#because he KNEW she TENDED to his GRAVE

[ladylightning]

the creature from lisa frankenstein is quite literally the embodiment of "no grave can hold my body down// i'll crawl home to her"

#he crawled out of his own grave RIGHT TO HER DOOR #because he KNEW she TENDED to his GRAVE #he loved her even before he came back to life!!! #everything he did was for her!!! #hozier #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein was more romantic than most romcoms #i love it so much #if it wasn't damn near $20 for tickets where i live i'd go see it again #will do ANYTHING for an unrated/director's cut on DVD

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #my writing #posting this and hiding for another six months #pedrostories

[britcision]

So I’ve been thinking about cultural Christianity lately and how people tend to get very upset about it without really understanding what it is, so here is a primer

Cultural Christianity is not a choice you make. It does not mean you are Christian, or even that you remotely like Christianity; a lot of people who vehemently hate the religion do so because of their own cultural Christianity

It is not a shortcoming, or a moral failing, or a sin. It just means that the culture you were raised in was predominantly Christian.

Note: I did not say “majority Christian”. Christians don’t need to be a majority to have a dominant cultural influence

Cultural Christianity means you inherently understand and probably use swearwords like “damn”, “hell”, or a variation on the name “Jesus Christ”

It means when I say cultural Christianity is not a sin, you understand exactly what I mean without needing to have it explained - and you probably know the phrase “original sin” or “seven deadly sins”, even if not in full detail

It means hearing about Hades, god of the dead, wealth, and volcanoes, and assuming he’s the bad guy of Greek mythology… y’know, like Satan

(EVERYONE went to Hades when they died. The Elysian Fields, where the best heroes went, was in Hades’ underworld. The Eleusinian mysteries, a cult to Demeter and Persephone, was basically about asking them to tell Hades to give you a cool afterlife

And he would cuz he drank his “respect wife” juice if not all of his “respect women” juice. Did still kidnap her. But she is a major feature and often makes the decision herself or influences his when they’re mentioned together

Meanwhile, people try and cast Zeus as a good parent)

It means having to have a dreidel, a menorah, or a kinara explained to you at a time when you already knew about Christmas trees and Santa

(Yes, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, major host of the Mass of Christ, is culturally Christian. Even though Coke invented his aesthetic - that’s the “cultural” part)

It’s when you go to make up a new non-religious or pan religious winter celebration… that is centred around a day with family and gifts which is obviously the 25 of December. Maybe counting down 12 days before

It’s defaulting to calling a place of worship you don’t know the name of a “church”

Cultural Christianity is not something people have a choice in; you don’t pick where you’re born, and there are so many other cultures in places like Canada, America, and Britain that are culturally Christian out the ass! But… you will catch Contact Christianity in any of these places

It’s damn near impossible to consume any American or most Western media without brushing across it; cross imagery is everywhere, Christian demons and devils sneak into media all around the world

Western (and some other) Gothic fashion leans heavily on gothic architecture and, yeah, heavily Catholic imagery

Now, brushing across the media in other parts of the world does not impart the same level of cultural Christianity as growing up in a city with four churches on a single block and a Santa Claus parade

And you can grow up heavily in an entirely different culture even in the Bible Belt (but you know what Bible Belt means); you don’t have to abandon all other culture just because Christianity has a chokehold on your home

But when December (or fucking November these days) hits and you hear Mariah Carey in 3/6 stores, yes, you probably have some cultural Christianity

You sure as hell don’t need to be able to name half the denominations (can you name more than 4?), you may never set foot in a Christian church in your life, and still have a cultural Christian influence

If your street names have “saint” in them

If there are crosses or angels on more than half the graves in a cemetery

If you know how to cross yourself but aren’t really sure when you learned; you didn’t look it up or do research to find out

Now note: none of these have an inherent moral judgement attached to them

It’s just about what the culture you live in has taught you about the world, and there’s no culture that is magically the Right One or better than the others

There’s no reason to expect even specifically Christian culture to be the same around the world; it isn’t. It has the same root, but what flowers from the soil is another matter entirely

There is nothing wrong with acknowledging that you have culturally Christian influences and biases; being human is 90% absorbing information from the world around us and half processing it at best - there’s just too much input, and intentionally filtering out Everything Christian Ever?

Well unless you started at 2 years old, odds are pretty good it’s not really a personal choice kinda thing

And you cannot compensate for these influences unless you acknowledge that they exist, that you did not choose to form them, and that you do get to choose how they affect your actions going forward

Christmas stuffed a bunch of other religious traditions into a single package to make itself popular, but if you learned them as Christmas traditions first… do I even need to say it?

#cultural christianity #especially at this time of the year #it just bothers me when people try and deny it #like they’re ‘too good’ to be formed by the society they grew up in #no friend #your deadass brain formation is affected by your first language

[cod-dump]

I have a little funny question

What dogs would you think the 141 + Laswell, Graves, and Nikolai would be?

-🫠

Hmm… interesting question. I don’t exactly have particular breeds in mind for everyone but I have some that feel right.

———

Soap is a labrador retriever (or at least mixed with one). He’s energetic, very smart, a great family dog but also protective. Definitely was trained to sniff out bombs and after he was retired he went to a home with a big family with tons of kids who love him to pieces. He sleeps with the family’s four year daughter and is her constant shadow. He loves to go camping with his family, run around in nature and get filthy… then he has his humans chasing with him to try to get him clean.

Ghost is a rottweiler. Gets a bad rep for being dangerous (and he is, don’t forget that), but he is also very sweet and playful. Was in the dog fighting ring for a couple years before it was broken up, then he was bounced between shelters and foster families until he was adopted by a veteran who needed a companion. That man became Ghost’s entire world. He brought out the sweetness, the playfulness. During thunderstorms they cuddle and wait it out, and when it passes they step outside to breathe in the air.

Gaz is a Belgian Malinois and he was given to a college girl by her parents so she wasn’t alone when she moved out. He is very protective of her and very judgy of any new person she introduces him to. Without a doubt Gaz is her best friend and has been her rock for years. When her wedding day came, he was there. Best man? No, best boy. Her fiance worked on winning him over since day one, and it paid off because now Gaz has two people that he loves fiercely.

Price is a live stock guardian of some kind. Was born on a farm and given to a family friend who just lost his old guardian. Price was raised with a small herd of goats and they became his world. The family who owns the farm he lives on has a couple kids who come out and spend time with him. There are plenty of pictures of Price laying around with baby goats running around and jumping on him. He has jumped the fence more than once to chase off anything that might be a threat to his family.

Laswell is a mixed breed between a German Shepherd and a standard pitbull. She’s scary smart and very protective. She’s lived with the same old couple since she was a puppy. Laswell is very laidback at first but she’s very anxious and constantly moving between rooms to check on everything. She loves when her owners’ grandkids come over and latches onto one of them until they leave.

Graves is a pitbull. He’s big, scary, and a dork. Very protective and sassy. He’s owned by a police officer and that man is his best friend, Graves wouldn’t hesitate to fight someone over him. He has fended off an armed robber, getting stabbed in the process. But he did not stop fighting until he knew his human was safe. He has a gnarly scar as a reminder of that night but he doesn’t have any care. Though he’s much more jumpy at night, his human doesn’t mind it, he feels safe when Graves is on the job.

Nik is a mutt. He’s big, fluffy, and very laidback. He was passed around for a few years before a teenager bought him on impulse. His parents were very nervous about their son bringing home a huge dog whose history they had no knowledge of, but they quickly got over it. Nik is their gentle giant who loves to nap all day, though he is known to have occasionally zoomies that rock the house. He loves his family and would fight for them is the need came up… but he hasn’t had the chance to. One bark and anyone or anything that was suspicious tends to run off.

#🫠 #call of duty #modern warfare #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #drabble #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #cod nikolai #phillip graves

[cerastes]

I haven't played the game, can you tell us what Mudrock is like, like her personality and backstory?

The first impression you'll get from Mudrock based on her fanart, is that she's cute or attractive, and probably nothing else. I do enjoy Mudrock art a lot, but part of me feels like there's definitely a lot of potential for more serious art involving her (which exists, in minimal quantities). That's because she's a very solemn character. Mind you, she does have a silly side to her, but it lives alongside this solemn side I speak of. Let's talk about Mudrock.

Mudrock is a Sarkazian warrior that possesses great might and magic both, being a highly skilled spellblade, or, well, spellhammer, owing to her own expertise of Originium Arts (particularly those that manipulate ground and rock) as well as her time in the battlefield. She made her debut on the event Grani And The Knights' Treasure, the game's very first sidestory event, on a cutscene after the very last optional map, where she receives a letter from that story's main antagonist, Big Bob, her sworn brother, who informs her that he's doing alright after getting part of the treasure. It wouldn't be until Twilight of Wolumonde that she'd take to the stage again, where she is not playable and is, in fact, the main antagonist (though not the villain) of the story. Just like Big Bob, Mudrock is ex-Reunion (Reunion being the first part of the game's main antagonist), and she, alongside Big Bob and their respective squadrons, of which they were leaders, deserted Reunion after it rotted from the inside and strayed from its supposed objective to protect and fight for the Infected: They both realized that Reunion had become yet another pawn in the international war games between the bigger countries, and the Infected had become little more than cannon fodder and easily swayed soldiers to Reunion more than the people they sought to protect. Big Bob and Mudrock both are characterized by having a well-attuned moral compass, and this wasn't what they signed up for. They weren't simply lashing out at an uncaring world and letting their rage loose, they seriously were fighting for the freedom and well-being of the Infected. So they deserted... But they couldn't leave together.

Here's the first big important aspect of Mudrock: Big Bob invited her and her Mudrock Squad to come with him, since they were sworn siblings and their squads also got along really well. It seemed natural to walk the walk together, right? Big Bob's plans were to find the Knights' Treasure in the outskirts of Kazimierz, and use those riches to buy land in Columbia, where oppression against the Infected isn't as prevalent as in most other places, and money speaks louder (for context, the Infected are usually secluded into special Infected neighborhoods in other countries, or even executed outright, so while Columbia still oppresses them to some degree, it is leagues better than other places) and the Infected are allowed to own land and businesses, so long as they have the capital. Big Bob then intended to make a business with this money, and then be able to provide housing, employment and profits for his "family" (what he calls his squadmates and close friends), and for any other Infected that needed help.

However, Mudrock politely declined, because the Sarkaz in her squad simply couldn't live a life that wasn't one of blood and steel: Sarkaz from Kazdel are known to live short, fast mercenary lives, and those who see a longer life, can only live in the battlefield. It's all they know. Mudrock knew this, more so the older Sarkaz in her Mudrock Squad. To subject them to a civilian life would be to simply put them in a pressure cooker until they snapped, until PTSD or incompatibility with the lifestyle became too much, until their grave Oripathy claimed them anyway, and Kazdel Sarkaz tend to prefer a end in the field of battle. They needed a leader, and Mudrock was that leader. Not only that, Mudrock didn't want to leave any other Infected dry out there, a sentiment shared by her Sarkaz, who figured, hey, if we're going to keep fighting, we should do it to rescue as many Infected as we can.

So she traveled. Even though Reunion might as well be dead, rotten from the inside, Mudrock took matters into her hands. She knew her scope would never compare to that of an organized movement... But she had to do whatever she could, even if it was minimal in scale.

Twilight of Wolumonde is a whole can of worms and a half, so let me summarize it by saying this: Mudrock fought Rhodes Island entirely because she demanded there be justice for the Infected that were unjustly killed in Leithanien (or, well, that small corner of) in what basically was a mystery novel plot of whodunit. Once justice had been doled out and responsibility was taken, she took what oppressed Infected would be fine with leaving with her, and quietly left. Her stay was anything but quiet, however, as she summoned several Colossi of stone and soil in order to fight. At one point, she even summoned a particularly gigantic one, akin to a mountain, which she proceeded to transplant her consciousness into to 'pilot' it herself.

Afterwards, however, they were hounded by several Infected Hunters from Leithanien, who had the complete advantage in terms of terrain, who kept picking them off one by one, survivors and fighters both. As Mudrock and company finally arrived at the frontier with Kazdel, just one bridge away, she ordered all stragglers and survivors to cross the bridge, telling them that they could eke out a free, if hard-earned and arduous, living in the Kazdel outskirt towns. Mudrock and her Sarkaz warriors, however, would not accompany them, they would stand their ground by the bridge, to stop their pursuers. Mudrock was ready to die. She put it in no uncertain terms, if anyone wanted to leave with the survivors, they could, and those who stayed with her would die alongside her defending the survivors. Her men and women stayed with her. If it meant saving those, even though they weren't many, that was what counted, she'd seen her personal duty to the best of her abilities. She was fine dying in these terms.

Of course, she didn't die: Elite Rhodes Island Operator Logos had come across this little kerfuffle recently and tailed both groups, and then took action to support and rescue Mudrock and what remained of her squad. They fought. They won.

Mudrock and her crew went to Rhodes Island afterwards, where Human Resources struck a deal with her: If she worked as an Operator for them, they'd provide for her and her Squad, giving them jobs in the field as well as Oripathy treatment. Mudrock wasn't initially sure, but a chance encounter with Grani led to both of them conversing initially about Big Bob and then about other stories, and, plus encouragement and endorsement from Folinic and Suzuran (who knew Mudrock from the Wolumonde incident), Mudrock ended up accepting the deal.

Besides her very full, sincere intention to do anything she can for the Infected and her Sarkaz brethren, Mudrock is a bit... Weird. She'll usually go on bizarre tangents about the weirdest things, or simply say strange things with the utmost serious expression. Not random stuff, just actually letting her thoughts drift along with whatever thought comes to mind, in a contemplative manner. She also likes making little clay dolls of people and talking to them, but feels very embarrassed when seen doing this (though it is implied she actually can just talk to the earth). Mudrock is also popular among Rhodes Island logistics personnel (which includes plenty of Sarkaz from the Babel days, the precursor to Rhodes Island) because she'll offer to help them move heavy things whenever she sees them, given that she's both immensely strong physically as well as a powerful caster whose earth Arts make moving things around easy. She also very rarely isn't wearing full armor, meaning that while you likely usually see her like this in fanart:

She actually looks like this most of the time:

In fact, a lot of people in her very own squad didn't know what she looked like. There were rumors about an unknown Sarkaz girl that would wander around Mudrock's camp now and then. That was actually Mudrock in the rare occasions where she didn't wear her armor.

Two fun facts about Mudrock!

The first one is that her birthday is on the 21st of September, which is the International Day of Peace. It serves to reflect that ultimately, what she wants is peace for the Infected and Sarkaz, even if she has to fight for it.

The second one is that her hammer has an inscription if you look closely:

In the trailer for Roaring Flare, we get a good look at it:

"For evil men will be cut off". This is a short form of Psalm 37:9 from the Bible (King James edition): "For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth."

All in all, Mudrock is bundle of love and kindess in an awkward package (awkward in terms of how she socializes, not in that she's shy or anything), but when an injustice is present, she will fight tooth and nail until justice is meted out (as she did in Wolumonde) and is willing to die for her ideals, if it'll save just a few people.

#arknights #mudrock

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hi, do you headcanons about inupi ? or he in the good timeline?

Lmao I was actually thinking the other day about how I haven't done any for Koko or Inui yet and here we are now! Definitely got some for Inui!

Is used to giving Koko any leftovers of his food (after he ended up away from Koko, he gave to Takemichi but Takemichi was just confused)

Will throw hands with anyone who dares to say bad things about the black dragons or Shinichiro.

