#if anyone has good resources send them my way! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelybrooke · 3 months

Text

Platonic Yandere Overlords x immortal reader

So in my au, this takes place during readers first trip to hell (aka part 2) so this isn't really a part 3. Also, I only went over the Overlords we know stuff about, so nothing about the ones we were only shown in passing, that's a little to difficult for. I don't know how good this is going to be, so I really hope you guys enjoy this.

Please keep sending in your ideas, I'm trying to get to them all but I've been busy with school.

masterlist

---

Vox always hated Alastor. He hated his pompous attitude, and the way he felt like he owned everything. He hated how he walked all over him, and most of all, how Alastor ignored him, couldn't even give him the time of day. It drove the demon insane. However, that wasn't why Vox was rilled up this time. Recently, Vox found you. A fucking kid, could you believe that? It was fucking hilarious, watching Alastor, the famed Radio Demon, dote over a fucking kid. When he told Val and Velvette, they couldn't believe it either. That was, until they saw it for themselves.

Right there, on one of Vox's many T.V. screens, was Alastor's arm wrapped around you, a strangely kind smile on his face. It was disgusting, watching at he patted your head with his free hand. When you removed yourself away from him, he could almost feel the mood change, Alastor's smile becoming dangerously thin and the scene filling with static. Alastor's smile was back to normal when he looked at the camera, but his eyes were filled with irritation, before finally the T.V. was cut out.

The room was silent, before being broken by a shocked scoff from Val. To think that Alastor's been fucking around for seven years only to come back with a random fucking kid. A kid who was too human to be in hell, all of them could tell that. But why though, they all wondered. Why does Alastor care so much, and why are you here? It has to have something to do with Alastor, right? If not, why does Alastor seem to care about you so much.

It was Velvette proposed they should tell the others, while Val believed they could use you against Alastor. Vox was torn, on one hand, he hated Alastor, and he knew he couldn't turn up ratting him out to the other Overlords. He wanted to watch the stupid smile drain from his face when he revealed his secret. But on the other hand, he knew it would be better to keep it a secret, to use ti against him when it's just right. So, in the end, he chose to keep Alastor's secret just a bit longer.

However, that doesn't mean that he, or the other Vee's, don't keep an eye on you. Just in case you have any notable interactions with Alastor, that's definitely the only reason. Vox tries to understand what Alastor sees in you, you're naive and skittish, not something useful to Alastor, or to anyone in Hell for that matter. So why does Vox feel so--weird about you? You're no-one, a sad little human who stumbled their way down to Hell, and who's gotten themselves mixed in with both the Princess and the Radio Demon. You couldn't be more unlucky. But for some reason, you're interesting. His need to know why you're here, to know why Alastor cares about you so much, slowly devolves into a weird obsession with you, and if it wasn't for the other Overlords slowly falling into their own obsession, he would've thought it was more weird.

Val's and Velvette's feelings for you are more...complicated. For the same reasons as Vox they start to grow obsessed with you. Val forces Angel to tell him everything he knows about you. He can never really tell what's a truth and what's a lie, and a part of him is aware that Angel has complicated feelings surrounding you, but choses not to acknowledge it. Velvette has a tougher time learning about you, since she doesn't have the resources like the others. Whenever she is with Vox, she'll watch in on you with him, making snarky commentary about who you're with and what you're wearing. She finds you cute, almost like a little doll she can project any personality onto. She's the most outwardly open about her obsession with you, she really has nothing to be embarrassed about, especially if the others are just as obsessed.

Alastor is more than aware that the Vee's are watching over you, and to say he's less then pleased about it wouldn't be a complete lie. He hates those three, and knowing they are watching his most favorite person fills his with rage. So, not to waste anyones time, he reveals you to the rest of the Overlords. To say that the Vee's were shocked was an understatement. The weeks of keeping watch on you were for nothing, not like they were planning on stopping though. Carmilla is the most upset, believing that Alastor is acting like a complete moron. You shouldn't be here, and Alastor shouldn't be interacting with you at all. Carmilla believes you are more trouble than you're worth. With the extermination coming up there's a chance the angels will learn about you. She reminds Alastor of this, but he doesn't seem to care much. Rosie finds this all hilarious, of course Alastor has found himself another little friend, so what if you're a little too alive and that Alastor's a little to possessive over you. From how Alastor describes you, you seem like a peach.

After the titular meeting, Carmilla also starts keeping an eye on you, mostly to make sure that you pose no threat and that you won't draw any attention to yourself during the extermination. She doesn't want Heaven to think they're up to something, definitely not because you're just a child, so similar to her own children, and couldn't live with herself if something happened with you. That's definitely not why she cares. Rosie, on the other hand, loves you. Whenever Alastor and her have their little hang outs, he always comes to her with a new story about you. It's just adorable, like a father gushing over their child. Alastor promises that he'll bring you over to a meeting the next chance he gets, and she just can't wait to meet you.

Overall, the Overlords don't want to admit how obsessed they are with you. Maybe it's your relation to Alastor that makes you so tempting, maybe it's just who you are. What's for sure is that you aren't going to know about them for a while, mostly because of your sudden disappearance. It was a shock to all of them, but the absolute rage that Alastor displayed because of it was proof that you weren't just a passing fascination for him. It was something deeper. And while they might not be as in as deep as Alastor, it won't take that long for them to be banding together to get you back.

---

A/n: Hope you enjoyed. Please keep sending in ideas, I love to see them.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel

1K notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 24 days

Text

THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

466 notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 1 year

Note

Hi Neil, I wanted to ask about giving feedback on a loved one's work.

My brother sent me a short story he'd written and asked for my comments as I did my BA in creative writing, have done some freelance articles for a website so he wanted my opinion, and writing persuasive copy is part of my job.

Unfortunately my opinion is that the story is bad.

