s slowly moving as though afraid to scare off the kid again.

The kid calls him ‘Mr. Monster Guy’, which makes Sonic realize he’s not his usual self. This mildly freaks him out, but he tries to act calm to not freak the small creature out. Using his claws, he writes in the dirt, which luckily the kid can read, and realizes the creature has amnesia. Sonic worries that he might have caused it, and vows to help him get his memories back. (Little Fella joined the party!)

Sonic looks at the rising sun, looking at it as something to lean on to stay optimistic, and turns back into his regular self. He finds his shoes and now drained Chaos Emeralds lying on the ground, and with a lot more pep in his step, holds onto the kid and races off to the closest city to hopefully get someone who recognizes the little creature (and see if Tails landed there after he launched Sonic into space).

>Windmill Isle Day Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Sonic questions everything that just happened, the Chaos Emeralds being drained, the strange new form he took not even 15 minutes prior, what this ‘Gaia Manuscript’ is that Eggman was talking about; but he’s interrupted by the kid getting sidetracked from the memory treasure hunt with an ice cream stand that holds the famous Chocolate Chipped Cream Sundae Supreme! After a little begging, Sonic ends up paying for 2 cones. Sonic ends up calling the creature ‘Chip’ as a temporary nickname until they get his memories back, Chip absolutely loves it.

While they go around enjoying their ice cream and asking questions about Chip's past, Sonic ends up being given someone's pair of gloves.

Meanwhile, Tails is searching for Sonic, he’s surprised that his communicator is broken, or at least not responding, because it should have been able to survive a fall that high. He manages to get a rough estimate as to where he might be judging by where he fell, but Sonic could really be anywhere on this section of the planet with his speed.

Tails is highly concerned for Sonic’s health and safety since the last reading from the communicator reported that his heart rate has spiked dramatically right before he saw him fall from the sky.

>Windmill Isle Day Act 2 (You play as Tails as he flies around town, looking for Sonic)

As he still searches for Sonic as it’s heading into sunset, Tails gets a call from Knuckles telling him that something happened to the Master Emerald and that Angel Island has landed.

Tails tells him that he’s looking for Sonic at the moment, but promises to come over as soon as he can.

After the call is over, Tails realizes how long it’s been since he last ate and spots a local Gyro Food Truck. He ordered a bunch for Sonic to eat later if he spots him.

As the sun is setting, Sonic and Chip still haven’t found anyone who recognizes Chip. Sonic gives Chip a pep talk when he sees that the kid’s down in the dumps, suggesting that there are lots of areas around the world, maybe he’s just not from here. Right when Chip feels reassured, Sonic transforms back into the Werehog. Both are stunned and Sonic realizes that he changes into the form every night (Chip needs a moment to come to the same conclusion).

Chip immediately notices that the Sundae Stand Owner is acting strange, and asks him what’s wrong, even suggesting he eats some ice cream. Sonic shoves his now too-big-shoes into his quills until daytime. Chip accidentally drops the ice cream, but Sonic manages to catch it by stretching his arm out. Both are extremely surprised by this, kinda freaking Sonic out with how strange it feels but he thinks it’s kinda cool. Chip really likes the stripes.

Meanwhile, Tails finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He’s surrounded by these strange enemies and forgot his weapon at the Tornado-1. He would normally spin dash into them, but judging by the sharp claws and spikes on them, his fur would not be enough defense from that hurting him more than it hurting them. 

He could have also flown away from danger, but he’s currently trying to protect a lost little girl he found surrounded by said enemies. He knows he doesn’t have enough time to drop his defenses and fly away while carrying her before they attack, so he just has to try keeping the already miniscule amount of ground they have.

While not looking, an enemy gets a lucky hit on him, causing him to yell out in pain. Despite the pain, he refuses to stand down and keeps defending the little girl.

With his new sensitive hearing, Sonic hears Tails’ yell. Instincts kick in, realizing his little brother is hurt, and runs after the sound. Chip, with his not as sensitive hearing, flies after Sonic in confusion.

>Windmill Isle Night Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Once he makes it to Tails’ location, all of the enemies focus on the actual threat, Sonic. The little girl uses this to run back home, and Tails hides behind a wall holding his wound from bleeding too much.

The enemies are piling onto Sonic, so he unleashes all of the energy he’s built up (and some instincts he didn’t know he had), somehow becoming more powerful for a period of time, yet feeling a little high off the energy practically pouring out of each hit he makes in this unleashed state. 

Sonic Emotions Handling Scale: 

Normal form- Can hide it frustratingly well and has normal emotions, 

Werehog form- His face and new Wolf-like instincts make it hard for him to hide it but he still tends to try to push it off if he can + negative emotions are a lot more powerful + he’s a little clingy, 

Unleashed Boost- Can’t hide his emotions to save him and they are extremely powerful + easily goes into a downward spiral in emotions + somehow even more clingy + he still is super emotional when getting out of his Unleashed state and will do things without thinking.

After the fight is over, Tails calls out to Sonic, he knew from the moment Sonic stepped into the battle that it was him, Sonic practically raised him for almost half of his life, how could he not tell? Sonic however, getting out of his Unleashed Boost daze, realizes just how dangerous and brutal he could be in this form. So once he hears Tails’ call, he books it in fear of possibly being able to harm Tails unintentionally.

Chip finally makes it over to the aftermath, he and Tails do a quick introduction (like saying, you know Sonic? You're the brother he was talking about? yep, let's go!), and book it towards Sonic. Tails is surprised that he’s actually able to catch up to Sonic, even on all fours, Tails’ namesakes spinning can beat him in a race now.

Sonic manages to hide in a barrel, in abject terror of what he is. Tails and Chip quickly catch up and sit near the barrel, trying to calm Sonic down. Letting him know that no matter what he looks like, he’ll always be by his side and his little brother. He proceeds to go on about how looking different doesn’t make you a monster or evil, having his tails sway as he talks, as a subtle reminder to Sonic that he went through that fear of being different too.

Sonic slowly uncovers his muzzle to use his hands to sign that he’s a monster who could hurt Tails. Tails is surprised by how open Sonic is being so open about his fears, he normally tries hiding it as best he can so others don’t worry for him (a bad trait that Tails is extremely relieved didn’t seem to carry over when he’s in this form). Tails gives a sad look and recounts all of the times that Tails has accidentally hurt Sonic due to not being used to touch (and the several months it took him to learn how to retract his claws), but Sonic stuck around every time and didn’t blame Tails for it at all.

Tails suggests that he runs a vitals check on Sonic back at the Tornado-1, to see if he can find out what’s causing this form. (Tails joined the party!)

That, and the smell of several Gyros in Tails’ bag, seem to be enough to make Sonic slowly walk out of the barrel on all fours. Tails notices that Sonic’s stomach is rumbling and uses this to walk him over to the Tornado-1 without having his mind drift into negativity (wow, that’s odd, Sonic’s almost never openly negative). Chip finds out Gyros are really good, almost eating 3 before they make it back to the biplane.

After eating, Sonic stands up (and is actively trying to ignore the stomach churning feeling of being so incredibly huge compared to his little brother), to sign that he can’t retract his claws or speak properly. Tails tries to make the best of it and says that Sonic doesn’t need to touch anything for the check up.

As Tails is cleaning up and patching his wound with the first aid kit he has stored in the Tornado-1 (he wanted to immediately do the check up on Sonic, but the werehog refused to even start that until Tails took care of his cut first), Chip is in awe that Tails can understand what Sonic means just by looking at his hands. He really wants to learn how to do that, so he can talk to Sonic at any time of the day. Tails tries to recall that he might still have some flashcards he’d give to any new friends Sonic made when he couldn’t speak.

Now tired and worn out from a long day of running around town, eating tasty food, fighting enemies, and making discoveries, Tails and Sonic sit on a brick fence next to the Tornado-1 to run a Vitals Check.

It’s a symphony of yawns as Chips quickly falls asleep on Sonic’s leg. Tails, being exhausted, unconsciously rests his tails on Sonic's lap (a deep sign of trust) and leans on him as a pillow (he realizes the sheer amount of muscle behind the fur, theorizing that the expanse of his arms might have stretched the communicator too far, thus breaking it), like how he sometimes would do that when the brothers ride a train late at night after a long adventure. 

Sonic was in a half asleep state himself, but once he felt Tails’ tails rest on his lap, he perked right up. He’s surprised Tails can trust him so much even in this form, he thought this whole time that Tails was just bluffing it so Sonic would feel better. He might still be bluffing… using that 300 IQ brain to use this token trust sign to make Sonic relax. But Sonic quickly has exhaustion fog his brain again, letting this track of negative thoughts fizzle out at the moment.

With a yawn, Tails murmured that Sonic’s Vitals all seem normal, if not for a slightly higher than average Chaos Energy reading, but it’s not enough for it to change his form.

Tails is officially out, Sonic’s delicately soft fur and heart beat lulling him to sleep. Sonic, still not wanting to possibly harm anyone by accident, gently slips Chip off his leg, landing on his enormous paw (that’s another thing he feels off about, why are his hands so big?), and rests him on his head as he curls up as best he can without jostling Tails much. He tries his best to both find a comfortable position and keep his dangerous hands away from anyone. It’s a rough night, but they all got through it.

In the morning, Sonic transforms back to normal, with Tails handing him some spare gloves and a back-up communicator from the Tornado-1. After enjoying some Tarts for breakfast, they head out to Angel Island. Sonic accidentally falls asleep on the wing while Chip studies his flashcards in the back seat.

Angel Island

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture. 

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done. 

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings. 

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages. 

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you. 

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person. 

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound. 

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort. 

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead. 

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning. 

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it. 

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect. 

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?” 

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty. 

“Y/N, my king.”  

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions. 

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.” 

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone. 

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.   

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more. 

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it. 

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know. 

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach. 

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror. 

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it. 

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.” 

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.” 

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.” 

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.” 

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement. 

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[lovelywritinglady]

Strangers (Part.2)

Reiner Braun xfem!reader

Three years later and you finally meet him again. But this time as strangers. Will you reconcile?

Angst, mentions of trauma and death. Reiner has low self worth. Talk of suicide, blood, and violence. Fluff, happy ending…

Reiner’s Pov

It’s been three years to the day since the day I lost her. Every moment I’ve spent has been filled with memories of her. Her scent, touch, and voice fill me with sadness and regret. I need to see her, but she’s so far from me now. The future is so unpredictable now and war has been upon Marley for some time. I wonder what’s she’s doing. What she looks like now and how beautiful she’s gotten.

I stared at the sea, the very one that separates us. Wishing she were here to see what I see. Wishing I were holding her hand here, making her laugh, telling her jokes. But I’m not, and she’s not here. I’m scared I’ll never be able to see her again or hear her sweet voice calling my name.

“Damn it all.” I sighed breathing in the salty sea air. I was trying not to think of her anymore as I could feel tears beginning creep.

I began walking along the docs admiring the markets and people around me. I had no where in particular to go as it was my day off, which was rare. There were so many people out today and I found myself accidentally bumping into a few. My head was fuzzy as I tried to push my emotions back once more. I wasn’t looking where I was going this time and bumped into someone and made them fall to the ground. My thoughts came back to me and I focused on the person I accidentally shoved.

“I’m so sorry are you okay.” I said frantically not looking at their face still. I grabbed their hand as I pulled them up. I locked eyes with them and suddenly the whole world stopped. The very air from my lungs had left me and the tears that I was trying so desperately to hold back were starting to fall. As the very person I have needed, loved, and desired was right in front of me and I had just bumped into her.

“Y/n…”

Your pov

One hour earlier…

We finally docked onto Marley dressed as ordinary people because if even one person caught wind that there were enemies on this island, then all hell would break loose. Truthfully, the only reason we were here was to see the other side of the sea. For me, I came to see him. I needed to, my whole body craved it. I hate him, at least I think I do. I love him, but I know that I shouldn’t. Or should I?

Once we left the boat, we were each given time to explore. Levi instructed us to all meet by the woods by sundown as that’s where we’d be staying. He also suggested to go in pairs, but I was on a mission, one more important than anything else. I needed answers and I needed them from him. One hour later I somehow made it to a market filled with people and things I’d never seen before.

“Damn it all.” I sighed walking through a large crowd.

Despite my mission, I was simply awestruck by these people. Many of different faces than I had seen on my island. They were beautiful and it felt nice seeing so many happy people together. I thought about him walking through these very streets. Had he come here often? Was he even interested in markets? What was he doing now? All of those thought plagued my mine and made me feel hazy. Something shiny caught my eye and I turned to look at it from a distance. However, much to my bad luck, I wasn’t paying attention and got thrown off my feet by what felt like a ox.

“Ouch.” I whispered feeling the wind leaving my lungs slightly.

“I’m so sorry are you okay?” The rather familiar voice spoke out in concern.

And just as I was about to respond the figure grabbed my hand and began pulling me to my feet. Once I was balanced, I looked up. Shock waves shot through my body as the very persons I had sought out was right in front of me. The person I loved more than anything was right in front of me more handsome than he was when I lost him…

“Reiner?”

Reiner pov

“Y/n.” I whispered. “Are you real?” I asked not truly believing the breathtaking sight in front of me.

“I hope so.” She responded giving me a smile.

“Hi.” I said awkwardly 

“Hi.” She whispered

“How… how are you?” I asked her after a few moments of simply staring at the woman I loved.

“Relieved.” She replied as a year left her eye.

“Me too.” I admitted. “Y/n, you’re so beautiful.” I whispered breathlessly losing myself in her magical eyes.

“Thank you.” She whimpered as more tears left her.

“Here, please.” I told her as I reached into my coat pocket, taking out a clean handkerchief and handing it to her. As I did, our hands brushed slightly making me let go of a breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding.

“Oh thank you.” She said quickly as she wiped her tears.

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” I asked her hoping she’d say yes.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t try anything mister.” Y/n joked chuckling a bit as I laughed too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” I joked back.

“I hope so.” She spoke in a hushed whisper and I could tell she meant to say that to herself so I didn’t respond back.

“I have a good spot on the beach that should be pretty private.” I told her.

“Do you take all of your girls there?” She joked nudging my shoulder slightly. I missed this. I missed her. I just hope that I can find the perfect words to say to her.

“Nah, just you.” I replied seriously looking at her for a moment as we walked side my side to the beach.

“Good.” She smiled

After a few moments of walking and small talk, we made it to my spot. I helped her down to this small cave that most locals didn’t bother going to as it wasn’t as exciting as the rest of Marley. It was a peaceful little cave that was about 6 feet wide and 10 feet long. At the very end of it, you could see the water rising and falling. The sounds of the waves crashing echoed through the spot making a private conversation possible.

“It’s beautiful here. Good spot there Reiner.” She complimented looking around the sea cave. “As beautiful as it is, I need to speak to you about not so pretty things. But I think you know that.” She told me seriously looking straight into my eyes.

“I agree. What do you want to speak about. I promise to tell you anything you’d like to know.” I reassured her.

“Who are you?” She asked simply.

No one’s pov

“My name is Reiner Braun. I’m a warrior of Marley and I’m the holder of the armored titan.” Reiner replied seriously as he stood to the wall of the cave.

“Is see. Who else are you?” You questioned him trying to assess him.

Reiner stilled for a moment trying to decipher the right words to say and what you meant in that very moment.

‘Who am I?’ Reiner thought to himself

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but was really just a few minutes. Reiner had forced himself into an internal conflict with himself at your question. He hasn’t really given who he really was much thought for a long time. He thought he knew, he thought that after the battle at Wall Maria, that he knew who he was. However, with you standing right in front of him after so many years apart, he began questioning everything once again. He took a deep breath letting the salty sea air fill his lungs. He then looked into your eyes giving you a pained, but loving look as the words he needed finally came to him.

“Y/n… I’m not just Reiner Braun, Warrior of Marley. I’m also…” Reiner paused for a moment. “I’m also a man so desperately and completely still and utterly in love with the woman who stands in front of me. And with everything that I have and everything that I am. I’m so sorry for everything that I put you through on your island. For every death, every shitty memory you have because of me, for all of the people I’ve hurt. All I want is to die because of it I know I deserve to suffer for all f the shit I pot you and everyone else through. But I’m not sorry for falling in love with you. For wanting to be with you and for all of the years that I’ve spent missing you.” Reiner admitted as he began sobbing at all of the memories that he had.

“Reiner…” you sighed fresh tears beginning to spill. You couldn’t think of what to say as the confession that you wanted to hear but weren’t sure you are going to receive was just announced by him.

All you could do in that very moment was warp yourself around him. All you could think was to hold him. Your anger was overlooked my your intense love for this man, for Reiner Braun. You held him so tightly against you not wanting to let him slip away once again. You felt him stiffen slightly but hold you just as tightly. You felt him nuzzle into your hair.

“Oh Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry. I love you.” He spoke desperately feeling free that he was able to tell you the words he’s been waiting years to finally say once more.

“I missed you.” You admitted feeling anxious about saying it back but knowing you needed to. You turned your head up looking into his honey colored eyes and finally spoke the words that you were needing to say. “I love you too. I never stopped.” You told him still holding onto his muscular body.