Was actually pretty shy around Izana when they were first properly introduced. He knew this kid was important to Shinichiro so wanted to make a good impression. 

Akane first taught him how to walk in heels (she used to play dress up with him as kids) but Shinichiro was the one to continue the teaching when Inui was older.

He likes strawberry ice cream best

Used to visit Akane's grave in secret so Koko wouldn't know.

He held great respect for Taiju ever since he beat him but it took him awhile to properly warm up to him. 

Went to Shinichiro for advice about literally everything 

Got detention in school a lot

When he got his first black dragons uniform (8th gen) he literally ran to go show Shinichiro and Koko. 

He still ended up being great friends with Draken in the good future

He's never really had a great relationship with his parents, they favoured Akane a lot and were working. Growing up, Akane was the one who gave him the most attention and looked after him. After he was sent to juvie, his parents basically disowned him. 

Is always trying to get Koko to play ball games with him (Koko hates them but will sometimes agree)

He's on a first name basis with the people who work at the blood donation bank. (They think he's such a nice guy for donating so often)

Is very subtle in a relationship, does things like draping his jacket over you without a word because you shivered once. 

Had a life long grudge against Mucho

He was actually a bit embarrassed after he found out Senju is a girl, since he told Takemichi she was a guy.

He hates tending to his own injuries, will sometimes just let them bleed (he's actually very bad at applying bandages to himself)

The first time he tried to drive a bike, he was so excited that he crashed into a tree (luckily it wasn't too bad)

Frequently finds Koko's laugh to be infectious and will smile or laugh too

His phone is always on mute

Is an early riser, he actually exercises each morning.

He doesn't know how to flirt, instead he just straight up asks someone out and tells them what he's thinking.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev #inui seishu #seishu inui #tokyo revengers spoilers

[juuuulez]

📰 | part four: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn, follows slight canon, no use of (y/n), non-graphic violence, morally grey reader.

summary: Carl and Enid are at the Hilltop colony at the same time as the Saviours’ arrival. A fight ensues.

previous | next

Thank you all soooo much for the lovely messages regarding this series!!! It’s managed to motivate me to finally finish this part. I’m on my very last few weeks of school (as in…of my life) so it’s very hectic atm, but coming on here always is a nice escape.

Next chapter will feature Carl’s breaking into the Sanctuary…. sooo a bit of fun there.

After the whole ordeal, in order to hide from Negan and the Saviours, Maggie and Sasha had relocated to the Hilltop colony. It was upsetting at first, being so far from their friends, especially as most was too busy to visit.

But not Enid.

She’d made the effort to get there, plus the company of Carl, and found that it was a rather pleasant trip. After all, who doesn’t like fooling around a little with a boy? It took away from all the pain and suffering in the world, even just for a moment.

That moment sure didn’t last long.

It was her second day at the Hilltop, and Enid was tending to some of the garden near the fences. She found life at Hilltop to be more her pace, less restricting than Alexandria. Carl was nearby, leaning against a wooden pole, keeping up the casual conversation. The two were able to talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

The Saviours were here, they knew that, but it wasn’t their problem. Another bonus of being away from Alexandria. Simon and his men mostly left them alone, likely terrorising some adults, or their leader.

Enid and Carl were mid conversation when her eyes began to drift, like they usually did. Over to that spot near the compound’s back, where two fresh graves sat. She couldn’t tear herself away.

Except this time, alarm bells went off.

You were standing right there. Next to the two plots, looking down at them. Bat in hand. It appeared merely innocent, but she knew something was up. You were evil. One of them.

Little flecks of dirt are caked on her hands from gardening, but Enid doesn’t care to wipe it off. Suddenly she’s standing, storming over there, and Carl is subject to helplessly follow as he realises what was happening.

Though Enid knew very well that you typically meant trouble, it was Carl who had an actual insight into the logic behind your violent tendencies. This was likely a confrontation you would not take lightly, given how hotheaded Enid could be.

“Wait, maybe we shouldn’t—“ Carl attempts to contain the situation, but she’s already approached you, already speaking with such a determined candour that he can only stand back and watch

“What the hell are you doing here?” Enid practically seethes, standing there next to you, on the grass.

You’d heard the footsteps before the pair approached. Therefore, you weren’t at all surprised to turn and spot Enid, basically verging on intruding your personal space. Maybe an intimidation tactic. You appeared slightly amused, metal bat in hand, hanging at your side.

“Paying my respects, obviously,” You point out, giving a nod towards the two muddied graves. That grin doesn’t falter, “Which, by the way, haven’t seen from either of you towards any of my dead. Thanks a lot.”

But then Enid is speaking again, fire on her tongue, venom laced in her words. “Your dead don’t deserve any respect. They deserve to be six feet under, goddamn scum.”

“Enid.” Carl says as somewhat of a warning, not exactly scolding, just a concern for what may come of this. It falls on deaf ears, as you are letting out a low whistle, feigning being impressed.

“My God, girly. You are cold,” It’s said in a taunting manner, stepping away from the graves, approaching Enid slowly. “Is it that time of the month, or what? Because you seemed pretty damn timid in Alexandria last week, so excuse me for being a little shocked at this confidence.”

“We are going to kill you,” Enid says, ignoring your attempts at provoking her, “And your people, and Negan. You can’t get away with this.”

You roll your eyes. This conversation, again?

“Don’t think so,” You chime, stepping closer. At this point, you are right in front of Enid, your noses could be touching if you moved any closer. “Because we already have gotten away with this. You are under our control. When will that get into your thick-as-fuck skull?”

There’s a look of anger on Enid’s face, discontent. Offence at your blatantly cocky attitude. “You talk big game, but you aren’t half the survivor you think you are.” She sneers.

It only causes your smile to grow.

“Oh, I’m not a survivor. I’m a winner,” You point out with a sense of pride, “And you, and your friends, are losers. Hence why I’m standing over their graves, and not you to mine.”

Then Enid lunges forward, but you step backwards, just enough to evade being hit. At the same time, Carl is gripping onto Enid’s forearm, pulling her backwards as he’d similarly predicted her intent to strike.

“I would not do that if I were you.” Now it’s your turn to sneer, unimpressed with the downright disobedience and attempt at appearing threatening. Though you do not fear Enid, you’re irritated with the lack of respect.

But Enid can’t stop. Her face is scrunched up, desperate to break from Carl’s hold, ready to take you down with her bare hands. “I’m gonna kill you, and then let you turn. You will live forever as a monster and you will fit right in.”

“Enid!” Carl finally scolds, sensing the rising tension, desperate to avoid letting this spiral any more. After all, he’d been there. He knew how disobedience was handled. It was a death sentence.

They don’t respect you. These people don’t. Or, Enid doesn’t. Nor does Rick. You remember your fathers words: respect is gained through examples. Show them what they have to fear. This world is no place for empty threats.

So, you swing.

There’s a bystander off to your left, you’d taken note earlier. Your metal bat makes contact with the young man’s skull, reverberating through your bones and sending the innocent person to the ground. A silence falls over Hilltop.

“Too goddamn late!” You jest, and it’s disgusting how intoxicating it feels. Their obvious fear fuels your fire, your desire to uphold this commanding persona, to never be spoken down to.

You’ve done it.

It’s evident by the shock on Enid’s face, basically pale as a ghost. By the way everyone stands there, still, waiting.

You grin, swinging the bat at your side, no longer addressing Enid and Carl, but the audience that you’ve gained throughout your squabble.

“Are you gonna help him, or what?” You suggest with a scoff, rolling your eyes. A few diverge from the crowd, kneeling in front of the man. “It’ll just be a minor skull fracture, geez. Talk about a tough crowd.”

Throwing one last look to the pair, you make your departure. Actions, not words, you reminded yourself. A demonstration.

The man is carried away, and Enid’s eyes follow the crowd that slowly dissipates. She’s horrified. She feels sick, actually. Like she may be physically ill.

Seeking validation for this terrible event, she turns to Carl. But he doesn’t appear nearly as fearful as her. He looks furious, actually.

“What was that?” He asks, brows furrowed underneath his hat. It causes Enid to do a double take, mentally checking everything that has happened.

Enid scoffs, “She‘a psycho, that’s what.”

“No, why did you say that?” Carl rephrased his question, and it’s becoming increasingly evident where his anger is directed. “What did you think was going to happen? That was your fault.”

“Bullshit!” Enid practically yells, but is quick to check her temper, not wanting to worsen the situation. “I didn’t hit him! That was all her.”

“You weren’t there, Enid. Okay? You don’t understand.” Carl emphasises, yet doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps to the side, swiftly moving forward, towards the gates of Hilltop.

Enid is left speechless.

And Carl has devised a plan.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd x you #the walking dead

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter nine

close to home | chapter nine

plot: the reader meets Daryl's brother and an old member of the group, while trying to go through the motions of being around people again. she and Daryl grow closer while on guard duty.

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,683 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

The sun was beginning to set by the time Rick returned to the courtyard, and you were surprised to see Daryl with him and a man that looked like his brother. There was a heavy tension in the air, and you felt like someone would get killed if anyone said the wrong thing. But Rick paved the way and told Merle, you learned to dig a grave for Axel. 

With the tension level down, you followed the group into the prison, where arguments broke out over what to do with Merle. You knew you didn’t have any opinions on the matter because you didn’t know the history behind their obviously strained relationship. So you went up to your cell to drown out the arguments with Tora, who was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. 

You kicked off your shoes and climbed into bed, pulling her against your body. You were exhausted, starving, and all you could think about was a hot shower. You missed hot showers most of all and scented soaps. You missed feeling clean. 

Sleep found you well and quick, and soon you woke to sunlight streaming into your cell. Your stomach growled with a painful demand, and you realized you hadn’t eaten last night. Not that you would’ve been able to anyway, after all, that gunfire. You weren’t a stranger to death, but it didn’t make anything easier. 

Both Carol and Daryl were sitting in the main room of the cell block, and Tora was perched on the table getting affection from the woman. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked. The silence was one of the first things you noticed besides the sound of Merle snoring in the front cell. 

Carol gave you a smile while scratching the cat behind her ears. “Rick took Carl and Michonne to start clearing some of the bodies outside, and Beth is walking with Hershel. Glenn and Maggie are on guard. Breakfast is on the counter.”

You nodded and said nothing, grabbing some of the food Carol must’ve made earlier and a water bottle. You felt bad about sleeping in later than everyone else, but your body must’ve needed it after the night you had. 

As you sat down, Judith started crying, and Carol jumped up to tend to the baby. 

You gave Tora affection as you ate and watched Daryl clean the crossbow and sharpen his knives. “I’m glad you’re back,” you told him. Daryl gruffed and didn’t say anything, causing you to laugh. “I understood why you left. I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Leaving was the wrong thing, just took me a day to figure that out,” Daryl said. 

You didn’t say anything else as you ate, eventually reaching over to take the block on which he was sharpening his knives to do your own. In the cell across from you two, Merle stopped snoring and grumbled awake. 

“Little brother, you get me some food, okay?” 

You raised an eyebrow at the man and looked at him briefly before returning to your knife. 

“Oh, lookie here, I didn’t get a chance to make nice with you yesterday, missy. Why don’t you get ol’ Merle here something to eat, huh?”

You snorted and set the knife sharpener down, “I don’t think so,” 

“Prettier than a peach with a mouth on her, I see,” Merle said and looked at Daryl, “This why you came back here?”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl yelled as he walked over to the counter. “Can’ you tell nobody ‘round here gives a shit ‘bout ya? Stop tryin’ make things worse,”

You decided not to stick around for their sibling argument and instead went to go find Rick and see if he needed any help. 

***

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any more eventful, a woman named Andrea showed up. She was met with unexpected hostility, but eventually, the group relaxed around her. You kept your distance from her but were polite. There was a lot of tension with her around, and you didn’t really feel like being involved in any of it. So instead, you helped Daryl clean more weapons and stayed quiet while the group and her caught up. 

Eventually, she left, and things again settled into a new rhythm. Rick set out with Carl and Michonne the following day to get more guns, and everyone else was left to continue working on the prison. By sunset, you were physically exhausted and mentally awake. Everyone was a bit on edge because they weren’t back yet. 

You were finishing up helping Carol with the after-dinner dishes when she handed you a bowl of the water-based stew you’d helped her make. “Can you bring this out to Daryl? He’s on guard duty.”

You took the bowl from her and grabbed one of the water bottles, “Okay,” 

The night air was unsurprisingly warm as you crossed the courtyard. The stars were just starting to come out, and it was that perfect summer dusk setting. If the world was normal, you would’ve loved it. But now, seeing the space between the stars… it just reminded you how small the world seemed now. 

Daryl seemed surprised when you popped open the floor hatch and climbed up. “I got some food for you. Had to keep Merle from eating it all tonight.” The hatch dropped behind you, and you sat a few feet away from him after handing him his dinner. 

He nodded and started to eat. You leaned back against the wall and pulled your legs up, wrapping your arms around them. The soft nighttime breeze barely touched your face from where you sat. 

“You don’ gotta sit up here with me,” Daryl said, looking you over. 

You shrugged your shoulders but stayed quiet. It was peaceful up here. You felt safe being so high up, and you enjoyed the quietness. Judith wasn’t trying, and no one was trying to talk to you. It was nice. It reminded you of the treehouse, which ached in a way that almost made you wish you could turn back time. But you felt safer here, with other people and your family, despite the disasters of the governor and his attacks. 

It was mostly quiet for a long time. Grasshoppers sang their song, owls hooted and an occasional frog crocked, More stars came out as the sunlight fully disappeared. The breeze got a little cooler and it reminded you again of the treehouse. 

Daryl looked at you occasionally, but you didn’t mind it. You hoped he didn’t mind the company and hadn’t been put on the guard rotation yet, so you didn’t spend much time up here. You hoped that would change soon. 

You felt him look at you again, and this time you glanced at him, your eyes meeting his in the moonlight. “What?”

“You regret coming here?”

“No,” You shook your head, “I’m glad I did. Even if we’re about to fight some crazy guy. You regret bringing me?”

“Nah, Carl likes the cat. And your good with the baby,”

Your heart ached, and you looked down, playing with a hangnail that developed because of all the labor. “I was pregnant once,” You weren’t sure why you said that. But once you did, you didn’t wanna stop. “Liam and I, we got pregnant right after we got engaged. I was in a car accident when I was about five months, and we lost the baby. That was a month before the world went to shit.” 

Daryl was quiet. 

You laughed softly, “I used to believe in God; I went to Sunday church with Uncle Hershel and the girls. Now I’m not… I’m not so sure about how I feel. Not sure why a God would do this. But when it did, I remember thinking to myself that God took my baby away to keep it from this world. I know that sounds silly.” 

“It don’,” Daryl said quickly. “Plenty of people believe weirder shit. Makes you feel better. It all that matters.”

You smiled at him before looking away and back up at the stars. “Whatever reason it was, be it God, fate, or just the damn drunk driver, I’m thankful for it. I understand women making the choices they do now when it comes to that. I respect Lori for keeping the baby, but… I don’t know,” You rambled on. 

“I get it. Not like any of us had a choice. But the ass-kicker is here, and we gotta do right by her. Right by Lori,”

You nodded and leaned your head back, closing your eyes. “She’s a cutie,”

Daryl snorted and spit over the ledge, “Where’s the cat?”

