#drill sword jean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

Note

Hiii!! I was wondering if you could do a Luke x f.reader who is a daughter of Hephaestus and basically she’s jealous of the the Aphrodite girls and how Luke seems to take a liking to one of them, and so f.reader tries to change herself a bit to get Luke to notice her but instead one of Apollo son’s does and luke gets jealous. 🫣👀

𝒴ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽ℯ𝓇

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I made this longer than it had to be. 😭 so sorry.

Warnings: jealousy, some angst

You watched him pass by. Your best friend, the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him at the camp years ago. When he was just a small, scared, confused little boy.

Usually, he would give you a smile and sit with you. Not today. He was talking with one of the other counselors, one of the Aphrodite girls.

The Aphrodite girls. Most of them were kind, loving. They were beautiful. And you were stuck forging swords, which you loved. But you felt a pang in your heart as you watched him sit down with her instead. She laughed with him about Gods know what.

You stared at them from afar, eating your food as your friends and siblings talked amongst themselves. You would get his attention again. You were determined to.

You watched over the younger campers, watching them as they hammered and drilled. Your arms were folded, calling out some people and helping them, correcting them.

“It’s good. But it’s dull. Make it less curved , and sharper.” You spoke when one of them handed you a sword they had made. You smiled at them and they nodded, wiping the sweat from their forehead and going back to their station.

“Hey.” Someone said from behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder making you jump slightly. You whipped around, your eyes meeting those brown ones that you knew too well.

“Hi.” You replied, swallowing the lump in your throat and turning back to the kids, facing away from him. The Aphrodite girl.

“Are you alright..?” He asked you, noticing how you seemed off.

“I’m fine.” You said simply, his hand left your shoulder and he frowned.

“I was just wondering if tomorrow you wanted to go to that party at the lake with me. Like… 6?”

You smiled to yourself, covering your face so he couldn’t see and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.” He said, a small smile on his own face as he walked away.

Your sibling came up to you, a smirk on her face. “If you don’t just ask him out already…”

“Shut up.” You playfully hit her in the arm, rolling your eyes at the girl.

After watching the kids, you took a shower, and sighed as you flopped down onto your bed, tired from the day. It was dark out, and late.

You fell asleep quickly, and woke up to your sibling shouting something in your face.

“What? What’s wrong?” You grumbled, turning to the side and shutting your eyes again.

“Wake up! You’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?”

“You’re checking the cabins today, with Luke, remember?”

“Oh. Shit,” you mumbled, sitting up and stretching. You got up, put on some baggier clothes when you had a thought.

That Aphrodite girl.

You would be with Luke for about an hour, why not try to make yourself look presentable? You thought.

You did your hair, brushed your teeth, then grabbing some moisturizer and putting it on your face. You put mascara on, even grabbed a thing of lip gloss, putting it in on and then in your pocket.

You changed your clothes, taking off your hoodie and putting your camp half blood shirt, which you were supposed to have on while checking the rooms.

You looked through your closet, and ended up with a pair of flared jeans instead of the baggy cargos you usually wore when you were with the kids at the work station. You put on a pair of boots that matched and you looked at yourself in a dirty mirror.

You shrugged, and left the cabin. You would be able to show off more, at the party.

You grabbed your clipboard and paper, going up to Luke now.

“You’re late. I already checked mines and Athena’s.”

“Oh yeah? Did yours get a 4 again?” You joked.

“No… we got a 5.” He said. “Which still isn’t good but…”

“That’s shocking.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. He noticed something different about you. He looked closely at your face as you both walked to the other cabin.

“Are you… wearing mascara?” He said after realizing it. Your pants were different too. He noticed it all.

“Yeah… why?”

“Nothing. Just never seen you do that.” Something was wrong, he knew it. Something in his chest says that something was wrong. You’d told him once you don’t wear that much because your face gets dirty anyways, after forging and even just watching over them.

You shrugged and you both acted like nothing was wrong. Then after a while of checking it was time to head to the Aphrodite ones, the last cabin.

You tensed, and of course, Luke being the most observant, noticed when he looked at you. He put a hand on your shoulder, not knowing what was wrong but trying to bring some comfort anyways.

“Okay.” He breathed out, knocking on the door. All the Aphrodite girls were on their beds, waiting patiently. It was perfect, nothing spilled or a clutter.

The girl you saw Luke with yesterday waved to him. He waved back, giving a small smile. You tried to ignore the tears that started welling in your eyes.

Why were you so jealous?

“It’s a 10.” You spoke up, voice cracking slightly.

He nodded in agreement. You just left the cabin in a rush, you ignored everyone around you as you headed to your cabin.

Why couldn’t he look at you instead?

You took off your camp shirt, looking through your side in the closet once more. Nothing. There was nothing that could catch his attention in there. It was all dirtied, old, worn-out t-shirts. The party was soon.

"You need help?" Thank the Gods for your sisters.

They all got the best shirts they had. Crop tops, tank tops, baby tees, all of it. The boys ignored it, sitting on their beds and talking.

One that caught your eye was a pink cropped long sleeved shirt, it hugged your body when you put it on, showing your curves. The girls squealed when you came out, they all complimented you.

"I have the best mini skirt for that." One of them said, you quirked an eyebrow.

She handed it to you, and you went back into the bathroom.

"It's adorable!" she said.

It wasn't you, though. It didn't feel right. You just put on a smile as you headed outside.

"I'll kill him if he does anything." One of your brothers mumbled under his breath.

"Stop being overprotective, Alex." One of your siblings rolled her eyes.

It felt odd walking out like that, but you held your head high. Luke was going to walk past, thinking you were just one of the aphrodite girls until he saw your face.

"Y/N?" he asked, he was shocked.

"The one and only." You stopped walking, he stood in front of you.

"You look..."

You were nervous to hear his next words.

"different."

You just nodded. "It's a party, Castellan.

"Sorry. Just not used to it. Shall we go, madam?" he asked, faking a posh accent at the last sentence, his arm extended.

"We shall." You said with the same accent, smile on your face, locking your arm with his as you both walked to the lake.

About an hour or two later you were standing by the lake, your feet dipping into the water as you stared out. He had been talking with the Aphrodite girl again.

Why not you?

You didn’t hear the Apollo kid behind you until he sat next to you, two drinks in his hand.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hi.” Not turning to look at him.

“I was just over there, and I thought you were really… gorgeous.” He said, looking you up and down. “Would you want this?” He asked, handing you a drink. You hesitated but took it.

But he’s not Luke.

You turned now to give him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

You told him your name and he told you his.

“Oscar. After Oscar Wilde.” He said, a small laugh escaping him. You smiled and nodded.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“I was with a friend but…” you shrugged.

It was soon that Luke had overheard a conversation with some of Oscar’s friends.

“Nah, he’s not here, he’s trying to take some girl to his cabin. Think her name is like, y/n? Some Hephaestus girl.”

Luke glanced over there when he heard that. You were talking with the boy. Oh he was going to kill this guy.

He walked over, fuming as he neared him.

“Luke?” You asked, furrowing an eyebrow as he walked over. Oscar turned around too now, his face flushed as he realized Luke was coming for him.

Luke grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, whispering something in his ear as you tried to get him off.

“Don’t ever come near her again.” Is what he said, dropping him onto the floor, he ran away and back to his friends. Everyone was watching you guys now.

“What?” Luke shouted to them. They quickly turned around.

“Luke, what the hell was that for?!”

“He was trying to…” he began to speak, his anger faded off once he saw the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

“Luke, what is wrong?” You asked him. “Did I do something?” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling up again. His own eyes were glossy now.

“No. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why do you keep leaving me for that Aphrodite girl?”

The truth comes out. He stares at you, confused for a moment.

“Aphrodesia?”

You nodded.

“I… is that why you…?”