“Good.” He whispered giving your forehead a affectionate kiss.

“You really hurt me though Reiner and despite the years apart, I’m still hurt.” You said feeling the pain you had felt for the last three years come back however a little less this time.

“I know, and I understand if it will take you time. Just know that I’ll wait as long as you want because you’re worth everything y/n.” Reiner says holding you against him once more.

“Thank you, I think I might have to go soon. But please let me stay here for a little while longer.” You pleated.

“Darling, you can stay here until time itself comes to an end.” Reiner spoke seriously

“Good, because I never want this feeling to end. And I promise you will see me again.” You said kissing his chest.

“I’m looking forward to it, Y/n…”

Thank you so much for reading💜This is the last part of this. Although I might and a prequel to this short series about how these two met and how they feel in love.

@dressycobra7

Please click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment,follow, request, and reblog.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

[ae-azile]

I have another ChanBig plot for a fic in my head, one that would be dark, explicit, and somewhat traumatizing. 😬 It was likely loosely inspired by the information Chan provided in Gossip After Death, where Korn was considering throwing Big into a business deal with people who wanted to "alter" his duties. I feel like I am literally incapable of writing a one-shot in this fandom, so idk if I will attempt it or not, but here is the general outline:

Despite not taking any time off for an extremely long time, Chan takes extended leave to care for his dying father. The family is supportive and tells him not to worry about anything while he is gone. They encourage him to take whatever time he needs. While most of the guards tend to be intimidated by him, they offer their well-wishes and condolences when they cross paths with him prior to his departure. The only guard who goes out of his way to see Chan is Big, who brings him food and offers to help him pack. He offers to sit with Chan the night before to watch a movie. Chan surprises himself by saying yes. He didn't realize how much anxiety he had over everything until he was presented with the option of Big leaving or staying for a while.

Big drives him to the airport the next morning. Chan's father lives in London, and it will be a long flight. Big surprises him with some books and downloaded movies and shows on a tablet to help make the flight go faster and for him to take his mind off of things. It's something Chan needs. He doesn't particularly like his father. For the longest time, he hated him. He is starting to question why he agreed to do this. When he sees his father - sick, dying, and still as nasty as ever - Chan wonders if he might kill the man before the cancer finishes the job.

But there are some good things about going back to London. He sees his grandmother, who is somehow in much better shape than his father despite her age - and much nicer. Chan doesn't see how the two are related. He also catches up with a few cousins on his father's side, as well as their children. However, the best thing about being back in London is surprisingly the people who reach out from Bangkok.

Mainly one.

At first, Chan is curious, slightly critical, and surprised that Big has his personal phone. It's normally against the rules outside of certain circumstances. But then Big says that Chan isn't on duty to enforce the rule and that Porsche is surprisingly soft and empathetic when it comes to the technology rule. Chan having to leave to tend to his estranged, dying father made Porsche even softer and he convinced Kinn to do a trial run of letting the guards with seniority keep their phones so they aren't isolated from their friends and families.

While Chan has some concerns about the change, he doesn't make calls to express his criticisms. If that is mainly because he looks forward to Big's texts and calls everyday, then that's his business. He tries to stay professional and treat it as an employee checking in, but Chan finds himself talking to Big about things he hasn't spoken to anyone about. Chan even finds himself not caring about what time they talk, despite the six hour time difference. Big has a business dinner he needs to detail security for? Chan doesn't mind setting his alarm for 3 am so Big can call him and let him know everything went okay. Big can't sleep? Chan doesn't mind texting him while he feeds his father breakfast.

He prefers it.

When his father goes downhill quickly, has mere days left, and Chan is experiencing complicated feelings over the matter, only Big can ground him and make him feel calmer.

"He's going to die soon. I want him dead, but I also don't."

"I know."

"I already started arranging the funeral."

"Kinn mentioned he is on standby to get plane tickets in order to fly out. He and Porsche want to support you. Korn too, I think."

And since Chan isn't conducting matters at the moment, he can't just schedule Big to accompany them. All he finds himself doing is vulnerably asking if Big could make sure he is on their security team for the trip.

"You are one of our most trustworthy guards," Chan gives as an excuse, "I trust you to make sure they are safe."

"Is that the only reason, sir?"

Chan doesn't give Big an answer either way.

But when the funeral happens, only Korn and Pol fly out. Chan is confused for multiple reasons, and he can see that Pol does not want to be there. When Chan texts Big to see what is going on, he doesn't get a response. When he asks Korn what is going on, Korn just dismisses the concerns and says there were some minor mishaps but to focus on his family.

He ends up cornering Pol later that night.

"Khun Korn sent a few men to a get-together in order to spy on the Bianchi family. They didn't come back. Kinn and Porsche are trying to track them down and don't want to worry you when you are dealing with all of this-"

"Who? Which guards?"

"...Gear, Third, and Big."

The news makes him feel sick. He calls Kinn and Porsche incessantly until they finally give in and respond. He knows he comes off as more demanding and panicked than he ever has before, but he can't take the time to calm down. He doesn't even want to stay for the funeral. He wants to take the first flight back despite Kinn's promises to track them down and get them home safe.

And he certainly doesn't want to stay and accompany Korn back as his fucking guard, not when he is the one who sent Big.

And so he doesn't. He visits his grandmother late that night, tells her something happened and that he's leaving, and that he's sorry. His grandmother asks if it has to do with the guy he has been talking to, and he admits that it does. She surprisingly gives her blessing and he takes an early morning flight without saying a word to Korn.

When he arrives and turns his phone back on, he sees that he has several missed calls from his boss but he can't find it within himself to return them. He goes straight back to the compound and sees that Kinn and Porsche have both been made aware that he was likely coming back without notice. Porsche tries his best to give reassurances while Kinn promises to calm Korn down.

Chan frankly doesn't care. All he wants to do is get to work and track down Big.

Chan doesn't expect it to take months, nor does he expect Korn to tell him to let the matter go, that the guards can be replaced.

He also doesn't expect to quit on the spot. But since the guards can be easily replaced, Korn should have no issue finding a replacement for him. It's the first time in a while he has seen Korn look surprised - maybe even regretful - and it is probably the first time Korn has seen him this angry. While Kinn and Porsche promise to keep looking and ask him to please reconsider, Chan tells him he won't be back until Big is safe.

He only remembers to add Gear and Third as an afterthought. But by that point, Porsche's gaze becomes more knowing, and so does Kinn's.

Chan goes solo after that. He has more than enough money to live comfortably, and he doesn't need much to feel comfortable. Kinn and Porsche call to check in and to give updates on their search. Arm does too, and so does Tankhun, who tends to praise him for standing up to Korn.

Korn doesn't call once, although Chan doesn't expect him to, nor does he particularly care. All he can care about is finding Big, and it's feeling hopeless. Even when he flies to Italy to meet with a member of the family, they act like they have no idea what he is talking about. It's a wreckless meeting that leaves two people dead, and he gets no answers out of it.

He only gets answers when Arm reaches out to tell him he has discovered a large transaction between the Bianchis and the Kalashovs. Not long after, the Kalashovs rented a private plane and had an even larger transaction with the Hanchars, a prominent family in Belarus known for sex trafficking. Arm notes that the relationship between the two latter families seems new. Despite feeling sick to his stomach, Chan researches them and finds his way to weasel into their inner circle. He has skills to offer, and he is currently unemployed. When he is able to successfully send word that the top security expert for Thailand's most powerful family is looking to relocate and practice his skills elsewhere, it doesn't take long for someone to track him down.

He plays hard to get and unyielding at first. Being uninterested in what would be considered incredible offers makes criminals intrigued, and making it clear he wants to be regarded differently than he was at his last place of employment gets them to invite him to an exclusive event, an event where he can "enjoy" the best of their business practices. They will even let him bid on something that catches his eye.

While he had hoped saying yes to that would lead him to Big, he didn't expect to have to bid on him once he is put on display - naked, blindfolded, and clearly drugged. It takes everything within Chan to keep his composure as he puts in bid after bid, going high enough to make the men who think they are his prospective employers raise eyebrows. But what matters is that he's the highest bidder.

When Big is thrown at him and Chan catches him, Big immediately goes for Chan's clothes. Chan holds Big's hands in place and requests a private room. While the men in the room try to say he should let them watch - that it's more fun for everyone when there is an audience to watch the winner play with his toy - Chan says that he wants his toy to be able to see him, that he doesn't like the blindfold, and he is willing to pay extra to have a night with him alone.

They allow it, and Chan and Big are escorted to a room in the mansion. Once the door is shut, Chan rips off Big's blindfold and finds his composure crumbling.

"It's me," he says, cupping Big's face, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long-"

"Would you like me on the bed or on my knees, sir?"

Chan pauses and takes the sight of Big in. He won't meet his eyes, he looks broken, and Chan is ready to go back out and kill every single man in the auction room.

"Neither," Chan says, "Look at me. I'm getting you out. You're going to be safe-"

"Would you prefer the wall? Or maybe the shower?" Big continues.

"Big, it's me," Chan says, shaking him slightly, "I'm here to HELP you, to get you out-"

"They're watching."

Chan pauses and glances around.

"There are cameras in every room," Big says, kissing Chan's face as he runs his fingers through his hair, "And they will keep watching until they are satisfied, especially for first time bidders. So tell me what you want and how you want to do it."

"I don't-"

"If you came here to save me, then you can't give them reason to think you might betray them," Big whispers into his ear, "They'll kill you. So I need to satisfy them by satisfying you. We'll go to sleep after and escape together in the morning. Do you understand?"

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

Notes for the plot after the rescue:

- Chan tries to make their first time as gentle and loving as possible. It's something Big is clearly not used to and is almost uncomfortable with. Chan isn't comfortable either. He hates that they are in a situation where they are both forced to do this. Chan thinks it is possible that Big is just paranoid by how much these people watch and give a shit about what they are doing. But then they get checked on by a high ranking staff and an offer for a partial refund is made if "the toy" isn't continuing to please Chan. Chan tells the staff to leave and they sleep together again. Round three happens on its own just before dawn. They haven't been bothered for hours and Big initiates, but it is all-consuming and desperate on both their ends because they both know they have the odds stacked against them as soon as they leave the room.

- The escape is brutal. While Chan is set on killing every person who put Big in this situation, Big is on a warpath and clearly holding onto a LOT of pain and resentment.

- They go on the run after they leave and somehow make it across the border. They don't stop driving until they hit Berlin and take a little time to rest.

- While Chan is relieved that Big isn't completely brainwashed like he initially believed, it's clear that he is traumatized. He routinely gets into a headspace where he assumes Chan wants sex. Or he gets paranoid that he will be dragged back to Minsk because Chan kept him for too long. He snaps out of these short episodes, but it's heartbreaking for Chan to witness at all.

- They share a bed, which comforts both of them. At first, Chan worries it may re-traumatize Big, but Big has nightmares that seem to not be as intense when they sleep together.

- Chan informs Kinn and Porsche of what happened. He doesn't get into the details, but he tells them that he and Big will not be coming back anytime soon, that Big can't handle a long flight right now. When Kinn asks about Third and Gear, the only information that Big has given is that they were too old so they were killed. Later, Chan learns they were tortured until Big cooperated with his new "job" and they were killed right after.

- When Chan thinks Big can handle a short flight, he gets him to London, where they stay with Chan's grandmother. She is very sweet to Big and makes sure he is comfortable. She recognizes he has been abused since she dealt with an extremely abusive and controlling husband.

- Kinn, Porsche, Tankhun, Arm, and Pol fly out after. Tankhun is surprisingly sweet to Big and eventually confides that he sort of understands what he went through, since he was hurt similarly when he was kidnapped. While Chan was aware of this, he is surprised Tankhun is taking the initiative to talk about it with Big.

- They take several days to go sightseeing. Chan spent his childhood and teenage years split between Bangkok and London. While he ultimately moved to Bangkok and stayed there since it let him feel close to his mother, he still has good memories of London, despite his strained relationship with his father. So Chan shows them around and the group feels like it is on even footing despite the strange dynamics.

- Korn isn't thrilled about two of his sons taking off for some extended trip to the UK. At all. It's only at this point that he starts calling Chan again. But Chan is still not returning his calls, which Korn isn't happy about either.

- The group catches onto something developing between Chan and Big. When Tankhun approaches him about the fact they cuddle together and share a bed, Chan is reluctant to talk about it but says he isn't going to push Big into anything.

- When they do end up slowly progressing in their intimacy, Chan is hyper aware of what Big needs from him and is very set on making sure they communicate with each other.

- Whether they go back to Bangkok or not is still up in the air. The same goes for their employment. Part of me thinks they might try lower risk jobs after they take the time they desperately need to relax and heal.

Anyway, that's all I have on the idea so far and it is still way more than I can do in a one-shot 😂 @chanbig @randomia-in-wonderland @fawndlyvenus I know you guys like this pairing, so you will have to let me know what you think of it!

[uhohwhathaveidone]

Hi! This is my first request ever haha and I love your writing. I was wondering if you could do one where Sebastian has just used Crucio on the reader (fem!reader if that’s okay, but I don’t mind!) but they don’t quite recover? And Sebastian takes them back to get help - maybe from Professor Sharp - but the reader mumbles something about having feelings for him as they’re being healed? I can imagine they’d be trying to defend him too seeing as he cast the spell. Just fluffy (and pretty angsty because imaginably the reader would be in a lot of pain). Thank you ☺️

A hurt/comfort? Sign me up!

For You (S.S)

I'm hoping to get more pudding soon, maybe jell-o? Anyway, a hurt/comfort fic where Sebastian has to use the curse on the reader is one of my favourite things, because you don't really know what people feel when they get hit with something like that. But I wrote it, so here's your heads up on broken bones, blood, numbness, pain in general, especially in the head, possible near-death(ehe). Sebastian is very stressed. Sharp is here and he's not happy, what are you two doing? Poor Ominis though :(

You stood with Sebastian and Ominis in front of the inmoving door, discussing how to open it. No matter how hard they pushed or pulled, it didn’t budge. “This is impossible, just look at this place!” Sebastian sighed, motioning to the locked door behind you. Someone had died in here, alone and with no escape. You worried that it would be the three of you to be stuck in there next, never found until someone comes poking their nose into the Dark Arts. Ominis stood in a corner, racking his brain for the answer. “There must be some way, why else would there be a door here?” You asked, walking back over to the dark door, and inspecting it. There was no keyhole, no way to wedge something into its side and pry it open.

You sighed again as you looked over to where Noctua, the person who visited before you, and died, had lay alone, noticing a piece of paper sitting on the ground. You looked at it curiously, crouching down and picking it up. “It says here that she was also trapped here, but there was a way out.” You read, walking over to the door once again as you kept reading. “Even if she was willing, she was alone and wouldn’t be able to use the spell to escape.” Sebastian’s face lit up and walked over to you. “What spell? Surely, she wrote it down.” You nodded, brows furrowed as you read on. Ominis had made his way over, hoping to leave the room as soon as possible. You reached the bottom of the page, eyes widening as you looked up at Sebastian. “Well? What spell?” You read the last line again, confirming what you had read. “Crucio.”

“One of the Unforgivables.” Ominis whispered, backing away. Sebastian furrowed his brow. “Why was she unable to cast it?” You read through the note again, putting the pieces together. “It has to be casted on someone, but not yourself.” Your eyes darkened, knowing that the only way to escape was to hurt someone, and you watched Ominis back away even more. “I won’t be a part of this, I refuse.” He says, returning to his original corner, shaking his head. You looked up at Sebastian, a look of sorrow filled his eyes. “That means one of us will have to cast it.” You nodded sadly, looking down at your feet.

“Cast it on me.” You looked up, shocked. Sebastian stood, his mind made up that he would be the one to go through whatever pain it may be. You shook your head, “Absolutely not. Do you know how painful that spell is? Who knows what will happen!” You argued, crossing your arms. Sebastian shook his head, “Clearly. But do we have any other choice?” You sighed, looking down at your hands. “We have another choice. You could cast it on me.” Ominis looked over, concerned. Sebastian’s eyes widened as he shook his head frantically. “No, I won’t do that.” “You must. Or else we’ll be stuck here until we die.”

“She’s right, Sebastian.” Ominis chimed in. Sebastian scoffed, turning to his friend. “Stay out of this, Ominis. You’re not part of this, remember?” Ominis hung his head, muttering something you couldn’t hear. Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he paced in a circle. “You won’t cast it?” He asked, looking at you, seemingly pleading with you. You shook your head, determined. “This is crazy. Insane. I shan’t.” “You shall.” Sebastian felt his eyes water, unable to break your determined stare. “You have to do it, Sebastian.” He sighed, walking over to you. “Are you sure?” You nodded, sealing the deal. Sebastian’s gaze softened as he wrapped his arm around you. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I know.”