“Carl’s got her. I taught him a few tricks she knows, and he’s going crazy,” You said quietly. “It’s nice out tonight. It would be a nice night for a bonfire if things were normal. Do you count us cooking dinner over a fire as a bonfire, or do you think a bonfire is special? Meant for roasting smores and singing silly songs while being eaten alive by damn mosquitoes.”

It was silent for a minute before he answered, “Probably somethin’ special. I wouldn’ call heating a can a soup a bonfire,”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, “Yeah, I think so too. Maybe once things get settled, we should do one for Carl. I bet he’d like that. Beth too. We can make a run to find marshmallows somewhere. I know how to make ‘em homemade, too, in case we can’t find any.” You laughed. 

Daryl shook his head at you and was about to reply when headlights appeared. He used the scope of his gun to look. “They’re back. Let’s get the gate.”

#daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[untitled5071]

I'd definitely love one shot requests

Well, ask and you shall receive! Here's the answer to your earlier ask, a Reverse AU of Lisa Frankenstein where she's the creature! Hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Alright, I think this is everything.”

He could barely see where he was going over the stolen sewing supplies piled in his arms, but he knew he was headed in the right direction thanks to the soft hum of acknowledgement coming from inside his bedroom. Tottering his way over to the corner, he deposited all of his mom’s supplies onto his bed before selecting the thickest hot pink thread he could find and a sharpened upholstery needle and turning to face his guest. 

“What about this one?”

The corpse of the young lady stood there, hair still a little wet from her first-ever shower and completely entranced by the feathered sleeves of his mother’s flowy pink nightgown. He stood there for a moment and watched the dead girl wave her arms slowly back and forth to watch the sheer fabric of the sleeves follow in their wake, and took a moment to wonder just when his life took a turn into Mary Shelley territory. 

He had been totally scared out of his wits earlier; all he had wanted was a night alone on the couch while his brother, mom and stepdad went to a movie, able to start re-watching through his VHS collection without fear of judgment when a absolutely filthy being crashed through the window, stumbling after him and groaning as he tried and failed to flee. After finding the creature-who he quickly realized was, or at least once had been, a woman-sitting apologetically in the living room and looking at him with sad eyes, he decided that he might get further talking to her than running from her. 

And any reservations against connecting with the woman died away when he realized that she was the one whose grave he had been tending to for the past few months, the reanimated corpse of a person buried under a tombstone that only said “Unmarried”.

And so he helped her get cleaned up, letting her shower the nearly century of grime away until he could see slightly bloodshot eyes, a shy smile, frizzy hair teased and tangled within an inch of his life and with a deep and disturbing gash in her left shoulder that needed attention. 

Hence the sewing supplies. 

“I have no idea which of this stuff is…quality or whatever, but my mom has very high standards in terms of the things she buys and especially for her hobbies, I mean, you should have seen how much she spent on fake rhinestones last year, but I think this might be the best stuff to use? I don’t think neon existed in your time but I think you might like this color judging on how much you like that robe.”

The corpse looked up at his voice, locked eyes with the thread and immediately smiled, excited by the vibrant color and opening her mouth to speak, but upon remembering that decay had taken that ability, she began gesturing wildly, clapping and pointing at the thread and then to her butchered shoulder. He got the message quickly enough and cleared the rest of the sewing supplies off of his bed, sitting down by his pillow and gesturing for her to sit on his left. She complied, and he gently guided their torsos so that he was looking at her back, with her turned towards the door to allow him access. 

He unraveled much more thread than necessary and stared at the eye of the needle, completely lost. She must have noticed his hesitance, because she silently reached a hand back and made a ‘give me’ gesture. He placed the needle and thread in her freezing palm and watched over her shoulder as thin fingers-clumsy with a century of deterioration-threaded the string through the eye of the needle and tied it for him, handing it back to him with a small smile. He returned the gesture. 

“Thanks.” 

She bowed her head slightly, and lowered the shoulder of the robe and the nightgown underneath, brushing her wayward hair out of the way to expose the gash that he presumed had killed her. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, head already spinning with the implications of such a wound, so he gently rested his hand on the robe, the threaded needle poised in the other hand. 

It was only then that he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Uh..how do I…?”

The corpse’s shoulders shook like she was giggling, and she turned her head to lock eyes with him. Slowly, with the stump of one hand and the fingers of the other, she mimed stabbing something with a needle, then pulling the thread through, then the nice, even stitching and repetition of the motion, and then finally pulling the stitches tight and tying off the work, complete with biting the thread to cut it. He nodded, taking the offered needle and thread. 

“Okay then, let’s…let’s do this.”

She nodded and turned back towards the door, letting him work in peace. It took him a few moments to prepare himself for what he was about to do, and, as gently as he could, stuck the needle in her skin. 

He flinched and expected her to do the same, but she sat perfectly still, examining the feathers on the robe a bit more. 

“Did that hurt?”

His voice was edged with concern, but when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were gentle and calm. She shook her head minutely. 

“Do you feel…anything?”

She thought for a moment, gaze wandering away from his before she shrugged, settling back with her face to the door to signal the end of the discussion. He took a moment to absorb this new knowledge, then let out a shaky exhale and turned back to his work. 

“Okay then. Here we go. I;m sorry if this comes out…totally terrible but you have to understand I’ve never done anything like this before but I am far from a trained professional.”

The corpse hummed her assent and continued to play with her sleeves, and he could see the smallest corner of a smile playing on her gaunt lips. He tried to ignore what that sight did to his heart and got to work, slowly stitching together the corpse who had quite literally crashed into his life and correctly guessing it would not be the last time he did so.

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #lisa frankenstein 2024 #lisa frankenstein au #lisa swallows #the creature #lisa frankenstein one shot

[ackerifle]

Yandere Levi finding out reader is pregnant by another man

a word with you!

yan. no regrets levi ackerman x fem prostitute. reader

+ CW. — harassment, coercion, delusional behavior, kidnapping, confessions of murder, threats of domestic violence/abuse, implied: slight past age-gap relationship, baby-trapping; darling’s pseudonym is galatea; not proof-read.

it was simply too good to be true, you had known it then, and you know it now. but wishful thinking and desperation will do terrible things to good people, no soul would willingly continue living in the underground should they find themselves with any better alternative. at a constant risk of disease and decay, mother nature’s evident distaste for her children dwelling beneath the surface, careless to the living that remained untouched by the sun. abandoned by its creators in favor of more ‘pressing matters,’ the people left relinquished in a forgotten city of ruins had fallen on hard times, people like yourself.

and thus, you had found yourself in quite the predicament. although nothing in your life had ever come particularly easy, and this once, just this once, you could manage all on your own. there was no shame in working in a brothel, not when the people around you were often worse off than yourself, and pride was a small price to pay for simply surviving. it was only once you had first bared witness to the frequent deaths of the other prostitutes had you ever come to the realization that the madam must have really favored you a lot— to clean you, to clothe you, to feed you, to care for you; to keep you. but the state of affairs in the underground have since changed from the time of your youth, you’ve changed. you wanted out, and you were not immune to making grave sacrifices for what you wanted.

you’ve encountered and met many clients in your time, men and women alike, and it is rare for new faces to draw your attention. but as of late, there has been one. a soldier from the surface, a military police member who seemed far too young to be venturing below the safety and security of the royal capital by himself, and far too naïve to be falling absolutely head over heels for some prostitute who only offers an hour and faux moans in return. it almost tugs at your heartstrings, almost. he isn’t as innocent as he looks, and you are reminded why terrible things happen to good people. he had held citizenship over your head since the moment he met you, through legal marriage, and one simple request: that you give him a child. after all, who was a man of his merit to invest such a scrupulous amount of time into a common whore without the reassurance she won’t leave him right away?

so you do, allowing him to touch and hold you in a way your other clients could only dream of. to whisper sweet nothings in your ear about your future together, because admittedly, you too are thinking the same thing. thinking about your future, but you find that there is nothing romantic about it. and perhaps the worst of it all, he hasn’t come back for you.

laying down on your tarnished bed of tattered sheets and thin blankets, you stare aimlessly at the darkened ceiling. without thought and without interest, it has been weeks, maybe months, and you think you’ve truly fallen ill, “dammit, i knew i shouldn't've let that prestigious prick back in here.” forever grateful and beholden to the brothel keeper, she continues to tend to your needs, even now.

“look at you. so sad, little girl.” the madam coos apathetically, but her actions say otherwise. a gentle hand checks your temperature, brushing aside any loose strands of hair with the swipe of her thumb. her frown only deepens when she just barely pushes your head back, met with complete compliance as your head tilts further into the pillow from even the slightest of movements. somehow, you’re still so tired and still so restless, “i’m sorry.”

she’s upset with you. she’s been upset with you ever since you’d been involved with that shady scumbag, but truthfully the madam is more upset with herself. and she wants to ask why you of all people are apologizing, but she doesn’t, “i’m sorry too.” there is more she yearns to say, her mouth is still open, as if to somehow keep you responsive in this one-sided conversation, but nothing comes out. and it’s too late when there are three loud and concise knocks banging on the door downstairs.

the madam is quick to pry a worried hand from your unresponsive body, storming towards the exit of the oppressive room, but not without taking a curious glance in your direction. her remorse does not last long, as she shuts the door with a shove, but is intentional in not forcing it too hard. and you are left alone. swallowing dryly, your eyes dart around the room, and you wonder just how intense that person must have been hounding at the door for both you and the madam to hear it from a story above. but that was no matter, it was already noisy in the brothel, the walls were thin because peace and quiet was no luxury anyone living there could afford; and who knows how many women you shared the small space with. and surprisingly, it benefitted you greatly to be sick, as the madam refused to work you; and you’d known girls who worked during pregnancy, it never did end well for them.

deafening commotion could be heard ringing throughout the brothel, to the point it had felt as if the walls were shaking and the building was caving in. you chalked it up to hysterical figments of your imagination, that the floorboards beneath your bed weren’t vibrating, and that the sound of a panicked woman and determined man arguing with one another weren’t getting closer, “sir! galatea isn’t well, she’s not seeing anyone right now!”

“i don’t give a shit, lady. i know name is still here, she hasn’t left this fucking whorehouse in a month.” it pains you that you recognize this voice, and it isn’t the one you want to hear.

brazenly, the door is reopened with much more ferocity and wrath than it had initially been closed with, and it startles you. despite anticipating a confrontation as the verbal fight had neared your room, it comes as a surprise when the door nearly breaks free from its hinges, revealing an all too familiar black haired man. he looks awful in the dour lighting, and he adorned a uniform that haunted your very soul. a lesser version of what the military police had dressed in, lacking the coat with their respective symbol, it was the odm gear that struck you odd. eyes averting, you had noticed madam — who was standing behind him, with a languid arm extended towards his figure as if to grab him — was somehow much worse for wear as she had a dramatic hand over her heart as she caught her breath.

you regret not locking the door, but then again, that has never stopped levi from doing what he wants. he calls to you only by your name, and your spine crawls. whipping his head around, the hand levi had placed over the hilt of one of the unsheathed blades draws it from the holder, and he wastes no time in threatening the madam. it only takes the sight of the sharpened edge looming dangerously close to her neck for you to yell at her to get out. she hesitates, and you know why, the madam has failed to protect you countless times from levi, but this will be the time it counts, and she knows it too. but the downright malicious glare levi sends her way has her halted in her steps, and she makes no effort to stop levi as he enters the room and places a deceivingly quiet palm flat on the door, all whilst maintaining eye contact with her, before he slams the door behind him.

you set your hand on the bed, forcing yourself to sit up as levi stomps his way over to you. and the closer he gets, the more uncharacteristically messy you realize his clothes are. the white shirt he so often wears is not clean, it’s rather dirty in all honesty, sullied with what appears to be sidestreet grime and dross filth. his boots are muddy, dragging in sludge and black water that hadn’t already been scraped off at the doorstep and staircase. but perhaps what was the most disturbing were the stains of blood on his gear, ranging from inconspicuous flecks to big streaks that were likely still wet. levi must’ve noticed your perturbed observation, because when he finally finds himself standing before you, he bends down and grabs your jaw in his hand, roughly squeezing your face, and leaning down until your noses are just barely touching.

“i leave you alone for a month, and you let some piece of shit from the mp’s knock you up?” it’s his eyes that are the scariest, more than his strength, and you crumble underneath his scrutinizing gaze. your retaliation is much more timid than you intend it to be, as if you were guilty and confessing your sins. sins of disloyalty to a man you aren’t even with in the first place, “you can’t expect me to want to stay here, i saw a way out, and i was going to take it.”

it doesn’t cross your mind to question how he knows all of this. you’ve simply accepted it as fact that you will never experience true privacy after meeting levi. in retrospect, it’s ludicrous that you’re even explaining yourself to him, but you are and it’s not helping your case, “and how did that work out for you?” levi spits venomously, violently shaking your head side to side in his grasp until your eyes were rattling in your skull. levi only lets go to prop his foot up onto the side of the bed.

instinctively, you lean away from his knee, which is almost parallel to your head, setting your hand on his calf in an attempt to direct his body away from yours. levi places the blade he had refused to release from his grip back into the metal box it belonged in, dropping his leg to the ground and hoisting you up by your shoulders, “groveling at the feet of those pigs, you’ve become real pathetic, haven’t you?” you want to defend yourself, to call him a hypocrite, to call him pathetic for harassing someone like you that was undeserving of his badgering.

“how did you even know he was a soldier?” deflecting the topic from yourself to your genuine concerns, you go limp in his arms as levi twirls you around the room until he’s satisfied with your placement. positioning you in front of the windows, leaning slightly on the stool as he pushed you backwards until you could feel the cold glass frame through your nightgown. levi slovenly flicks the sash lock, holding onto the lift and pushing the window up, “where do you think i got all of this from?” you didn’t need any clarification to know that levi was referring to his equipment.

your chest tightens, constricting your airway as you stop breathing altogether to attain perfect stillness. you only look at him with vacant eyes, and it becomes too much when he doesn’t elaborate any further, “what did you do, levi?” he sticks his head through the window, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top rail, and peering down at the ‘city,’ below. it isn’t as if he needed to, there wasn’t anyone on the streets. when levi pulls himself back into the room, he slings an arm around your hips to bring you closer, “what do you think i did? the man’s dead, do i have to spell it out for you?”

the prickling sensation underneath your skin erupts in waves across your entire body. you were no stranger to the realities of what went on around you, the hushed rumors of what men and women who had the will to do what they wanted to others simply because they were capable, and not out of survival necessity, “you’re sick, what is wrong with you?”