“Yes! Luke…”

“I was hanging out with her because I had no clue how to ask you out.” He said with his voice slightly raised, you stood there, feeling guilty.

“Oh.”

“She was telling me how to, giving me ideas. But now I see that I should have just asked.” His words were quiet now.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry. And the reason for.. that whole thing.” He motioned to the party. “Was that I got jealous. I got jealous, and then I overheard some of his friends saying how he was planning on taking you back to his cabin.”

“I guess we both got jealous.” You said with a small laugh, he smiled and nodded.

“Can I still go out with you?”

You nodded with a smile. “I’d like that.”

—

“You did look gorgeous tonight.” He told you as he walked you back to your cabin. “But I like you no matter what you wear. You’re gorgeous either way.”

“Thank you.” You said, laughing. “It did feel kind of weird. I don’t think I like it.” You were now in front of your cabin, holding his hand in yours.

You both gazed into each others eyes, when he suddenly spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were shocked by his question. You didn’t answer and he began to apologize before you cut him off, crashing your lips into his. His hands went straight to your waist.

“You wanna know something?” He asked once your lips left his, voice a whisper.

“Hmm..?” You whispered back.

“You’re better than any of the Aphrodite kids.”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #pjo disney+#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

624 notes · View notes

sekaiichi-happy · 5 months

Text

claymore | drill sword jean, former rank 9

#claymore #anime #jean #claymore anime #00s anime #anime edit #character portraits #sekaiichihappy edits

98 notes · View notes

darklcy · 10 months

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 | 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫��𝐧𝐠 : armin arlert x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.3k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: slow burn, bad language, reader experiences low self esteem, negative habits, skipping meals, lack of sleep. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: soldier life is catching up, but almost drowns you in the process. fortunately, you don't have to face it alone. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

Keith Shadis stood at the forest entrance patiently, waiting for the ambush of cadets to line up and commence maneuver gear training. On his mark, he released the trainees free to the skies and into the towers of trees, trailing behind on his own set of gear to inspect, like a hawk tracking its prey.

Today was dedicated solely to drills and Titan-target practices, as well as a test of endurance and stamina. Lectures upon lectures on maneuver gear safety always repeated themselves before take off, as rules must be obeyed to prevent any measly accidents.

But all to be focused on right now was losing your sense of reality to the wind and the trees. The satisfactory sensation of feeling weightless to the wires that pulled your body from trunk to trunk. So light and fresh like a leaf floating down to the forest floor. Funny, this machine taught you to kill, and yet it worked so beautifully. You’d never get tired from this.

In the distant right, Sasha’s cackles echoed along the branches, meshing together with Connie’s and Jean’s hollers. Up ahead, the infamous Shiganshina trio grouped together like a pack of wolves. Somewhere far off you could pick up the occasional yell of a stray trainee who’d crash landed. It was during these trying times where trainees who weren’t capable fell out and returned to their homes.

As you sharply swung along a corner, your sights locked on the familiar wooden cut-out of a fifteen-meter Titan, the nape of the neck clean of wounds. You readied your swords from their sheaths with a pump of gas, boosting acceleration. Arms raised in the air, you prepared yourself.

A shout escaped your throat as the swords sliced down on the neck, carving a precise cut on the makeshift Titan. The wood tumbled to the dirt below. A perfect kill..!

You almost laughed as you abandoned the Titan to pursue the hunt. Not too far away from the cutout, a zip of wires grew louder from behind. A certain roommate beamed at you as she neared.

“Hey [Y/N]! Mind if I tag along?”

You cocked your head.

“You just want to latch onto my kills!”

Mina dramatically gasped.

“Can’t we just hangout like the friends we are?”

You pressed on the gas trigger and propelled forward.

“Nope, I don’t trust you.”

Mina huffed at the playful tone in your voice, soon gliding away to resume her hunt elsewhere.

A little while after the brief encounter, another Titan stood in the distance. The size was a bit shorter this time, standing at around ten-meters, and once again, unscathed nape.

Seems like luck was at your beckoning today. Gripping onto the swords, you launched your hook grabbles and braced yourself to make the cut.

SHIIING

…Only for the kill to be stolen.

“Hahaha sorry [Y/N]! Couldn’t resist!”

The hooks released from the cutout and into the tree trunk beside you, allowing you to softly swing as you watched Mina fly away, a trail of steam dissipating behind her. A scoff of disbelief was all you could muster.

What the fuck?

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

End results noted a total of seven Titan kills.

A comparable score, considering the hunting was done solo.

“We managed to get ten kills! Not to mention, when we’d split up, we covered more ground. A success, I’d say.”

Connie bragged while Sasha enthusiastically ate her porridge, lifting a spoon to emphasize his point. Jean made a scene to stick his nose into the conversation.

“Allow me to add that I got a higher score on technique, so if you need any maneuver gear lessons, I’m your guy.”

Connie swatted at his chest.

“Shut up, you wish.”

You heard Mina giggle beside you. Her elbow gently nudged your side.

“Did you hear how much Mikasa got? Thirteen.”

Thirteen..?

“Holy shit, really?”

Connie barged in from across the table.

“Yes! She’s amazing.”

Sasha planted her palms onto the wood to lean in.

“I saw her in action! She flies so fast, it’s like you can barely see her coming.”

Jean’s face warmed noticeably. “She’s incredible.”

The group unanimously agreed. Mikasa denied the laws of nature and succeeded in winning at any obstacle thrown at her. Some theorized she wasn’t human.

You threw a glance her way. Such straight posture, no hint of life beside the occasional blink, calmly eating her meal like she was at the King’s tea time. Where every cadet appeared exhausted, her skin radiated without any bruises, sweat, and dirt. Maybe she was non-human.

A frown weighs the corners of your mouth when you turn back to your dinner.

Seven gets lost in thirteen.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

WHAM

Your spine smacked the rough clay as you tumbled ridiculously, legs falling over your head when it came to a stop. Annie was a ferocious partner, not breaking a single worry in this pitiful battle you were putting up. Throwing a leg over your waist, pinning you to the Earth, she jabs the wooden knife into your chest.

“I win.”

You blinked a few times. All you could respond with was a weak groan.

The girl doesn’t hold out a hand to help you get up. Instead, she saunters off to find a new opponent, one more worthy of a fight, you presumed. Rolling to your stomach, the tension in your thighs feel like it could snap. You shakily stand back up.

“She’s a tough one.”

Reiner towers over your shoulder with hands on his hips. You notice him watching the said girl with an unreadable expression. He claps a palm on your shoulder. It almost knocks you over.

“You okay?”

You nod. “..M’ fine.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. I can see it happening already.”

He points with his chin towards Annie again.

“She wins against everyone. She’s just strong like that.”

Strong.

“Huh..”

You feel him give your back two heavy pats.

“You got this.”

He stomps away after that. Watching him leave, that same frown comes back.

“[Y/N], did you see what happened today? I was training with Connie, and we came up with this new fighting technique! I swear it’s like we can read each other’s minds or something.”

All you could hear was noise, loud, blatant noise. Sasha plopped your bread in her mouth. You didn’t even notice.

“Also, last night I had the strangest dream. I was back home in the forest, and I was hunting game with my father like the ol’ days, but then this huge bear came out of nowhere…and then…”

The Dauper girl’s story faded through your ears into the files of your brain. Dinner had gone cold by now, your silverware limp in your hold. The bowl of vegetable stew encaptured your gaze in a trance, and if you looked away you were sure to be cursed.

“Hey, you alright?”

Mina gently caressed your shoulder, breaking you free from hypnosis.

“Yeah, yeah..I’m fine.”

Your words dripped with uncertainty. Both tablemates frowned, but nonetheless carried on with their meal. Spooning up a bit of soup, you grimaced when you swallowed. Cold..