Sebastian stood away from you, readying his wand. You prepare yourself mentally, trying to clear your mind of what you might go through, going through breathing exercises to calm your nerves. Sebastian took a breath in, giving you a look telling you that you could still back out. You nodded, squinting your eyes in preparation as he raised his wand. “Crucio!” You felt a wave of hot air wash over you, seeping into your skin and burning your whole body. You screamed as you dropped to the ground, your legs feeling like jelly as your blood seemingly boiled. It felt as if all your bones had been broken, only to be mended again and broken right after. Each beat your heart made went straight to your head, feeling as if nails were being driven into your skull. Your blood seemed to get hotter the longer the curse went on, lava seemingly coursing through your veins and out your eyes as you wept in pain. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, the feeling of your lungs being squeezed caused you to gasp for air as you laid on the cobbled ground.

Sebastian stood there, eyes wide as tears slipped down his cheeks as he watched you in horror. Sebastian tried to cover his ears, unable to block out your screams. Sebastian whispers a string of apologies as he kneels, afraid to touch you in case it caused you more pain. Your ears ring as you feel the pain begin to subside, leaving you numb. Sebastian looked up to see the door begin to open, slowly and agonizingly. Red continued to travel along your body as the curse ran its final course, soon dissipating and leaving you there. Sebastian released the breath he was holding, placing a hand on your shoulder, smiling. “It’s over! The door opened!” Ominis walked over, standing beside Sebastian as he shook your shoulder once again. You stayed unmoving, the ringing in your ear causing your head to spin as you tried to gather your thoughts. When you felt that the pain was over, you tried to open your eyes, only to be greeted with darkness. Were your eyes even open?

The feeling felt familiar, as if you had experienced the situation before. You couldn’t move, unable to speak, unable to tell Sebastian that something was wrong. “Hey, come on, you need to get up now!” Sebastian said, his increasing worry turning to dread. Ominis felt his chest tighten, unsure what was happening, only hearing Sebastian as he began to plea with you. “Is she…ok?” He asked, grabbing Sebastian’s shoulder, and guiding himself onto the ground. “Does it sound like she’s ok?” Sebastian snapped, rolling you over onto your back. Panic only rose as he searched for a pulse, finding it as it faintly kept you alive. “The spell isn’t supposed to do this. That’s not how the spell was supposed to work!” He shouted frantically, moving his arms under you and lifting you up. Ominis stood, unsure what to do next. All he could do was dread, uttering a single sentence. “Is she dead?”

Sebastian didn’t respond as he hurried to the door they came in, now unlocked as well, and raced through everything they worked hard to get through. Ominis followed behind, cautious of his disadvantage while trying to keep up. Sebastian didn’t care if Ominis was behind him or not, his mind blurred as he raced his way to the infirmary, desperate to get you help. He turned into a nearby hall, nearly running into Professor Sharp, who looked at Sebastian in shock. “Mr. Sallow, what on earth are you doing?” Sebastian gasped for air, nearly dropping to his near in exhaustion. Sharp quickly noticed the state you were in and took you from Sebastian’s arms. “What happened to her?” He asked, speeding down the hall, Sebastian in tow. Sebastian could barely speak, uttering a few coherent words before gasping for breath again. “I don’t know…I don’t know.” “You must know something!”

You began to get feeling back in your face, specifically your forehead, with burned in pain. You twitched in Sharp’s arms, trying to say something. Sharp quickly looked down, examining your face as it contorted in a mix of pain and confusion. “We’re running out of time, hurry now!” Sebastian’s legs burned as he tried to keep up with the professor’s long strides, seeing the infirmary doors come into view. Sharp flew the doors open, startling the nurse on duty as she folded a sheet. Seeing a limp student in his arms, she quickly abandoned the sheet and pointed to a bed, grabbing her wand and a handful of potions. Sharp set you down, telling the nurse that something had happened, but Sebastian was unable to say what it was.

You struggled to move, feeling the nurse pouring different kinds of potions into your mouth, trying to listen to what was going on around you. “You need to tell me what happened, now!” You could hear Sharp begin to yell at Sebastian, and your mind began to fill with a painful panic. If Sebastian told him the truth, he would be sent to Azkaban, never to be let out. But if he didn’t, he would be in even bigger trouble; obstruction of justice was also a criminal offense. You could hear Sebastian stutter, and you mustered your strength to try and explain, the potions that coated your throat soothing your head and allowing you to finally feel your toes. “Dueling…accident.” It was the first thing you thought of, knowing that the consequences would only be detention, not imprisonment. Sharp and Sebastian looked over at you, Sharp moving closer to hear you. “Take it easy. What did you say?”

“We we’re having a friendly duel. Got out of hand.” You spoke, inhaling deeply and opening your eyes. Sharp narrowed his eyes, unsure if you were telling the truth. Sebastian nodded behind him, quickly backing you up. “Yeah, we were dueling. One of my spells hit something hanging on the wall, it fell and hit her in the head. Can’t you see the gash?” You furrowed your brows, slowly raising your arm and touching your temple. You pulled your hand back and stared at the blood that sat on your fingertips, warm against your cold skin. The nurse took your hand and quickly wiped your fingers, muttering not to touch your head until she could heal it. Sharp sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to walk away. “I’ll deal with you two later.”

Sebastian watched as the nurse finished up her inspection, checking to make sure each limb was mobile and moving right, making sure your coordination was fine, and that you would overall be in near perfect health. She sighed as she left you, returning items back where they belonged and returning to her previous task. You sat up with a groan, looking up at Sebastian. He had tears in his eyes and a frown on his face, reaching down to take your hand in his. You tried to smile at him, hoping to break the tension. His gaze softened as he sat in the chair next to the bed, head hung.

“Why did this happen?” He asked, mainly to himself. You gave his hand a squeeze as he continued. “Why didn’t you just cast it on me? It shouldn’t have been you.” You furrowed your brows, “Why not? I wouldn’t cast it on you. It was the only way.” He looked up at you, a small trail of tears damping his cheeks. “But it wasn’t. You should have just used it on me.” You shook your head, “I would never forgive myself if I did. I would never put you through that pain.” Sebastian narrowed his gaze, “Why? Why are you willing to go through that pain instead?” You pursed your lips, looking down at where you were holding hands. “I did it for you.” “But why?” You glared at Sebastian, not believing that he could be that oblivious.

Sebastian continued to stare at you, confused, until you leaned over and kissed the top of his head. His face lit up as you turned away, trying to hide the pink that began to dust your cheeks. “Oh- I…you know?” He stuttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Eventually, Sebastian was able to get out a coherent sentence as he helped you out of the bed. “Me too. Uh, to…you know?” You nodded your head as you kept a hold of his hand, walking out of the infirmary.

Ominis met you a minute later, huffing as he tried to catch his breath. “Is…is she…okay?” He asked though gasps of air, and you tried not to laugh, knowing how hard it must have been to try and run over. “Yeah, I’m fine now.” You responded, watching as Ominis’ chest deflated in a sigh of relief. “Good…that’s good.” Sebastian patted his back as the three of you walked down the hall. “Let’s not do that again anytime soon.” Sebastian said, Ominis nodding in agreement. You pretended to be deep in thought, letting out a hum. “I was thinking that we go back tomorrow.” “Absolutely not!” “You guys do know you now have detention, right?” “How do you know that?” “Bumped into Professor Sharp, told me to let you two know.” “Dammit!”

[chiffon-and-spice]

(18+ MINORS DNI) He's A Violent Man, and His Heart's Decayed

Fic Inspo: April to Death

Johnny Slaughter/Sawyer x GN!Reader (18+)

A/N: I just want to say I do not condone this kind of relationship in any way, nor am I trying to glamorize abuse. This is just my take on how being in a relationship with Johnny would be. Fiction and reality are two very different things, and there will be triggering topics discussed in this fic. If you don’t like violence, this is definitely not the fic for you. 

Abuse Helpline: 800-799-7233 (if a phone call is unsafe here’s a safe website you can visit, you’re not alone and there are always other options.) 

Concept: You’ve walked down this road with Johnny so many times before, your feet have grown numb. At this point it’s hard to tell who’s crazier. 

TW: Abuse, violence, self-deprecation, mutual abuse, smoking, blood 

Content: Anal, rough sex, blood drinking? (idk if this should be a trigger warning or content…), voyeurism, masturbation, dom!Johnny, sub!reader 

A man beyond saving. So tormented, trained like a dog on a leash, he is unable to do anything differently than what he's taught. Despite all the pain, the anguish, the anger, Nancy is the only family he's ever known. The only family he'd ever get. Johnny had been given a shit hand, and these were the cards he had to play. And another, with so little regard for their own self-worth, seemed unable to care about being saved from him. 

You made your way up the familiar driveway, as you have done many times before. It was late, the moon barely a sliver in the sky, hiding behind a blanket of dark clouds. It didn’t matter how little you could see though, you knew this path like the back of your hand. Every little loose pebble, soft patch, and hidden crack or ladder. 

The outside of Nancy’s may look warm, inviting, with white picket fences and brightly colored flowers dancing almost peacefully through the wind. But you knew better. You knew about the horrors that lurked within those doors. You hadn't come here about that though. As long as you didn't bother the family, the family didn't bother you. 

Perhaps that made you just as bad as them, just as wrong and twisted. Any sane person would stay away, be terrified for their life. Ask for help for the many victims that had stumbled through. Then again, it was hard to be scared for something you had little regard for. What’s a little bit of murder?

The driveway and path were covered in a deep blue hue. The night air was somewhat chilly, though you seemed unbothered by the cold. Even without a jacket, no temperature could compete with the coldness Johnny handled you with. That was a chill you felt in your bones, that nestled into your chest and pricked at your heart like a thorn that couldn’t be shaken loose. 

So why were you making your way back? Every step made your feet feel heavy with lead, though a part of you also felt as if you were burning holes in the ground. 

You were in one of those angry moods, the scary ones where you were eerily calm. Every step is slow, quiet, across the gravel coated road. Calculated. You couldn’t recall if this walk was something you had done before or something you’d picked up from Johnny. 

Your gaze drifted up to the top window of Nancy’s house, studying where her room would be. The curtains, like usual, were closed shut. It was fairly late, and you hoped that meant she’d be fast asleep. She’d never been too fond of you seeing her Johnny. Part of you wondered if the only thing keeping her from murdering you was knowing you were just as capable of doing the same to her. She didn’t have the same control over you as she did Johnny. 

There was a part of you that felt almost… confident approaching Johnny's beat down shack. You had no weapons, no items but the clothes on your back, and yet there wasn’t much concern. No fear, as you raised your fist, pounding on the old shack door. 

There was a familiarity in the action, almost like you’d done it a million times before. Even with a door in your way, you could smell the place almost as if you were standing inside. Part of you had always wondered if you’d ever get used to it. It was unsettling that you didn’t even have a reaction anymore. It wasn’t even the blood that bothered you, that was nothing unfamiliar. It was the grime, the dust, the mold that all turned your stomach. The maggots that no doubt crawled around within its confines.  

You knew Johnny heard you, after a noise erupted inside. A few crunching cans on the other side and the low sound of rustling. Like someone was trying to let their presence be known, that they were intentionally ignoring whoever was outside. 

"Alright Johnny, come on out now, I ain't gonna be waitin’ out here forever!" you called out, your voice scarily calm.

Too many thoughts raced through your mind. Your foot impatiently tapped on the old rotted floorboards, arms crossed, while you stared narrowly at the door. The only sound you heard at first was the faint chirp of the crickets outside. 

It was pitch black, hard to see, though you knew the door had opened by the sound of it scraping across the floor. A familiar head slowly started to peak out, his dark eyes protruding from the doorway. There’s something unsettling about his smile, how his eyes scan over you, after he leans against the door frame. 

He had looked at you like that so many times before, like he’d somehow just won some game. Or was reading you, studying which parts of your body would result in those screams he’d been so fond of. His stance is tall, his eyes cold, while he leans against the door. 

The man smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and… something else you didn’t quite wish to discern. You wanted to scrunch your nose up, pretend the smell disgusted you as it should. Instead however it had an allure, something that drew you in. Probably because that smell was unique to Johnny. 

Like always the man was calculated, precise with his wording. His hands, which usually contained thick leather gloves, were bare, a cheap cigarette poking between the fingers of the hand that currently rested on the frame above his head. He laughed a little upon recognizing you, an almost wolfish glint in his eyes. The man was alert, like he’d been anticipating your arrival. Of course he had. 

You couldn’t help but study his other hand, which was wrapped tightly with white gauze. You remembered the blood, how it slowly poured down when you’d shoved your knife through his hand. The force he knocked you over with in response. It was a vicious cycle that should have told you both to back off. 

With how much you already knew about Johnny’s tactics, there was no need to draw you in. No need for him to practice his usual charm. Instead, he simply took a puff from the cigarette, blowing the cloud not too far from your face. 

“You’re back early. Did you not get enough?” 

Johnny’s tone was casual, carefree as if this was just another conversation. Anyone listening in might hear his words and assume he was talking about his body. You knew what he was referring to though, not forgetting the faint bruises he’d marked your skin with. The fresh cuts that littered your body. You only scoffed. “You’re calm for someone who ended up with a knife in their hand last time I showed up…” you replied just as casually. 

It was hard to believe that had only been a week ago. Then again, so many of your fights blended and blurred together. The black eye back in May, the broken ribs from June, the list could go on. In between you’d always managed to get a few good hits in yourself. No one had brought out that fire in you like he did.

The dark haired man took another drag from his cigarette, lips dried and thin, as his eyes darkened. Johnny stepped outside, a little closer, and perhaps in the past you’d have cowered away. Flinched. Winced at the anticipation. However this time, you simply stood, studying his fiery glare, almost daring him to come at you again. Not many walked away after a fight with Johnny, you were aware of this. You seemed to do it almost effortlessly though. 

The man was tall, could easily overpower you, which he had done quite a few times. You could never bring yourself to be entirely scared of him though. Not when Johnny treated you differently. Not after the many times he’d let you walk away. 

What unsettles you the most however, is the way his lips curve into a thin smile upon processing your words. He blows out a bit more smoke, dropping the cigarette carelessly on the wood and stomping it out. Despite it being so late, Johnny still wore one of his old tank tops, covered in whatever work he’d done that day. It’s too dark to tell if it’s sweat or blood. 

He made his way towards you, and the closer he got the more you could smell it on him. You didn’t cower though, only meeting his gaze with the same intensity. Perhaps this is why he was so drawn to you. Why he could never bring himself to finish you off. There’s an air of intrigue, confusion, in someone that isn’t scared of the dark things you do the way they should be. 

Johnny’s warm, exceptionally warm, and he raises his hand. You’re unsure whether to expect a smack or a caress. Both would be unsettling. You suppress a shiver, as he does the later, large fingers carefully running through your hair. You’d half expected him to be angry at you, but he’s just smiling. 

It should be comforting, warm. The kind of smile that would bring joy to your partner, while his fingers twist and slip through your hair. It’s the exact opposite of comforting though, almost too perfect of a smile. 

Johnny gently buries his nose in your hair, inhaling sharply. A normally tender gesture from most partners, but not from Johnny. 

“I’m sorry…” his voice is soft, a faint whisper, and it jumpstarts your heart every time. 

The words are gentle, stirring feelings inside of your chest you’d rather not think about. Your body melts and you feel warm in his arms. There’s also that tug though, that deep pain, that thorn shifting in your chest, because you know Johnny. Know him more than you’d care to admit. 

You merely shake your head gently in response, pressing your forehead into his chest. There’s a tiredness in your stance, and you don’t know whether you hurt more for yourself or the man in front of you. 

“I know you’re not… even if you want to be, you’re not. You’re incapable of feeling sympathy.” 

There was a bleak and tired look in your eyes as you spoke, staring at the ground. A hollow apology, that’s all it was. All you’d ever received. Maybe once, you had believed those words, tasted them on his tongue, when you’d rush in after with a feral kiss. Could feel it in the sheets, quick to forgive every rugged apology.  But after the first four times, it began to ring empty. You weren’t even sure why Johnny still said it anymore. 

It certainly wasn’t to make himself feel better, he was incapable of feeling guilty of anything he did. Johnny could be so hard to understand at points. 

You wished the man you’d met back in that bar all those months ago truly existed. The charming and charismatic guy who had pulled a chair out for you, offered to buy you a drink. Flashed you that tender smile, as he shared his sob story about being a poor farmer boy whose mother had been murdered. About having to support his family, often finding the bar to be the one place he could wind down. How he hadn’t recalled seeing a pretty thing like you ever in his life.

Johnny had been so kind those first few hours, managing to convince you to come home with him. He wasn’t quite aware of just who he was messing with however. It took about six minutes before you’d pulled a gun out on him and shot him in his arm. You could still see the scar now. 

Johnny thought he could pull a fast one on you, had pulled out a knife and talked about carving your bones out of your pretty little flesh. That was his mistake, so caught up in talk, in the soft seduction of it all. 

To his surprise though, you had come back, apologizing for the gunshot wound. Which then turned into the tidal wave that grew as your relationship. Johnny didn’t do labels, no, and you were lucky that you had even been allowed to come back. You knew you weren’t his lover or anything. Just thinking the word felt weird. It was more or less about ownership. 