“call it what you want, but he has nothing for you. you want to leave the underground? hmph, well don’t we all?” levi mocks contemptuously, tightening his hold when he feels you threaten to slip away in the slightest. he moves you around like a rag doll by the sides of your body, until you're in front of him. levi closes the little space that was left between you, until you’re forced to grab onto him for support, seeing that straining your wrists to secure yourself by the windowsill was becoming too painful, “we can go wherever you want, but you won’t be going anywhere without me.”

suddenly, levi veers down. his body collapsing onto yours until you’re nearly halfway out of the window, and he, looming over you, “oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” you repeat, blood rushing to your head as you try to prevent your upper half from being upside down and being taken by gravity completely. levi guides your arms around his neck, loosely as you refuse to acknowledge you’re even embracing him in the first place, but your fear of falling surpasses your personal grudges. and in one swift motion, levi thrusts the rest of your body out of the window, and he follow suits mere seconds afterward. and you scream, as loud as humanly possible.

levi’s body never leaves yours, and you’re uncertain as to whether it’s because you won’t allow it, or because he won’t allow it. either way, the detach hold you had on his neck fastened into a tight chokehold the moment you had felt yourself even remotely lean back any further. the landing is much smoother than you anticipated, levi doesn’t let you touch the ground before he does. and if you hadn’t shut your eyes, or buried your face into the crook of his neck, you may have gotten to witness the vertical maneuvering equipment in action; what used to be a dream for you, to leave with it, but you could kiss those fantasies goodbye now that they found themselves in the hands of levi. and he’s cautious, all too cautious with you.

you’re trembling like a leaf, and he thinks that if he lets go of you, you’ll fall to the ground, “don’t think you haven’t pissed me off, now. there’s a million things i ought to do to you after getting with that sorry excuse of a man.” levi rests a warning hand on your shoulder, loutishly hauling you towards him until you just about trip over your feet. he makes sure you’re aware of the desolate area that surrounds you two; and it becomes increasingly obvious that no one would come to intervene. if not by your shrieking, then never. levi tilts his head with an unimpressed frown, “you’re lucky you’re pregnant with our kid, because i won’t even be half as merciful once they’re born.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

[writersdare]

In the Hands of Two | Bang Chan 방찬

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan was grateful for Y/N gifting such strong feelings, but at some point it became unbearable to carry them alone.

Warning: friends to lovers

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1 510

Author’s Note:  I miss describing emotions and deep thoughts of characters, so this one is rather special. I hope you'll like it ♡ Remember, your engagement helps so-so much!

To love someone… was it a blessing or a curse? Chan couldn’t exactly figure it out. The guy was grateful for Y/N gifting him such emotions. The feeling like everything was possible, like he could do it all at once and never get tired. He genially was happy to finally go through something that he only read and fantasised about before, and Chan could bet his life that it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. However, even the most perfect things tended to have their “buts”. In fact, the “but” was a big one, the size of Seoul’s skyscrapers — Y/N was his friend. The constant thought of that fact made Chan’s heart fall on the ground and never come back to a normal beat. How could he mess up so much? It was the most basic and trivial rule the guy shouldn’t have broken, yet, he did. 

Chan couldn’t exactly recall the moment when he realised he fell for her completely. It was happening gradually and then collapsed to the idol suddenly, with all the weight of those unbearable feelings. Funny how love could be so easy when was held by two, and how heavy it was once it was in the hands of only one person. 

The guy’s mood was swinging worse than seesaws he used to like so much as a child. One morning he’d be determined to spill everything out, beg Y/N for forgiveness and maybe for a little chance. Another sleepless night Chan would scold himself for being such an idiot, for overlooking the time when he still could stop himself. As if it was possible to control the feelings… As if it was just a silly anger or nerves, tickling the stomach. The problem of love was that it consisted of all feelings at once. Happiness, pain, fear, joy… The guy looked at her eyes and believed he could fly. Another second, when she wasn’t smiling at him but someone else, the feeling was eating him up like worms on a fresh grave. 

Chan couldn’t control his emotions. He’d hate himself for snapping at his members simply because Y/N suddenly paid a bit more attention to them than him. The guy would hate the fact that she was his friend, and that he was so blind in the beginning, when they first met. If he had known it’d be that way, he’d confess right away, avoiding the stupid friend zone. However, all those thoughts of the past didn’t make things any better or easier. The past was the past, and Chan, unfortunately, couldn’t change it.

Could he change the future, though? Could he actually make another dream of his come true? After all, the guy knew how determined he was, always being able to get what he wanted. With the career, no matter how hard it was, the musician usually — well, most of the time — knew which direction to follow. With Y/N it was completely different, and the guy was lost. He used to believe that he liked taking risks, and yet, when it was coming to the confession, his whole body would go numb just thinking of it. 

It became sort of a tradition to be occupied with that mess in his head, days and nights; even when the girl was around. Or especially when she was around. It was harder to keep a secret, and it felt as if Chan was going to burst up any second. 

"Coffee," he smiled and placed a cup of latte with coconut syrup on a table, next to Y/N. The guy felt ridiculous for being so whipped for her, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

"Thank you. Are you reading my mind?" the girl looked up at the friend and smiled. Chan had always been rather attentive, so such gestures were not exactly surprising, however, they did become more frequent recently.

At that moment Chan was ready to give everything to read Y/N mind, indeed. Just to know if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Or at least if she liked him not just as a friend. He wished he could read her mind…

"Not exactly, I just know you well enough," the guy grinned and took a seat next to her, trying to look as casual as it was possible. Chan couldn’t stop smiling, though, once Y/N’s pretty lips touched the edge of the cardboard cup carefully. She tasted the drink, trying to figure out the flavour of the syrup, and he wished the girl could know how adorable she looked. With her he started to dream more. In fact… what was stopping him to let Y/N now how wonderful she was?

"You’re so pretty," the guy suddenly mumbled. Once the words left his mouth, the idol couldn’t believe he really said it.

Y/N, though, just smiled again and friendly petted Chan’s shoulder.

"You’re always so nice to me."

The musician was ready to scream. No, he needed to scream. To hell with the voice, he needed to let it all out, otherwise he’d just explode. 

"Right," was his only reply. The guy’s ears turned red, and he looked at the screen of his laptop, trying to concentrate on a song. Y/N joined him in the studio that day to be the first listener of a demo. Most of the time Chan’s head was full of music, but at that moment he didn’t feel so creative.

The guy sighed heavily and stood up sharply, starting to walk back and forth and trying to reason himself – he needed to calm down.

"Chan, what’s wrong?" Y/N chuckled, although wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. No matter how cute the friend looked, she could read anxiety on his face, too.

The idol suddenly stopped and simply spilled out, staring at Y/N.

"Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints," he growled, getting angry at Y/N, at himself, at basically the whole situation he happened to be in. 

"What?" Y/N blinked, and the heart skipped its beat. She was staring back at Chan and couldn’t believe her ears. Literally, as once the words of confession were uttered, it became very noisy, her ears were ringing.

"I like you, Y/N," Chan whined, throwing hands up to the ceiling, being simply desperate.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he simply couldn’t. "If she was going to scream at me or ask how could I, how could I break the basic rule of the friendship," he thought. "So be it." It was worth it all. One more day with that huge secret in his heart, and he’d go crazy. 

However, once he let it out, a wave of fear covered the guy from top to bottom. He messed up again, maybe even more than before.

"Y/N…"

"Chan…"

"No-no… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have," the guy squatted down in front of Y/N and covered her palms with his. "Please, just forget it. Just forget it, we still can be friends and–"

"I don’t want to," the girl interrupted, looking in the eyes.

"You don’t?…" Chan mumbled, and his face became paler than usual.

"I don’t want to be just friends," Y/N continued quietly and broke the touch only to change the position of their hands and to cover his palms with hers instead. "I like you, too," she whispered, feeling how everything was shaking inside. Only after saying the truth, Y/N realised that she wasn’t even looking at Chan, being too nervous.

"You do?…" they guy echoed after some time, as if wasn’t sure if he heard her right. Then his lips stretched in a wide smile. "God, I’m such an idiot. I freaked out… Y/N," he giggled anxiously. Chan couldn’t believe that it was real; that finally the love for her wasn’t so heavy. Cause she took the part in her hands, too…

"I was scared, too," Y/N admitted. "We were always… close, but I know how career is important to you, and I didn’t… think… us, being more than friends, would be possible."

"It is. It is possible," Chan hurried up to reassure, looking at her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he almost whispered, feeling the warmth spreading all over his body.

The only one regret the guy had was not being brave enough to tell Y/N everything earlier. The fear and worries were long gone, as if he had never experienced it at all. Funny how things could be easily forgotten. Not the feelings, though. They stay in the hearts until the very end.

"You threatened me with it twice today, but still didn’t do it," she teased him, but not for too long. Another second the guy took a seat next to Y/N and, pulling her closer, simply pressed the lips against hers in a tender kiss. 

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found them here @gnabnahc –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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[strawurberries]

i loved your post about vash and reader’s stretch marks. i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is afraid of getting fat, so she skips meals or replaces them with water?

Missed Meals

Summary: Vash notices a change in his companion's behavior. Worried, he decides to confront her.

Authors Note: I'm glad you liked my other post! I hope you like this one as well (though I'm a little nervous because I got stuck writing this and I'm afraid it came out bad). Also, just want to add, I've struggled with eating disorders before (not from self-image but more like Vash's "I don't deserve to eat") so I understand. Everyone is beautiful in their own right and deserves to eat!!! Love all of you guys!!

Warnings: Self-hate, eating disorder.

It started off small; giving her bread to Milly instead of finishing it off, ordering a lighter meal instead of the usual hardy one she adored, and sometimes she simply said, “I’m not that hungry”. But actions like hers always lead to a slippery slope, one that tends to wrap its dirt-crusted nails around its victim and drag them into an early grave. She had never been someone who ate enough to feed an entire village, but not even she could survive on sips of water and the guilty crumbs she rarely allowed herself to consume. After a while though, it became natural, second nature to head off to bed while the sun still hung in the sky, claiming that exhaustion outweighed her hunger—which, she supposed, wasn’t all a lie.

The best lie, she had been told once, is the one that includes the truth. 

Now, she recalled that advice as she sat at a table in the back of this dingy town bar. What should she say? What could she say? Recently she had been using up all her excuses left and right, the hunger in her belly growing and the pain in her heart becoming ever more sharp. The group had decided to stop by a local bar before heading to the hotel for the night, nearly everyone complaining about the rough day that had been forced to suffer through. And, to them, a drink was something they were eager to welcome. She, if she hadn’t been too preoccupied with her stomach pains, probably would’ve ordered a whiskey to clear her head of every annoying little thought. 

She opted for water though. The least she could do was drink water; she owed it to herself, and so she honored that obligation. Throat parched, mouth achy; the water tasted amazing.

The bar erupted in a shout as someone tripped, roaring laughter drowning out the domestic conversation of her table. Too loud. Vaguely she heard someone mention dinner—she cringed. She did promise herself that she’d finally eat a crumb or a bite tonight (after nearly passing out yesterday she became all too aware of her weakness). She wasn’t dumb, she knew she’d have to eat eventually, that she’d wither away—but one more night, one more meal skipped, it couldn’t do any more harm, right? Besides, from what she had seen on the menu, the foods were all greasy, full of fat and carbs, and wouldn’t help her figure at all.

I just want to look pretty, she reasoned, skipping a meal tonight will help that. God forbid she ate too much and all her progress disappeared: letting that baby fat back under her chin, the muffin-top around her waist, or even the extra flesh on her belly? She’d rather die than let her body look like that again, much less look worse. It terrified her to her core. She needed to look good, and that meant, to her at least, that she must be skinny, thin, and agreeable. Starvation is a small price to pay for beauty.

A waiter slowly started to make their way across the room, eyes set on her table. 

I need to go.

She stood up, giving a small smile, “I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”

“You’re leaving already Miss?” Milly asked, “it’s still early enough for one drink! C’mon!” She raised her glass and grinned, “look! Mr. Wolfwood and Mr. Vash are already enjoying themselves!”

Drunken giggles erupted across the table. 

“Oh Milly,” Meryl sighed, “let the girl get her rest. God knows we all need it.” She waved her hand with the flick of her wrist, “if it wasn’t for the trouble you’re all bound to cause, I would’ve already left myself.”

“Hey!” Wolfwood barked out, “we’ve never caused trouble a day in our lives. . . well, can’t say much for Needle-noggin’ here.”

“It’s not my fault!” Vash cried, “trouble finds me! I always run away from it!” He sobbed into the table, “can’t a man catch a break?!”

Wolfwood laughed and patted him on the back, “it’s all God’s plan, my friend.”

“Well he sure does have a stupid plan!”

With a smile and silent wave, she slipped out from the table and weaved through the bar, the happy expression quickly falling off her face. I’m tired, she thought to herself, ignoring the biting air of the night. A dull ache in the pit of her belly made her stop for a moment, really tired. . . 

She barely remembers getting back to the hotel, much less how she managed to get dressed and settled in bed before that wretched knocking woke her up. With a skip of her heart and a rapid smack of her arms to get the blankets off her cold body, she jumped out of bed and reached for the gun she had tossed on the floor. One smooth movement and she delicately wrapped her fingers around the metal. She didn’t even think about the possibility of her friends needing help, or perhaps just room service making their rounds; the only thing on her mind was the fact that she wasn’t prepared to die that night. 

“Who’s there?” she grumbled out, ducking to hide beside the door, back to the wall. She rubbed lazy circles into the metal, finger twitching every so slightly over the trigger. She had never been the greatest shot, nor the most eager to kill, but she would do what had to be done if it came down to it.

“Vash.”

She blinked, sleep-clogged mind getting dunked into a vat of mean, old reality. Her situation hit her upside the head and she resisted the urge to put her face between her knees and groan about how dumb she is. Instead of wallowing in her stupidity (which, if you really think about it, wasn’t the worst reaction she could’ve had), she sighed, “oh.” A spike of relief shot through her like a summer’s breeze on a warm day. Shoulders relaxing and muscles begging to be sent back to bed. . . only, she wasn’t tired anymore. I’m not sleeping tonight, am I? Her heart still beat like a drum, thumping in her chest like no tomorrow, and her body—taunt and tense, ready for a moment's attack; that’s how she’s survived this long, by being prepared for every situation no matter the outcome. 

“Can uh. . . can I come in?” Squeaked out Vash.

She cursed and opened the door, wooden creaking echoing throughout the hotel hallway, letting her occupied hand hang by her side, “yeah, sorry. What’s the matter?” 

Vash stood in his usual clothes—red coat, ridiculous pants, and bulky boots; his gloves though, she noticed, he wasn’t wearing gloves. He gave her a small smile, “sorry did I scare ya?”

The smile made her less mad about the ordeal, kind and small. He never smiled too widely or genuinely, just enough to show that he cared, that he knew what happiness looked like—though she knew that he thought he’d never be able to obtain happiness, a faraway dream is how he described it to be. Oh, how if given the chance, she would give him all the joy he would ever want. 

She shoved that thought aside.

“A little,” she raised the gun and gestured with it for Vash to come inside. “Why are you up so late?” 

He slid into the room silently, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed, “couldn’t sleep.” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

That was a lie. She could tell. “Want to talk?” She locked the door and once again tossed her gun next to her bed, hoping it wouldn’t go off from the rough handling. “Or jus’ need someone here?” 

“Just talking, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, “a’right. How was your day?”

He smiled, “good. You?”

“Peachy.”

The conversation died off.

Neither of them really knew what to say—unspoken words disease the heart and kill the soul, making the tongue bloated and thick. She, not knowing how to comfort her friend as her mind wandered from her own problems to the world’s in general, and he wasn’t sure how to get his point across.

Silence.

Vash cleared his throat, finally collecting his words, “are you. . . okay?” The question hung in the air sourly, sucking any sense of comfort out and churning it into an uninhabitable room of misery. He flinched, as if the mood of the room was hurting him physically. “You’ve been acting a little different lately.”

She leaned against the door, hoping the action would give her the confidence to either run away or admit her inner-thoughts.“Hmm? Fine, you?” She turned her gaze away. Could she run? No, he’d catch her in less than three seconds and her trying to slip out of the room would be an admission of her guilt. But she really didn’t want to talk about herself. She’s doing okay, isn’t she? Just a little tired, anxious, and sad. . . but she’ll get over it. Besides, it’s not like she’s dead yet.

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Oh how painfully awkward this all was. 

The bed squeaked as he moved to get into a more comfortable position, “I have some leftovers in my room, from dinner, if you want any.” He tapped his leg with his fingers, head angled slightly to watch her expression.