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Seven knocks down to two or three in the passing weeks. The downturn of lips becomes more permanent than temporary. More bruises and wounds make home underneath your uniform. And somehow at the end of the day, the exhaustion feels more intense than the day before.

A cadet’s routine was never advertised as glamorous, but everywhere you looked, no one else appeared to be drowning. The break in the water was close, just an arm’s length away if you stretched hard enough. The waves swarmed your body with a strong turbulence, but you kept pushing and pushing, fingertips raised above to graze the surface.

And for a moment you can breathe, a deep inhale relieving your lungs from the strain of water…but it’s in that bliss when the water controls you again, pulling you deeper into an abyss.

Shadis imprinted the hairs on your neck to forever remain stiff, on edge and paranoid for more lecturing and criticism. In the midst of your drowning, did the man see the effort? Was this war amongst yourself just in your head, an illusion, or did he perceive the strength you were desperately wanting? Craving?

The mystery is frustrating.

….

The empty room draws a deep frown. The bunks usually covered in strewn blankets, harness straps and roommates gossiping were vacant and darkened with the night. Your eyebrows furrow, a puff of air flowing out your nose. The room felt wrong without the presence of comrades. Stepping out of the cabin, the door closes with a creak.

The wooden steps became the next best solace as you perched yourself at the top, arms wrapping around pulled up knees, chin resting on top. The mess hall served as a beacon of light compared to the isolated bubble you resided in. Through the warm toned windows you could see the cadets enjoying themselves with the same vegetable stew and loaf of bread that was prepared each night.

…Maybe this time alone was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps that’s what you needed. A break from all the noise.

Raising your hands to rest on your head, your eyelids drooped until they closed, weariness grabbing the reins. A distant cry of crickets join you in the dark, their chorus bellowing beyond the pitch black forest. Behind shut doors, the moon glistens her rays on your skin like a comforting embrace, welcoming you to raise your head and let her caress your face.

It’s tempting. Her touch is soft and gentle, approaching you carefully as if not to spook you.

“...[Y/N]..?”

It threatens the emotion in your chest. Her spotlight paints the reminder of your solidarity on the wooden steps. And yet she’s pushing you, cheering you on from her place in the sky. With that, she briefly leaves, the clouds swooping in to conceal her light.

Your face rolls over on your knees, cheek now smushed against sleeves.

“[Y/N]?”

…?

Has she come back?

Your eyes meet blue as you lift your head.

…The blonde stood uncomfortably a few feet away from the porch. His fingers pulled at his sleeves before his arms decided to cross behind his back. His eyes, so large and worried, blinked at you in rhythms; twice, once, twice, once.

You blinked back.

“...Hey, Armin.”

He glances to the beacon of light.

“Aren’t you heading to dinner..?”

Your hand falls to dangle by your shoe.

“..Not tonight. I’m not hungry.”

He pops his knuckles at his sides.

“You sure? Skipping meals isn’t good for you..”

“I’m sure.”

His frown deepens.

You’ve nestled back into your home already, staring upon the shadows filtering throughout the camp.

..His footsteps trudge over to the steps, and you face him when he sits beside you, body position matching yours. Armin lost his stare into the forest, fingers tapping sporadically from where they laid over his biceps. He doesn’t mind that you observe him.

You followed him into the trees and rested there, the wind and crickets harmonizing in a beautiful symphony.

Armin was a calm in the storm type of person. His best friend seemed to speak for three, never afraid to holler his frustrations, but on the other side of the spectrum lay this boy, the polite boy who loved to read. He’d apologize for existing, apologize for taking up space, before he ever sat down to introduce himself.

“You’re easy to watch.”

It took everything in you to not choke. Armin instantly panicked.

“I-In training, I mean..! When we’re doing drills? Combat drills?”

His words puddled out in a hurry, the skin of his cheeks blaring bright red.

"Pfft.."

“I just mean, you’re impressive! Or, inspiring? I uh, I’m not good at that stuff, so-,”

Your sudden boisterous laughter made him freeze. Armin couldn’t see your face anymore now that it was ducked over your thighs, shoulders trembling with cackles. Your arms caressed your aching stomach as if it could cease the attack, but it just kept advancing.

“Uh…”

Finally rising off your thighs, you swooped in deep breaths to calm your heartbeat, a couple giggles escaping here and there.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you laugh..”

You waved him off with a hand.

“No, no, don’t be. I liked it.”

His face was a never ending tomato. Now it looked like he was sweating a bit.

“But, what you were saying…you watch me?”

Armin smacked both palms to his face. “I was trying to compliment your skills, but I apologize that it came off as stalkerish.”

Another wave of laughs pass through your smile. “It didn’t, it just caught me really off guard.”

He reveals his blue eyes to you again. “That’s good, I guess..”

Your expression slightly dims when you turn away from him.

“Well, thank you.”

Armin’s lips part, but then close.

Wafting through the crevices, the moon rejoins you on the steps, this time encasing Armin in her light. By now, the mess hall was dismissed, sending cadets off to bed to end the day and rest for tomorrow.

“Guess dinner’s over..”

His comment reawakes your reality, that tomorrow brings new hardships and restless nights. It makes you wince.

“I’m gonna..head off to bed.”

He twists to you while you stand. He’s caught in perplexity, you can see it clearly, but his mouth doesn’t move.

“...Goodnight, Armin.”

Armin perks up.

“For sure..! See you tomorrow.”

He rises to his feet and moves down the steps in a swift motion, his blonde hair vanishing the further he walks away.

His departure has you glued to the entrance door, hand wrapped around the handle but still staring off the direction Armin went. Your brows worry themselves on your forehead, unsure to be confused, sad, or drowsy.

Hauling the door open, you decide the latter.

#altruistic #altruistic story #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x you #armin x yn #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x you

37 notes · View notes

awakenthemusic · 7 months

Text

LARPing for Fun and Profit

"You just got back from a year trapped in purgatory after you saved the fucking world, again. I don't know how you could get much more epic than that." "C'mon, Sam, swords will never not be cool." Sam sent him a look that read, Not what I asked, jerk.

Tags: Short fic, ~300 words, Family Bonding, Humor

For Suptober 2023 Day 11 - Epic

Under the cut or on Ao3

"Right, no, I get that," Sam said as he dumped detergent into the washer beside Dean. "I get why Joe Shmoe working a nine-to-five would want to be a part of something bigger, some epic story. My question is, why does it appeal to you so much?"

"I mean," Sam continued, lowering his voice with a wary glance at the woman reading a paperback at the other end of the Laundromat. "You just got back from a year trapped in purgatory after you saved the fucking world, again. I don't know how you could get much more epic than that."

"C'mon, Sam, swords will never not be cool."

Sam sent him a look that read, Not what I asked, jerk.

Dean shrugged and folded another pair of jeans. He thought back over the case they'd just finished with Charlie and tried to put things into words. He said quietly, not looking at Sam, "It's not about the epic, 'hero's journey' of it all for me. I guess... I guess it's nice to use what I know to help people have a good time instead of just keeping them alive. There's a lot less pressure when all the weapons are fake, you know?"

Dean cleared his throat, hyper-aware of the searching look Sam was drilling into the side of his face. "Plus," He said, turning to Sam with his best don't-look-too-close-or-you'll-see-the-cracks leer. "Chicks in corsets, am I right?" Not to mention the dudes in armor and leather pants, but Dean wasn't about to comment on that.

Sam stared at him for just long enough that Dean knew he hadn't bought the act, then mercifully let the subject drop. "I guess it's always nice to know you have another career to fall back on, too."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean, Sammy? LARPing doesn't pay."

Sam cranked the quarters into the washer and leaned back against the machine with a smirk. "If you ever get tired of hunting, you can always look for work as a handmaiden."