Even if he did love you, it was in his own fucked up way, and he’d never see you as an equal. He’d made that pretty evident. Though there was something there, something that made Johnny look at you differently than his other victims. Perhaps it was the only form of love he knew, maybe part of him wanted to feel bad for the things he did, even if he was incapable of doing so. Maybe Johnny wanted to care, but couldn’t figure out how. 

Not that you were all that innocent either. Johnny wasn’t exactly your first rodeo of dealing with a guy like this. The cannibalistic thing was new for sure, but not the violence, and the yelling, and the inner destruction. Something about relationships like these got your heart jumping. You craved it. 

Probably because there was an allure to having something so dark and evil, so sadistic, treat you special. Not that it made you feel special in a good way, but Johnny did treat you differently..  

Johnny stood, tall and quiet for a moment, his hand dropping from your hair. His arms didn’t embrace you, as you pressed against him. He was like a statue, body warm, his chest not even moving. Part of you wondered if he was even breathing. 

“You’re the one that keeps coming back,” Johnny replied quietly, shoving you away from him. 

You half expected him to just lose it and pull out his knife. Twist it in your stomach and laugh about the whole ordeal. Staining your hands with red, as you try to push the blood back in. Kill you like he’d killed all the others. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try harder to kill you. No matter how intense the fighting got, Johnny always let you go. 

“You’re the one that always lets me walk away.” 

Johnny moved closer to you now, pinning you against the door. He had pulled out his knife in one swift motion, holding it under your chin. His eyes looked darker than usual, a snarl slipping from his lips. The movements are a reminder of just what he is. 

“Exactly that, I let you walk away. You only still live cause I allow it. What the hell are you even doing here anyway? Thought I told you last time I didn’t want to see your fucking face again.”   

You rolled your eyes, leaning into the knife a little, staring down at him through narrowed eyes. 

“And I told you, you don’t make decisions for me Johnny. I’m not going to be controlled like one of your little victims.” 

You both knew deep down it was practically impossible to keep apart. Even if you wanted to avoid Johnny, the man would hunt you down. Conveniently show up to a bar you lingered at or a store you were visiting. The worst reactions were the ones where you were with another man. 

No matter how bad things got, you could never truly get away and neither could he. There was a sick twisted part deep down that both of you wanted this, craved it. Maybe even needed it. 

Johnny presses the knife a little tighter against your neck, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t cut you yet. And for a moment you see a flash in his eyes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It’s that look that reminds you every time why you can never leave. As quickly as that sad look appears it’s gone, knife dropping, as he gives you a rough shove, moving you out of the doorway so he can open it. 

Johnny doesn’t slam the door shut, his way of telling you to come in. You recover a little, barely even feeling how his arms had knocked into you, as you stumbled into the beaten down little building. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust in the darkness.  

Like always, the smell is the first thing anyone notices. You can’t help but scrunch your nose up a little, wanting to cough and choke. It lingers in the back of your throat, stinging in your eyes. There’s several dirty dishes littering the counters and sink, the beer cans on the ground, his table filled with god only knows what, and his couch looked well worn, like someone had been laying down in it most of the day. 

Still though, it’s more a discomfort thing than something that puts you on edge. You don’t wander around like a scared dog, judgment lingering in your eyes. 

Johnny casually kicks his way through a few of the cans, swinging his fridge open. The inside of the fridge matches the room fairly well, a few flies buzzing around inside, as he reaches his hand in and grabs a can.

The environment is nothing new to you, and you slowly close the door, fully stepping inside. Johnny barely acknowledges your presence at first, throwing himself on the couch, and cracking his drink open. There’s no thought in his eyes, as he sits there, almost as if he’s alone, looking a million miles away.

Not uncommon for the dark haired man. The number of times Johnny’d just sit there, as if he was waiting for something. 

You frowned softly, sitting on the couch. You knew if your voice had even an ounce of sympathy it’d be enough to set the man off. Johnny didn’t want to be coddled. He “didn’t need your goddamn sympathy,” you recalled him saying, after he had spent one night bleakly talking about how he had gained his face scar. 

Johnny had been drunk, he usually was when he talked about stuff like that, and there was always a coldness to his voice. So casual as he spoke. Perhaps because this was his day to day life. 

“Why?” Johnny finally said, his voice unreadable. 

You stare for a minute, confused, as he remains staring ahead of you. At first you’re not even sure he’s talking about you, until he does turn. Johnny’s dark eyes are studying you, as if you’re the fucked up one here. 

“Why?” you repeat, as if saying his question will make it make more sense. 

There’s a hundred things he could be talking about and you wonder if it’s in reference to Nancy, his life, your life, or just a question he doesn’t understand. 

Johnny rolled his eyes, throwing the still pretty full can across the room. It hit the wall with a low thud, the amber liquid splattering all over the floor.  Like your confusion was so unreasonable. His voice is low, now snarling.

“Why do you keep coming back?” 

The man is on you in a matter of seconds, his hands firmly placed on your shoulders, squeezing, as he pushes you back into the couch. Johnny’s towering on top of you, and he’s looking down at you like there’s something he’s missed. Some part of you he hasn’t observed, that’ll magically make it all make sense to him.

Johnny was usually good at reading people, understanding what made them tick, what to do to see that fear in their eyes. He never saw that with you though. It drove him crazy how you were just as unpredictable as he was. Johnny couldn’t make you scared like the others.  “I could so easily kill you…” he continued, voice going quieter, while his hands moved from your shoulders to your neck. “Could just squeeze… apply the right pressure until your face goes blue.”

Johnny’s hands wrap around you, tightening their grip, but despite the aggression there’s an almost carefulness in how he handles you. A desperation, as he squeezes, just enough to cause pain. His eyes are piercing your own, almost looking, begging for a certain reaction, while you remain limp beneath him. 

Johnny groans, pressing you deeper into the couch, as his eyes narrow.

“And you don’t even bat a fucking eye.” 

While looking up at him, the determination in his face, the roughness in his grasp, it’s easy to see a monster. To think about what he’s capable of, the dangerous person he is. You can’t see that in Johnny though. His hands around your neck, his eyes hiding layers and years of pain, while he rests on top of you. All you can see is a broken man. The way he squeezed your neck, careful enough to not kill, told you he wasn’t all monster. There was something gentle in Johnny. Well, in his sense of the word.  

You know better than to try and fix him, not that he’d even want it. Not that you’d ever be able to. Instead you reached out, tenderly caressing the scars on his arm. As if your fingers could mend all the broken cracks within him. 

And he breaks… he softens his grip, shaking his head and flipping you on your stomach. Johnny’s hands aggressively grab your own, holding them behind your back, his voice quiet, as he whispers in your ear. His breath is hot and makes your whole world seem to freeze while he speaks. 

This was how he handled things when they got too intimate… too personal. 

“Is this what you came here for?” 

His voice sends chills down your spine, as you hear the soft clink of his belt. It didn’t matter what your intentions were, this was how things always ended up. And you hated how much of a rush it gave you. Your whole body quivering, as you felt the leather tighten around your wrists. 

Johnny’s heavy, his hands tracing along the curves of your body, voice still right on your ear, as he lets out a dark chuckle.

“That why you keep coming back? You can’t live without the feel of my hands pulling and grabbing at your body. Can’t get enough of the way my teeth dig into your flesh, while I claim every inch of you. Make you feel every inch of me.”

Johnny loved stroking his ego, but mostly he loved when you did it for him. The way your body was flush beneath his, as you nodded slowly, face still buried into the couch cushions. 

You couldn’t even focus on his words anymore, too wrapped up in the anticipation of him. How your skin already craved his touch, while he squeezed at your hips, pulling them back. His mouth had moved off your ear, biting roughly down the side of your neck.   

“Not so mouthy now are ya?” Johnny growled against your skin, hands slipping underneath your shirt. “That’s okay… I know how to make you talk.” 

His hands are uncomfortably hot, rough, and calloused, as he plays with your body. Squeezing your hips firmly, moving along your sides. He reaches your chest, thumb brushing along your nipples. Johnny knows all your sensitive spots, which parts hurt the most, as he explores you. Mapping out your body with his hands. 

Those same hands he’d used to kill people. There was a precise way in how he explored your body, knowing which ways to take you off guard. 

You let out a low moan, sensitive to his touch. Johnny’s hands are hungry, body heavy, as he presses on top of you, continuing to move his mouth aggressively along your neck. It’s evident he cares little about not hurting you, biting harsh enough to pierce the skin. The spot feels a little wet and it’s hard to tell where or how much blood is on your neck due to the wetness of his lips.  

Johnny’s warm tongue pokes out, caressing the flesh and cooling your new wound. His mouth is hot and a cloud of ecstasy is choking your brain. You can’t think straight, only whining slightly from the sensation. The noise seems to please the man, as he lets out a dark chuckle, hands moving to the front of your own pants. 

“Almost got a word out of you…” 

And this… this is why you can’t ever go away. Why you could never wish to be with anyone else. One fuck with Johnny, and he’d shown you things that no normal man… no normal person ever would. No sane person would be excited by it. Would be driven to the edge of this madness, pulling apart at the seams in a darker kind of pleasure. And if enjoying it meant you were just as fucked up then so be it. 

You could feel your own arousal pooling hot in your stomach, between your legs, heat spanning all throughout your flesh. Johnny’s shack being cramped with no ventilation didn’t help either. You could feel sweat already starting to form along your forehead and back. His bite made you moan tiredly, hands pulling on your restraints a little.

It was impossible to sit still with the way he nipped and tugged at your body. Johnny didn’t have a gentle bone in his body. No warning before anything he did. 

Maybe that was why sex with him was euphoric, different from the way anyone had ever treated you. It wasn’t just the degrading… the roughness, it was something darker. Something that turned your stomach in the sweetest of ways. Something he’d already told you. The thrill of putting your life in his hands, knowing he could kill you anytime if he wished. Of not knowing how he was going to end this. 

Johnny’s grip is harsh, pulling your pants down with little to no care, fingers brushing between the fabric and your skin. A tight squeeze that sends chills throughout your body. His voice is little more than quiet excited breaths. 

The man’s mouth moved off the small wound he’d made in your neck, trailing down your spine. The bites were still harsh, though you didn’t think he drew blood. Johnny was so unpredictable, you could never tell what he was thinking. What his intentions were. You could only close your eyes, quivering and getting lost in the sensation. His hands continued to hold your hips, rough and no doubt forming bruises.

There’s a familiarity in his touch. In the way his hot breath slides down your back, covering it in saliva. Every low grunt he makes sends your skin crawling. Bumps form along your forearms, the back of your neck, down your spine. Any and everywhere you had felt Johny before tingling in anticipation. 

Killing and fucking were an art to Johnny. A practice he believed needed time dedicated to it. Time to do things right. Not in the romantic sense. He wasn’t trying to make you comfortable. There was no checking in. It wasn’t about appreciating the act itself. It was about the thrill, the build up and anticipation of it all. The stalking before the blade bites into his victim’s skin. 

Johnny let out another rough snarl, teeth sinking into your lower hip. They’re sharp, rough, puncturing the skin once more, as you let out another low whine. Your body reacts before you can, quivering and trying to pull away. 

“Quit fuckin’ squirmin'’,” Johnny snaps, pushing your head down into the cushions once more. 

It’s softer than Johnny, and truth be told probably smelled a little nicer. Though that wasn’t entirely a big achievement. You tried to remain still, as his lips continued to suck on the sore patch of skin. You can’t see, but there’s a dark and sinister grin as he pulls away.

Your blood is running along his bottom lip, dark against his pale skin. The indentation of his teeth against your flesh, still warm, lingers like a ghost. It’s a faint buzz that makes you feel euphoric and it’s hot and cold all at once. Mind melted, twisted, as you heard the sound of his own belt being undone. Your stomach tightens in excitement, turning in the cushions to glance behind you. 

Johnny isn’t focused on looking at you, there’s no care, as he eagerly fiddles with his jeans. He's careless even with himself. The man’s dark hair is a mess, falling loosely over his eyes. When you can’t see them, he has the face of an angel. 

Soft cheekbones, pale and perfectly sculpted, a stark contrast to his sharp jawline. Johnny is beautiful. There’s no denying that. Like a snake. Scales slick, patterns captivating to the eye. You can’t help but want to reach out, touch it. One tender caress. Fingers slipping along his scales gently, tracing along the patterns as if you can understand just what they mean.

That’s all it takes, before the snake hisses, lunging forward. Teeth sink into your neck once more, pressing that venom into your skin. You can’t help but whine, feeling his hands pull on your hips. 

It’s painful at first, like something’s tearing through you, hands quivering in your restraints. Not that he cared. Johnny continued to fuck into you aggressively, hips rolling into your backside. His breath lingers on your neck like a bad scent, and you can feel the smile in his teeth imprints. 

“Quit being such a little bitch.” 

His hands are so tightly on your hips, you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care though. All you can focus on is how that pain rips into pleasure. How Johnny feels making you take every inch of him. His animalistic grunts, while he throbs against you. There’s such a force in his movements that results in your whole body lurching forward. 

Johnny’s noises are low, like he’s trying to keep himself quiet, as he moans to himself. Like he can’t contain the pleasure, as he needily bucks into you. Your hips match his every movement, his hands guiding them to do as he pleases. 

You know you’re in his control, and you want to hate it. His touch should feel dirty, his teeth rotten, but you can’t. You don’t. 

You can’t hate the hot white pleasure that’s coursing through your brains. How every little grunt rushes blood between your legs. How when Johnny fucks you it makes you whimper like a bitch tied up in the hot sun. There’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing, how to please you. 

“All that talk from before… talkin’ bout I don’t control you, you’re not one of my victims. Bullshit. You just roll over and take it while lying down. You like that though, don’tcha? You like that I own you?” 

Johnny was doing things to you that made your mind fuzzy. You nodded softly at his statement. He could read you like a book. His fingers knowing all the right pages to bend. Spine worn out from the many times he'd opened you up. Devoured you whole, learning every letter of every word that was etched across her skin.

The man could crack your bones, tear your ribcage open, and feast on your organs and you’d still fade from life proclaiming you died at home. That you’d felt warmth in his touch, as his fingers clawed away at you. That his tongue only licked with the intent of bringing you pleasure. His teeth tore at your flesh, consuming you, because he wanted all of you. Johnny wanted to gorge on the darkest parts you locked away in the confinements of your mind.

Your body is quivering, squishing, beneath his much bigger weight. Johnny’s chest, hot against your back, as his hands glide up along your hips. They expand, fingers curving around your torso, as he pulls your body up. 

Johnny’s large hands trace along the shape of your jaw, before grabbing it roughly, breath burning on the shell of your ear. The hand that isn’t grabbing your face is squeezing your waist, and Johnny’s ramming into you, deep and quick, as if it’s all that’s keeping him alive. His teeth clamp around your ear, another low growl slipping past his lips. 

Then Johnny pulls his head away. There’s a lot on your face and you can’t tell if he’s become bored or impatient. The man turns you, until you’re facing him., a dark look in his eyes. 

You can see a reflection of your own face, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes watering from tears pricking your eyes, and mouth slightly open to let out another low whine. Johnny hits that particularly sensitive spot in you, knowing just how hard to go.

Your body quivers all over in response, and you go lightheaded for a moment. His erratic movements, the way his hands moved along your body, and his teeth still marking your flesh. It’s all enough to make you feel like you’re about to pop like a cork bottle. 

His thumb brushes along your bottom lip, prying your mouth open, as he groans. Johnny’s brows furrow a little, focusing, as he thrusts. His eyes close, and for a moment he almost looks pained. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. What memory he’s distracting himself from now by burying his cock deep within the confines of you. 

As quickly as it starts however, it’s gone, and Johnny’s face returns to that hard look, eyeing you down. Looking into his face while he fucked you was something that he’d rarely give you the pleasure. 

You study him, as if you can read what’s going on in his mind. Like you can make sense of Johnny’s actions. He’s a lot more open tonight than most, and for a moment you can even see a glimpse of pleasure in his own eyes. Cheeks flushing a little, before Johnny exhales quietly. 

“Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that or I’m gonna turn ya back over,” Johnny snarls. 

Your expression quickly drops, while he fucks the concern off your face. It’s all you can focus on, as he pumps into you. You glare at him once more, body squirming, as you try to speak around the pleasure.

“Like what? I was just thinking about how good you’d look with a bullet in the back of your head.”

Johnny aggressively juts his hips into you, fingers curling around your jaw, as he grabs it, forcing you to be eye level with him. You’re worried for a moment you’ve gone too far, but there’s a gleam in his eyes. He lets out one of those low chuckles, before kissing you. 

His tongue worms into your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip, as he swallows every noise escaping your mouth. The taste of Johnny should make your skin crawl. His breath was awful, tainted with alcohol, blood, and whatever else he’d probably put in his mouth throughout the day. You can’t bring yourself to feel discomfort though. It’s like you’re seeing stars, his movements sending your body upwards, fingers curling tightly around the confines of your belt.

You want so desperately to drag your claws down his back. To mark Johnny the same way that he marked you. You whined a little at the thought, wiggling in your restraints. It’s all too much, and you feel so close. Your thighs quiver a little, unsure how much longer you can hold on.