I've written constructive feedback, found some helpful resources, asked two friends who don't know my brother to sense check my comments and to let me know if they thought any of them weren't fair or justified, and I even told my brother my feedback wasn't sugar coated and he still asked for it.

But I just can't bring myself to send any of it to him.

I love him so much, and he's already written a whole novel that he hopes to get published (I haven't read it yet, he's still making revisions) and I don't want to negatively impact his ambition, but it really is a bad story. One of my friends couldn't even bring themselves to finish reading it.

If you have any advice on how I can give this feedback to my brother, or tips for how to keep writing after constructive criticism, I'd really appreciate it!

Jane Yolen, who is very wise, once told me that she will ask anyone who wants her to read something and give her feedback what kind of feedback they want. Do they want encouragement? Do they want to feel good about themselves? Do they want the kind of un-sugar-coated serious critical response she would give if she were your professor, or reviewing it in a newspaper? Do they want to make what they have made better, or to feel more like someone who has brought something home from school for their parents to appreciate?

Because lots of people don't want to know what you think about it.

I am not like Jane. If I read a story from a friend and it is very bad, I will either lie about having read it (I will have run out of time), or I will try and be encouraging about something, if I can. But not in a way that then allows them to ask me to send it to my agent, or publisher or use what I said as a blurb.

1K notes · View notes

vroomvroomwee · 9 months

Text

I don't think enough people realise how incredible Aziraphale is.

He's always known how good and kind Crowley is. Even from the beginning. Now imagine being in his place, after meeting such a wonderful and sweet angel, and hearing that he's fallen, that he's evil and wicked. No wonder he was sceptical and on edge at the garden... except Crowley was still the same, chatty, witty, and funny angel he met before the beginning. Crowleys fall terrifies him because in his mind, if someone like that can get sent to Hell, then what hope is there for me?

So he learns just how thin the line is between being an angel and a demon, just how close he's cutting it, just how little it takes for him to fall as well.

In his eyes, Crowley's brilliant. He's resourceful, intelligent, capable, everything he wants to be. Everything he's told he should be. And it creates so much confusion in his mind. How can someone like that fall while I'm still here? And it doesn't help one single bit that he's falling in love with him.

Aziraphale isn't stupid. Despite what everyone says, he's very in tune with his emotions. So much so that Crowley fails to keep up with his logic and decision-making. He realises that he's falling in love with Crowley, and that causes panick in him. He's an angel. He's not supposed to fall for temptation.

So he has two options: try to prove to himself Crowley's good and therefore justify his own feelings, or to prove Crowley's evil, and that's why he fell. So... in a way, he does both.

Every time Crowley tries to convince him of his malice, Aziraphale proves him wrong, sees right through him. All the while constantly putting a wedge between them, of good and evil. "But, you, are fallen." "I'm good, you, are evil." Even though he knows deep down that's not the truth, which is precisely why he's saying it, he knows Crowley is good, just as he knows he himself isn't fully. And no one must ever find that out.

Not only is he keeping Crowley at a distance for his own safety, but also for Crowleys. Sacrificing both their happiness for each others safety. He knows precisely what Hell will do to him if they ever find out how kind he really is.

And it would be very very simple if he just stopped hanging out with Crowley, except... he can't. No matter how hard he tries he's always pulled back to him. And over time he's testing his limits, what can I do? Am I allowed to do this? Food? That's forbidden? The Arangement? etc.

And you can't really blame him for fearing Falling. Not just burning in boiling sulfur as each of his cells is being transformed in the most agonising way, but also having to spend eternity there as well as the humiliation and resentment he'll get from Heaven. "My lot don't send rude notes." he knows how horrible and terrifying it is down there, and he is all too aware how he won't be able to cope. Too weak, too mellow, too soft.

Crowleys kindness is constantly putting him on edge because he just can't understand why he's a demon. While angels like Gabriel and Michael, who always put him down, are apathetic towards humanity, are narcissistic and emotionless... are still up there. 6000 years he's spent wondering when his time will come. When he'll be pulled down to Hell.

He's so goddamn kind that it took him 6000 years to realise Heaven is not all that it should be. Kinder than Heaven could ever hope to be (and after the "stay back" from ep6 we can see how thay he is capable of being harsh and ruthless, which means he actively chooses to be kind, which makes him all the more extraordinary and astonishing for it). And I'm not even going to go into the strength it takes to manage to break out of the brainwashing that Heaven has done to him. Thousands of years of being humiliated, feeling worthless, not good enough, not angelic enough, not even appreciated. And despite all that feedback and ridicule, he's never given in, never relented, never let anyone modify or change him, has never lost his kindness, his softness, his generosity even after all that he's seen and been through. And that is so fucking incredible.

Validation and praise being at his fingertips, if only he could let go of his individuality, his uniqueness. Of himself. Thousands of years of it, and he has never surrendered to it. Never betrayed himself, kept his pride and his self-worth despite other people trying to rid him of it.

And he knows this. He's too clever not to. He knows just how thin the ice is he's standing on. Even at the beginning, which is not long after the Fall if I might point out, he's defying orders and keeping Adam and Eve safe, risking his own safety for the safety of others. And he still doesn't back down.

But he can't for the life of him keep away from Crowley. Because of how much love he has for him, how much affection. "He's risking his entire existence," and he'll do it again because that's who he is. (Not many people will put their lives on the line for the person that tried to annihilate them, completely destroy them in every plane of existence. Actually, no one ever will. Except him.)

He. Never. Backs. Down. Not from Armaggedon and not from the Second Coming.

It's not that he doesn't love Crowley enough, it's that he loves him too much. This is an angel so full of love that he's scattering himself, breaking himself, tearing himself apart, trying to give it to everyone. To Crowley, to humanity, to Earth. He's risking destruction for the things he loves. Both physically and emotionally. He would sacrifice his own happiness, his own future with Crowley just to save humanity. And he does it again and again and that is so fucking amazing, so fucking incredible that I don't believe such a selfless character exists in any other piece of media or television.