#suptober23 #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

16 notes · View notes

lara635kookie · 7 months

Text

Hey! So I'll start introducing some of my OCs here and I'll start with the one from the original Netflix show Carmen Sandiego.

Bianca Fang(her chinese name is Fang Bingxi) is British-Chinese. She is a cisgender aroace girl. Bianca was born in England, Liverpool but lived most of her childhood in Manchester until she was 18 and ran away from her problematic family and moved to London, stealing to survive. One day she got caught, but Roundabout saw her potential and raw talent and as the year of V.I.L.E.'s classes had already started and they were no more vacancies, Roundabout trained her until she joined Paper Star's class(Black Sheep's make-up year) after Roundabout's good recommendations of her to Maelstrom(they kept the fact that she had been seen before as a secret from V.I.L.E.). After graduation, she became

She trained a lot of fencing with Roundabout and we all know every member of the faculty(except for Countess Cleo, I guess) had a favorite student. She was Roundabout's teacher's pet. Her main weapon is a sword Roundabout gifted her. Its hot and glowing blade is manually heated in the right amount of degrees of burning(it depends on her mood). Her glasses are high-tech and provide her with lots of information and she can call and contact people by them. After V.I.L.E.'s takedown she starts working with Jean Paul and Antônio food truck, serving french, spanish and now chinese food at the food truck. She still practices fencing sometimes.

Playlist:

Smoke and Fire by Sabrina Carpenter

Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys

Catching Fire by Sum 41

Fire Drill by Melanie Martinez

Set Fire To The Rain by Adele

Burning Heart by Survivor

HWAA (English Version) by (G)I-DLE

PLAYING WITH FIRE by BLACKPINK

If someone wants to draw her in the Carmen Sandiego art style, feel free to, just give me credits and tag me because I would love to see it. I'm working at a A.C.M.E. oc and my Spiderverse ocs are up next. Bye!

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmensandiego #carmen sandiego oc

16 notes · View notes

leap-loves · 5 months

Text

The Earth Promises the Wind - Genshin Impact [For You, Always]

First drabble I did for Jean and Jia, aka For You, Always! This also serves as some backstory stuff, with how Jia gets her Vision! I think I figured this was around when the Ragbros are about 16-ish! Jean and the twins I see as being a bit older than the Ragbros, so ye! Have some banter!

Growing up in Mondstadt, there's no denying that everyone knows everyone to some degree. But even in such a close knit community, there are still smaller groups of friends. One of the most well known ones, and most talked about, are a promising group of friends from various clans.

Jean Gunnhildr, expected to serve Mondstadt as her family has before her. Even her younger sister, Barbara, is already showing interest in serving the church, like their father.

Diluc and Kaeya Raginvindr, each already promising Knights in their own right. Prodigal and charismatic. Heirs to the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share tavern.

Calla and Jia Yan, while not from any notable clan of Mondstadt, are well known all the same due to their unique upbringing, split between Mondstadt and Liyue.

Diluc had long since recieved his Pyro Vision, being blessed by the Archons. Jean had just recently recieved her own Vision. Anemo, blessed by Barbatos himself. As of yet, the rest of their group has yet to earn Visions of their own, however no one in Mondstadt would be surprised if they did. They were clearly a league of their own.

Not that that exceptionalism is entirely inherent, or else Jean and Jia wouldn't be here. Outside of the Knights of Favonius, with Jean practicing her swordswork to better figure out how to incorporate her newfound powers and make the best use of them.

Jia was seated on the stone wall for the moment, a practice sword propped up beside her. She was far more comfortable with a bow, but couldn't deny the importance of having even a passing familiarity with close combat, and who better to train with than the best swordsman in the city?

Though sometimes, Jia feels bad for asking Jean for her help. She's busy enough as is, such a heavy weight on her shoulders. Rising in the ranks of the Knights, already Master of Knights. Expected to give her everything to and for Mondstadt, by demand of her last name. Now she has the pressure of having a Vision, living up to the ideal of Freedom, despite having far less freedom herself than she realized.

Jia cupped her cheek in her hand, watching Jean go through her usual drills, this time with Anemo infused strikes. She was focusing hard, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at invisible enemies. She'd forgone her jacket, getting too hot in the afternoon sun for so many layers. Though, Jia certainly wasn't going to complain, finding that it was easier to admire her longtime friend's hard work this way. The muscles built up over the years, difficult to see when she was in full uniform. A sign of her physical strength, which still paled in comparison to her mental strength. To withstand such constant observation and critique, it takes confidence not many have.

There's no one quite like Jean.

But that also means no one fully realizes the pressure she's under. How sometimes she struggles to stand her ground, to prove she has earned her station. Even Jia, who's spent years earning her trust to be her confidant, may never fully understand. But she knows about the sleepless nights studying up on codes and laws by candlelight, the long hours spent training.

Oh how she wishes she could spare Jean some of the strain. Share some of the burden…

“-vat to Jia?”

Jia say up straighter, blinking to focus as a flush quickly spread across her cheeks. “Huh?”

Jean was now facing towards her, her eyebrows furrowed in concern now, instead of concentration. She still held her sword, though it now hung simply next to her side, her other hand resting casually on her hip. “Are you alright? It's not like you to zone out like that… it's okay if you're bored, you dont have to stay.”

Jia shook her head, laughing as she tightened her ponytail, embarrassed at being ‘caught’. “I’m fine, don't worry. And I'm certainly not bored.” She reassured, flashing her friend a playful grin. “I was just debating my odds of getting a proper sparring out of you.”

Jean seemed to consider the answer before her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a small laugh. “I shouldn't be surprised. But are you sure you're up for it?”

“Are *you*?” Jia countered, standing up and stretching out some. “You're the one who's been training for so long with hardly a break.” Her tone had softened to genuine concern, watching Jean’s expression closely. She'd never want to push her more than she has to.

Jean hesitated some, at least seeming to consider. “I'll be fine. I still have room to improve, after all. And I can't say no to a good sparring partner.” She answered, adjusting her grip on her sword.

Accepting that for now, Jia chuckled out a sigh as she picked up her sword, futzing with it some to get familiar with it in her hand again. “Alright… but say something the *second* you need a break, okay?” She insisted, walking over to Jean.

When Jean nodded, Jia smirked and held out her free hand, pinkie lifted. “Promise?”

Jean laughed softly, lifting her own hand to hook her pinkie with Jia’s. “Promise.”

“Then I can live with that.” Jia beamed, backing up a few steps after they dropped their hands, lifting up her sword. Jean lifted her own, letting Jia take the first move.

Jia was far from as fluid as Jean, her movements sharper and less precise. But she made up for it somewhat with her strength, helping to pose some semblance of a challenge for Jean. They kept it simple to begin with, a back and forth, rather like a dance.

If only they could dance properly, to proper music, instead of the rhythm of flashing swords.

Jia spun out of the way of Jean’s next attack, grinning as she got an idea. She easily moved behind Jean, lowering her own sword to not risk hitting Jean as she reached up, undoing her signature black bow from her ponytail. She quickly stumbled away to avoid the sword swinging behind Jean next to try and make contact.

Jia just laughed, holding up the ribbon triumphantly, ignoring how her cheeks flushed slightly darker as she watched Jean's blonde locks fall down along her shoulders.

“Jia!” Jean ‘scolded’ through surprised laughter, pushing some of the hair out of her face.

Jia beamed innocently in response, dangling the ribbon teasingly. “Well? You gonna come take it back?”

“You *brat*!” Jean laughed, lunging towards Jia to continue their sparing session, and try to get her hair tie back.

Jia didn't falter, managing to block the attack while still holding the ribbon out of Jean’s reach, if just barely.

Hopefully Jean couldn't hear her heart trying to beat out of her chest having her so close that they were practically cheek to cheek.