Johnny smiles once again, pulling away. He can read your body, while his chest presses against you. Johnny’s movements slow, a dark smirk on his face. 

You can never understand how he has such good control. How he doesn’t burst, no matter how intensely the sessions get. Johnny seems so pleased with himself, pulling all the way out, and gently teasing you. Dangling that sweet release ever so close. 

“I’m not so sure if I want to finish you now…” 

“I’ll finish myself,” you snarl back, half tempted to reach down and push him in you yourself.

Damn restraints.

Johnny’s eyes narrow in response, rolling his eyes. His body continues to tower over you, but he’s smiling. Grinning. Like he knows something you don’t. Johnny’s hand moves from your jaw to your neck, running his thumb along a scar there and smiling at the memory. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Johnny chuckled darkly. 

Then as if to further prove his point, Johnny removes his hands completely off his body, sitting back. He leans against the arm of the couch, his body sprawled out. You study him, watching as Johnny brings his hand to his cock, gently massaging it. His fingers slip along the underside of it, touching it with a sense of familiarity. 

“Me though… I can finish myself just fine.” 

His words on taunting, while he continues to squeeze, his large hands easily wrapping around his length. Johnny fucks into his fist like he’s done a million times before, leaning his head back and groaning softly. 

“Johnny!”

You can’t hide the desperation in your voice. The frustration as your own body now remains untouched. There’s a fire coursing through your body, as you squirm once again on the couch. It didn’t help that watching the man play with himself made your insides tingle. There was something so hot… so tempting… in watching how he twitched in his hand. How Johnny’s cock responded to every little touch he did. 

The man wasn’t sensitive by any means, but if you knew the right buttons to push. Johnny let out another low moan, still not paying you any mind. 

“I’m almost there sweetheart.” 

You chewed your bottom lip, frowning a little, as a low whimper escaped your lips once again. 

“Please…” 

Johnny smirks a little, his grip around himself loosening, as he opens one eye. Like he’d just won some sort of game. Then he lets go of himself, creeping back towards you. 

“Please what?” Johnny asks softly, his voice low, as his hand moves down, fingers gently toying with you. 

Part of you wants to laugh. Your comment about shooting him actually had gotten under his skin. Upset him. You knew Johnny well enough to know the thought of not needing him to get off pissed him off more than anything. He was desperate for that confirmation. It would’ve been cute, had Johnny not been a narcissistic cannibal. 

“Please… I wanna cum,” you finally caved, staring up at him. “Need you to make me cum.” 

Johnny doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even give a satisfactory smile, before slipping back into you. He’s quick, movements needy and desperate, while he grinds against your backside. The way his body responds, how quickly and deeply he’s moving into you tells you he wasn’t kidding. 

Johnny had really worked himself up while fucking his hand. 

Not that it mattered though, you were close to, feeling your stomach tighten into hot coils, while a rush of heat slipped through your body. It all felt better the second time, already used to his size. Your body was his for sculpting, as you moaned once more, closing your eyes. 

“Ngh… Johnny… Fuck Johnny I-!” you’re cut off from your own pleasure, as your orgasm tears through your body. 

It’s practically impossible to sit still, quivering beneath his body. Johnny’s free hand clamps over your mouth, as if he can prevent your release, while bucking into you with a desperate thrust. His own eyes close, voice turning into a series of low grunts. 

“Ahhh…” Johnny whispers quietly, feeling your release slip out, coating his stomach. 

That alone seems to be enough to send him over the edge. Johnny stays buried, as his cock twitches within you. Ropes of sticky white cum shoot out, flooding your senses. That doesn’t stop him from sloppily thrusting into you though, moaning softly, while his hand still covers your own mouth. 

There’s something animalistic in his release, holding himself in you for a little longer, until he’s no longer twitching. Then Johnny pulls out, cum spilling on the already stained couch. 

His grip loosens, hand falling off your mouth, as he catches his breath. You come down from the high yourself, gasping, as you study him. Johnny’s eyes are blank, as he slides off the couch, retrieving his pants. You half expect him to dismiss you, tell you to go home. 

Instead however, he undoes the belt on your wrists, saying nothing. Johnny slips his shirt off, making his way to the back of the shack, where his bed remained.

You sat there for a moment in your post orgasmic haze, picking up his shirt that he had thrown carelessly on the ground. You can’t help but sniff it softly, smiling, as you pull it over your head. Then you follow Johnny, watching as he’s laid, stomach first in bed. 

You wonder if he’s asleep for a moment, but he seems to sense your presence, shifting in his bed. Johnny doesn’t turn his head to look at you though. 

“The fuck you lookin’ at?”

You never expected tenderness or praise after your activities. Hell, even the silence wasn’t anything new. It was not being immediately kicked out after that had your head turning. You stepped forward cautiously, crawling into the bed. Testing the waters. 

Johnny doesn’t speak again. 

You settle beneath the covers, wishing so desperately you could read his mind. Could hear what he was thinking. You’re surprised when he stretches his left hand out a little, turning it over to reveal his palm. You study it, expecting a knife to grow out of it. Or for Johnny to use the moment where you’re caught off guard to pull a knife out. 

You hesitantly reach out, pressing one finger lightly into it at first, before flattening your whole hand. You’re surprised when his fingers curl around your hand, and not in a way where the grip is overbearing. You study him, not wanting to ruin the moment, as you settle in the sheets.

As quickly as you hold his hand, Johnny seems to drift off, his snores light and quiet. He looks peaceful in his sleep, and it’s hard to imagine this man as a cold and calculated killer. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

BEN scenario visiting the grave of his Y/N please

BEN spends all of his time after you pass between two places, either his bedroom or visiting your grave. He can't stand to be around other people, but he also can't stand to be alone without you. He misses you more than he ever thought it possible to miss someone, and it leads him to lay and sit around your grave most of the time, and sometimes he even sleeps out there beside you, camping out and refusing to leave your grave. When he's in his room, he's either burying himself in his work or forcing himself to play games to make himself focus on something other than missing you.

BEN barely even truly enjoys games anymore, as he can no longer play them with you. The others are also growing concerned at the rate that he's handling his work, as he's working himself far too hard, and while as a ghost he doesn't technically need to sleep, working for 18 hours straight isn't healthy in the slightest bit. Even when resting next to your grave, he always has his work laptop or a handheld game console in his hands, unable to just rest and come to terms with the fact that you're gone. Now, as he sits beside your grave, his back resting against your tombstone, he has his face buried into his Switch, clicking away at the buttons as he tries to ignore the growing emotions in his chest.

-

"I changed around the formation of my island again. It was annoying having to move everyone's houses again, but I really like the new design. It was the one I told you about last month before--" He cuts himself off, sniffling as he goes back to running around his Animal Crossing island.

Before you had died. He had told you about his plans before you had died, and that had been the cause of him putting it off so long. He'd thought to himself that if he did anything he'd told you about before the day you died, that it would be a show of proof that you were gone. That he was progressing and moving forward while you had to stay behind. 

"Should I... Change it back..?" His words are a whisper as he stares down at his Switch, and it's not until wet droplets start hitting his screen that he realizes he's crying. 

He looks up, away from his screen, and it's the first time he takes a moment to notice his surroundings since he's been visiting you. The tall, protective trees hanging overhead. The beautifully blooming flowers that decorate the surrounding area. The gifts surrounding your grave, placed there by other members of the mansion. The words stamped into your tombstone to commemorate you. The violent shaking of his shoulders, the loud cries escaping his lips as he turns around, clinging to the stone as he shuts his eyes, trying to close out the world once again.

"It was my fault...! I assigned you to that mission...!! I did this!!" He screams out, sobbing and weeping and finally letting all of the tears he'd been fighting so desperately to hold inside out. 

BEN has been feeling extremely tremendous guilt since your passing. He was the one who assigned everyone to their missions, and he had been useless to protect you from harm as you died that night. He felt himself hyperventilating as he sank to the ground, his hands gripping the grass covering where you'll rest eternally.

"What a disgusting person I am... I'd even wished that you'd have come back to me as a ghost, even though that means you would have had to have an extremely traumatic death... How horrible of me, even after being the one to cause your death inadvertently... But I just miss you so much!" He screams out again, choking on his breath and heaving, gagging as he tries not to throw up from anxiety and the overwhelming emotions taking over him.

He lays there like that for what feels like hours, sobbing and choking on air, despite the fact that as a ghost he doesn't even need to breathe, but he can't seem to remember that with all the emotions flowing through him. Eventually, he collapses, lying motionless and staring blankly ahead of himself. 

"Maybe I should just... Disappear...? Would that make up for my sins...?" His voice is broken and scratchy when it comes out of him in a whisper, and he chuckles sadly at himself as he nuzzles into the ground below him where you rest.

"What am I even saying..? You'd yell at me for that if you were here... Tell me I'm being too hard on myself..." He sniffles loudly, whining as he feels more tears prickling in his eyes. 

"I just want to be with you forever... Even if it means I just never leave this spot ever again. I've considered it before." He whispers again, his eyelids growing heavy despite his body not needing sleep, his brain simply overworked from his emotional outbursts. A deep, heaving sigh leaves his body as he finally closes his eyes, resting above you.

"Goodnight, honey... I love you... Let's sleep here together forever, okay...?"

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 6: No Where to Go

Hero x Villain Masterpost

TW: mentioned abuse, gunshot wounds, running away, death, swearing

Hero stumbled through the night, hand pressed firmly over the throbbing, fiery wound in their side as the rain beat down upon them, soaking them to the skin and filling their shoes with water. Just a little further, they thought to themselves, skirting the halo of light emitted by a nearby lamp post. One more step. Now another.

And another.

Keeping their thoughts in line forced them to focus on walking, on getting to the only place of safety left to them. It kept their thoughts away from the cuts, bruises, and—ONE! MORE! STEP!

Hero was nearing a rough part of the city, and they knew it. But they had to keep moving; this was the last place their former allies would think to look for them. And, hopefully, the person who controlled this section of the city with an iron fist wouldn’t notice them either. Why would Hero, their sworn enemy, seek refuge in their territory? It would be a death sentence.

But, seeking refuge elsewhere also spelled death, so it no longer mattered to Hero. What mattered now was moving erratically, randomly, keeping their former allies guessing.

They heard the police sirens before they saw the car on the road ahead, racing toward them at high speeds. “Shit!”

Hero ducked into a nearby alley and pressed against the wall. They waited, not daring to breathe as the police car screamed past, the flashing lights temporarily blinding them.

They blinked, trying to regain their vision. When they opened their eyes again, a figure had appeared before them. Hero, in their dazed, terrified state, screamed and tried to run, but the figure darted in their path. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Hero?” Whumper said, smirking.

Hero backed away further down the alley. “S—stay back! Don’t…don’t come any closer!”

Whumper chuckled, causing the hairs on Hero's neck to rise. “You're not in a position to make demands like that, Hero.” They stalked closer, keeping just barely out of reach.

“I…I’ll use my powers on you!” Hero threatened. Their voice shook, betraying their fear.

Whumper outright laughed, a loud, explosive sound. Hero flinched back another step. Whumper focused their gaze sharply upon them, the grin on their lips not meeting their eyes. In the dim light from the street, their eyes appeared cold as ice. 

“Go ahead,” they taunted, “by all means, use your powers. Take what concentration's keeping you upright and KILL ME THEN!”

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed in the night.

Whumper’s eyes went wide, and they stumbled backward, putting a hand to their chest. It came away bloody. Their eyes flicked up at Hero, who gaped at the hole directly piercing their heart. Whumper crumbled to the ground like a sadistic, lying, murderous pile of bricks, their cold, cold eyes staring lifelessly.

“Well, they did ask for it,” a voice said from behind Hero in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hero whirled around. Villain stood a few feet behind them, reloading their signature handgun. They turned their cool gaze upon Hero, who staggered back a step. Hero couldn't ignore the throbbing wound in their side any longer. Hot blood welled up, leaking out from the hasty bandage they’d—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Villain demanded. They’d pointed their handgun toward the ground, but Hero had seen them in action; they knew how fast they could aim and fire.

Hero’s breathing came faster now. Darkness threatened to close in on their vision. “I…” they stammered, “I… I didn’t… didn’t have… anywhere…”

Their knees buckled beneath their weight, and they collapsed. Something clattered on the ground. Hero realized Villain had dropped their gun to catch them. Villain’s eyes were wide, staring at the gaping wound in Hero’s side. Blood stained their hands as they held Hero upright. 

“What the hell did they do to you?”

Was that… concern? For Hero, Villain’s own worst enemy? Hero almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hero smiled. “I… I hoped you… would…” they murmured as consciousness retreated. The last thing they registered before the sweet unknowing of darkness enveloped them was movement, Villain carrying them somewhere unknown.

To safety.

Part 2 | Part 3

[your-nanas-house]

Thank you so much for answering my ask, and also the imagine with it was so lovely! I’m so happy you’re taking requests too - your writing is brilliant. I should probably say major spoilers for Death on the Nile in this if anyone hasn’t watched it yet! I had an idea where it was the reader who was shot in Death on the Nile instead of Bouc, except it’s non-fatal (maybe Jacqueline had bad aim and hit her in the leg or something) and it’s Poirot’s reaction to that - he’s torn between apprehending the culprit and taking care of her. I imagine Bouc would urge him to stay with her, and Poirot would be furious about her getting hurt.

Thanks for requesting, dear!! Love it, I wanted to do it a bit longer but I opted for a shorter version, hope you won't mind 🥰

Worried sick

◇ Pairing: Hercule Poirot X platonic!Reader

◇ Warnings: you can see it as romantic or platonic honestly, wounds, blood, gun, roughness, fainting

◇ Summary: You get shoot while on the Nile with your friend Hercule Poirot and he freaks out.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

The excruciating pain didn't make you think properly, things around you were blurry as soon as your eyes landed on the gunshot wound.

As soon as you woke up, you found yourself on the sofa in the room you were in, they had already taken care of your wound which fortunately wasn't too serious but enough to be felt and cause a dramatic reaction from your friend Hercule Poirot.

He was a calm and calculating man most of the time, although he had moments like that—messy hair and clear concern in his eyes as he paced the room as Bouch tried to reassure and calm him down.

It took you a couple of minutes to be able to sit up and inspect the fresh wound, which was now covered by a band

"Geez, luckily they had a bad aim or I was 7 feet under the ground right now" you murmured, half joking half serious, jumping slightly when your friend rushed to you to grab your shoulder in a rough way.

"What were you thinking?!" Poirot exclaimed, his accent way heavier than usual "You could have get killed! I told you to be careful" he added quickly, shaking your shoulders as he thought at a way to keep you same for the rest of the 'journey'.

He needed to interrogate you first, to understand more and be able to take care of the person who had used the gun to hurt you.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[kotobana]

Also was again struck by how sad part 5 is and how death is such a huge theme throughout this part, more so than others. The threats feel more grounded here than they do in p3 and p6 I guess because the enemy is less an idea of something and more concrete? Like DIO being a vampire/almost a mythological being and no one really knowing Who the villain is in p6 for instance. Diavolo is just A Guy Compared to DIO and Pucci, plus they already know that the hitman team and the boss’s guards are coming after them.

I haven’t consumed the canon material in YEARS but I have been reading fic in the years since and I’m kind of like ok yeah this is where all the fanon characterizations come from. It makes sense even if they are overplayed. Giorno is more expressive than I remember and I was really struck by Narancia’s death scene again…even though Narancia is older than him Giorno still looks out for him/kind of sees him as innocent and is protective over him in a way, like you would a younger sibling. “No one can hurt you anymore, I’m gonna bring you home” ouch I felt nothing but pain. Also interesting that he says I and not We here…he feels a lot of responsibility for the team like a leader would. Likely bc only he and Bucciarati know of their true goal + only Giorno knows Bucciarati is already dead after Venice.

Bucciarati’s strong sense of duty and how it all stems from him deciding to stay with his father after his parents split and then going on to be well respected in his territory / doing what he’s told, telling the others they have to stay in line (like when he tells Narancia to shove it when he complains about Luca), and then him telling Giorno he set him free from all of that…😢😢😢😢top ten saddest anime deaths

Upon watching again Mista is really interesting because he’s not necessarily morally upstanding / doesn’t have such strong moral conviction the way Abbacchio, Narancia, and Bucciarati do (see: Mista's reasoning for getting on the boat and betraying the boss). He is supposed to be the most typical gangster of the group so it makes sense his character doesn’t hinge on ideals, and he feels more grounded bc of that. plus he even mentions he'd be next in line for capo which implies he's very effective at his job/ambitious in that way, as opposed to Abbacchio and Narancia who don't seem all that concerned about promotion (before or after the betrayal) and instead are going along w Bucciarati for personal reasons (also—the gang being all they have. they were both inspired by Bucciarati when he recruits them while Mista doesn't really make that sentiment, which speaks to his ambitious and optimistic/ opportunistic outlook). Emphsazied by Bucciarati assigning Mista to the florist's case in sleeping slaves arc as well. Mista's not someone who thinks of things in terms of the greater good, but rather acts based on what’s in front of him (e.g. the job he’s on, or like in his backstory) and the people he cares about (sleeping slaves arc).