He knows. 

Those eyes, no matter how much of a kind smile or goofy aura he carefully crafted to show everyone, his eyes gave away every part of his secret-self. The part of him that was scarily intelligent, observant, and abnormally calculating—a man smart enough to play dumb and a man strong enough to be kind. That part of him is what interested her so, the gravity that pulled her attention to him everytime he entered a room. 

He knows.

With a defeated sigh she rubbed her shoulder and walked over to the bed, shoving herself behind him to lay back down. If she had to bare her soul to him, the least he could allow her to do was to be vulnerable while being comfortable. He moved slightly to allow her more room, facing away from her as if her very gaze would burn him. “I’m not hungry,” she gave one last effort to cover her lie, to toss her truth out the window in the hopes that it would be buried in the sand. 

“You said that yesterday too.” He stared across the room, back rigid. 

The sands never work in your favor. 

“Huh,” she faced the wall, “guess I did.” The blankets were scratchy, old, and ratty, but she pulled them up to her chin nonetheless. She was tired now. All her adrenaline had poured out of her mouth, dripping onto the creaky wooden floor, seeping into the ground beneath. 

“And the day before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she had finally been caught in her web of little half-truths. “Haven’t had the stomach to eat anything lately.” Perhaps she could escape this somehow—even though she knew it was futile, part of her accepting the fact that he wouldn’t let this go—, make him run away and stop caring, God that caring! It annoyed her to ends she had never seen before, yet she loved it so. If only he didn’t care, she clenched her fist into the blanket, then this wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like she’s dying! Nor is she killing herself or drawing blood, she’s only skipping a meal every once in a while.

“I don’t. . .,” Vash trailed off locking his fingers together, “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re starving yourself.” He sat the words quickly, sharply, and promptly, as if he was afraid of them and needed to throw them out of his mouth as soon as possible.

All lies come to an end.

“I know.”

But wouldn’t it be nice if they could live forever?

He bit his lip. “Why?”

“You’re prying,” she snapped. 

“Sorry,” he whispered.

The conversation died off. 

She didn’t mean to sound so rough and uncaring—the opposite of that gentleman—but a fear had struck her heart and she couldn’t stop it. The only way to feel okay, to be okay, was if Vash stopped caring, stopped worrying, and walked out of the room without a second glance (no matter how much that would hurt). Only he had the power to alleviate this anxious pain but she knew she would never allow her to wallow in misery alone.

What did Wolfwood say? She thought to herself, misery enjoys company?

The air turned from sour to stiff, oppressing; like a hand had come to clasp her throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscles spasming as they tried to escape the hold, only it was fruitless.

“Sometimes,” Vash’s voice cut through the air, peeling the layers of devilish emotions back. Slowly he shuffled down to lay next to her, on his back, hands laced over his chest. “I feel like I don’t deserve to eat. . . how can I allow myself to eat when I know how the people I failed, the people I let die, will never be able to enjoy things like that again? And, really, I think part of me hopes I’ll die from starvation, so I can take an easy way out.” He paused and let out a shuddering sigh.

She didn’t move. 

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, and you don’t have to tell me, but I understand in part. And if you ever need anything, I’m here. Okay?”

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to care? And why did she want to accept it so damn bad? If he had never noticed, if he had never looked at her with those eyes, if he had never met her—then she’d be living in her little palace of warped perception like a Queen of nothing but barren hearts. A ruler of her own land, a lawmaker who bows to no one; only this man had come into her secluded little kingdom, raided the halls of the castle, and whisked her away to feel the sun. It hurt her. To know how delicious the outside tasted, yet know how her soul felt safer within her prison.

“Do you think,” the words died in her tongue, nervousness making her numb. To hell with it, he already figured it out. Might as well bite the bullet.“ That I look pretty?” she whispered. 

Silence. 

Oh, that was a mistake, wasn’t it? The silence hurt in her ways that she didn’t even know could hurt.

Vash choked on his own spit and coughed, “w-what?”

Suddenly she wished the silence was still there.

Of course he’d have a reaction like that! She’s ugly, big, and broken. Why did she think it’s run out any different? “Nevermind.” She buried her face into the blanket, biting back a rumble of sobs in her throat; eyes stinging gently. 

“No! No! You—you just caught me off guard! I think you’re beautiful, really.” He turned over frantically, hand awkwardly hovering over her shoulder as he talked into her neck.

“You wouldn’t think the same way if I was bigger,” she curled into herself, “if I was fatter.” She aggressively wiped her tears away, “and skipping a couple meals isn’t too bad if it’s for a good reason, you know?” She wasn’t sure if she was believing herself at this point.

He was silent. 

“No matter what,” he twiddled his thumbs, ears turning red, “I think you’d still be beautiful. If you were taller, shorter, thinner, bigger, only had one leg or, um, like lost both eyes or something—” he heard her lowly whisper an audible “what?”, “I’d still think you’d look amazing. And, if anyone says otherwise, they don’t deserve you.” He hesitantly set a hand on her shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, “no matter what, I still cherish you.”

Her voice cracked, “thank you Vash.” His words didn’t convince her entirely, but still, they were nice to hear. 

He hummed. “I know my words aren’t going to fix everything, but we can start here, if you want?”

She let out a bubbling sigh, trying desperately to keep her tears away in order not to embarrass herself further. “I'm scared.”

“That’s okay, I get scared all the time. I’ll be right here for you, the whole way.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#didn't proof read this #i die like an idiot #i'm going to regret posting this later #i hate it so much #i feel like my writing went 100% DOWN HILL #i blame finals #they're a pain in my ass #anyways #love you guys #plz be nice #trigun #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #vash stampede #vash #Vash x reader #Vash x you #Vash x y/n #Vash the Stampede x you #Vash the stampede x reader #Vash the stampede x y/n #Strawberry writes

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 32)

Tw: mentions of past rape, molestation, injury, blood

Part 33

You were shell-shocked.

You were being evaluated at the hospital. The kind nurses treated your wounds and offered much-needed compassion.

They gathered as much evidence as they could against the assault. You didn't remember what they asked or what they wanted from you, but you did remember having Yves on the phone to settle everything for you.

It was the worst thing you've ever experienced.

You were admitted into the hospital for a few days because one of the wounds became infected and she managed to give you a hairline fracture on your leg. You don't know what has happened to Evangeline or her family, nor did you want to know.

You didn't want to see your reflection. So you were grateful when Yves agreed to only communicate via voice calls.

But that was because Yves didn't want you to see how much he wept for you behind the camera. It would have been the first time seeing his makeup being imperfect and ruined, to see this, shockingly vulnerable side of him.

He knew how horrible it was to go through this, the inner turmoil that this event will cause for years to come... he is reminded of all of it. Yves wouldn't care if it happened to someone else, or even himself. But it happened to you, and he blamed himself for not predicting this. For being careless in his research.

For not predicting that Evangeline will come by the exact time you're leaving your room. Yves didn't do enough digging on that evil woman, he underestimated her degeneracy and it cost you dearly.

He didn't predict how useless your housemates were. Yves already told them to watch out for Evangeline as she was dangerous, not to let her into the house and call the police immediately as soon as she's spotted in the premises.

Instead, they all hid in their rooms when you let her in. They didn't do the bare minimum of even alerting the police, choosing to protect themselves by locking their own bedroom doors.

He was speechless. Yves knew they were selfish, but he thought he could have utilized their selfishness. They were supposed to call the police out of fear that Evangeline would hurt them or damage the property (hence the landlord would force them to pay), not use you as a sacrifice!

Luckily Yves called Mr. Jones almost a day before Evangeline stepped foot outside their house, expressing his concern over his daughter's strange behavior towards your confrontation. He suggested keeping a closer eye on her.

He even contacted his wife. The disciplinarian of the family and the lesser liked parent because of her rigidness.

However, Yves made a grave mistake of thinking they would naturally agree with him. Of course they would give their angel daughter the benefit of the doubt, they love her and couldn't imagine her doing such atrocities. He could tell that they were offended, but well hidden behind polite words.

He forgot, parents tend to love their children unconditionally. Making them blind to their deeds.

It took Yves sending a picture of Evangeline walking up to the front porch for Mr Jones to start bombarding her phones with calls, with the intent of pleading with her not to go through with whatever she planned.

The wife didn't even bother, as she's comfortable in thinking her husband will handle everything.

They had no idea how much they infuriated Yves, calling her was futile, she was clearly in a state where she's unable to listen to reason! Yves fully expected them to zip through the highways to physically restrain her. To save what's left of their reputation or at least what's left of their sick excuse of a child.

The Jones family had sealed their fate as soon as Yves had to call the police himself, pretending to be a neighbor concerned about a violent dispute in your house. Where in reality, the households around you weren't even home to witness anything.

He threw in everything he could to make it their priority, Yves claimed that there were guns involved, the abuse of children, blood, victims close to death... anything to get them out and about.

Hell, Yves even contacted Montgomery. But it only went to voicemail because he was busy working. Same goes to your landlord, he didn't pick up any of the calls because he was asleep.

But it didn't matter what he did. It was too late. The police took their sweet time and Yves couldn't stop it from happening.

He had thought of sending his own men to snipe her down, but that would come with its own set of problems- you would be a lot more traumatized to know Yves a bit deeper. But he should have readied his men within a certain radius to intercept her. Yet, he didn't think of that nor did he believe it was necessary. He expected at least one of his fail-safes would work. None of them did.

Yves was furious. The people around you were supposed to care and love you, but they did not. Enraged that everyone let you down, angry that he let you down.

How could he do this to you? You're so young and innocent, he vowed to protect you and shield you from what he experienced in the past no matter the circumstance. But he failed terribly. All because he was undisciplined enough to be careless. He fucking hated those two words, yet it's being appropriately applied to him now.

You're fiddling on your thumbs, letting the horrors silently replay in your head. Too distracted to notice that Yves muted himself on the call.

If you could see him right now, your head might just melt from the sheer jarringness and bizarreness of his breakdown.

His gorgeous curls were sprawled across his hotel room desk as he sobbed in his arms, resting on the hard, cold marble surface. He was never messy before, but today is an exception; there were pieces of papers, either torn or crumpled out of frustration or intact spread around him. Pens that lost their caps rolled around the floor, his laptop screen is showing a live feed of you in your hospital bed but his tabs are disorganized.

The fact that the weather is still too unstable for him to leave is making him worse. No planes were taking off. These are things he cannot control and it's futile getting upset over it. But he can't help himself for being angry at fate, even if it did nothing.

He regretted it, oh, how he regretted parting away from you. None of this would have happened if he didn't hire Jones, if he's only there for 48 hours, if he didn't go at all.

He knows, Yves knows it's useless to keep beating himself up over this. What's done is done, he has to move forward and take care of you better. But the circumstances around him wouldn't let him get past it, and this is torture to him. Yves is literally out of commission, unable to be there for you in any way. He couldn't be that strong, flawless deity that ensures nothing bad ever happens to you.

Yves is not in control of himself as he thought. His discipline was not enough and it is a hard pill to swallow. But he has to.

Yves lifted his head off the desk and sniffled, grabbing a facial napkin from a tissue box nearby. He dabbed his nose, letting it absorb his drippings.

His lower lip trembled and his eyebrows were knitted out of agony as his bloodshot eyes landed onto the video of you falling asleep. More tears rolled down his cheek, taking the pigment of his mascara along with it. If only you could see him now with black streaks running down his face, you would think very lowly of him.

Yves lets out a shaky sigh. He took a few minutes to close his eyes and compose himself, just enough to seem like he wasn't bawling his eyes out.

He rakes his finger through his hair to tidy it up a bit, his eyes never once leaving you.

Yves cleared his throat and stood up. That's enough self-berating and self-pitying for now. It's time to clean up and think of the worst fate the Jones, your housemates, your landlord and Montgomery could possibly face.

Yves ditched the champagne flute this time. He opted to drink directly from the bottle. How uncouth of him, he feels like an uncultured, idiotic swine all over again. But that's what he is now, right? Stupid and naive to trust the people around you were reliable. A fucking moron to have full confidence in his abilities, a fucking dumbass for expecting the best in his lacklustre plans.

He looked out of the window. Taking a massive swig of his drink, hoping that it would somehow dull the pain he's experiencing. However, he knows better than to expect that. The best a full bottle could do is to mildly calm his nerves.

Yves learns from his mistakes. He now knows you had no one to rely on except him. And he will act accordingly.

__

You woke up to hushed chattering between a man who seems to be under distress and a nurse who is trying to calm him down.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

"(Name)!" Exclaimed Montgomery. He's oddly cleaner than usual.

You froze momentarily before trying to get away from him as much as you can, fearing that Montgomery is the next Evangeline. The nurse picked up on your clear panic and immediately told him to leave.

"Wait! Y-your sugar da-" He paused and then reworded his sentence. "Yves, told me what happened."

You looked at him with the most incredulous expression. What? Why would Yves tell your other abhorrent admirer about your situation?

"I promise, I won't touch ya', okay? What that bitch did was disgusting, it made me sick to the core."

You asked him a lot of questions. Actually, it should be more appropriate of you to ask Yves instead. Regardless, you asked him why would Yves tell him about you.

"I don't know how that bastard got my number, but I saw that he left a voicemail while I was at work. He told me about that girl and how he's worried that she might hurt ya. Y'know what, I'll let you listen to it your damn self."

He pulled out his phone and tapped a couple of buttons. The nurse was readying her walkie talkie, about to contact security to take him away. But you signalled her that you're tolerating her presence.

"Yeller. This is Yves. (Name) told me everything that has happened between them, you and Evangeline Jones. She molested (name) yesterday and I was alerted of her close proximity to their home a few minutes ago."

Yves's voice was uncharacteristically panicked and wavering. However, despite the obvious stress that Yves was under, he was able to clearly articulate what he wanted to say.

"She is very capable of doing harm and I'm not around to protect them, that is why I'm calling you. I know you care about (name) in your own way, Yeller. Please. I need you to go to this location. Now."

You listened to Yves giving out your entire address to Montgomery. Then, the voice message ends.

"I went straight to ya' house after work and it was a whole crime scene." Montgomery looked at you with a pair of regretful eyes. "I guess she really did a number on ya' huh?"

He doesn't know the full extent of her abuse. Or else he wouldn't be awkwardly laughing, trying to lighten the mood.

You asked him how did he know to find you here.

"It wasn't easy, ain't nobody wanna tell me nothin'. There were a bunch of people there, I think one of em' was named Jason, he was freaking out over your busted window and door." He continued, pulling a chair and sitting on it.

"One of ya' friends told me that you and that bitch got into a scuffle. You lost and had to be sent to the ER."

Friends? He must be talking about your housemates. They were at home this entire time? You weren't surprised that they were too cowardly to come down and defend you, but you expected them to at least call the police. Mr. Jones must have been the one who did it when he arrived.

Speaking of which, how did he know where Evangeline was?

You asked him if he thought this was just a fist fight. He stared at you, confused.

"Is it... not just that?"

There was a beat of silence before you told him no and looked away. You said you don't want visitors anymore, grateful that the nurse stayed the entire time. You were fully expecting for him to be escorted out by security, hissing and thrashing.

But you were astonished Montgomery didn't put up a fight.

"Alright. You know how to find me. I'll leave ya' be for now." He sounded... sympathetic. Understanding, even. There was an evident twinge of regret and remorse in his voice, you wonder why.