(Also, this is all mostly referring to his emotional strength, but let's not forget how he faced literal Satan and smote around 20 demons in just a matter of seconds.)

Edit: Just wanted to add what one of you pointed out in the comments.

Aziraphale realises that running away with Crowley isn't really a relaxing and peaceful life as Crowley thinks it is. Far away from humanity and it's pleasures that they both love and engage with, something that brought them close in the first place due to their shared love for it, and constantly on the run from Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale is doing this for Crowley, so that he can be happy, so that both of them can be together. Not only that but he offered Crowley his angel status back, since he thought that would make him happy again, since he hoped that he could one day see that same smile that Crowley had when they first met, that smile that he hasn't been able to bring back all these years.

Aziraphale is now in Heaven, the last place he wants to be, the place he barely escaped with his life from, a place that hates him, filled with angels that despise him and want to see him suffer or worse, and he's utterly and completely alone.

He's trying to save the entire universe alone.

Think about that for a little bit.

Edit 2: I think it's worth noting that Aziraphale isn't perfect. And that's the point. He doesn't need to be perfect. He's naive and gullible and sees the world in black and white. He still needs to learn, to grow, to deal with these things. Soon enough, he'll realise that despite all the hope he has that he could fix Heaven, it just can't be mended, something Crowley has learned a long time ago and desperately tries to shoe him. He'll realise the system is corrupt, and no matter how hard he tries, it won't change because it wasn't designed that way. And it just makes him all the more brilliant. He isn't perfect. He has flaws, and he makes mistakes. He's an angel, but he's the most human of them all. And he's incredible all the more for it.

#to cut it short he's one of the most amazing characters ever written #good omens #goodomens #goodomenss2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #aziracrow #good omens season 2 #goodomens2 #goodomensseason2 #good omens s2

276 notes · View notes

ultrainfinitepit · 12 days

Note

When you first started making pins, how did you advertise them? And vs now? I really want to get into making some of my own :]

That's a great question! There's lots of ways to advertise and I'll share what worked for me. But your mileage may vary or you might find ways that work better for you than they did for me.

Here are my first angel pins, by the way, it's been four years since I first started if you can believe it.

Here's what I did at the beginning that I still do now:

Build your following on social media and post about your pins. This is probably the most important thing to do, but also the hardest. Focus on a small number of social media profiles that you can manage comfortably, don't stretch yourself too thin as it is important to engage with your audience to build it. Each site has their own quirks as well. I can go into detail on my favorites and what I've observed for each if anyone is curious, just send a follow-up ask.

Run crowdfunding campaigns to fund your pins and then advertise to backers. Specifically start on Kickstarter if you are a beginner. While I am loving Backerkit it is a lesser-known site and it's harder to get discovered on it. I have gotten comments from artists who worry that they need to be popular before doing crowdfunding. However in my case it was my first campaign that built my audience the most. And in my opinion, it is never a waste of time to try out a campaign. If it fails you still have the artwork ready, you can gauge interest and see which designs are popular, and you will have a starter pool of people interested in your art that you can build off of.

Create a merch newsletter and share monthly updates. Since it is independent of social media it is a lower barrier to entry for customers interested in your art; and doesn't require them to check social media and happen to catch your posts. It takes some time to build a list but you can be assured everyone who signs up is invested in your merch.

There's quite a few things I did at the beginning to get started pin making and then advertise, that I don't do now. Mainly it is an issue of time. I used to spend hours and hours running around on all these sites, as well as reading over posts for research. Nowadays, social media and shop following are enough for me. But I would recommend the following for anyone looking to start out in pin making.

Things I used to do that I would recommend, but don't do much of now:

Join PMR on Facebook and post in their weekly share thread. "Pin Maker Resource" is the best place for beginner pin makers. It is a huge group of dedicated pin makers, all eager to answer questions and provide valuable insights into pin making. Most of all, it has those manufacturer reviews and names that everyone is always asking for! I have personally posted many reviews to this group. It is open for applications once a month. You have to apply because they specifically prohibit pin manufacturers from joining so people can post their reviews freely.

Post in Facebook groups. These communities can be large so your post may get lost in the crowd, but it will be seen by people specifically looking for pins. I like "Pin & Art Collector Marketplace" and "Pin Nation." "Enamel Pin Collectors, Artists, Trades and Kickstarters!" is decent but smaller.

Join a pin Discord server and share your designs in promotion channels. Many pin collectors such as myself join these servers to look for pins to buy. We are also in multiple servers and will crosspost if we like something. I have found these servers mainly by joining pin creators' Patreon clubs.

Post on Reddit. The communities are small but a guaranteed place to find people interested in pins. I like r/EnamelPins and r/pinprojects. If your pins are for a specific audience, you can post to relevant subreddits. For example, I have shared my work on angel art subreddits.

That's just about everything I can recall. I hope this is helpful, good luck on your pin journey!

#ask #pin making

62 notes · View notes

ourautumn86 · 1 year

Text

stray. pt.4

joel miller! x fem! reader

< previous chapter next chapter >

summary; after saving Joel and Ellie from the brink of death, you get caught with having to live with two more strays.., and you don't do strays.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡either ways, i hope y'all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

warnings; eventual +18 content! MINORS DONT INTERACT IN THE CHAPTERS WHERE IT IS IMPLIED IN THE WARNINGS and smut, mentions of death, possible deaths, blood, fighting, angst, fluff..

warnings for chapter 4; as always reader being a bad bitch, guns, blood, fighting, clickers, wounds, weapons, threats, torture, murder, deaths, s3xual @ssault (no r@pe) , mentions of r@pe, tension, arguing, cursing, anxiety, angst angst angst, loss, mourning, ptsd…

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

“You’re not going.”