Jia was snapped out of her thoughts again by the feeling of the ribbon slipping through her fingers, and Jean’s triumphant cheer as she backed off to quickly tie her hair back up.

“I can't *believe* you did that while we were in the middle of training.” Jean laughed, shaking her head as she set her sword aside for the moment.

There it is. This is the moment that Jia wishes she could trap in a bottle and keep forever. This is how Jean should be, getting to laugh and relax and play around. Getting to simply be.

In that moment, Jia made a promise to herself. To stay by Jean’s side no matter what. Jean’s goal may be to protect Mondstadt, but Jia is going to protect *Jean*. To get to keep seeing her smiling and laughing.

As Jia turned to grab water for her and Jean, she paused at the unfamiliar flash of metal next to her water bottle. Upon closer inspection, Jia couldn't help but gasp in surprise, picking up the brand new Geo Vision.

“Is something wrong?” Jean asked, looking over to Jia as she finished tying her hair up, pausing mid-tie.

Jia beamed excitedly as she turned, grabbing the waters quickly before going over to Jean and offering out the Vision for her to see.

Jean stood straighter in her surprise, quickly finishing with her hair to instead reach out and gently touch the Vision, as if to confirm that it was real. Then she beamed, her hand under Jia's and giving it an excited squeeze. “You’ve earned your own Vision!” She cheered. “The strength and steadfastness of Geo, how fitting!”

Jia was far too excited to explain why she thinks she earned her Vision now if all times. She'll just keep it her little secret. Her Vision is a physical manifestation of her most important promise. She will be a safe haven for those she loves, a sturdy pillar to support them.

To protect Jean, be the shield to her sword. To help her stand, even when the weight of the world hangs heavy. For you, Always.

#text post #otp: for you always #my writing #drabble #fic #oc x jean #oc x jean gunnhildr #genshin impact #gi #oc x canon #selfship #self-ship

2 notes · View notes

occasionallyprosie · 2 years

Text

3:00am thoughts that I forgot to post at 3:00am

Dream SMP X Attack On Titan

SPOILERS AHEAD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now hear me out… Tommy as Eren because short-tempered and catalyst for change. Also always getting into fights. Tubbo as Armin because underrated genius who deserves better. Now this is a bit weird but I wasn’t sure how to fit Mikasa into it right, but Purpled as Mikasa because badass with a sword and also Golden Duo.

Then Ranboo is Jean because Allium Duo being at odds like that would be hilarious, also him being the reluctant but good leader seems accurate. Sasha is Quackity because who else would be caught dead eating a potato in front of the drill sergeant?

Now the painful part. Sapnap as Conny. Yes because I ship Conny and Sasha lowkey, like I love them as best friends and found family twins, but also I can see the possible chemistry between them though Sasha and Nicolo is better in my opinion. But also because I have Dream as Reiner, Bad as Berthodlt, and George as Annie.

Dream as Reiner because I love the hc of a Dreamon possession c!Dream and being the cause of everything, and that goes well with Reiner’s split personality (not split personalities per se but his problems with keep facades straight). Bad as Berthodlt because tall, and I can just see it. Then Annie as George because sleep and also I feel like he’d be the quiet icon who could kick butt, but he’s around and talks to Dream only and sometimes Sapnap. Which makes the betrayal painful.

Then, we have Phil as Erwin, duh. I did toy with Sam being Erwin but eventually settled on Phil because it works better with Techno being Levi, for obvious reasons. Then Wilbur would be Hange and I find that part absolutely hilarious and actually somewhat accurate.

I think Niki would be an amazing Historia but also Eret, she would be a great Historia too. Then Fundy could be like, Moblit, and still be Wilbur’s son which would make that death so much worse. If Niki isn’t Historia I think she could be a great Petra or Eld because bfs with Techno and kickass.

Basically I woke up at 3:00am and was like: “what if Eren and Tommy switched places?” and just had a sort of mental breakdown as I put roles together.

7 notes · View notes

nykrose · 2 years

Text

muse aesthetics, tarot edition. y’all probably know the drill by now. bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes or sort-of applies, strike through what’s antithetical to your muse. repost, don’t reblog, and have fun! tw: mentions of alcohol.

Major Arcana: a long journey - a feeling of raw energy - putting a name to something unknown - an elaborate patchwork - unexpected catastrophes - unexpected blessings - vivid dreams - sudden awakenings - the feeling of shedding your skin - the echoes in holy places - bright lights - deep shadows - feeling the earth move beneath your feet - wandering in museums - the strange clarity of moonlight - thunder and lightning - an unfamiliar road - coming back to the place you started as an entirely different person

Cups: being overwhelmed by emotion - finding something to celebrate every day - finding something to mourn every day - connecting with others - the scent of ocean air - making food for your friends when they’re stressed - the remembrance of something lost - sublime confusion - cool colors - a cozy cafe - a bustling bar - calm waters, hidden depths - getting tipsy in the afternoon - summer rain - comfy sweaters - flowing skirts - a house by the sea - deep conversations after midnight

Wands: the scent of spices and dark wood - making something just for the sake of creation - dry heat - crackling fire - a bolt of inspiration - refusing to apologize for your passion - stubborn optimism - taking on more than you can handle - hot tea - warm colors - getting up early - staying up late - bright fire, fast burnout - tacky thrift store finds worn with the utmost confidence - the thrill of starting a new project - spring storms - hotel rooms - perpetual restlessness

Pentacles: the scent of rich soil after a rain - hard and diligent work - solid ground, strong foundations - the satisfaction of a long-awaited payoff - generosity that comes with a catch - work boots and heavy jeans - silk and jewels - resting on your laurels - seeing your work through to the end - harvest time - fresh bread and rich soup - earth tones - jewel tones - a lush garden - sunlight through the trees - dark chocolate - a home in the farmlands - a sprawling house in the old part of the city

Swords: the scent of fresh air - focusing on the intellectual at the expense of the emotional - freshly fallen snow - burying yourself in action - tending to your own wounds - a foreseeable disaster - crisply tailored suits - starkly elegant dresses - refusing to admit defeat - cold air, clear thoughts - old hurts - fresh starts - overthinking your overthinking - the harsh glow of street lamps - black coffee - a cabin in the mountains - an apartment downtown - the quiet before the dawn

tagged by: Ripped straight off a meme blog god bless

tagging: @gossamerashes, @admirableringmaker, @cxnvenit, @ivakir, @kxllerblond, @magioffire, @nabaidhean-neonach, @thecreaturecrossroads

#[meme response]

7 notes · View notes

traumamademoved · 2 years

Text

muse aesthetics, tarot edition

. y’all probably know the drill by now. bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes or sort-of applies, strike through what’s antithetical to your muse. repost, don’t reblog, and have fun! tw: mentions of alcohol.

tagged by: @kardiaerasti

tagging: tag you’re it

#i'm going to scrub this virus from the face of the earth (headcanons)

4 notes · View notes

haxo-wolfie · 1 year

Video

ill never stop making these

spoilers btw

#claymore #claymore manga #clare claymore #jean claymore #drill sword jean #helen claymore #deneve claymore #priscilla claymore #teresa claymore #teresa of the faint smile #galatea claymore #god eye galatea #miria claymore #phantom miria

50 notes · View notes

vcnusians · 2 years

Text

muse aesthetics, tarot edition ( CINDY PALMER ). y’all probably know the drill by now. bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes or sort-of applies, strike through what’s antithetical to your muse. repost, don’t reblog, and have fun! tw: mentions of alcohol.