"I'm sorry, (name). I shouldn't have trusted her in the first place." After that, he left on his own accord, the nurse following behind him to ensure he was not lurking around the halls.

You let out a breath. It's... strange. There were so many things that didn't add up. You began making excuses, it wasn't hard to find Montgomery's details from the Internet. So Yves must have gotten his number there.

But who told him Evangeline was nearby? You suspected that it was one of your housemates. There is no one else. It's just extremely vexing that they weren't as nosy as usual, if they came out and began poking and prodding at Evangeline, this wouldn't have happened. But then... why would they even tell Yves if a stranger comes by in the first place?

Then there was the question about Mr. Jones. Evangeline doesn't have a car nor a driver's license. So she had to get here by bus.

He was in his uniform, that means he was unlikely to know that Evangeline even left the house. So who told him? Yves? Seems plausible, but the timeline doesn't make sense to you.

Although it felt like hours of torture, the incident happened within a mere 11 minutes, they arrived 8 minutes after Evangeline started. The last 3 minutes was spent trying to gain access. It's unbelievable, but that was the reality of it. You know the nearest police station is an hour away by car. So the call must have been placed much earlier, or it was a coincidence that there was some patrolling nearby. But the latter was unlikely, you're in a sketchy neighborhood because there's barely any cops.

Either way, it couldn't be Mr. Jones was the one who alerted the authorities, the timing wasn't adding up. He was already banging on your window 6 minutes into the torment.

You shocked yourself that you could keep track of the timing. Thanks to the wall clock in your room that you couldn't... seem to remember owning.

All these discrepancies were giving you a headache. You tried to stay positive and look at the bright side. But it was hard, you do the best you can.

You picked your phone up, only to see that it died.

Sighing, you threw it onto the tray nearby and shuffled around, minding the cast around your leg and the bandages near your groin.

You closed your eyes once more and begged hard for this to be a dream.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #oc yves #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc evangeline #tw rape mention #tw injury

[anxiousnerdwritings]

it would be fucked up if Bellatrix was the only one who figured out the reader was an obscurus. like maybe they’ve run into each other a few times at the manor on an au where she wasn’t imprisoned but Narcissa is always intercepting them. kind of irritating the hell out of Bellatrix because she immediately picked up on the dark energy that the reader’s got going on and really wanted to get to know her.

and sometime after the reader is outed/the Malfoys find out she’s just not phased. sort of making Narcissa paranoid.

the reader runs into Bellatrix at Spinner’s End as the reader is leaving her house and Bellatrix is leaving Severus’ house and there is silent moment between them that kind of changes the reader’s perception of the witch.

the reader will ask how she knew and Bellatrix will shrug before saying: “it takes a monster to know a monster”

turns out in those small, measly interactions, the witch began to form a curiosity that lead to the yandere mentality. i mean, the woman spent months stocking the poor reader to find out who her sister’s mystery lover was. how could she not get obsessed with the woman? but she never pursued her romantic interest because she wouldn’t betray her sister like that. well, at least not until she found out the reader had ended things when she discovered they unintentionally intended to use her against her own kid.

and although Bellatrix was annoyed to have their plans ruined, there was something about the reader that just made the whole death eater business seem tiring. for the first time in her life, she understood why her sister wanted no part of it or why her brother-in-law seemed to be very slowly pulling himself out.

just crackling at the thought of Harry nearly tripping as he walks down the narrow staircase at Spinner’s End one summer mornjng and sees his aunt sleepily making a pot of coffee whilst Bellatrix fucking Lestrange (who has recently and very publicly defected from the death eaters) is disconnecting the floo and setting up dangerous traps around the house in some sort of twisted moment of domestic bliss.

you just know that Andromeda can’t stop laughing at the irony that Bellatrix ended up with a muggleborn after everything she put her and Ted through but Bellatrix simply argues that the reader is more then a muggleborn considering her immense power whilst Narcissa tears the manor apart in a fit of rage and poor Draco is quietly wondering if they’ll adopt him

and Lily is rolling in her fucking grave. she contemplates coming back to haunt her but seeing the Bellatrix is willing to go toe-to-toe with the Dark Lord for the reader eases her anxiety a bit. plus it’s also nice to have someone teach Harry more then one combat spell

I like to imagine that in this scenario, Bellatrix didn’t end up taking part in the torturing of the Longbottoms (but she still had full knowledge that it was going to take place) and having Lucius and her sister vouch for her resulting in her not being taken to Azkaban in the aftermath of the war but still being on the Ministry’s radar.

Bellatrix would spend most of her time at Malfoy Manor along with her sister, not really doing or going anywhere unless necessary, so she would of course notice when Narcissa goes off at odd times and for lengthy periods, the same for Lucius. She doesn’t think much of it when her sister and brother-in-law do so together but it peaks her interest when they do it separately while the other has other things to tend to. So of course her curiosity and nosey-ness get the better of her and she falls her sister one day only to witness her meeting up with a woman she’s never seen or heard about before in a very muggle populated area. Bellatrix doesn’t want to confront her sister right away, rather wanting to find out what all she can on her own before finally questioning her sister.

And the more Bellatrix follows her sister, taking in all the information and proof there is, she’s hit with the horrendous reality that her beloved sister is having an affair with a muggle. At first, Bellatrix is far too taken aback to comprehend everything that’s she’s added up with all that she’s witnessed and found out. She doesn’t want to believe or accept that her sister has been tempted by something as deplorable as a muggle, but the facts are right in front of her. It gets even more confusing when she ends up catching Lucius visiting the same muggle woman that she caught her sister with.

I could definitely see Bellatrix going two ways with this. She either confronts Narcissa first and gets all the information that her sister has been withholding from her for all this time then meets with the muggle woman behind both Narcissa and Lucius’ backs to see what’s so amazing and worth risking the reputation of their families over. Or Bellatrix takes it upon herself to meet this muggle woman before ever confronting her sister altogether and see what that has to offer, only for Bellatrix to pick up on something about the Reader that’s just a little off but peaks her interest all the more.

She doesn’t agree with the relationship or the Reader whatsoever, whether that’s due to her prejudice or her own jealousy that Narcissa and Lucius get to have the darling to themselves who knows. But Bellatrix keeps her mouth shut for her sister’s sake and puts up with the Reader being at the manor more and more now. She hasn’t seen Narcissa so happy and content like she is when the Reader is around and that’s makes Bellatrix bite her tongue all the more. Besides, the more the Reader is around the more Bellatrix can get a feel for them and figure out what’s so appealing about them that caught Narcissa and Lucius’ attention, as well as her own.

Bellatrix wouldn’t be entire subtle in her intrigue towards the Reader and Narcissa knows her sister enough to see that she’s paying just too close of attention towards her darling, and it worries her to no end. She knows how unpredictable Bellatrix is and she knows that when left alone to her own advises, Bellatrix will take whatever chance she can. So, of course Narcissa is going to keep her darling as close to her as possible or at least within her sight at all times. And if her darling were to be out of her vicinity or Bellatrix were to catch the Reader alone there’s no doubt that Narcissa most likely put a tracking spell of some sort on at least her darling, maybe even on Bellatrix, just to know where her darling or when the two cross paths and she needs to intervene or intercept them.

After the Reader up and leaves the Malfoy’s without so much as a word, Bellatrix is of course there to comfort her sister but internally she’s excited. On the low down she never really wanted the relationship to workout with her sister and the Reader, whether again it was due to her prejudice or her own interest in her sister’s darling, Bellatrix is the only one who really has a clue. But now that it’s happened she can’t help the giddiness bubbling up inside of her. This means that their darling isn’t really their darling anymore, right? Is this the Reader’s way of ending things altogether with them? It has to be! Bellatrix wouldn’t completely go out of her way to look for the Reader, she doesn’t make it her mission to find the darling or anything, but her mind is often consumed with the thought of the muggle woman who had her and her sister vying for her attention and what was just so appealing about them.

It isn’t until Bellatrix and Narcissa make a visit to Severus’ place that Bellatrix catches sight of an all too familiar figure taking out the trash or getting the mail next door. Fortunately, she had been boredly looking out the window while Severus and her sister talked otherwise she wouldn’t have been any the wiser to the allusive darling having taken up residence right next door to good ol’ Snape. Bellatrix wouldn’t drop by right then and there though, no, she wants to have her time with the Reader without her sister there to soak it all up. No, Bellatrix would come back another time and when she did she would be having a very long talk with the Reader.

Imagine the Reader’s shock and inner panic when she answers the door to Bellatrix fucking Lestrange standing right there armed with a predatory smile, as if she’s finally cornered and caught her prey after playing such an infuriating game of cat and mouse. Bellatrix doesn’t wait to be invited in, she just pushes her way past the Reader and takes a look around before making herself comfortable. Then Bellatrix confronts the darling with everything she knows and has the Reader spill everything to her about what she is. No doubt Bellatrix uses Narcissa and Lucius’ hurt regarding the Reader leaving them to manipulate the Reader into talking with her.

Once it’s made clear that the Reader is in fact an obscurus, Bellatrix can’t help the excitement coursing through her. This whole thing just has her feeling some type of way and she likes it. She promises not to breath a word of the Reader and Harry’s whereabouts to her sister and Lucius or the fact that the Reader is the obscurus that the Dark Lord is wanting. But, Bellatrix’s silence comes at a price but the Reader will come to learn what that price is later on. It’ll be sometime before Bellatrix drops by for a visit again, it could be a few days or maybe a few weeks but she does come back and this time she’s not leaving again.

Those few days or weeks, Bellatrix spent thinking and mulling things over. This whole Death Eater thing just didn’t do it for her like it used to. Sure, it could be because it’s been so long since she’s seen or had any part in any Death Eater action but even the thought of that didn’t appeal to her anymore. But what did sound all the more thrilling was what the Reader had going on, both with herself and the whole Harry being the ‘chosen one’ debacle. Now that sounded like some good ol’ heart pumping, blood rushing fun. And Bellatrix wanted a taste of what the Reader had to offer. So before the Reader can even process or have any knowledge of, Bellatrix moves herself into the Reader and Harry’s new refuge on Spinner’s End. And Severus would be shitting his pants the first time he catches sight of Bellatrix sipping tea out on the Reader’s front porch as if she was born to do just that.

I really love the thought of the Reader just coming home one day, probably after a long day at their muggle job or whatever only to find Bellatrix all moved into her and Harry’s home like it’s the most normal thing. Harry’s utter shock and inability to accept/process that Bellatrix Lestrange is now living in his house and is alone with his beloved aunt is something else entirely. Like, I imagine this whole thing going down with Bellatrix and leaving the Malfoy’s altogether happens while Harry’s still off at Hogwarts. Also, I love the thought of Bellatrix being completely and utterly under the belief that since she’s moved in with the Reader and now that Narcissa and Lucius aren’t in the picture then that means she may as well already be married to the Reader. She’s going about her day to day life living in domestic bliss, meanwhile the Reader is totally just taking this whole situation as a weird roommate ordeal. Like, sure Bellatrix has her own room and everything but she still sneaks into the Reader’s room to cuddle and what not. Really Bellatrix is content just taking what she can but in her mind she and the Reader are already married and Harry’s their adoptive child. God forbid, Petunia ever meets Bellatrix, shit will hit the fan and there will just be nothing but chaos.

The utter reaction of Harry, the Order of the Phoenix, Albus, Narcissa, Andromeda, Sirius and the entirety of the Wizarding World to Bellatrix Lestrange’s very open and public defection as a Death Eater and from Voldemorts side as whole would be fucking incredible. Like, I just imagine Bellatrix apparating to the Daily Prophet or whatever other magical journalism/news source and just being like “Boy, do I got a story for you”.

Also, I totally stand by Muggle!Aunt!Reader being the best of friends with Andromeda and Ted Tonks in any and all scenarios regarding the Reader. Like, Andromeda and Ted are just utter platonic yanderes for Harry’s aunt. I like to think that after so long of not hearing or interacting with Bellatrix or really anyone else from her family, Andromeda is just randomly greeted to Bellatrix apparating into her and Ted’s home to ask advice on how to deal/tolerate with a muggle. And Andromeda is on her ass laughing that her over the top prejudice sister has fallen for a muggle herself. Not to mention, Andromeda feels so bad for the poor soul who has garnered her psychotic sister’s interest. I wouldn’t be surprised if early on, Narcissa reached out to Andromeda to ask advice on how to court a muggle which is what initially brought the Reader to Andromeda’s attention.

And you can bet your sweet lasagna that Bellatrix is going to go out of her way to teach Harry how to really duel and what spells would be so much more effective than just Expelliarmus. Like, are you serious? Is that all Hogwarts has taught you?? Also, I totally headcanon Bellatrix becoming a Defense Against Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts if she quit being a Death Eater pretty early on. Especially if Muggle!Aunt!Reader was a teacher at the school too then that means Bellatrix could be even closer to her.

#anxious answers #yandere bellatrix lestrange #yandere narcissa malfoy #yandere lucius malfoy #yandere andormeda black #yandere ted tonks #yandere harry potter #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

[c-nstantine]

insecure

Warnings: cursing, Jason's insecure

Description: Meeting Dick, causes Jason to have some insecurities in his relationship.

Word Count: 0.5k

Y/N furled her eyebrow at her boyfriend as they walked into the unfamiliar apartment building. He was quiet, and while Jason tended to be quiet around strangers, he was never quiet around her. Bludhaven was slightly less dingey than Gotham but Y/N was happy that the weather was nice enough for her to wear a sundress that complimented her skin tone.

"Jason?" Y/N said as they entered the elevator. Her hand brushed against his as she brought him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?" He hummed in response. The gentle giant was worried about something.

"Are you nervous or something?" Y/N asked while grabbing his hand. His palms were sweaty and he looked like he was going to burst a gasket.

"Yeah," His words seemed stifled as if he wanted to keep them bottled up. If she knew Jason, that was most likely want he wanted to do.

"Why? I've met most of your family already. Dick is the last one, right?"She reminded him. Bruce and Damian were a breeze. Cass and Duke had more questions than Tim but Tim provided Jason with a file on everything that Y/N had ever done in her life.

"In all honesty, I don't want you to leave me for him," Jason let out like he was holding in a breath.

"I would never d-," Y/N turned to face him to defend herself. She wanted to be upset that he accused her of something, but she knew it came from a deeper place of insecurity.

"No, I know that but-. Never mind, it's dumb." Jason spoke softly. He didn't plan on having this conversation. Not now, not today, or not ever. He was planning on taking most of his feelings to the grave and that probably would've worked if he hadn't met Y/N. Oh, Y/N, his sweet saving grace.

"No, it's your feelings. They aren't dumb, Jason," Y/N said placing a hand on his chest. She wanted him to feel safe with her. She wanted him to know it was okay for him to be vulnerable with her. She knew he had his secrets and honestly, who in Gotham didn't?

"Dick was the first one to be adopted. He kind of set the standard. I know he's not perfect and I shouldn't compare myself like that. It's hard for me not to be jealous of him and I know how he is with women." Jason opened up and chose his words carefully. Y/N wasn't fully in on the family secret, so this was as close as he could get to the truth.

"Jason, you don't have to worry about that. I'm with you because I love you," She cupped the side of his face as the elevator doors opened and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, too," He whispered, but it was loud enough just for her to hear.

"Also from what you and Bruce said, he sounds a little like a whore," Y/N said as Dick opened the door. Jason snorted a little as he knocked on the apartment door but right before he could it opened.

"Who's a whore?" Dick asked with his eyebrows scrunched looking between Jason and his girlfriend.