“But why?!” Ellie whines, shaking her hands. Exasperated.

“ ‘Cause you’d get me killed, brat.” you were packing on Larry’s house. You had a mission on the nearest city, a dirty job, but a good job. “Have you forgotten that you’re the most wanted kid in the entire world right now?” you ask her and she closes her mouth on a thin line. “Right.”

You roll your eyes, getting your water bottles and food to put them inside.

“It’s too dangerous even for you, y/n.” Larry says, sighing, tired. You two had been arguing about it for hours now.

“Larry. I’ve already tell you. If I get that motor for Maria she has promised to send us weekly food and resources. That could really help us out here, even more after this season…” you repeat, over and over again. He knows it’s a good deal. A deal you cannot pass on.

“But those men…” he tries, he really tries, but you are stubborn.

“Those men are nothing. I can take them.” you respond, and he doesn’t seem happy.

“No. Joel is going with you.” you look at him with a horrified look in your face. “Will you go with her. Joel?”

“No.”

“Sure.”

You look at him and he simply shrugs.

“FEDRA will be there.” you point out.

“I can use a cap.” you scoff.

“As if a cap would help you.”

“Believe me, they probably won’t even notice me. They’re mostly looking for Ellie, not me.” you sigh and Larry smiles, content. You hate him.

“If you die I’m leaving you behind.” you warn him and he nods.

“I hoped you would.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Here.” Larry gives him a knife already sharpened and ready to cut. “You have a gun, am I right?” Joel nods and pats his back. “Okay. This mission needs to be quick. You get in there at night. Put them down slowly, no struggling and no shooting unless is necessary. We don’t want them to notice you’re there. You get the motor and you run, I’ll have Blair waiting for you with a car ready to get you back home, alright?”

“I still find it unfair. So he can go and I can’t?” Ellie whines and you give her a look that makes her cross her arms and huff, sitting back on Larry’s dinning table and taking a bite of his ham sandwich.

“Okay. I’m ready.” you say, hiding the last of your daggers on your ankles and wrists.

Joel takes his back and you two leave the house after having said your goodbyes. You had promised Lizzy to come back soon, in the mean time, she’ll have Ellie, since she’ll be staying with Larry.

You don’t talk to him, you hate it when people mess with your plans or things. You worked better off alone.

He followed you out of town and through the gates, the beep of the alarm on your backs letting you know it was newly locked.

Joel got on your left, and just tagged along. “We need to go up north a little bit and go right on the woods. Then we’ll get to the city. The most dangerous zone is a couple of km from here. There have been spotted various clickers.”

“Is there a way to avoid them?” he inquired.

“Sadly no. The safest way is right now completely occupied by a rebellion against FEDRA. They are really aggressive and don’t like outsiders.” you said.

“Tell me about it…” he muttered, remembering the first time Ellie and him were attacked while trying to get though one of those cities by car. “Well, it just means we’ll have to be more careful.”

“Just keep your eyes open and don’t stand on my way.”

He cocked his gun in a swift move.

“Copy that.”

“You got it?” you whispered, his arms extended and eyes focused on a stray infected on your way. You had walked around 2km and reached the dangerous and restricted zone. In a blink the infected was down. Shot straight to the head.

“I got it.”

Joel and you hadn’t talked much, only when necessary. It was normal. This silence in between the two of you. He didn’t know how to talk to you. You didn’t know either. Did you even want to?

He was a good fighter, not like you had suspected of their almost death the first time you had met him. He had a great stance, great aim. Maybe the fear of Ellie getting hurt had gotten the best of him. But that had been a mistake that could have cost him everything. Although you could understand.

“Let’s go.” he said, going to take a step forward, but before he could, you were dragging him backwards and in a quick movement pressing him against the wall. The building was cold and dark, creaks could be heard every now and then, and the paper of the walls was falling apart. Some bits stuck to his jacket. “What-“

You pressed a hand to his mouth, your eyes never meeting his but the door next to the both of you. Joel’s eyes did the same, and his chest got stuck in a new breath when he finally heard it. You were tightly pressed against him, trying to not be seen. The big heavy steps came closer, the sound of rotten flesh shifting with every thud. The bloater came into your point of view and you gritted your teeth.

Motherfuckers. You hated them. Every and each one of them. More than any type of infected. It had been a long time since you had seen one. A year to be exact. You knew it wasn’t the same bloater that had tore apart Laura. It couldn’t be. But you felt your blood rush, boil, the need to destroy him just like he had destroyed your most important person in the world.

But with that rage came too the fear. The panic. Your body froze, and your limbs shook. The images of that ominous day coming to your mind like flowing acid water that left you with a knot on your throat.

Joel placed a hand over yours when he felt them tense against his chest. You looked at him due to the recent touch, his eyes stare into yours. Soft brown and caramel touch. ‘Breathe’, you could read on them. ‘I’ll kill them. All of them.’ he could read on yours, your mind strong against your body, who seemed to be about to fall apart.

That silence again. A full out loud conversation made just with stares.

‘It’s not worth it.’ he shook his head, pointing out the obvious danger. Where a bloater goes a million clickers could appear.

You let go of his mouth when you could no longer hear it. It had gotten lost in the building once again, away from you. His hand was still on yours, his heartbeat bellow your palm. He was alive. He was here. You were not alone. This was not the past. Laura was dead. Joel was alive.

You got away from him as if he was burning and you were gasoline, about to combust.

He was alive. You were not alone.

That made your blood run cold, freeze in your veins and make you ache. Bitter and sweet, like lemonade on a fresh cut.

“Let’s go.” you said, and he looked at you, when you were about to walk away taking you from your hand and making you stop.

“Let’s go through the fire scape.” he pointed at the windows, where you could see the steps and stairs.