MAJOR ARCANA: a long journey - a feeling of raw energy - putting a name to something unknown - an elaborate patchwork - unexpected catastrophes - unexpected blessings - vivid dreams - sudden awakenings - the feeling of shedding your skin - the echoes in holy places - bright lights - deep shadows - feeling the earth move beneath your feet - wandering in museums - the strange clarity of moonlight - thunder and lightning - an unfamiliar road - coming back to the place you started as an entirely different person

CUPS: being overwhelmed by emotion - finding something to celebrate every day - finding something to mourn every day - connecting with others - the scent of ocean air - making food for your friends when they’re stressed - the remembrance of something lost - sublime confusion - cool colors - a cozy cafe - a bustling bar - calm waters, hidden depths - getting tipsy in the afternoon - summer rain - comfy sweaters - flowing skirts - a house by the sea - deep conversations after midnight

WANDS: the scent of spices and dark wood - making something just for the sake of creation - dry heat - crackling fire - a bolt of inspiration - refusing to apologize for your passion - stubborn optimism - taking on more than you can handle - hot tea - warm colors - getting up early - staying up late - bright fire, fast burnout - tacky thrift store finds worn with the utmost confidence - the thrill of starting a new project - spring storms - hotel rooms - perpetual restlessness

PENTACLES: the scent of rich soil after a rain - hard and diligent work - solid ground, strong foundations - the satisfaction of a long-awaited payoff - generosity that comes with a catch - work boots and heavy jeans - silk and jewels - resting on your laurels - seeing your work through to the end - harvest time - fresh bread and rich soup - earth tones - jewel tones - a lush garden - sunlight through the trees - dark chocolate - a home in the farmlands - a sprawling house in the old part of the city

SWORDS: the scent of fresh air - focusing on the intellectual at the expense of the emotional - freshly fallen snow - burying yourself in action - tending to your own wounds - a foreseeable disaster - crisply tailored suits - starkly elegant dresses - refusing to admit defeat - cold air, clear thoughts - old hurts - fresh starts - overthinking your overthinking - the harsh glow of street lamps - black coffee - a cabin in the mountains - an apartment downtown - the quiet before the dawn

tagged by: @kardiaerasti. @credits to @occasionalrpmemes

tagging: @wontgodowninhistory @wildcardwheeler @killaers and whoever else wants to !

#cindy has big high priestess energy #also the queen of wands #and the lovers #𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 / cindy.#♡ 𝖕𝖔𝖕𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖘— ( aesthetic )#♡ 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖘 — ( dash games )#headcanon.

5 notes · View notes

thecreaturecrossroads · 2 years

Text

Cairi

tagged by: @nykrose

tagging: @bastard-basket @distoretion @jiaolong-rp

#dash games #Cairi #About Cairi #Unicorn Witch #Unicorn

2 notes · View notes

playedbetter · 2 years

Note

7, 11, 22, 24, 34 for Azrael / JPV!

Meme | No longer accepting

Well Jean-Paul is pretty hard to lose in a crowd in the first place thanks to being 6'2, but if I were in that situation I'd start yelling for help. He's the sort that would be right over to offer what assistance he could.

As for his loved ones I think it depends a bit too much on which one is looking for him.

Trying to impersonate JP sounds like a good way to give oneself identity issues. But besides from that I think there would be a lot of clues outside of just questioning him or doing something to him. Seeing how he carries himself day to day, seeing the nuances in how clear and level head-dly he can respond to some issues while others leave him dissociative for the next half hour. How some of their prayers and the figures he prays to are not standard catholic idols and phrases but instead come from the Order. How he is trying to be kind to himself but can never seem to put himself first.

As for questions: asking about the Order of St. Dumas or about his father would probably trip up an imposter who'd likely lean too much into his anger over the topic without the love he has for their father and the doubt his has about the Order and their crimes; A member of the Order could also ask him about the secrets of the group and it's unlikely that an imposter would be able to have accessed them beforehand.

There'd also be the topic of how Azrael is talked about and if the imposter would know they were pretending to be two people, of course assuming the imposter even knows that JP has the Azrael mantle.

Romantic affection, mostly towards him, is the most common thing that frightens him to some extent. It's something he is trying to get better at dealing with as it's a response that was drilled into him by the Order. A fear of his own intimacy to keep him from finding support and to keep him from having unapproved of children.

Other than that he doesn't really like airplanes all that much. Like he can power through it, and other modes of air travel are fine, it's just being confined to such a small space with so many other people with no possible escape.

Jean-Paul didn't take any cookies from the cookie jar (at least none he wasn't supposed to), but if he had it would have been a snickerdoodle. He enjoys cinnamon.

With a hug, with checking how they've been and how they are currently doing. If they're at his home he'll offer food and drink. If they're out he'll offer to pay for their order. He greets them wanting them to know that he cares about them and is at their service.

If Jean-Paul is hard to lose, Azrael is impossible thanks to the fact that he pretty much only wears a bright red costume with a sword on his back. I'd be very troubled if he wasn't sticking out of the crowd. Plus he isn't exactly the most subtle person. But if I had to yell I'd be yelling something about needing an angel or something.

Same applies as with JP when it comes to loved ones.

Well for starters if the imposter was at all trying to maintain a non-vigilante life they'd run into all the stuff about pretending to be JP. Onto Azrael themself there would be clues in phrasing and in how passionate they were acting about the stuff he says about vengeance and retribution and all the angel stuff. Azrael takes it all very seriously to a degree that is hard to fake. Another trip up would be acting like Azrael is simply JP experiencing a delusion or hallucination of being an angel.

As for questions: Ask them about how he views himself, see if there is any hesitation in calling himself a weapon, a warrior sent by god, an angel with a duty to fulfill, anything but a human with a duty to themself. If there is, then that isn't Azrael; Members of the Order can also ask them about their secrets with relative confidence nobody else could know them.

Also just try handing them some tech and see how genuinely confused he is by it.

Dealing with any sort of costumer service, he doesn't understand it, or why it is so convoluted, or why he can't just blunt force his way through it. It's not like, a phobia or anything but they'll do whatever they can to get out of having to deal with it and it hits on his lack of social skills, which is something he is keenly aware of and hates to be reminded do actually have value. He likes to think they are unnecessary when he can.

Azrael got caught at freaking 2am stealing several shortbread cookies. They enjoy a good classical taste and like the texture, and as for why the theft, he has trouble understanding his own desires and has deep shame for anything he wants outside his assigned role.

With respect, a nod of acknowledgement, maybe even a short verbal greeting. He'll let them go on about what they've been doing, and listens intently. If they don't offer he won't ask though, instead inquiring about what's next. They aren't great with words, but through the attention he pays to those who he manages to care about, that love is clear.

#v1r4l #jean paul valley; meta & headcanons #azrael; meta & headcanons #long post #food tw #brainwashing tw #abuse tw #cults tw #religion tw

4 notes · View notes

soysaucevictim · 7 months

Text

"live by the sword and you die by the sword"

(There's a lot of violence and death in this fic, additional warnings on Ao3.)

[Prev / Start]

Chapter 2: “show your devotion, show me the pain”

Roman was sitting at the bar where the Dead Enders usually commiserated about their missions and other things. The owner was also plied by the Captain to keep everything said in there, within the group. Roman heard that the guy’s late wife was turned and then put out of her misery, by none other than the Captain herself.

The owner spoke nothing but the highest praise to her, in between fought-back tears.

There was an unspoken rule to save the tears for after The Fight was over. Conviction was a requirement drilled into Roman’s brain. Do not go soft, do not show vulnerability, you simply could not afford that.

Despite that, he still trembled at the look that runt in the hoodie gave him before he- the bar door chimed. Roman was determined to just drink whatever it was that Steve or someone else already ordered for him. He was trying very hard not to doubt himself, hoping the swill would quench his nerves. No one really talked about this part of the job – it was all for a higher cause. Zeal was the only thing that mattered.

Roman was busy trying to push it all down, until someone took the seat to the right of him. The first thing he noticed was the guy’s torn up, black skinny jeans. But the moment he saw what else the guy was wearing, the purple plaid patches were unmistakable, and Roman nearly jolted out of his seat.