"No one, bud," Jason said as he went on to introduce Y/N.

#jason todd #jason todd x black!reader #x black!reader #black reader #jason x black!reader #black!reader #red hood #red hood x black!reader #c-nstantine

[free-for-all-fics]

Various Slasher Prompts! This list includes: Brahms Heelshire, Ghostface, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees, Asa Emory, Jesse Chromeans, Severen Van Sickle and Bo Sinclair. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🔪❤️🩸(Special thanks to my bestie @tinalbion!)

1. You’re either born with unique doll-like features or you’ve gotten extensive plastic surgery to look like a doll. Either way you have the face, hair and body of a life size porcelain doll. You’re beautiful and look practically perfect in every way. But it’s sort of uncanny how you dress and do your makeup and hair to look so much like a living doll, almost like you’re an imitation of a human. How does Brahms react? How do you react when you meet this man who’s been living in the walls and wears a porcelain doll mask?

2. Resident Evil Village Crossover: You’re a doll maker like your sister, Donna. You may or may not have mutations and/or the ability to bring dolls to life and control them like she did. After Claudia’s and your parents’ deaths, all you and Donna had left was each other. Naturally, you were very close. You made dolls together, tended to the garden, and left flowers at Claudia’s grave periodically. You were the only person Donna showed her face to, but she still had bad days where she couldn’t bring herself to take off the black veil. Not even for you. You’d never leave the house or go to the village without her because she wouldn’t let you. She used her dolls to keep watch over you while she was away. She always accompanied you outside, afraid something bad would happen if she wasn’t there to protect you.

After her death, there’s nothing left for you in Romania. You’ve never been allowed to step outside the village walls before because of how agoraphobic and overprotective your dear sister was. You’re scared and anxious to travel abroad all alone, but you have no reason to stay here. After burying Donna with Angie in the family cemetery and giving your final goodbyes, you leave Beneviento Manor without looking back. You travel to England, only bringing your personal favorite doll and some small yet precious family mementos that you cherish.

Somehow you meet Brahms and it’s remarkable how alike he is to both you and your deceased sister. Like Donna he has dark hair, hides his face, and speaks through or otherwise uses a doll that’s important to him to communicate. He, too, loves to play games like Hide-and-Seek with his victims. He’s lonely and doesn’t want you to leave the Heelshire mansion either, just like how Donna forbade you from leaving Beneviento Manor without her. Like you, his life is marred by tragedy. His entire family is deceased and he has lived alone in a creepy old house since his parents committed suicide, just like how you and Donna spent your lives after you lost your own parents in the same manner. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Brahms was a long lost brother of yours that was separated from you at birth. Maybe it’s fortunate he has no blood relation to you. So what happens now? (Platonic or Romantic is up to you)

3. Ghost of Thornton Hall AU: You’re Brahms’ twin sister and were beloved not just by your family, but by the entire village. Everyone who knew you loved you. While Brahms was “odd”, you were everything but. Your parents tried to love you and Brahms equally, but you inevitably became their favorite child. When you died with your brother in a house fire, the village suffered a great loss and everyone mourned you deeply. Even 20 years later, your absence is still felt by the village. Flowers and gifts are left at your grave. Your epitaph reads, “Dear Sweet Y/N, Please Come Back”. Rumors and ghost stories spread that you and your brother still haunt Heelshire Manor. Village children make up the rhyme, “Fire So Red, Night So Black, Dear Sweet Y/N, Please Come Back,” and dare each other to recite it in the cemetery at night over and over until they scare themselves silly. Except you didn’t actually die. You were sent away after Brahms nearly killed you. It was a terrible accident and he never meant to hurt you, but it was too much for your parents to bear. So they faked both of your deaths and sent you abroad to America to live with a new family while they kept Brahms hidden away in England.

On your 28th birthday, your adoptive parents tell you the truth and reveal your birth name (omitting the parts about your brother and the fire). You’re sent a letter in the mail that has no return address, but looks like it’s from someone you know. It’s your friend’s handwriting and signed with their name. You haven’t seen them in a while, but they’re inviting you to their house in the English countryside - all expenses paid. How can you say no? Unbeknownst to you, this is all a trap set up by Brahms to bring you back to Heelshire Manor, whether you remember he’s your brother or not.

On the drive there, you stop by a cemetery and see a beautifully decorated gravestone covered in flowers and gift offerings. With your name and birthdate engraved on it. Naturally, you freak out, especially when you see your death date listed as 20 years ago. You’re not dead! So how and why is this here? You’re perturbed and have so many questions but is this really a mystery you want to unravel? The only place you’ll find answers is inside Heelshire Manor. But If you step foot into that house, there’s no going back. You’ll be past the point of no return. Once you come home, Brahms won’t let you leave.

4. Ghost of Thornton Hall inspired AU: A local newspaper has a front page story that reads as follows: A dreary cloud descended over the English countryside yesterday afternoon as services for Y/N Heelshire brought the entire village to a complete standstill. A large group of mourners braved the pouring rain for a chance to pay their final respects to Ms. Heelshire before the private internment on the Heelshire family’s estate. A beloved and charismatic member of the influential Heelshire clan, Y/N was fatally injured during a fire on the Heelshire estate. Since news of her death, outpourings of grief have been seen throughout town, but none were as spectacular as what occurred during her funeral service. Brahms Heelshire, brother to the deceased, was carried out by local police following a violent outburst. Witnesses allege Brahms Heelshire grew agitated during the services, causing thousands of dollars in damage and a few minor injuries. No witnesses were willing to comment to record and Brahms was later released without charges to the care of his family. There is currently no evidence that what transpired that fateful night was anything more than an accident.

“What’s the story with the locked room upstairs?”

“It’s Y/N’s. We don’t go in there.”

“It might help me figure out what’s going on if I could take a look around.”

“Best of luck. That door locked itself up tight the day of her funeral. There’s not a key in this world that’ll open it. I’ve tried.”

Are you truly dead or has your death been faked by your parents? Did young Brahms intentionally try to kill you or was it truly an unfortunate accident and misunderstanding? Will you one day return home to Heelshire Manor and darken its doorstep or does the ghost of your memory forever haunt the halls? It’s all up to you to decide.

5. Crimson Peak/Haunted Mansion AU (no incest!): You’re Brahms’ twin sister. Since you were children, you’ve had murderous urges like he does. Except while Brahms was “odd” and didn’t have many friends, you were a beautiful little girl who looked and acted sweet. You’ve even fooled your parents into thinking you were a perfect social butterfly. But in secret, you’d do weird things like mutilate your toys, etc. Other kids and adults fell right into your traps. It was easy for you to pretend to cry about being lost before isolating your victims and killing them. Covering it up was also easy: No way could a child overpower an adult or do such a terrible thing! But after Brahms killed Emily Cribbs, your parents faked his death by setting the manor on fire. It was up to you to play the part of the perfect daughter and heiress.

20 years later, you’re a stunningly beautiful woman and shine brightly amongst society. Your parents are deceased, and the wealth you and Brahms have accrued from your inheritance and parents’ wills is drying up. You’ve become a somewhat prominent and popular socialite, so you and Brahms hatch an ingenious plan: You go out in society, travel to America and other countries to seduce wealthy men into marriage. Once you bring them back home to Heelshire Manor after your honeymoon, you work your magic on them until they believe themselves to be in love with you. Any weird or strange noises your new husbands hear in the walls you wave off as just the rats, the old pipes, etc. The house is old and often creaks and “breathes” when it shifts. Any concerns they come to you with, you comfort them but tell them they’re just not used to the English countryside air yet. It usually doesn’t take long for you to convince them to sign the papers and leave everything to you.

You and your brother then kill them together and dispose of their bodies. You put on an award-worthy performance as a worried wife with a missing husband, which soon turns into a grieving widow. Then you collect their money and assets, and repeat the pattern as needed. Gaslight and Girlboss. You’re a very successful Black Widow and everyone in the village is none the wiser because you’re such a convincing actress. Brahms and you cover up your crimes so well. Besides, you’re such a darling and do so much good and charitable work for the village that you would never be capable of doing such a heinous thing! You’re so friendly and everyone in the village loves you. You just have terrible luck in love, that’s all!

6. Orphan inspired AU: Heelshire Manor has become a (in)famous though unofficial haunt. The abandoned house has been an attraction for tourists, ghost hunters, and paranormal investigators around the world ever since rumors and speculations from village pub talk have been spread through word of mouth and posted on the internet, exaggerated over time to garner the most attention. The truth behind the story of Emily Cribbs’ death and the fire at Heelshire Manor has been twisted ever since it first got published on online blogs. What was an unsolved crime has now become a ghost story, an urban legend almost. The manor is said to be haunted by the ghosts of Brahms Heelshire and his sister ever since they both died in a house fire when they were children. Videos posted on TikTok and YouTube show strange phenomenon: Porcelain dolls and other objects moving by themselves, inexplicable noises like knocking, the voices of the ghost children, and telephones ringing when the lines are revealed as disconnected and dead. Doors have been shown to shut and lock on their own, and dead animals that were definitely not there before are left lying about in the open. Threatening messages such as “GET OUT” appear written in blood, etc. Some videos even feature rare sightings of the little Heelshire daughter’s ghost. She looks exactly the same as she did on the day she died.

Except you’re not a ghost and neither is your brother. He’s been moving through secret passageways inside the walls and mimicking the voice of a child perfectly. You were born with a rare genetic disorder that makes you have the appearance and voice of a child even though you’re an adult woman. Unwitting people trespass onto your property and break into your family home to film scary ghost content, so you and Brahms take every advantage. You give them the scares and ghost activity they so desperately want then, when they least expect it, you and Brahms strike. You and your brother murder them even if they’re still recording. The videos capture their final moments as they struggle to fight and survive. You and your brother relish in the sounds of their screams or dying breaths as they gasp for air or choke on their own blood.

You then take their phones and cameras, stopping the recordings at just the right moment before you post the videos yourself. Peoples’ skepticism and eagerness to denounce something as fake for clicks or clout works in your favor and allows you and Brahms to get away with endless murders. You then promptly destroy the phones, cameras, or other recording devices and dispose of them just to be safe. The locals know better but are too afraid to go near your house. Nobody ever heeds their warnings and people keep coming like lambs to the slaughter because they think it’s all fake or staged. And since people think you and Brahms are paid actors and it’s all just an elaborate hoax, nobody is gonna bother to investigate. No matter how many people go missing or end up dead, it’s never going to stop. It’s an endless cycle you and Brahms delight in.

7. You’re dating Stu and Billy. You love them both and they love you so it’s perfect that you share and do things as a trio. But because it’s high school and the 90s, nobody understands your poly relationship and you get relentlessly harassed and bullied in school for dating two guys at the same time. You’re called a whore or slut, sarcastically asked by guys for threesomes or hookups since you, “open your legs for two guys already so what difference would it make”, when you’re just trying to get stuff out of your locker or get to class. Thanks to annoying cliques of popular girls, rumors may start that you even have STDs or are pregnant. Even at home, you get creepy or annoying phone calls from girls asking who’s better in bed or guys asking for sexual favors. You’re tired of all their shit so you disconnect your landline phone, which makes your boyfriends worried when you start skipping class and they can’t get a hold of you anymore.

Billy and Stu find out about the situation sooner or later, whether you tell them or not. When they started their Ghostface killing spree, they didn’t have a motive. But now they do. They start tormenting and killing your harassers and bullies. You don’t know your boyfriends are Ghostface and you may be a suspect for a while and questioned by police, but Billy and Stu don’t like that. They’ll take care of it and clean up their mess so that evidence points to someone else (like Cotton Weary) and you’re cleared. Whether you eventually find out they’re Ghostface or not is up to you. How you react to the reveal of them being Ghostface (whether they confide their secret in you and tell you all they’ve done to protect you, or you find out accidentally by being in the wrong place at the wrong time) is up to you.

8. You’re Sidney’s sister and Mickey’s girlfriend. You’re his muse for his film aspirations and often help him with his amateur filmmaking whether it’s brainstorming ideas, traveling to locations, writing screenplays and scripts, etc. While his intentions were the same as Billy’s when he first met you, everything changed when he unexpectedly grew to love you just as much as he loves film. He doesn’t want you to get mixed up with his Ghostface plot anymore. But his methods of protecting you look suspicious and you start to have doubts and feel uneasy around him. When you vent about Mickey to your classmate, Cici Becker, she puts these ideas in your head that he’s either cheating on you and/or wants to break up and is just waiting for an opportune moment. She compares his behavior to her own shitty “boyfriend”, Ted. Why did he ask Hallie to go with him as his date to the mixer party and didn’t even tell you about it? Why else would he be gone and out late so often or not answer your calls? Little do you know, this is why Ghostface later kills Cici. Similarly, he killed Randy for having the audacity to think he had a chance of scoring or dating you.

All his efforts of protecting you blow up in his face when Nancy Loomis shoots you anyway during the final confrontation. Sidney kills Nancy before the vengeful mother can kill Mickey while he’s distracted and unaware of his surroundings. He’s at your side and trying to stop your bleeding, too busy apologizing to you and asking for your forgiveness. He assures you that you weren’t supposed to be here or get hurt, but you don’t know if you can believe him. You’re torn between pushing him away because you’re scared of him and feel betrayed, or accepting his help because you don’t want to die and you still love him. You know it’s fucked up, but a part of you wishes you could pin all the Ghostface attacks on Nancy somehow. You know you’re not thinking straight due to the blood loss, but a part of you still doesn’t want to see Mickey, your Mickey, dead or in prison. You stop Sidney from killing him and she relents, for now. You’ll all be going on a trip to the hospital, but what will happen between you and Mickey afterwards?

9. 10 Things I Hate About You AU: Mickey is paid off by another student to take you out on dates for whatever reason. He’s asked you out multiple times, but you kept turning him down, aware he’s kind of a player and gets around campus. But he persists and eventually does something like Derek did for Sidney where he makes a spectacle of asking you out. So you finally cave and say yes. What started out as a monetary transaction became genuine as he got to know the real you, past the introverted and antisocial exterior you exhibit at school. You’re tempestuous, feisty, and rebellious, but have a very sweet and sensitive heart deep down. You’re tough but he really likes you. Hell, maybe he even loves you as the semester progresses.

You agree to stay up late to help him with his final project for his Film Studies class, but then you both get distracted and bored with filming the documentary. You decide to film a sex tape instead. Something special and private, just for yours and Mickey’s eyes only. He treats it like a passion project. He directs you and acts alongside you as if you were scene partners in a high class art film. During the filming of this sex tape, you tell Mickey you love him. Even if he doesn’t say it back, you feel like he doesn’t have to. You already know he loves you too. But then everything goes to shit when you overhear a heated exchange between him and the student who’s been paying him off. When your sex tape is mentioned, you think he’s shown the tape to other people and feel used and lied to.

“Nothing in it for you, huh? You were paid to take me out! I knew it was a set-up!”

“It wasn't like that!”

“Really? What was it like? A down payment now, then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

Mickey chases after you and insists that he doesn’t care about the money, he cares about you. But after what you perceive as his betrayal, you refuse to listen. You storm off, accusing him of not being who you thought he was. This drives Mickey to become Ghostface and start killing. He wants revenge on those he believed played a part in turning you against him, starting with the punk who bribed him. He’ll come up with a plan to make things right and win you back, one way or another. Even if he has to eventually kidnap you and/or pretend to be the hero and save you from Ghostface. He’ll come up with an elaborate plan and find a way to prove his love for you is real. Even if he has to commit a few murders along the way and pin them on someone else.