“It could fall apart. The erosion could have bitten it apart.” you said, and he pursed his lips, thinking.

“Could be. But if we continue we’ll meet the bloater again.” he argued and you rolled your eyes.

“Then we’ll kill it.” you said, and he gave you an stern look.

“It’s a suicide. We’re only two and with mere guns. We won’t be able to take it down.” you fight against his grip, as if you could prove a point, make him believe you were strong enough to take it alone. “y/n.” he said your name, and your body froze. “You’re still hurt. We can’t take the risk.” he said, and for once, you listened, ‘cause you muscles lost their tension and your skin softened under his touch. “Let’s try the fire scape.” you looked at him for what it seemed to be hours.

Follow me. Trust me. I’m here.

Your throat was aching to say fight more, stubborn as always. But you knew he was speaking the truth, and you had to take it even if it hurt your heart. Even if you couldn’t get your vengeance today.

“Fine. But if you fall it’s all your fault.” you said and he scoffed, letting you go as he walked towards the window that led to the fire scape and opened it. “You go first. I don’t have to die too for your stupidity.” you pointed out, crossing your arms over your chest.

“As you wish.” he shrugged and stepped outside, the fire scape not making even a sound. It was perfectly stable. “Told you so.” he smiled, cockily. You rolled your eyes.

“Shut up and move.” you said as you crossed the window to the other side and followed him.

The night quickly fell on your shoulders, and the city welcomed you with the remains of its busting energy. There were only a few people left on the streets, probably late workers getting ready to get home after an exhausting day.

You gave him a nod towards a hidden alley and he followed you with now his gun on hand. You managed to slowly open the door to the building where the motor was supposed to be stored, using a clip that has been seating on your hair. Joel was impressed, but again, this was a really hard world, and you learned things to adapt to it.

You slowly creaked open the door, gun looking right, then left. Clear.

Joel closed it behind his back when you waved your hand, stepping in. You cocked your head towards the right and started walking. The hallways were dark, dusty and old with multiple doors that you passed by as quickly and as carefully as you could, checking then one by one.

It was not long before you found the motor, after five minutes of searching room by room. It was in what it seemed to be an storage/meeting room, a really big one, with tables and a couple of sofas on the left. There were guns and bookcases and…

Next thing you knew, there was an arm around your neck. You choked, fighting the person that had attacked you. You heard Joel grunting at your back.

“Got him!” a male voice said, and you groaned as they dragged you further into the room, a girl snatched your gun away from you with a kick.

“Not as pretty as the one I’ve got.” the male at your back laughed, and your wrists were grabbed with his free and big hand, fingers digging on your skin and bruising it up. Your tries to kick him again were in vain, because in just a matter of seconds you were on the floor, his body pressing against you and making it hard to breath. The arm that surrounded your neck had retracted, his hand pushing your face against the floor. “Such a pretty little thing…” he smiled, and your heart jumped, a moan of pain leaving your lips when he tugged on your hair, bringing your face closer to him.

Joel was at your right, in the same position as you, fighting the buffer man on top of him.

“Don’t touch her!” he said, but he got kicked on the face by a blonde hair, breaking up his lip with her combat boot. Joel hissed and she laughed.

“You really thought it could be that easy? Get in here and walk right out?” she scoffed, taking a step closer to you and kneeling just the slightest to catch your face in between his fingers, fiercely digging her nails on your skin. “Who do you work for?” she asked, and you simply spat on her face, making her close her eyes and fall silent for a couple of seconds before she smirked, looking at you with malice in her eyes.

“Bob.” he simply said, and you had to watch as the man on top of Joel took his head and bashed it against the floor, making a breech open on his forehead.

“No!” you screamed, but you got silenced with a punch so strong that made your ears ring.

“Hey! Don’t touch her face! I want her all pretty for me later.” the man pinning you to the floor said, and the girl stood up, a golf stick now shinning brightly in between her hands.

“You bitch…” you said, and she smiled.

“Better watch what you say… Wouldn’t want your boyfriend here to pay for it, right?” she teased, and swung at his ribs, making his face contort in pain and a groan leave his lips. “Who. do. you. work. for?” she asks, Joel this time, and he doesn’t answer. “Fine.” she swung again, but this time he hit his head, blood pouring on his skin.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!!!!” you screamed at the guy pinning you down, fighting him off as she got Joel’s ribs, making him scream in pain. “Fuck!!!!!”

“I love the tough ones. Always the ones that cry the hardest on bed.” he said, and once again banged your head against the floor. “Should I make it quick?” he said, and Joel glared at him. “Maybe I could even do it right here, in front of your little friend. I bet he would love that, huh?” he said with a smirk, and you felt your skin crawl when his tongue met your neck, sucking there ‘till you hissed.

“I’ll fucking kill-“

Your eyes widened when Joel was cut off by another swing to the head.

You screamed when he slumped against the floor, blood dripping onto the floor from the wound on his forehead, which got bigger. “You’re gonna fucking die!” your gaze was strong, your words directed to the girl that now walked towards you with an amused smirk on her face. “Fucking bitch, I’m gonna-“

But you moaned in pain when she kicked you on your side, three times, making you curl on yourself and knocking the air out of your lungs.

“What did you say? You ‘want me to kill him’?” she mocked you, cocking her head, stepping back towards Joel.

“Finish him off, already, Jade. We’ve got things to do.” the brunette girl that had kicked your gun away and now stood guarding the door said, making the blonde roll her eyes.

“You’re always so fucking boring, Ray. You never let me have fun.” she pouted.

“Joel, wake up.” you said, fighting to get away, trying to make him come back to you and live. “ WAKE THE FUCK UP!” you screamed, your breathing ragged.

Your blood was rushing through your veins, burning you from the inside out. Your whole body trembled and shook.