The runt had his hoodie up and talked without turning to face Roman, nonchalant, “’Sup, I’m kinda new here. Name’s-.”

What came out was static.

Roman gulped, “I’m sorry I-I didn’t catch that, sir?”

The emo slowly turned toward Roman, nonchalance turned into terror, “Oh, it’s [more static noises]. Wh-what’s your name?“

When the zombie turned to face Roman straight on – it was missing over half its face, a cavity of ragged, dripping and clotted gore. Exactly where Roman shot it. Roman saw way too much and grew nauseous. He wanted to scream and he just couldn’t.

Where did all the Dead Enders go? Why was it suddenly dark? Why was he back in the alleyway?

Why did it hurt?

Roman woke up from the nightmare hyperventilating and queasy. His head was killing him and he felt sick. Getting up gave him a dizzy spell, disorienting him further. As he sat back down to stop the world from spinning, he heard Steve talk to him, “Didn’t know you were such a lightweight, Romano.”

Roman groaned, thinking, “Oh, right. Steve did take me drinking last night, didn’t he?”

Roman barely even remembered any of it – he didn’t want to admit weakness in why he agreed to get completely plastered. It was partly in celebration for his achievement and informal promotion, yes. It was partly just “social drinking”. It was mostly to forget. And that clearly failed.

The hangover was the cherry on top.

The Dead Enders would tell Roman that the feral, frenzied, decayed state to the zombies was an inevitability . So even in their early stages, never be fooled. They weren’t people anymore, they were just in denial and just lying to everyone otherwise. They had to be put out of their misery, the condition terminal.

It was surreal, looking at the trophy board as they called it. Just monsters, just bodies. Facsimiles that gave Roman a feeling of distance from what he was seeing. Props, body doubles, ballistic dummies. Things that don’t belong in caskets or remembered by gravestones. Easy to believe in the frozen snapshots after the deed was done.

He had seen the lot regale their records with so much pride, Roman craved that.

He had seen Steve and the others kill a few in his presence. He stuffed down any doubtful twangs with their infectious enthusiasm. Everything those monsters did before the buckshot to the head was a lie.

It was a lie. It was a lie. It was a lie.

Roman wanted some more hair of the dog, his lingering hangover doing a number on him. He stared at the photo with the purple patchwork hoodie pinned onto the hall of fame. Just a picture. A moment. A slice.

Roman was broken out of his stare when Steve gave him a hearty pat on a shoulder, nearly bowling him over from the force. “Romano, lookit that! Unbelievable!”

“Y-yeah. It really is, isn’t it?”

“This is the start of something great, man. I know you’re gonna make us all proud!”

That refilled some of Roman’s resolve. What he was doing wasn’t going to be meaningless. Unlike so much of his efforts until this moment.

---

Roman was in high school, a couple months proper into his senior year, when he was summoned out of the blue into his father’s lounge room.

Roman gulped, dreading what his father was going to tell him. He was already extremely tired and running on very little sleep. The night before, he burned the midnight oil rehearsing for a play. He did so while dealing with intense leftover soreness from football drills the night before that. He had a lot of homework that night to catch up on and felt the time to do that slide through his fingers.

“Roman. Care to tell me why the school administrator contacted me in the middle of a major business deal? About you, of all people?”

“I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Mr. Ortiz.”

“I heard about your extracurricular activities. You better not let that get in the way of your future.”

“I’m not going to quit the team! I-if that’s what you’re asking!”

“Then. What’s that about you joining the Drama Club?”

“I-uh…”

Rómulo sighed, before speaking with seething contempt, “If your coach says anything about you slacking off OR I see your grades slip. You WILL cut that useless shit out of your schedule, or else.”

It felt like the air was sucked out of the room, “O-of course, sir.”

His dad softened, “Good. I just don’t want you to turn out like. Well. You know.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!”

“I don’t expect any less of you, son.”

After that, Roman hurried to his own room and went immediately to his homework.

He wasn’t sure when he passed out that night, but he thanked God that he had a day off, when he woke up in the middle of the next evening. He was less grateful when the first face he saw was Remus.

Remus teased him, “You look like death, Robro.”

“Says someone who looked like he just crawled out of the grave.”

“Thanks! It’s what I was going for!”

Roman groaned, “Don’t you have anything better to do? I just realized I only got like a quarter of my shit done last night.”

Remus simply shrugged and left Roman alone after that. Roman didn’t want to look at him, not after what his father told him. He couldn’t afford the distraction.

---

It wasn’t much longer until Roman killed his second zombie. It had stumbled into an old well, somewhere in the outskirts of the city. Steve was the one who originally discovered it but wanted Roman to take it down. No strings attached, as long as Roman didn’t ask too many questions.

At least it looked like it was in its late stages. At least it attacked him first. At least it couldn’t talk.

Another picture. Another trophy. There was a space now on the Dead Ender board for Roman.

Roman badly wanted to obscure that purple hoodie more, not entirely sure why. The group held such pride in the Firsts and Steve prodded him about it, “Hey now, what’s there to be ashamed of?”

Steve pointed at his own cluster of hits, beaming with pride and started to ramble on about them to Roman. Roman’s mind kept wandering back to the hoodie and needing a drink.

He zoned back in to Steve pointed at one of the more humiliating pictures he took of one of those monsters. It was taken in some decrepit public bathroom, pictured huddled limply over a toilet. Its unrecognizably, gory pulp for a head swirling in the bowl. It was encouraged to get “creative” about it, too.

Roman felt kind of bad, just wanting Steve to shut up, “You want to go out for some booze again?”

It was often left unspoken, but that made things easier for the group. Frankly, Roman wasn’t so sure about that. A lot of it just reminded Roman about his brother and all the movies he was pressured into watching. The fact characters like Tallahassee reminded him of Remus, notwithstanding.

Steve chuckled, “Rain check. ‘Was actually here to tell you something. Captain wants to talk with you.”

Roman’s stomach dropped a little, he only just reported and pinned this trophy a day prior. “Th-thanks for the heads up, man.”

Steve simply shrugged and moved on to jabbering on to other members about his accomplishments.

---

When Roman had moved into Seattle, he was just hoping to make it a temporary step in his journey in making a name for himself on the stage.

He had his sights set on 5th Avenue.

He never got anywhere close, not when he was determined not to use his family’s status to get his foot in the door. Never mind the fact his father had no appreciation for the arts – something he had to be reminded of over and over and over again. Or that his mother was too busy with her own weird, vaguely pyramid-shaped, schemes – despite never being hard up on cash, as an heiress. He wanted to perform, not produce . He chose to go by Alejo, instead of Ortiz.

He was almost ready to pack up his bags and go for San Francisco or something, until he encountered a strange flier in one of the tinier community theater gigs he was working in at the time.

There were job postings and the like there – since most of the cast and crew still needed to afford food and rent. For many that Roman had worked with, the stage was only a side thing. There were a few torn off slips for it, by the time Roman noticed it.

It was talking about positions being open for one of the local gun ranges. Paid training was offered. It wasn’t particularly interesting until he read further. “There are monsters your government doesn’t want you to know about. Sign up with us to be on the bleeding edge of public defense!”

Roman had wondered about what they were talking about, so he pocketed a slip. Most of Roman just laughed about the word choice, “Monsters? Like what? Your garden variety murderers? Or- no. That’s silly.”

A tinier part of Roman was hopeful, thinking a bit more fancifully about it all. It could be something that mattered. He had to know what this threat actually was.

At first, it just seemed like an ordinary job. Roman learned about how to reset the field and various kinds of munitions and laws. It was boring, but he still had time to rehearse and mingle with that theater group’s cast and crew.