10. You’re Sidney’s sister and have been dating Mickey. Murders start happening again following the release of Stab and you get calls from a new Ghostface. You ask Mickey if you can come over; it’s very important that you talk to him in private and it can’t wait. When you arrive at his dorm, Mickey is concerned about your mental and emotional state. You don’t look well. You’re paranoid and stressed, still traumatized from the Woodsboro Ghostface attacks 2 years ago. He acts as a loving and supportive boyfriend, comforting you and distracting you from your anxious thoughts with kisses and more. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve stayed over at his dorm nor would it be the first time you’ve slept together, but this time feels like a goodbye. You urge Mickey to stay away from you for his own safety because Ghostface is after you and your sister again. Whoever it is won’t hesitate to kill your loved ones to get to you. You tell him you’re leaving town and try to break things off, but Mickey is stubborn and refuses to let you go. He loves you and swears he’ll protect you, but he feels like there’s something else you’re not telling him and demands to know what it is. He blocks the door and stops you from leaving. You’re acting weird and look like a sleep deprived mess, so you’re not going anywhere until you tell him what’s going on with you. You break down and reveal it’s not just you or Sidney you’re worried about anymore: You’re pregnant with Mickey’s child.

After that, things seem okay between you and Mickey. The killings have slowed down so maybe it’s over. But then you inadvertently find a Ghostface costume hidden amongst all his stuff in his dorm while he’s out, and you rightfully assume the worst - that he’s playing you the same way Billy played Sidney. Mickey admits that while that was the original plan, the plan changed when he unexpectedly fell in love with you. He swears he wasn’t the one calling you and that it was his partner, Nancy Loomis. He told her to stop and leave you be after you told him about your pregnancy, but it seems Nancy didn’t listen. He’s lied to you all this time and you don’t know if you can trust him anymore. It isn’t until after the final confrontation when he saves you from Nancy and takes a bullet meant for you that you believe him. He put his own life on the line to save yours. To hell with the film, Mickey wants his family. He wants you and your unborn child more than fame.

11. When you were a baby or toddler, your parents were taking you on a family road trip. They stopped at Luda’s shop for gas and/or snacks. A new and young mother of two boys herself, Luda adored you at first sight. She noticed your eyes were two different colors. You were unique and special just like her sweet Thomas. He’s about your age too, or maybe a little older. Your mom and dad were polite as one of them held you in their arms and told you to say hello to the nice lady, waving your arm for you because you were too shy. Luda gave you an old but pretty doll to play with, and your little smile made her heart swell at how cute you were. You were such a sweetheart and she was sad to watch you leave, but was happy you had parents who loved you despite your mismatched eyes.

When your parents later hit a cow in the middle of the road and died upon impact, Charlie Sr. came along and found you in the backseat, covered in your parents’ blood. He cursed to himself when he heard your shrill crying and screaming. You were confused and frightened but luckily unharmed. He pulled you from the bloody wreckage before the sheriff could show up and take you away. His wife always wanted a daughter, so he brought you back to the house. After he told Luda what happened, she cleaned you up. She rocked you back and forth, hushing you and lulling you to sleep. What a horrific tragedy to have befallen your lovely parents and for you to be in the middle of it. Luckily you were young enough that you wouldn’t remember your birth parents or anything from what’s happened. She’ll love you and raise you as her own. Tommy will have a sister to play with. What’s your upbringing like as you grow up with the Hewitts? With your eye condition and his skin disease, what are you and Thomas like as siblings from childhood to adulthood?

12. You died at Camp Crystal Lake and Jason, this poor man, was so devastated that he was in denial and didn’t want to bury you. He’d just tuck your deceased body into bed or on the couch like you were only sleeping and Pamela had to softly tell him it’d be best to bury you properly. Her sweet boy was hurting and her voice comforted him as best as it could. So he buries you, his best friend and lover, in your favorite spot in the camp. He leaves wildflowers for you every day he visits. Of course Jason would be merciless to those that caused your death (if it was caused through foul play and not by an accident or natural causes) and any trespassers after that. One day a group of typical teenagers at Crystal Lake were telling scary ghost stories and fucking around with a ouija board, or one teen in particular was just being absolutely stupid in trying to go around the camp and "resurrect the Camp Blood Slasher" as a joke.

But joke’s on them, it resurrected you instead of Jason. When you come back and Jason sees your grave is empty and has been disturbed, he thinks someone stole your body. He’s about to go on a rage fueled murder spree - until he finds you in his cabin. Your hair, skin and clothes are covered in dirt and grime. You’re shaking like a leaf and your eyes are wide like a startled deer. You know you died, you still remember that day so vividly. So you have no idea how you’re here now. You’re alarmed that you have no heartbeat or pulse. You have no need to breathe like a normal human. What’s happened? Why are you like this? What day is it? Somehow, you’re now risen and immortal, just like Jason. But while he’s a zombie, you may be more like a vampiric creature that needs blood to survive. Jason has to do his best to console and comfort you like how Frankenstein’s Creature tried to do with his Bride. There, there. You’re safe now and back home with Jason. He’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again. He’ll teach you what he knows about being undead as best as he can.

13. Orphan/Criminal Minds inspired AU: You’re Asa Emory’s younger sister and the only other member of his family who survived your insane father’s familicide and macabre setting of the dinner table. The experience fucked you both up and warped your minds. The chemicals your father injected you with didn’t kill you, but they stunted your growth permanently. You escaped with Asa before your father could kill or stuff either of you, but you’re frozen in the body of a little girl. Even as an adult woman, your petite stature makes you look and sound like a child. Sometimes your brother takes you with him on “exterminator jobs” and lets you design or set traps. Other times you’ll lure in victims by pretending to be lost or in need of help. Most people can’t ignore a child in distress and you’re such a good actress. You’re so relieved and thankful to Asa for not infantilizing you. He speaks to you and treats you like the adult you are when you’re in the privacy of your house or otherwise not hunting for victims.

But you’re often angry and envious of adult women, frustrated at your own body. You ask your dear brother to bring back “dolls” for you to play with when he’s working. You’re both artists; While he’s a licensed Entomologist, you’re a master seamstress. He creates masterpieces with his collection of insects while you create beautiful garments for your victims. Asa steals jewelry from houses for your personal use. Sometimes you use parts from different bodies to mix and match in order to create the “perfect woman”: What you think you’d look like as an adult had you been able to grow normally. After you sew the body parts together, Asa preserves your work through embalming and puts it in the hotel.

Other times, you ask Asa to bring back beautiful women alive. These women are abducted by your brother and then paralyzed due to being heavily sedated with drugs through an IV. They’re conscious but cannot move or speak. You wash them, tend to their wounds, dress them up in clothing you made, and do their hair and makeup. You pose them however you want and talk to them like they’re your friends. You care for them until you either grow bored or they inevitably die from the drugs. Asa disposes of them or moves them to his hotel for his own artwork. As fucked up as it is, you and Asa truly love each other as siblings should. You do what you can to protect and care for each other and keep yourselves safe and under the radar.

14. Doctors were able to save Jesse’s baby by performing a post-mortem C-section after his wife killed herself. But knowing what kind of man he is and the gruesome details about the heinous crimes he’s committed, they falsely reported that you died in the womb along with your mother so that Jesse wouldn’t think to come after you and you could have a chance at a normal life. You were adopted by a new family and live under a new name, but sooner or later Jesse finds out one way or another that his child is out there somewhere, alive. He’s livid at this deception. He’s gonna make the people who faked your death and kept you away from him all these years wish they had never been born. Death is too merciful when there are many a worse fate he can arrange. He may even kill your adoptive parents just to eliminate all obstacles that would potentially get in the way of him taking you back. Either way, he’s going to kidnap you. It’s inevitable.

He’s your father and he loves you, even if he shows it in strange or scary ways since he can’t talk and is often surrounded by blood, gore, and death (Remember how he used a creepy Text-To-Speech program with his victims’ voice recordings on his phone and patted Princess’s head with his knife? Yeah. It’d be like that). When the time is right, he may even show you his face and tell you the story of what happened to him. When he heard the tragic news from Spann, he mourned for you rather than for his wife. While she was a means to an end to keep up a cover, he wanted more than anything to have a child of his bloodline to carry on his legacy. He never loved her, but he always loved you from the minute his wife told him she was pregnant. Once he has you back, he’s going to call you by the name he would’ve given you. The name your adoptive parents gave you is wrong. Your past life is dead. You always have been and always will be a Cromeans.

He’s filthy rich so he’ll spoil you and give you practically anything that your heart desires. But he’ll keep you under close watch and heavily guarded. Every room in the massive and luxurious mansion you live in has security cameras monitoring your every step. You feel like a bird in a gilded cage. Of course you can go outside and go anywhere you want! A trusted employee just has to drive and accompany you everywhere you want to go. Doesn’t matter if you’re old enough to drive and have a license or not. He won’t let you escape. He’s missed out on so much and he wants to get to know everything about you. He wants to mentor you and raise you to be his heir. One day you’ll inherit his “business” when you’re old enough and he either retires or is gone. Everything will be left to you and you’ll want for nothing. He’ll kill anyone who tries to usurp him or steal your rightful inheritance (cough Preston cough). He’s trying his best to be a good father, but given his line of work, well, it’s…complicated.

15. You and the slasher of your choosing love to make snuff films/sex tapes. You kill your victims in creative ways because you’re not just committing murder, you’re making ✨art✨. You do all sorts of weird stuff with your “subjects” (use your imagination) and then have sex in their large blood puddles while they bleed out and/or next to their freshly deceased bodies. You film it all on tape. You and your slasher are smart and resourceful so that the tapes can never be traced back to you or fall into the wrong hands and get exposed to the wrong people. You use voice modulators, never show your faces, etc. You’re both sick and twisted, but you aren’t incompetent or stupid to incriminate yourselves. You could send your tapes directly to the police and they’d never find you. That’s how experienced and skilled you both are.

16. Near Dark and House of Wax Crossover ideas: Your older brother, Severen, made the stipulation that he wouldn’t join the clan unless he could bring you with him and turn you when you became an adult. You were still a child or teenager at the time and were his responsibility in your human life. You’re the only person in his family that he ever loved and he practically raised you (for better or worse). While you were still human, the clan would use you as a lure to fish for victims or to run errands for them during the day. Severen taught you how to defend yourself and gave you a trusty weapon to carry with you in case of trouble since he couldn’t be with you during daylight. In your vampire life, Severen’s love for you remains the same. Your brother can be cruel, violent, aggressive, and sadistic. But as your vampire sire, he taught you how to use your beauty and charm to seduce your victims. He emphasized the importance of never showing hesitation about killing. He and you make a chaotic duo. You hot-wire cars to go on high speed joyrides and eat the cops that try to pull you over, commit arson and theft, etc. You put on ✨performances✨ whenever you murder. It’s not enough to just kill. Yawn! That’s boring. You and Severen have to dress up and play a role. You have to make up a character or story. Or walk over a bar counter and slit throats with your boot spurs, etc.

Your road trips with your clan land you in Ambrose where you meet the Sinclair brothers. You really like them, especially Bo. He’s handsome, charming - A dangerous yet cunning murderer. Just like his brothers. All three of them put on stunning performances! Lester gives lost folks a ride into town, Bo sabotages their cars while they sleep then plays the part of a friendly mechanic, and Vincent silently lurks and slinks in the shadows. The brothers work together to murder their victims and put their embalmed bodies on display in the wax museum. Sometimes their victims are still alive while paralyzed in wax and posed. How avant-garde!

You spend most of your time with Bo during your stay and Severen hates that. He hates any human who has the audacity to flirt with or try to seduce his baby sister. It’s always been you and him for over a century! He doesn’t like that Bo is butting in and taking up your attention and time. He once saw you and Bo turn up the music in the garage and go downstairs to some secret room. He knew what you and Bo were doing down there and nearly blew a gasket. It took every last bit of self restraint for him to not barge in there and rip Bo’s head off from his shoulders and gorge on his blood. He had to leave and go out hunting to calm down.

Severen loves you, so he’ll begrudgingly tolerate Bo but his patience has always been thin. You may have to turn Bo and take him as your companion if you want him to live. If Bo isn’t your mate, your brother will probably snap and cut off his face or kill him in the most horrific way he can think of. The only thing stopping him right now is you, since you seem happy with Bo and are in love with him. (Don’t worry, Bo and Severen will warm up to each other and become best friends eventually. They’re very much alike.) Even if you have to turn Lester and Vincent and bring them along to get Bo to agree to your terms of joining the clan, that’s no problem. They’d be useful with their talents and welcome additions.

OR

You’re the youngest Sinclair and only daughter, so your elder brothers are very overprotective and almost smothering in how much they love and look after you. (Maybe you were born kind of sickly and that chronic sickness has been with you all throughout your life, even as an adult.) They practically raised you since Trudy and Victor were absent or neglectful even when they were alive. It was always one of your brothers who had to watch over you to make sure you didn’t run too far away when playing outside. They were your playmates and kept a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t get hurt or kidnapped. If you did get sick or hurt, they took care of you and made sure you had the right medicine and everything you needed.

Bo killed your father to protect you when the doctor went mad after Trudy’s death and tried to “fix you” with his heinous medical experiments. You would’ve been killed if your eldest brother hadn’t acted and shot Victor with his own shotgun. When he and Vincent were old enough, they pulled you and Lester out of foster care and brought you back home to Ambrose. You’re an adult now, and shit goes down when Severen and his clan just randomly drop in unannounced at Ambrose. Lester didn’t drive them in. Who are these punks? The cowboy vampire seems drawn to you and is stuck to your side like glue from the moment he meets you, always incredibly flirty and charming. Your brothers probably don’t like that but what can they do against a vampire clan? What can they do against a vampire who’s found his mate and it just so happens to be their baby sister? That’s right, nothing!

Severen hates that you’re hurting and suffering from your chronic illness. The medication you have to take and strict routine you live by daily seems like a lot just to remain somewhat functioning. He’s disappointed whenever your brothers interrupt your time together and take you back to the house to rest because your illness is worsening. The creep that he is, he may climb through your bedroom window to watch over you while you sleep just in case you need something while your brothers are busy murdering people. He’ll want to turn you sooner rather than later so that your illness dies off with your human self. The transformation is painful and difficult, but you’ll become not only stronger and faster, but also incredibly hotter. You’re hot now, so imagine how sexy you’ll be as a vampire!

But your brothers can be stubborn and will need lots of convincing first. Of course they’d love it if you were healthy! if vampirism can truly expel the illness from your body and it’s what you want, they won’t stop you from making that choice. But they’re not just gonna give you away to some vampire as if you’re property, even if he is your “mate”. Something this serious calls for a good ol’ sit down with the entire clan at the kitchen table. Good thing the vampires have all night, because this discussion is gonna take hours. Your brothers are gonna pull an all nighter while they interrogate the vampires and set down some ground rules. Severen would do anything to have you, even if it meant turning all of your brothers into vampires. They’re your family too, so If you want them to join the clan and they agree to being turned, he’ll welcome new members in without complaint for once.

#slashers x reader #slasher fandom #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms x reader #Brahms Heelshire and sister reader #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #mickey altieri x reader #Thomas Hewitt and sister reader #Asa emory and sister reader #chromeskull and child reader #jason voorhees x reader #severen x reader #Severen and sister reader #bo sinclair x reader #Sinclair brothers and sister reader #various slashers #random fic ideas #random prompts #fic ideas #fic prompts #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it