“Yeah. That’s right. Watch the little rat die. I promise you will be right behind, pretty girl.” the boy on your back said, whispering and kissing your ear. You felt the urge to vomit. “But we’ll have a little bit of fun before though, what do you think, hm?” your eyes landed on the gun scattered just a couple inches away from you. “I promise I’ll be good to you…” he said, one of his hands now leaving your head and pulling aside the neck of your shirt to reveal more skin, his hips grinding against your ass.

Big fucking mistake.

“I won’t.” you spat and with a quick movement for your leg you rolled on yourself, hit his legs that straddled you. He lose balance, falling at your right. With a quick swift of your hand you had your dagger in hand the one that had been hiding on the ankles of your pant and that now you dug on the neck of the asshole that had been touching you just mere seconds ago.

He let out a scream that soon turned into a gurgling mess of blood and gasps that couldn’t fill his lungs.

“Axel!” Ray was quick to react, gun and hand and finger pulling the trigger to shoot at you, but you dodged it by rolling on the floor.

Her body was the next one to hit the floor, your dagger perfectly placed in between her two eyebrows. She was lying in a pool of her own blood by the time you got to your gun, but you groaned when one of the last two standing shoot at it and pushed it away from your reach.

You stood up as quickly as you could dodging multiple of missed bullets. You went straight to the guy, that had been pinning Joel to the floor and that now stood on his feet, your legs aching at the effort.

“Finish that rat off!” he screamed at his blonde friend as he recharged his gun. He groaned and struggled with you as you fought for his gun once once you’ve taken a hold on it —a little trick you had learned years ago— twisting it to dodge a new bullet. He almost had it, though you were quicker than him and, once your eyes had found it lying in the floor not far away from you, you took ahold on a bat with nails that you supposed they had used to beat the shit out of others like you. It was the divine intervention that you needed.

At this point blood was decorating your skin in little freckles. A painting of death and revenge in the hands of the wrong artist. You were still thirsty for it, you were on the hunt for more. You couldn’t see, only red and the ghost of his bodies. Rage was taking ahold on you. Mind was turning blank.

Your veins screamed for death.

The nails dug on the side of his face as you swung, his eyes rolling back as his jaw falling slack. You could see some of them sticking through his cheek and onto his mouth.

You were sure to have hit the brain once he had fallen on his knees as you pulled from it, brain matter decorating your shoes. You took his gun, and with a quick twist of your body, you shot the last girl standing —which was the one who had been beating Joel with a golf stick— on the stomach before she could give him the final blow.

“Fucking bitch!” she groaned in pain, hands falling to the bleeding hole on his body.

You shot her again, this time to both his legs, making her fall, the golf stick clinking onto the floor. You were going to shoot again, somewhere that would hurt but not kill her yet, but the gun had ran out of bullets. You clicked your tongue and threw it aside, making a dent on the wall at your right.

You almost felt the need to laugh when you saw her crawling her way to the emergency door in the room, away from you and Joel’s semi-unconscious body, who slowly came back to his senses.

Your steps were the only sound filling the room as you approached her, her heavy breathing and pants adding to the melody of an incoming death.

You were gonna bash her fucking skull in.

When you got to her, you kicked her hard on the stomach, winning new stains on your dusty jeans. Maybe you’d leave them. Maybe you’d grow fond of them. Let’s see how many more you’d get after you were done with her.

You were breathing hard, your chest heaving with every puff of air you could get, though no oxygen seemed to be enough for your body, for your dizzy and gone mind.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

The scream that she left when you kicked her once again could made anyone shiver, but not you.

I’ll kill them. All of them.

She was finally on her back, bleeding out on your feet. And if you were someone else, you would have felt mercy. But you were just you.

So you rose the bat and swung, blood splattering all over your face and clothes when you did it again, and again, and again…

Your arms hurt, your lungs burned, your body shook…

She was already dead. But it was not enough.

No. Not this time. This time I’ll be strong enough. This time I won’t be left alone. This time he won’t die. Joel won’t die. Not him. Not again. Not like Laura did. He won’t…

And suddenly you could breath, strong arms surrounding you from the back and stopping you with force. You fought back his grip, his hushing, his soft voice promising that you were okay. That he was okay.

He could see it in your eyes. That fear. The same fear that he had fought for decades. The same demons.

He had seen them take a hold on you while you fought, he had seen you lost yourself on the blood.

“It’s okay.” he muttered, and you hands let go of the bat, your eyes fixed on the corpse in front of you, completely unrecognizable, your crimson hands, your messy clothes… “y/n.” he called out your name and your eyes swelled with tears that you fought to not let show… Your palms burned due to the friction of the wood, blisters rising up on the skin.

His eyes found yours when he turned you around and away from the bodies that you had left behind, trying to get you to focus on him.

He too had been through this. Through this rage, through this mourning and need for blood.

“I’m here.” he said, and just in case, repeated his words, slower, softer. “I’m here.” you slowly let him bring you into his arms, your cheek pressed against his heart, where you made sure that it was true. He was here. He was okay. He was alive. You were not alone.

And Joel made as if he had not noticed the way your hands had clutched and fisted his shirt, tugging him closer.

The look that Blair has given you when you had taken the motor back to the car was…, well it was an understatement.

She tried to make your eyes meet hers, gaze digging holes on your body. But you were too gone to say something. Too deep inside your head to be able to speak. You were staring at the nothingness, at the blood on your hands.

You didn’t recall the way back to the town, nor how you had ended up on the back along with Joel, who silently looked at you and made sure you were okay. You had always been silent, but this time it was different. You were as still as a corpse, your eyes lost and hands trembling every now and then. He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what was the right thing to do, the right thing to bring you back to the present, ‘cause it was obvious you were caught in between it and the so painful past that you always avoided.