[froggipied]

For Science Chapter 4: Escape

ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/41680413/chapters/135558835#workskin

word count: 4.5k

Aperture science respects your cause for concern when it comes to the production of our certified Sentry Guards. However, any reports of harm, injury, or death are not viable for lawsuit at this time.  If you would like to file a lawsuit with aperture science regarding the death of a relative in our care, just know..They read their contract and filed the form for you already. 

If you have been threatened by a Sentry Guard in the last 30 days, we’re sorry, but you cannot make a Certified Complaint with our department at this time. If you have been threatened or maimed more recently than 30 days, we’re also sorry, but Aperture Science will need to have the fully-Intact Bullets returned to us as soon as they are located on your person. Our guards now shoot 60 percent more bullet for every bullet used.

————-

When you came to, it was to silence and an empty room. No opened doors, no mechanical clicks and quiet shifts of metal beside you as it’d been when you’d fallen asleep. Considering the situation, you slept just fine. Dreamless and unbothered. However, now as you got to your feet, you were bothered by the utter lack of noise. Well, besides the door that clicked to open as you stood, crossing a sensor you weren't aware was there. It wasn’t of much concern to you, though, you weren’t going to move until you’d gotten your bearings.

And figured out where your robot companion had gone off to?

You stayed in place, wandering the same three-walled space in a paced pattern, back and forth, maybe changing up with what foot you stepped with first, dominant or non-dominant, flexing your hands out in front of you and swaying back and forth while you waited.

Patience got boring very quickly, and you found yourself walking through the door that clicks open upon your approach.

Surely, you decide for yourself, surely I can figure out my own way through. Otherwise, how would personnel have gone through here prior to the Portal gun’s creation? And sure, many catwalks were rusted and finicky and certainly not trustworthy and would’ve been condemned and out of use by a better company, but you figured that as long as you were quick, you were fine. A reasonable assumption, under better circumstances. Just not when you’re crossing towards a room and the catwalk makes an ugly cccrrrrr sound under your feet, falling to the ground below as you reach the next door. You stare behind yourself, the empty space where the catwalk had just been, bewildered. That’s not viable. Once again, a part of you was longing to be in the testing chambers. At least those were being monitored by an intelligence that needed non-mechanical life. The facility on the other hand? Alive and yet not.

Room to room, nothing much changed, besides it getting cleaner-looking. The walls were all a little less yellow, tiles weren’t so mis-aligned, although still clearly not cared for. An effect of a certain robot doing her best to rebuild everything while focusing on an upset human traversing..and also likely being aware of a wanderer somewhere behind her testing tracks. That part didn’t ring so positive for you.

And you miss the chatter, already.

It’s far too silent to be comfortable. Well, comfort in Aperture was more of a fever-dream of sorts. The love you had for a game was quickly replaced by concern of the lack of safety. Self-preservation was more important than you’d initially figured it’d be. And it’s not like you had the safety of boots strapped to you that would prevent breaking your legs. Or a gun capable of keeping you from hitting the floor ages beneath you too hard. Hard facts to face, really.

But, you weren’t stuck with the complete and utter silence of opening doors for very long. You crossed into a room you didn’t recognize at all, stark white on every wall, with shattered glass decorating the floor, large broken out panels leading to some structure you couldn’t place. Definitely not in the game you knew. Testing chambers and certain far away areas you might’ve been able to recall, but you found yourself wondering; what the hell was this?

Whatever it was..it was broken. Not recently, either. Something mechanical,dim and dark. In the distance past the glass, you could almost make out what looked to be disjointed testing tracks, broken apart to pieces, and a dim, broken button far out near the center of the open space. 

Hell, those tracks could survive a real beating, then.

“Is someone out there?”

A voice you didn’t recognize. Not in the slightest. So you get a move on, putting a little pep in your step as you cross through the doors clicking closed with some guy’s call of “-Hey!” 

Alright maybe, just maybe you were a little concerned about going through aperture’s ‘skeleton’ on your own without knowing where you were going. That’s completely normal and to be expected, as far as you cared. 

From one door into the next, away from the room of broken glass when you slowly come to a pause,considering the room for a moment. Maybe that’s what that line meant— but that room’s never seen, so maybe you were wrong.

You weren’t left to your own devices for very long at all past the unfamiliar room. Another set of doors, and you found just the robot you were looking for, hanging off of a management rail,swaying back and forth a little, unsturdy and quiet until you crossed his line of sight

”Ah! Hold on-ah, god that’s right. Look, I tried to check on you. Like a ROCK—you are. Sleeping. I came back there twice. To tell you stuff. Keep you up to date. Not even a blink.” Wheatley fumbles his words while you brush it off. 

“I’d guess you went to check up on her in person?”

“ ‘person’, very funny.” Wheatley squints before he rolls forward on the rail “Bu yes— I did. Let her know we're actively working on it, and to just use that good old humanity’s will and just keep holding on. Speaking of which, I actually came up with an idea—while you were asleep, sorry to say you couldn’t hear the thought process, not too long of one,but regardless.” Wheatley starts, and rolls ahead on the management rail while you follow on foot through a pair of opened doors into what seemed to be a storage room of sorts.

A very dirty, uncared for, storage room. Broken down walls with dimming panel hydraulics. Partially broken or burned cubes smashed into a corner of the room, broken down turrets littering the floor, and you stare around yourself all while Wheatley talks with his eye closed.

”So I was thinking, Turrets. She fancies using them—a lot, actually. Seems to be. This might…actually be where she’s throwing away the ones our lady breaks. Isn’t that uh..hah..cool” he pauses, squinting as he stares at a recently burned out turret “Er..Point being..Sometimes, they’re made defective—“ you’re fairly sure he said something about being in the turret creation department once, but you don’t question him “—And when that happens, they usually come without proper eyesight. The little buggers are infrared..pretty sure that’s the proper term. While they could be calibrated to specifically see something like…ay Metal, I guess—“ he gestures down at himself pointedly “They’re more..heat-signature based and motion capturing.”

”So..similar to the automatic doors?”

”Same function, except a lot more uh..shoot-y” Wheatley grunts with a breath he didn’t need to take. “But— On the good side of things, they’re usually confined to the ah..testing chambers. No reason to be back here any, so it’s just one of those..keep it in mind—paper in the pocket type of things.”

”Right,” you mutter, watching Wheatley roll through the rail into the next room.

 Once again, you were separated from the core as he went rolling down his management rail, and you were left scuffing your shoes against metal while you wandered down the catwalks. Grateful for a bit of rest, surely but..starved and dehydrated. You had to wonder how the testing chambers accounted for that, assuming it was the near non-stop testing that it was in the game. A recycled room of air—which you were wondering if that applied directly outside of the testing track— and adrenal vapors to keep a person going running on adrenaline, causing a loss of time, but did it account for eating and drinking as well? Or really anything else?

Either way, you were doubtful you’d figure it out for yourself before the facility would rip apart again.

Again. It was sad to think about, really. And..immensely dangerous to consider, now that you were following the narrative set before your hands, but even if you could change it, you really wouldn’t. What would it accomplish, other than preventing Chell from being able to escape? 

It wouldn’t fix much if anything, that you knew for certain. The same routine for everyone involved—which now included yourself—would fix nothing.

You frown to yourself as you pass from room to room without stopping to check where you were. You could guess it was getting closer and closer, and you swore there was something you must’ve been forgetting to mention. Something just in the recesses of your mind, something important that you should most definitely mention and you’re almost sure you’ve got it but—-…nothing.

”And..here we are.” Wheatley grabs your attention the moment you hear him in the next room. You don’t recognize the room, really. Colorful and dim, paintings of different sizes and niches on every wall, and it was definitely some sort of staff room, but you couldn’t place it.

”Where is here?”

”The aperture art gallery. Abandoned in the 1980s..I think.” Wheatley remarks, tilting his head as he considers one of the dim, dull colored paintings. Abstract in style and color, and muddied and mottled by time. “See, now here might be why this whole thing was abandoned. I mean, just look at it. Granted, there’s some color there—speck of red, a little bit of orange here—I mean, maybe it’s a rainbow. Not the best I’ve seen. Doubt it’s the best you’ve seen either. Course, there’s no descriptions on any of this, so it’s not like we’ll ever really know, but I bet this is why this was abandoned.”

”It’s abstract.”

”Abstract..” Wheatley repeats with a skeptical glance thrown your way “Abstract in what—talent?” Then he blinks, pupil constricting as though he’d said something wrong “Not to say the painter isn’t talented, of course! Probably massive talent. Might’ve also painted that uh..blue..thing over there. Uhm…It’s just not the most applied.”

”Abstract isn’t meant to be anything..or something like that.” You murmur “It’s supposed to invoke a feeling rather than an object.”

”Mm.” Wheatley hums mechanically, squinting at the abstract art before he rolls forwards on his management rail “Could be that it’s not even abstract. None of these could’ve been made by the scientists.”

”Why’s that?”

”Never seen a scientist with a silly name like Doug.” And Wheatley grunts “Doug’s great name. Fantastic, actually, now that I think about it. Just not a science-y name..uhm..Definitely a painter’s name, though. Excellent painter’s name. Better than uh..better then…” Wheatley trails off slowly, trying to come up with any name of a painter that he knew, but draws a complete and total blank. ”let’s just..let’s just move on.” The robot ultimately mutters, leading you out of Aperture’s gallery. 

And to another room where you couldn’t find the core, what with no maintenance rail leading through the room. 

You’re no longer all that surprised to be separated from the core, most of the white rooms were almost entirely closed off, and you were left in another section of upper Aperture you didn’t understand. A mottled room, with water damage stains across the ceiling, broken parts of wall where it appeared as though internal piping may have burst, and mold growing in one of the corners. A nasty room to be in, altogether. You didn’t want to stay longer than you had to at all, but something dimly lit caught your eye.

A small, partially broken computer screen was still running, though the boxed computer itself looked to be on its last legs, dust blowing out from behind it while the fans still churned. And you read what you could with what you could see on the screen. 

-

4552415345:

This isn’t working out the way any of us expected. We’re told to keep on going, like these aren’t real people. This was supposed to be easier than 52454d. That’s what she told us, that it would be less involved and we would only need to provide them with results. They want us to see this as the easier one, the lesser of the two. What we’re doing to these people. I should be smart enough to tell someone, or get out of this department. I’m a scientist. I’m a marine biologist. I don’t experiment. I wouldn’t even treat a fish like this.

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-

You stare as the screen flickers out, leaving you in the dilapidated room without much light beyond through the set of doors. But you’re stuck in place, thinking. This is new. Of course, in the game, human experimentation had been implied and vaguely referenced, but this was direct.

You didn’t like it.

Or seeing the opinion of someone who worked on whatever experiment that was about.  You leave the room hurriedly, the fear of being left behind in this creeping into the back of your head. You could think of these things later. When you didn’t have a robot to help, and a human to help escape.

if you could really call your part in things helping.

Your eyes open wide as you turn the corner to the next room, only to find a few working turrets laid around the room. Wide open, with no straight bee-line towards the exit. You almost wish you stuck to the room with the broken computer and an ominous message from an employee. That room was much better than this, much better than the sudden fear of being shot. Or bullet-ridden and alive. Somehow, that was far worse.

you desperately wished you were as good at being sneaky, but that was a complete and total lost cause. The turrets were pointed in different directions, covering each wall in line-of-sight. Wheatley was fine on a management rail, getting to completely bypass the room, but you on the other hand were…Fucked, really.

” Inconvenient, isn’t it?” A voice rings out through the speakers, and you stuck close to the door, leaning your head back in frustration. That figures. “Of course, I could move them. They have no purpose in this room. Other than stopping bugs in the walls of my facility.” You could guess who She might be referring to, with that. “You’re the bug. I figure I might mention as much if you’re anything like her.” Well,that clears that right up. 

“The incinerator is operational now.” She speaks, and you frown to yourself. You couldn’t see for sure if there were any cameras in the room, the all-seeing-eye pointed on you for the moment, but you assumed there must be one. “But with one fixed thing, another breaks. A door malfunctioned. Not far from here, actually. I’m just about to teach it something, but…I figured I might check on the fly-on-the-wall. How are you, by the way?”

You’re understanding a reason Chell might not talk, as you don’t bother with honoring the question with a response, despite Her being fully aware that you were capable of intelligent response.

”Don’t be so negative.” She chides, almost friendly, if you could call it such. At the very least, not obviously aggressive. “You should be happy, I found a use for you beyond keeping a warm fire going.” You don’t ask, and don’t especially want to know what Her plan was with you. You’d much rather try to see how fast you could run through a room, to the other door, which held wide open, like an invite. “Humans do like company. I figured you might like to keep that in mind,if you were getting lonely.” 

You broke into a sprint across the room, making a bee-line for the door.

“Target acquired.”

”I see you.”

”There you are.”

which slams closed right behind you, leading to another set of rusted catwalks. Your heart pounds as you grunt, leaning backwards against the closed doors as you coughed. 

“Are you still there?”

”Searching..”

”Target Lost.”

You lean hesitantly against the catwalks as you start walking again, just to get away from the room with your head and heart still intact.

”I see.” She speaks up against “You share speed in common, under pressure. That is good to know.” Another beat passes as you walk just that much faster along the catwalks while she speaks “You know, the interesting thing is that as you are not on the testing track, I could tell you anything, talk for as long as I wish.” You’d almost stop walking, but think better of it. It’s likely what she wants you to do,anyways. “But I have better things to do, than to watch a fly. Meander along.”

There’s a click that rings out somewhere above your head, the speaker She was using cutting out and producing static for a moment, before shutting off into silence. 

Better to be the fly than the guinea pig, you remind yourself with a huff and you walk into the next room, which thankfully, was empty. Just blank and boring and just a little broke down. No turrets, no broken ominous computers, no weird numbers you didn’t get, nothing to read and nothing to see. Just boring.

You’re so glad it’s boring

”There you are! Was wondering how far back you might be” Well, a little less boring, certainly, but nothing you were worried about. “So, good news,” Wheatley chatters on as he watches you cross into the next room “We’re about to break her on out. And it is..Really good timing, actually. Fantastic timing, really. Couldn’t have done it better, really. So, a little update— She keeps going on about some surprise for her, and it is concerning me. Quite a bit, actually. So, Figured it out all myself, did a grand ol’ job, we’ll get some panels open in this next room and hit the ground running.”

You swear there’s something you’re missing. Something you’ve been too side-tracked by to remember.

”Oh—Well, then good. Good job”

”Huh?-oh well hm—thanks, thank you, very appreciated. Very proud of myself. Anyways, it is very good that you’re back because she is quick. Very much so. Very quick, I told her to hang on for five chambers, but I Don’t think she’ll be too ruffled to be getting out in three, right?”

”I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.” You follow Wheatley right into the next room while he waves at you a little, signaling dramatically for you to be quiet.

”Hey, buddy!” Wheatley calls out in a rather roughly-done western accent to the woman in the room, who’d just taken quite the fall off of a hard-light bridge.  You could just barely see her through the space in the panels.She landed squarely on her feet, holding the Portal gun protectively between her hands as the lights cut out. Wheatley pushed open a few panels of the back walls, and called to her “I’m speaking in an accent, that is beyond her range of hearing.” Chell stares hard at the opened panels, debating something while she starts slowly walking towards the opened wall. ”I know I’m early, but we have to go..now. So just calmly approach my position, and let’s get out of here!”

You’d just thought of something neither of you had actually prepared for, something you’d forgotten to mention and was now far too late to bring up during a mass panicking escape plan. You knew vaguely what would break and what drops would happen, and you were still at a loss with the utter lack of long-fall boots. That was something you Should’ve asked about and maybe would’ve, if the robot in question weren’t a walking, talking ‘side-line’ machine.

Chell comes just another step closer towards the panels, and a voice rings out through the dim testing chamber “Metal ball, I CAN hear you.”

”RUN- I don’t need to do the voice— run!” The paneled wall opens fully, and Chell comes running out of it, sprinting past you on top of an activated hard-light bridge to the row of catwalks. On every area of the outside were rows of panel walls and tubes with weighted cubes flowing through them. You ran after her onto the hard-light bridge. It turns off as she starts running down a flight of stairs.

”Okay! Quick recap—“ Wheatley’s voice hardly cuts through the sound of adjusting walls and shuttering panels on every side while GLaDOS tries to keep up with the movement of two humans and a Core running through the back of her facility. “—We are escaping! Alright—that’s what’s happening now, we’re escaping— you’re doing great just keep running!” You Almost see his form roll by overhead, talking while Chell leads the way, only hurriedly throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure you were there as she ran through the catwalks, ducking under a pressurized tube. “Alright— quick word, about the future plan I have in store. We’re going to Shut down her turret production line,alright—turn off her neurotoxin— and then confront her.” Chell is Fast, much faster than you were, though you weren’t surprised what with the woman being loaded up on adrenal vapor was capable of. “Again though, for the moment–Run!”

“The Irony is you were almost at the last test.” a wall opens up, and though chell spares the barest of glances, her expression hardens and she turns tail to hop onto the hard light bridge as you follow her “Here it is. Why don’t you just do it? Trust me, it's an easier way out than whatever asinine plan your friends came up with.” GLaDOS’ voice rings overhead as Chell runs across the light-bridge. 