After a while, in hushed whispers, the owner of the range pulled Roman aside to finally tell him about the flier.

He was not expecting it to be actual zombies. He would not have believed them if not for all the photos, all the evidence they eventually shared with him and the other recruits. They didn’t hold back on shocking images – like there was one of those monsters tearing apart a- he scrambled to the trash with that one.

This wasn’t those silly make-believe stories of heroes, in his favorite Disney films or stage plays. This could very well be the real thing. Roman shored up the resolve to learn all he could from this group of protectors.

He just had to get used to the grisliness of it, that’s all.

---

The Captain started to look at Roman with a shine in her eyes that wasn’t there when he first joined up. It was subtle, but Roman felt like some tension, he wasn’t aware of holding, had eased up.

He craved it.

“I have another assignment for you.”

It had only been a few days since his second mark. He wished it was going to be another one like it, so much easier to complete when they didn’t look like- no, they’re not human . But that wasn’t going to be the case. The intel gathered was someone who looked almost completely ordinary.

He thought about that blood-soaked purple hoodie again. He barely caught the captain’s briefing details, but he did manage to get the gist without asking too many questions. Like a lot of the targets, the intel usually came from somebody who knew someone who knew the target before they were lost to humankind.

Jim knew some staff that worked at one of the more decrepit cinemas on the other side of the city. One of them only graduated high school a few months ago, and worked concessions. The kid got to know one of the janitors on the payroll. Said janitor had seemed out of it and more aggressive than usual, among other strange, new changes. The concessions kid was hesitant and unsure, rambling about watching too many zombie movies.

The Captain was wistful, “If only that kid knew what we are facing. I just told him we’d look into it. Maybe the kid was just spooked and it’s nothing. But maaaybe…”

Roman stood at attention, “He might be onto something. I’ll look into it, ma’am!”

The Captain smiled, “This report is as fresh as it gets, it’s absolutely critical to work quickly here. So, will you be there by the weekend? I will let the kid know you’re going to be there near closing hours.”

It was only a day’s notice. Roman gulped, he had a new script he promised to look at but- this was probably more important. “O-of course!”

“Good boy, that’s what I like to hear.”

Roman left feeling strange about that affirmation, but he thought better than to question it.

He didn’t want to fall out of her good graces.

That night, Roman was there a little earlier than he needed to be, but did get a chance to chat with the kid for a bit. The kid didn’t tell Roman much more than the Captain. He did hand off a staff key and pointed him toward Box 3.

It was in the middle of one of the last shows for some obscure and trippy splatter-punk movie involving vampires. It wasn’t really on Roman’s radar, let alone to his taste. The box was basically vacant and that made the sound system that much more obnoxiously loud. The place was supposed to be smoke-free, but he groaned when his nose was assaulted by a lingering scent of weed coming from the projector room.

He just had to wait until that janitor made those rounds and confront him. He drummed his partially opened gun carrier, anxiously hoping this was a false lead. He tried not to focus on the flickering screen, tried not to focus on the comical amounts of sex and violence and blood going on over there. Tried not to focus on how much it made him think of the purple hoodie or his-.

The door slowly opened up. Middle aged man with suspiciously white hair and a hazy look in his eyes, it took him a moment before registering that Roman was even there. “Who in the fuck are you?”

Roman smiled back, “Nobody important, I’m just an old friend of the tech guy. Wasn’t he supposed to be over here by now?”

There was a flash of something across this man’s features, “Y-Yeltsyn? He only just called in sick!”

“Sick, you say? With what?”

The janitor’s face twisted into a snarl, “Do I look like I know? Anyways. STOP. Avoiding. My. Questions.”

There, Roman noticed the zombie’s eyes flare unmistakably red a moment. “Looks like you just answered one of mine. Say, what used to be your natural hair color?”

“What’s your game, son?”

The zombie stalked closer as Roman grabbed the shotgun stock from the carrier, “Did you kill that Yeltsyn fellow, or something?”

The monster’s eyes became saucers and lunged for Roman with a surprising amount of ferocity. He felt something snag his jacket as he tried to free the gun and get out of the way. It was awkward trying to maneuver in such a tiny room, avoiding many close swipes at him. Eventually in that clumsy sort of dance Roman soon had the muzzle pointed at the monster’s face.

Like a flipped switch, the zombie looked at him, lost, “W-what’s fucking happening to me? I-I don’t-? D-did I-?”

Roman snorted, pretending not to be rattled by how much that expression made him think of his first one. “I suppose that’s my cue to put you out of your misery, zombie scum.”

“I’m a-? W-wait!”

BANG.

One moment, Roman summoned up a sort of zeal and bravado as he squeezed that trigger. The next, staring at the body in front of him, he suddenly felt boneless and like he couldn’t breath. Did he get scratched? He fumbled for the light switch and frantically looked himself over and over again.

Nothing. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He was glad the movie seemed to drown out the scuffle – since no one came rushing in to check. He made short work in capturing and reporting the matter, like before. Like before the Dead Enders had strings they could pull to make sure no one important would know of their activities.

Roman kept it short with the concessions kid and urged him not to look inside as they cleaned up the mess.

Roman needed another drink.

Roman continued pinning more trophies on the board, as the weeks passed by. He was bitterly relieved that they were starting to crowd out the hoodie.

At some point, he quit going to the theater group. It was a rotating door, anyways.

He felt like a machine, just doing what he was designed to do. He would never need to ask, “how many has it been since the start?”

He recently broke a dozen. Some were easier than others, but that was the nature of the work. He developed a habit of obsessively checking himself for injuries. He would get nightmares about being turned into one of those things; different zombies, occasionally wearing that blasted patchwork. It made getting enough sleep so much harder.

Steve had started to make a move on him, Roman didn’t know the guy swung that way. Steve did tell him to keep that quiet with the rest of the group, but he wasn’t complaining. It was another one of those things his parents pushed back on all the time, growing up, that was until his brother had gotten worse.

Drinking together and sharing a bed reminded him he was alive, and more importantly, human. It seemed like the feeling was mutual.

The only thing they really ever talked about was Dead Ender work. Steve would get snippy when asked about his history, even though he was the one sometimes mentioning a brother in extremely vague terms. That started happening after one of Roman’s hits, he wasn’t sure when or why. Roman supposed he couldn’t blame him, he never wanted to talk about his own.

Roman had assumed Remus was dead at that point, and it was easier to just not think about it.

Roman stopped complaining about the ashtray smell Steve would have no matter how many times he showered. Even if it reminded him of his dad.

One day, the Captain had assembled a number of the Dead Enders to address the state of their crusade.

She projected her voice loud and clear, “Our scouts have been gathering information on a particularly dangerous zombie. Its status confirmed – found feeding , on multiple occasions. Description: biker punk, wears a lot of green and black, often seen wielding a nail-bat…”

Roman had thought he noticed an increase in the ranks disappearing over the past few months. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen a zombie of that description, yet.

Steve muttered into Roman’s ear, “Scouts? More like pussies.”

Roman wasn’t sure how to respond to that, the Captain continued, “We believe this one to be protecting an abominable pipeline of the disgraced dead. One connected to Shady Plots, Meat Cute, and the Scratching Post. It may not be the mastermind behind the operation, but this creature should remind you ALL, what we’re fighting for. It has already eliminated so many of our dear compatriots, as it is.”

Roman piped up, “So the runt with the hoodie was-?”

The Captain nodded, “Yes. I’m putting out an APB on this thing. You WILL be guaranteed promotion and increased bounty, once it has been eliminated. Dismissed.”

Everyone nodded at that and scattered. The Captain, however, singled out Roman, “And you? You want to finish what you started, son?”

Roman gulped and nodded, “I won’t let you down!”

[Next]

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #iz!au #halloweenhorrorfest #spilled musing

0 notes