The doors made a beep that let the car in as they opened and closed shut behind it, securing you inside. You were back home. You were safe. But were you? Was the person on your left safe for you?

Joel’s face was a mess. Busted lip, a cut on his right cheek that had already stopped bleeding, swelling eye, bleeding forehead… He had cuts all over his arm, the same arms in which you had been in between just a mere hours ago. The same arms that had made sure to stop you from falling apart.

“What the hell happened?!!” Larry was quick to approach the two of you in the middle of the night, being drawn by the noise of the car, flashlight on hand. Ellie was right behind, fully awake. It seems that she hadn’t been able to sleep at all, not when you and Joel weren’t around, when she wasn’t ‘safe’.

Ellie froze when she looked at you, Larry with eyes shot open. You were bathed in blood, new deaths weighing your body.

You didn’t look at them.

Joel explained, explained that you and him had been caught with your guards down, that the mission had went wrong before you had fixed it. Before you had killed all that people…

Larry took your face between his hands and you looked at him. His eyes were concerned, his hands inspecting for new wounds, for danger. You were okay. It wasn’t your blood. Then, he hugged you. He hugged you so hard you almost couldn’t breath. You were like a ghost in between his arms. Lifeless, lost. You mind had too much to think about, your mouth too little to say.

Ellie didn’t move. She couldn’t. Didn’t know how to react, how to move or talk. She could breath when Larry had promised that you were okay, that everything was okay. But her hands were shaking, and a pang of pain crossed your chest in fear that it was because of you. Was she scared? Had you finally become the same monster that had killed your family…, your friends?

The apartment was too cold. So cold you were freezing under your sticky clothes. Larry had made sure the three of you were back inside, secured, still shaken up by the thought that he could have almost lost you, lost a daughter.

That was when you started to move. Your feet unable to stop.

You didn’t know where you were going until your hands were on the handle to Laura’s door, didn’t even realized you had finally opened it after a year of solitude —or ignoring it was even there— too fearful to try and step inside.

Ellie, Larry and Joel were looking at you. Frozen in place, unable to move or speak as you closed the door at your back and buried yourself on your best friend for the longest time after her death.

It smell so much like her it made your eyes water. Her paintings and sketches all over the walls. Polaroids decorating the empty spaces, photos pf the two of you when everything was perfect —as perfect as it could be in a world like this—. Books left unfinished where left at the feet of her bed, her night table still had her favorite one left open on her favorite page. Alice in wonderland.

Your heart plummeted with your body on her bed, on her unmade bed that felt like giving her a hug, like having her close. That smelled like the stupid citrus stupid shampoo he used for her curly hair…

Your hands tugged on one of her pillows, your body curling around it trying to find her. Trying to find her warmth, her own beating heart. But you only could feel your own, your own shattering one.

You were staining the sheets with blood. Destroying that already broken place that you had been to scared to walk into. But you couldn’t care less. ‘Cause maybe that’s what would make you finally clean them up and put them inside her wardrobe, which peeked open at your right. Maybe…, this new blood could make you move on, even if it hurt.

You closed your eyes, ignoring the stickiness of your body, the weight of your drenched clothes, and cried. Cried in the silence that she had left behind, cried in the fear that had caved in you today after years of fearless guts.

For the first time in a year you had been scared. Scared of this world. Scared of a new death. Scared of your heart breaking again.

taglist; ♡

@bubbles-for-all-of-us @hiphopdancer101universe @amethystwonders11 @mmeerraa @azxulaa @euovennia @twilightsbiggestfan @dabria14 @minaxcarter @lynndaline @frogjumps-world @cassiepascal @mdnigts @fudosl @batweildinglittlepysco @doodlebob-mp3 @boh3mian @saintmagx @scaredknight @ipadkidsworld @somebodytookmyusername @natalia42069 @cassrox @seninjakitey @maddsfilms @issybee0611 @corpsebridenightamare

pedro pascal’s masterlist

joel miller’s masterlist

638 notes · View notes

wisdomseeker02 · 1 year

Text

Masterlist; tip me

PAC: What do you have to live for?

For anyone feeling depressed or suicidal. I'm there with you. Let's see why your life is worth it. Let's hang in there together. 🫂❤️‍🩹

1,2

3,4,5

Group 1 🌅: Something is being given birth to here, group 1. I know it's hard, and painful, and it takes time, but that's how birth is. For some of you it might actually be that you are pregnant. This thing or human that is coming into this world is what you have to live for. There are some illusions here, some deceit. You might be feeling or thinking that things are worse than they actually are. You might be making up stuff that don't exist or think something is true, when it isn't. There might be some other people that are filling your head with these illusions. But at the right time, in the right moment, you will see that there is action you can take to improve things, to make things better. You will see that you have control, and that you are not powerless . You will know what to do and you will do it, and everything will get better from then on. Things will change for the better.

Group 2 🌅: What you have to live for is immuning yourself to your fears, going through difficulties and dealing with them, healing from them, so that you can later on help others do the same. You'll have the power to help others break the lies they've been telling themselves, that keep them feeling low. You might have to be the strength for a particular person, a person you love.

Group 3 🌅: You deserve to live because you are innocent. Nothing that you have been through, that has happened to you, that you've lost is your fault. What you have to live for is finding that innocent happiness of a child inside you again, that freedom of all the guilt you've been carrying. You might feel like you are missing something essential, that you've lost something essential, or that you don't have enough resources. But you can be happy like a child again, regardless of this lack. You will regain confidence in yourself, and in your life, in the fact that life is worth it. Your efforts will start paying off, and things will start working out for you. You will have a desire for life again. A desire to take action and make things happen. And things will start happening, and progressing fast for you. I'm so happy for you, hang in there!