“Oh–what? How stupid does she think we are?”

You weren’t sure when it was coming,but when it did were you definitely going to be ready and prepared to fall and fall evenly–

The light-bridge vanishes under your feet. Chell lands squarely on the catwalk, which trembles under the sudden weight. On the positive note, you land on your feet,no obviously broken bones, but a shock of pain shoots right up to the knees as you seize up. Not good, not good at all, not in the least. Chell hesitates for less than a moment before she grabs your forearm before she takes off, keeping you side by side with her as she runs down the catwalks, unceremoniously dragging you with her without so much as another glance. Or a word, expectantly. 

She led you through the catwalks, onto a solid metal platform with tubes running through it that closed into a box as soon as she stepped fully into it.

“Searching..” 

“Woah- Hold on..we need to get you out of there–” 

Chell doesn’t waste time looking. She wastes no time picking up one of the turrets with the portal gun, and it wails at her “Who ARE you? Put me down!” Before she throws it at the other with a small grunt. The two turrets burst into wails and gunfire after being knocked over. 

“I heard gunfire! A little late for this, but watch out for gunfire! Probably–Probably doesn’t help at this point, but I have at least tried.”

Chell glances around herself, shooting one portal at a white wall in the box, and another through a gap in the paneled walls. 

“I don’t hate you..”

She pulls you along through the portal without a second thought, tumbling through onto another set of catwalks. Around another dark corner and up another set of stairs, Chell doesn’t even look as she shoots a set of portals, sending a set of two turrets tumbling through the same set of portals repeatedly, faster and faster. She led you through a set of heavy metal doors that tried not opening before she rushed through.

Speed under pressure, She had said, and you couldn’t help but agree. Chell was much too fast, and much too smart to stop and look around herself as she ran on pure adrenaline..and a ridiculous amount of spite, you’d bet. She dragged you into an open spaced room that was peaceful for a moment.

Until the metal started tearing and ‘screaming’ as it was moved.

“She’s bringing the whole place down! This way! Hurry,Hurry get over here–” You could just barely make out the yelling over all the harsh screeching of metal as two testing tracks on opposite sides of the empty space were pulled towards the catwalks at a rather alarming speed. As panels hit a set of stairs, the catwalks broke apart and rattled as Chell ran with you in tow. You don’t speak as she drags you along, far too busy trying to breathe and trying to ignore everything colliding and falling and smashing together right over your head.

“Get in the lift! Get in!” Chell didn’t need to be told at all, she rushed through the catwalks, narrowing avoiding the catwalk breaking under her feet as she ran into the elevator, and its metal bars shut behind you and here.

“Ohhh…we made it we made it we made it,” you could hear Wheatley’s voice faintly in the distance as the elevator began to rise. “Look, I’ll meet you on the other-side!”

 Chell looks around herself with a furrowed brow. Trapped in on all sides by yellowed walls, and you grunt as you lean against part of the elevator. She didn’t seem all that pleased to be in a confined space..again. 

“God..This sucks.” you’re not even speaking to her. Just to the open air, but Chell’s head tilts, and she stares at you. Then, she gestures to your leg “Oh? No–it’s,it’s fine. No big deal.” She raises a brow, apparently unconvinced. You find yourself tapping your fingers against the bars of the elevator, wondering just how long this was going to take “Really, it’s no big deal. Nothing broken.” which doesn’t negate the fact that Chell had to pull you along with her to actually make it to the elevator in record time..which she clearly conveys her disbelief in you.

“Look, I’ll ask him if he can find boots for me. Would that make it better?” and subtly, Chell nods. You don’t see the point in her caring. Regardless, she’d be fine, and she doesn’t even need you to be fine in all this.

Except for the fact you’re the only other human she’s seen in quite some time. That…makes more sense for why she might want to keep you around.

“..Alright fine, i’ll ask.”

[01rocketboy01]

When The Sun Rises (Nick Furcillo x GN!Reader)

Summary: After the most terrifying night of your life, the sun finally rises. In the light of dawn, the werewolf curse lifts, and you are finally reunited with Nick.

This story kinda assumes some sort of pre established relationship between reader and Nick.

Warnings: Blood, Language, Death (fear of others death), basically anything cannon typical

You were up a tree, having quickly climbed up it to escape from one of the werewolves that had been terrorizing you and your friends, and had resigned yourself to stay there until morning. Luckily, you hadn’t had to wait long, though it had felt like an eternity.

As the sky finally began to glow with the light of morning, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. You had made it. You were alive. Thank god.

Victory, however, was short lived as a wave of anxiety crashed over you. While you knew you were safe in the light of day, you had no idea how many of your friends had survived. Fuck, you could be the only one left for all you knew.

Your clothes felt like they were plastered against your body, slick with sweat and blood. Although you were sure you hadn’t been injured much, aside from some scrapes, cuts, and bruises that were sure to hurt like a bitch, you knew you were covered in an alarming amount of blood.

Nick.

You had seen him turn into one of those things. Now that the sun was up, he should be back to normal, right? The other monsters wouldn’t have attacked him if he was one of them?

But the Hacketts. And Laura. What if he had been mistaken for Chris, like Kaylee had? What if someone had no choice, them or him?

“Worst case scenario.” Is what Laura had said when she gave Abigail the silver bullet. You hoped it hadn’t come to that.

Grabbing onto the trunk for balance, you carefully slid down the tree, feet landing firmly on the ground. The sun’s rays were spreading across the ground, bathing the world in a gentle orange light. It was comforting, the warmth, and god you were exhausted. You briefly considered just laying down on the ground and letting the sun wash over you, falling asleep in the mud and leaves. No. You shook the thought away and started walking towards where you thought the lodge was. You couldn’t have run that far.

Walking through the woods, you unconsciously scanned your surroundings, all of your senses working together to take in as much as they could. You felt like you were on high alert. You supposed a night being a monster’s quarry did that to a person.

From off in the woods, you heard the crunching of leaves and the snap of a twig. Someone was out here with you.

“Hello?” You called out. “Who’s there?”

The noise paused, and for a moment you thought it had just been an animal. Then you heard a voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice sounded tired, but the accent was unmistakable. Nick.

“Nick! Keep talking, I’m coming to you!” You turned in the direction you had first heard the sound, walking quickly through the brush.

“I’m over here!” He called. You broke through the line of trees and saw him. His clothing was torn and hanging off of him, and his hair was messy. That wasn’t what was most concerning, though. Nick was absolutely drenched in blood, every part of him practically saturated with it. His eyes were wide when they met yours, and he was trembling slightly.

“What…what happened? Why am I covered with blood?” He blinked a few times, as if taking you in as well. “Why are you splattered with blood? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You felt a sense of relief. He was here, he was alive, and he didn’t seem injured despite the alarming amount of blood.

“What happened?” Nick repeated himself. He hadn’t moved towards you, as if he didn’t trust himself. He seemed a little out of it, but Christ, who wouldn’t be? And how were you supposed to explain what happened? Oh yeah, sorry, you just turned into a werewolf and the rest of us spend the night running for our lives from you and the Hacketts, who are also werewolves by the way! There’s no way he’d believe you. But then again, after all that’s happened tonight…

“How much do you remember?” You asked him, stepping cautiously closer.

“I remember…that animal. The thing that attacked me in the woods. My leg…” He reached down, touching it gingerly. He blinked, looking down at it. “I thought….didn’t it bite me?” Where there had been a vicious bite mark hours earlier, the skin was smooth and unbroken.

“You were bitten.” You nodded. “It…it must’ve healed.”

“Healed?” Nick looked more and more confounded. “What happened to me?”

You took a deep breath. “The animal that attacked you in the woods? It was a werewolf. It bit you and you turned. When the sun rose, you turned back.” Nick looked at you, incredulous. “I know it sounds insane, but believe me. It happened.” You were close enough to touch him now, looking into his eyes.

He seemed to consider what you were saying, the look on your face making him pause. He scoured your expression, looking for any sign of a strange prank or odd joke.

“You’re telling the truth.” He concluded. It was an observation, not a question. “I….I turned? Into a werewolf?”

“It’s not as cool as it sounds. It was terrifying.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. He was still trembling, though he sounded exhausted. You reached out, taking one of his hands in yours. His muscles were tense, but seemed to relax slightly when you held him.

“It’s not your fault.” You assured him. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I mean…I’m covered in blood…but I don’t feel any pain. I’m just….fuck I’m so tired.” He admitted, a heavy sigh escaping him. “I feel like I’ve run a mile.”

“It’s over now.” You reassured him. If he was cured. You pushed the thought down. That was a conversation for another time, when Nick was feeling better.

“Can I….can I have a hug?” He asked sheepishly. “You don’t have to, I know I’m sort of disgusting right now-“ You cut him off, wrapping your arms around him tightly. The stress seemed to melt from both of you bodies and he hugged you back, his body warming your chilled skin.

“You’re freezing.” He breathed quietly, holding you tighter. He buried his face into your shoulder, and you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to provide as much comfort as you could. He pulled his head up, meeting your eyes. “When I was turned….I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Thank god.”

“I had a close call with one of the other werewolves though.”

His hand came up and cupped the side of your face. The concern was evident in his eyes. “I-I didn’t even think to ask, shit, I’m sorry. I don’t remember, but you…..you’ve had a hellish night, haven’t you?”

Your silence was all the answer he needed. He bumped his forehead gently against yours. “I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Anytime.”

“Let’s get back to the lodge. We should be able to find you some new clothes and get you cleaned up.” You really didn’t want to leave the warmth of the hug, but knew you had make sure the others knew you two were alive. And make sure they were alive, too.

Nick nodded and pulled back, keeping your hand as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Lead the way.”

[jeanstapleton]

How do you think Munch lived before? Where did he live? Where does he sleep? I wanted some details, because I'm trying to write some kind of fic and I'm not that good at it, what do you think? Where was he before Roy hired him? I wanted to write a fic without all the erotic stuff that part of the fandom does, I want something more serious, about his trajectory. So, I wanted some ideas: did he live by breaking into houses? Did he live on empty plots of land? What was he eating? What did he do on a daily basis? Where does he get cigarettes and so on? Sam said that the idea is that he doesn't carry things with him, because he's the kind of guy who when he needs to, grabs a gun, a cigarette and so on. Like the scene of him picking up the cigarette from the ground, what did he do before? What kind of jobs was he taking? Just kidnappings and murders? What do you imagine? Has he had other "Irma's"? Where did he break in and stay quietly in the person's house? Where did he sleep in the meantime? I would like some insights, I am grateful for your headcanons.

all great questions!! under the cut since my responses are kinda long:

so according to munch in the finale, he doesn't need to sleep. we can assume his curse has left him biologically frozen in time like a vampire. i think he was still able to rest & eat, but they dont actually serve any real purpose. he's not restored afterward nor would he suffer when deprived of those things. he closes his eyes, but he doesnt relax or dream. he eats, but it just disappears inside him. this makes it tricky to pinpoint why exactly he's a smoker, though. if i had to pull something out of my ass real quick, i'd say its an easy way to confirm his own existence, like how we can see our breath when its cold, or when we hold our hands close to fire. it becomes addicting to him in that sense, rather than his body needing nicotine itself. he wouldn't respond negatively to cigarettes at all, but because tobacco just generally stains anything it's in prolonged contact with, that explains why his teeth are so tarnished.

as for jobs, i genuinely think he was a drifter in every sense of the word. he has an innate need for creature comforts so i think his quests to find those things lead him to kill-or-be-killed situations. money is also a tricky topic bc idk what it'd mean to him apart from a sign that the completion of a job has been acknowledged & properly compensated. he didn't seem to care about roy's money once he acquired it. my guess is, in relation to your "irma" question as well, that he leaves money where it's most needed. he clearly gave some to her when she returned to the house with groceries.

munch might have acquired firearms by brazenly attacking organized crime circles or just stealing off of criminals. i think he'd be efficient & quick enough that the murders would just be reported as internal conflict.

i don't see him as a vigilante but i also don't think he'd just hurt people indiscriminately. he's had centuries for his hatred of the rich to fester, & he's very clearly disturbed by the deaths of innocents re: irma. i understand this is kind of a conundrum where dot is concerned, but again, it's represented through a cycle. munch maintains it by allowing himself to be employed by the powerful to secure that throwaway money. all he knows after being hired by the tillmans is that a rich man wants his wife back, whom he probably assumes is also rich, like bunny lebowski. it's only after he sees how hard dot fights back that he questions the nature of the job.

i think munch has had other "irma's", but not recently. i said this in a previous post, but i think every once in a while back in the day he'd stop by a rural family's home & offer to help them out for a bit in exchange for food & board, which he only took advantage of for a couple of days out of fear that his presence would somehow attract danger. again, this is less of a need to satisfy biological hunger & more about his hunger for companionship & family. losing that which he found in the indigenous tribes that invited him in left him very hesitant to seek it out anywhere else. fleeting moments are better than none at all. something else to dwell on is him assigning irma as his temporary "mama". from this we can infer 3 things:

he misses having a mom, & he wants someone to take care of him. obvious.

calling her his "mama" might be a way of apologizing for scaring her. awkward, yes. ineffective, yes. but the title suggests purity, hardship, and the respect owed to a mother who exhibits those things. another example of his innate connection to women.

he suggests it casually, showing he doesn't feel guilty for breaking in. this interested me for a bit since it makes him partly responsible for irma's death, but the more i thought about it, it makes sense because he is aware of his own power, power he wasn't employing to bully. in exchange for her charity, he promised to protect her. this made her death that much worse & undoubtedly stirred past trauma.

there's also the question of his sudden need for a mama. what about the dot job made him that lonely or scared? my theory is that the kin connection to dot was sparked during their "battle". he didn't know how to respond to it, especially considering this woman was briefly his victim. he figured he could seek an outlet somewhere else, but somewhere incedentally close to dot, in a house in the suburbs. his ability to "know people" must've told him that irma was not one of the suburbanites. she is ignored, her house is falling apart, etc. this is presumably why he didn't break into a more well-off house.

when he doesn't want to go through the trouble of bothering people, he'd most likely find uninhabited homes or buildings to squat in. the little hut in the beginning of episode 9 intrigued me, but nothing about it suggested it was owned by him. it might just be a shed used by ice fishers. it made me think of the one wrench & numbers used in s1 to keep warm.

as for what munch does in his spare time, there's nothing in the show to really drive me in one direction or another, so i like to think he reads. finding books without the use of a library is not uncommon (those little free libraries where ppl leave books for others to take). plus he can just steal & then leave them somewhere when he's done. i like to think reading is how he learned to speak english, even way back in his early years.

[aeinova]

The End of The Beginning

appearances by: nova (krystal jung), jaehyuk (wi hajoon), jin (cha eunwoo), kit (@__ryeong on ig) and joohyuk (byeon wooseok)

collab with all the muns. thanks to jaehyuk mun for editing in their own part and for all the opinions made by the others! enjoy!!

tw: violence, near-death, blood

spn themes involved

10.21.24

nova pov:

hand in hand, the newly bound, unlikely pair boarded off the first class suite of the korean airlines aircraft with ease at their destinstion. a few casual passengers noted the ex-pop princess sitting in privacy with an unknown man, noting the sighting into the k-internet:

"wahhh.. nova is even prettier in person.. ㅠㅠ"

"who is that model next to her? unnie!! you have amazing taste!!!"

"spineless to be dating while the man you were going to marry is in jail because of you ㅋㅋㅋ what a joke. ㅋㅋㅋ“

notification after notification circulated her smartphone from news sites, being pinged endlessly about her name trending once more, deciding to turn her phone on permanent do not disturb mode.. well, at least until she's back in her bed, safe and sound. even after a gruesome fourteen hour flight in a metal tube tasked with getting them from point A to point B, it seemed as if it was not enough time for them as each hour passed. once they touched ground, the giggles and smiles exchanged throughout the private wing of the airport all the way to the hired driver's luxury car with multiple bags in tow were evident of their blooming love, being swept off into the night of seoul city once everything was packed in. it was the first time they had traveled together, marking the end of a wonderful trip as the familiar twinkling stars now greeted nova's eyesight as she stared out the clear car window. the city she was so used to hating had now turned into the home where she fell in love again, a profound sentiment of hope filling up her empty stomach as she brought jaehyuk's hand into her lap. they spoke telepathically at this point, looking over to him as if to say "i love you" without any words producing from her own mouth as a smile formed. she knew better than to admit any type of feeling around her father's staff, simply going right back to counting the stars that displayed above them, countless buildings passing by at high speed.

it did not take too long to arrive at her condo in un village, previously agreeing with jaehyuk to let her settle into her luxurious apartment before he could head to his own home. of course she would insist with those doe eyes of hers for him to stay (three different times to be exact), but it had been way too long for his liking without checking on the museum he managed. it had also been a few weeks of not being able to inhabit her own home, as the police detail assigned to her personal protection had agreed to upgrade the entire security system while she was gone on her own trip. for obvious reasons, everyone who was looking out for nova were concerned of her well being, due to information of myungsoo still having his criminal staff commit hits at his command from jail. still, she was at peace knowing that he was being held back by reliable authorities, letting herself feel at peace with the whole situation.

"jaehyuk, i think we should order some food before you go—" the door that was supposed to be double supported by solid metal frames seemed to be ajar, the ex-militant boyfriend instantly noting the imperfection as she stepped further in. maybe it was a mishap, or a mistake from the inspector who forgot to lock it properly, but it was still a very uncommon mistake. what greeted their joint vision was absolute horror— picture frames that had adorned her family memories broken into bits onto the floor; documents pertaining to the impending trial scattered along the white marble table; smashed bullet proof windows that allowed the wind to whistle through the once clean home; her black metal safe torn apart on the living room floor with missing belongings; and a scratched message along the now dirty wall with blood stains that read "i was here". jaehyuk's mental alarm rose right up in his mind, noting the red flags of the scene as he took her delicate hand again out of precaution, letting her exam the damage for just a few moments. "i don't think you should touch anything, eunmi." the tone in his voice was borderline cold, commanding as he tried to think what exactly could have gone wrong in the meantime that the woman reached down for a family picture. it showed two little girls with their young parents, all smiling towards the camera on a hot, california day, enjoying the sandy pier of santa monica. she turned to him slowly, achingly so, as her bottom lip started to quiver. "...he'll never let me live in peace..."

jin pov:

the one person who should have absolutely not been ignored ever by nova, was jin. she knew that at some point, he was going to report back his findings of her home, and yet, the voicemail kept sounding back to him every time he dialed her number. "the number you have d—" hang up. try again. "the number y—" hang up. once more... "the n—" a forceful foot on the gas, he pushed the sports car he normally drove to speeds that were absolutely unholy to the local police. lucky for him, they already knew to not mess with his unmarked car, letting him weave through the streets without distraction. it only took him a few minutes to arrive without successful notice, parking the car in front of the exclusive building. he noted something different about the place from the outside though... why were the windows on her floor so bright? usually, the windows were tinted for obvious privacy reasons, so not even a light should be shining through.

"odd." he stood for just a moment, lining up the floor where her windows were to the next building over, squinting. if there was something jin was good at, it was following his senses once something bothered him. being inhuman allowed him to have more sense of awareness, noting a glint at the apartment that aligned with nova's. with hands in his pockets, it only took a moment of contemplation to head the opposite direction and into the newly built tower that had ample occupancy. for a building that was empty, it sure was furnished, passing the lobby corridor with curiosity as he reached the elevator.

..great. it doesn't work... obviously. the building had not passed any inspection just yet (it's too new to even consider it done), so the stairs it is— fourty flights, that is. and as each one passed, the feeling of uneasiness started to pool into his mind, as if there was some sort of aura he didn't like the closer he got. finally, he stepped in front of the only door on the floor, pushing it open ever so quietly. if he was wrong about inspecting this, then it might just be that nova seemed to have had a kink for public display of affection for having open windows.

but the answer was sitting right before him, with a sniper in hand and finger on the trigger. jin's eyes widened as the recognizable sound of a silencer clipped on a bullet, and then another before he could grab the goon by the neck in a flurry of a second, throwing him to the floor with brute, abnormal force. he stared at the trajectory of where the bullets went, the man smiling up at him with sheer cheerfulness as he groaned out. "it's done. say goodbye to her."

nova pov:

"no, no. that's not true." jaehyuk reassured her, disappointed in the fact that maybe it /was/ true. he knew that much, but he needed to make the effort to help and ease her mind over this. "i'll make sure we’ll see an end to this. trust–" there was an unmistakable view in the distance as he had reached nova for a hug; the silhouette of a man holding a long, heavy caliber sniper. it was recognizable, as the long days in heavy training and essentially war preparations had taught him how to spot threats from both near and far. his panicked stare went from the shadow in the other window to nova. without any hesitation, jaehyuk enveloped her further into his arms. He didn’t need the capacity of his naked eye. He relied solely on his instincts to know in fact that a red pointer is already fixed on any spot of her body meant to end her life in a second. He refuses to let another moment of regret burden him for the rest of his life. ‘God no, not her,’ he thought. They turned, switching spots with Jaehyuk now facing the window, just as two bullets struck him at random in the back. "what—! baby? baby—!" the woman noted the wounds almost immediately as blood pooled at a rapid rate beneath their feet. jaehyuk tasted rust in his mouth as he weakly coughed up blood.

this cannot be happening. this absolutely cannot be happening. the man was going limp in her arms and here she was, trying to carry him until they both collapsed onto the marble floor. "Run now..... you have to call someone..our phones won’t..work." the man groaned out, his softened eyes intent on her face as he smiled up at her. to him, she was worth his entire life, soaking in what could be the last time he would see her. "don't cry.." he sighed out, watching her tears cover her cheeks. it was obvious that he was becoming weak, nova's heart beating rapidly. growing colder, he held up his hand for as long as he could, mustering all his strength to cup her cheek. "i love you, eunmi...please, run."

something in nova snapped. this was it; this was where she had to stop pretending that she was not able to do anything when she had the power to do something. just do it, nova. shuffling around, she managed to lay him on his side, her hands coming down to both the wounds on the man's back as he laid limp, her eyebrows coming together in concentration as she closed her eyes. she had done this time and time again on forest animals, so there shouldn't be a difference, right? "satyr, father of nymphs and health: comfort and relieve this passed human, and give your power of healing to me who may minister to his needs, that he may be strengthened and have confidence in my care." it was a recited chant that her father had taught her sans the human aspect of it, instructing her to always whisper it dearly when in an emergency that could vitalize just about any creature alive. nova's power had been revealed and the hardest task had come onto her hands; the healing of her dear lover. the skin beneath her palms that was once pierced had slowly closed up with each word, intently watching for another sign of life, which came in the form of soft breathing on his end. Only one of his wounds had closed, perhaps, the most critical one that partially healed him from the inside out.

"jaehyuk..." she said softly, her vision fading to black as the successful chanting managed to bring the man right back to life. she had done it, laying flat out next to him and right onto the pool of blood as well.

***

nova had woken up in a panic, in a bed that was absolutely not any of the ones she was used to laying in. she stared around at the four walls, blinking to think where she could possibly be. it was warm, cozy even, as she stood on her own two feet, managing to walk herself out after minutes of contemplating it to what she assumed would be the living room of the apartment. there, she recognized her pregnant best friend fixing a cup of tea in the kitchen, turning to see jin sprawled in the nearby loveseat. "what happened?" kit was startled by the sound of nova's voice instantly rushing to hug the woman tightly while jin showed no reaction. typical. "nova, are you okay?" between tears, kit still managed to poke nova at her sides in an annoying fashion, earning a groan from the actress. "tell me you're okay and stop getting into trouble, idiot—!"

"hey. stop." jin stood with sheer annoyance, heavy steps coming towards the pair of hugging girls. "we need to leave. now." he signaled at nova, who glanced over at kit for a moment. for once, the younger girl didn't fight to go with them, nor did she argue or say another word about the matter. it's as if she was scolded beforehand, tearing herself away from nova to continue working on prepping her cup of tea. "i'll be here." she commented in defeat, letting both of her best friends step out of her home.

***

it was mostly silent as they drove through the city, the woman crossing her arms as she tapped her foot loudly. she didn't care if she was scratching the detailing of the interior with her shoe, the same stars greeting her once more as she stared at them. "jaehyuk is about to have surgery and you're here acting as if i did something to you." he commented sourly, his expression unchanging as he ran every red light possible. maniac. "i don't need your help." their relationship had been strained for a few weeks now due to unknown public details, refusing to even glance over at him. she thought about all the times she felt useless, being caught by this brute man and essentially saved by him every time a situation arose. she snapped her neck in his direction suddenly with the thought in mind, an instant expression of anger painting her face. "i honestly don’t need your help at all. why are you even doing this in the first place? i don’t understand—” it was an endless banter, an outpouring of stress and rage at not only him, but to the whole situation. he was the catalyst that tipped over the iceberg that was nova, balling her fists.

silence once more filled between them. nova turned beet red, fists unclenching on her lap as she looked down at her palms. there she was again, producing useless tears that couldn't solve anything at this point. and out of all people to scold, she scolded one of the only entities who existed that knew her well. as they parked at the emergency entrance of the hospital, the nephilim came out wordless and rounded the car to open the door for her, beady eyes watching her movements. “be careful, yeah?” something he had always told her, deciding it was best for him to police the entrance, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared around. that gesture earned him an eye roll from the now panicked nova, managing to find the nearest nurses’ desk to ask for more information. she was directed to the emergency trauma unit, where operations were performed on call.

her first instinct was to pull her own phone out finally, the battery displaying less than 10% as she scrolled through her contacts. who could she even ring at this hour? hmm.. mom? no.. jessica? absolutely not. dad..? dad…. none of the thousands of names she was seeing stuck out until she reached joohyuk’s name, the little brother of her boyfriend– of course. the man probably did not even know what might have happened in the first place, since it seemed that nova was the only contact on file on the hospital staff’s directory and he was off attending to his new position as a public defender. she hesitated to press the call button for a moment, biting her bottom lip before closing her eyes and pushing down her thumb on the screen, putting the phone up to her ear as it rung.

**

hours had passed since the announcement that the surgery on jaehyuk was successful, the man being transferred into the private ward where nova once laid a few months prior. she had been sleeping in the chair next him, as four body guards stood in the hall as an extra layer of security while another pair of guards did interval rounds in the VIP floor as ordered by his father. jaehyuk, after all, was the son of one of the most important assemblyman in korea. the doctors were baffled to see the actual internal wounds in his heart and lungs as it was previously reported that the man was shot. in reality, the surgery was to replenish not only the muscle tears, but to suture damaged blood vessels and put in a stent in the airways of the lungs. this would help produce oxygen to promote natural blood flow, since there was so much missing blood from him. numerous medical professionals had come in and out of the silent room, trying to solve the puzzle of the bigger picture on their own. a few whispered here and there, always checking monitors and documents before the head surgeon could have a word with nova.

“he could be asleep for a few days.. weeks… the time frame varies and depends on how the production of the blood goes, plus the wearing off of anesthesia.” the old man had recognized the actress from her previous and very public incident, head tilting in private thought as the scribe behind him typed furiously to report their conversation. anyone could tell that the man was quietly processing what could possibly be going on in her personal life to constantly visit this hospital, opting to continue reporting his findings rather than wasting time on personal thoughts. “all in all, it seems that he is on his way to recovery.” flashes of the surgery findings clouded his mind— two ruptures yet one bullet wound… “...hm. he would need to stay for further recovery and physical therapy will be prescribed post discharge. pain medication is necessary, and minimal strain of daily activities until it is allowed is recommended. any questions?” the woman shook her head, visibly distraught with the idea that it could take jaehyuk some time to be physically okay again. the circles under her eyes formed from both sobbing and lack of sleep, dressed in a black jogger suit that jin had managed to swing by. she simply glanced over at her sleeping lover as she stood over him, leaning over to put a hand on his cheek.

he was warm compared to her ice cold hand, deciding to press her forehead against his as she breathed in deeply. the beeping of the monitors had muted for her in that moment, forgetting they were not alone as she tried to not be overwhelmed with tears once more. both the doctor and the scribe witnessed the tender scene unfold, deciding to quietly leave the room for the two to have their privacy, closing the door behind them.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Sometimes You Grow Into Your Books

I was objectively too young when I picked up this book at like, ten or eleven, having just read Terri Windling and Ellen Steiber's The Raven Queen and wanting more faeries with some edge to them, and read my way through four novels about magic and fairies in Canada and Ireland. On that first read, solidly 80% of it went straight over my head, and I couldn't figure out why. (Reader, the reason is because I was a tiny human who was still at a middle grade level and this book is pretty firmly YA but literally nobody ever told me no where books were concerned--and thank you to everyone who supported my reading from a young age!) That said, there was something about the book that wouldn't stop worrying at the back of my mind, so over the next three years, I kept reading and rereading, and slowly the stories took shape in my head and I learned why the books stayed with me. I spent a long time with this book, so let's talk The Golden Book of Faerie.

This is a spoilery post, so be aware if this book is for some reason on your TBR!

A word I didn't know when I decided I wanted to read this book is omnibus, but that's what this book is--an omnibus edition of four OR Melling novels.

The Hunter's Moon is the first of the four books, and it really sets up the complex relationship between family and faerie that will permeate the rest of the books. It follows Gwen and Findabhair's (fin-ah-veer's) reunion in Ireland after a while apart, and Findabhair's entanglement with Finvarra, a faerie king. Finvarra either falls in love with/selects for the Hunter's Moon sacrifice Findabhair, and Findabhair decides she is in love enough to go through with it. Gwen basically decides that no, this is not acceptable, and finds help fron Dara, cute guy and folkloric king of Ireland; Granny (Grania Harte, not Granny Weatherwax) who is a fairy doctress; Katie Quirke, who is a farmer with big dreams; and Mattie O'Shea, a middle-aged Managing Director of a firm who is also a married new dad. I would be absolutely remiss to point out the resemblances to Lord of the Rings here, because Gwen quite literally pulls together a fellowship to try to save Findabhair and faerie.

The fellowship faces down Crom Cruac, the Great Worm. It...does not go great. I wasn't kidding when I made the LotR comparison, there is no great, glorious, heroic battle at the climax of this book. They are overpowered and beaten to a pulp, and Findabhair gets Laterose-ed into the ground, and suddenly the company's reason for fighting lies dying. Finvarra chooses a heroic sacrifice, and the rest of the company takes itself home to recover. A year and a day later, the Company of Seven gather again to mark to day, and Finvarra--a notably human Finvarra--returns.

The overarching mood of this story is of how love and grief intertwine, and it is really truly well done.

The Summer King shifts protagonists to focus on Laurel and Honor Blackburn, a pair of twin sisters violently separated by what seems, on the surface, to be a hang-glider accident. We find later that it was, in truth, a faery attack, but for the long year between Honor's death and Laurel's introduction to Faery, all Laurel knows is that her sister is dead. And the kicker for the family--although this is implied rather than stated explicitly on page--is that they didn't even have a body to bury because Honor crashed into water, and the glider took her too far down to be recovered.

Along for the ride with Laurel is Ian Gray, troubled young pastor's son and the new--and EXTREMELY reluctant--Summer King. He and Ian more share a body and mind than are the same person, so poor Ian is fighting a massive battle and Laurel is still so wounded by Honor's death. The pair bond a bit on Grace O'Malley's ship, and even when it is revealed that Honor was a casualty of the Summer King's violence, Laurel and Ian still work together to light the midsummer pyre and keep the human and faerie worlds together.

Dead is dead in the human world still, so Honor cannot return to her life. But thanks to Laurel, she can live on in Faerie. And Laurel also grows enough to pull Ian back from the edge as well.

So as the eldest of three girls, literally the worst thing I can imagine is losing a sister, so this book made me SOB. But the compassion required for forgiveness and healing stuck, and the book expands the theme of the intertwining of love and grief while giving it some nuance and complexity by weaving in compassion and forgiveness.

The Light-Bearer's Daughter is possibly the closest thing to a traditional "fairy tale" in this book, because Dana is all of eleven in this book, far younger than the teen protagonists of the last two. That is why when Dana stumbles ass-backwards into the woods and is handed a mission by the Summer Queen--none other than Honor Blackburn, for those of you playing along at home--she ends up terrifying her single dad by bailing on him right before a move from Ireland to Toronto to complete her mission.

This book is very much a fairy tale because it's Dana learning, growing, getting square with the fae mother who left her and her father, and then accepting the move to Canada. This is possibly my least favorite of the three novels, but it's important background for Dana for the next book.

The Book of Dreams takes Dana as its protagonist again, but now she is a troubled thirteen who has not adjusted to life in Toronto. It also weaves in the major players from the three previous books, because whether Dana is ready or not, something big enough to threaten the existence of faerie is coming, and Laurel and Gwen need to make sure that this teenager survives to battle this.

The best part of this book is how the mythology and lore expands. We get the Irish/English faerie lore that we've been accustomed to in three previous books, but thanks to the multiculturalness of Toronto, we also get First Nations and Indian (that's as in India, not as in Native American) lore as well, and the three work together beautifully. This was the first time I had ever seen Irish and North American Indigenous mythologies together, but CE Murphy does a version of it in the Walker Papers, and these two seem to work together really well.

I also love the way the different threads of this book weave together, although we are never free of the balance between love and grief and the costs of having a foot in both the mortal and faerie worlds.

Overall, despite being objectively too young for this book when I first picked it up, it was foundational in shaping what I prefer in faerie stories (and actually probably explains part of why how the fae in the Dresden Files are handled pisses me off) and it really helped show me that there was nothing that was too hard for me to read. It might take spending some time with a text and rereading and reflection to parse my responses, but this book really was my first experience with a challenging text that I had to work to really get through, understand, and appreciate.

It's the combination of the lesson on how to approach challenging texts and the vibes that I learned to appreciate that really made this book stick with me, and I adore The Hunter's Moon unreasonably.