Group 4 🌅: What you have to live for is the right moment, divine timing, that is gonna make things better. It's going to break the illusions that keep you feeling this way. And you are going to really be happy and have fun again. You're going to move on and leave behind things that no longer serve you. And you're going to move to a better place in your life. You're going to adjust to these changes.

Group 5 🌅: What you have to live for is realizing that you are a worthy human being, as worthy as anybody else. You are worthy of a good life, of love, of the things you want. And things will start moving forward. You will be expressing your sexuality, your passion more. You will move on and leave behind things or people that no longer serve you. You will follow your heart and act according to it. You may have a good romantic love into your life. And be the strength for your partner. But you're going to be strong on your own as well.

I'm willing to do this question as a free personal reading for some people, so send me an ask if you'd like one. 🤗

My store, i'd be grateful if you check it out: http://tee.pub/lic/Tr1Xvl1dxCo

#tarot #free tarot #wisdomseeker02 #pick a card #free tarot readings #tarotblr #mental health

382 notes · View notes

katsukiizmoon · 11 months

Text

Fanfiction Writing / Reading

Hi everyone, I wanted to make a little post on general fanfiction writing and reading etiquette etc for everyone. For reference I've been writing fanfiction since I was 12, I'm now nearing 23 and I've been on tumblr since 2013. There's links to resources for those that would like them.

-> GENERAL ADVICE

Color Coding Dialogue On Tumblr: While using color can create visual contrast in things like titles or description, using it to color code dialogue can cause problems for those who are neurodivergent or vision impaired. For instance, I have trouble reading things where the dialogue for one character is bright in color. This means I miss out and can't read and support many new writers.

Showing support for your writers: I don't think demanding reblogs is an appropriate response. However, as someone who has been here for a long time, it's important. You can show your support by commenting, liking, reblogging (and reblogging with tags gives brownie points). Generally : liking will be lost in a sea of likes over time making it harder for you to find that fic again but shows you thought it was good, reblogging shows you enjoyed the fic enough to share it with those on your blog (you can even have a side blog dedicated to fics) and would like to find it again, reblogging with tags or comments says that you enjoyed it enough to share it, push it higher in the tags and that you had thoughts. This helps motivate writers ! Feel free to send them an anonymous ask if you're shy, expressing that you really enjoyed their work.

Use of italics and bold in works: Italics and bold should be used to indicate stressing or importance of certain words. EX: "no you did it!" vs "no you did it" ! You don't need to italic entire dialogue unless it's in certain situations (flashbacks, memories, whispers, etc)

Plotting & Timing: Plot and timing can be a really useful tool! Understanding what your characters are doing and having the plot move smoothly is important when writing. It prevents gaps and promotes interest. Even some of my works move a little too fast, and it can sometimes cause confusion.

READ, READ, READ: Reading is probably the fastest way to increase and broaden your horizons as an author. It allows you to gain a larger vocabularic range and new metaphors. And it helps you find what could be plot holes and more.

SMUT ; Cum Timing: I've written this before, it can happen but it's unlikely. I'll make a whole post dedicated to.. smut. But for now. Here's some other scenarios and miscellaneous notes: -> bottom cums really early on, then the top cums later -> top cums extremely early on, proceeds with oral on bottom -> top can't get it up (this happens a bit with drugs involved) for a while and gives pleasure to bottom, then stops and gives up on an orgasm

Those are a few of my main, overall tips but I'm going to link you to a bunch of resources, too. I understand more than anyone what it's like being new to this. But one of the biggest pieces advice I'm going to give you is:

Allow your writing to be objectively "bad" at first. It always comes with practice. My first fanfictions I used "~" like it was a goddamn period. It's okay.

-> RESOURCES

"writing resources : words are hard"

"describing feelings, emotions, and tone"

"au prompt list"

"how to write medieval smut"

"starting a new paragraph"

"writing resources: world building"

"writing fight scenes"

"ways to further develop main characters"

There are tons of writing blogs on tumblr. You can send them an ask anonymously if you have any questions and they may respond with some good resources. Being a little more on the accurate side, even if you accidentally fuck up a bit, gives you brownie points a LOT.

Have a nice day OwO !

215 notes · View notes

lovelybrooke · 9 months

Note

I’m going to be really honest, I’m the one who mentioned death note and I wanted to send a request for awhile but I kinda chickened out. I gained the courage so I hope this reaches you. I’m aroace and you believe L to be aroace. I’d like to know if the relationship between the reader and L would be just friendships or something deeper or more personal like queer platonic partner (qpp). In other words I’m asking for a L with an aroace reader headcanon a (no pressure of course)

Platonic Yandere L Lawliet x Aroace reader

As someone who is asexual, I'm really happy agrees with me that L is Aroace. I am more than happy to write these headcanons. Also, sorry if you didn't want this to be yandere, but I think it's pretty soft for yandere headcanons.

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

I personally believe L has known he was Aroace since he was young. He's known sex and romantic relationships were not something for him, but I see him as someone who still desires platonic friendships. See how he is with Watari; someone he views as a parent. I think that if given the chance, L can and would want to develop a strong bond with someone.

There's a strong possibility that L figures out your Aroace before you even tell him, he's very smart like that. He catches on to it when you're asked if your dating, about your sexual experience, about if you ever plan on getting married. It doesn't take a genius to tell you're uncomfortable by these questions, and so it doesn't take much to put two and two together. He never asks you himself, instead he waits until you tell him yourself, incase what he was seeing was incorrect. I think from there your relationship would bloom slowly into something more.

I 100% believe that if you were to enter a queer platonic relationship with L, you wouldn't know about it. Not that he necessarily manipulates you into one, he just doesn't ask you because your relationship doesn't change. You were already very close to L; nothing really changes once you enter into a q.p.r. So, whether or not you consider him your "partner" is really up to you. L doesn't care what you call him as long as you're with him.

L has always cared about you deeply, but he shows that care through actions more than words. Of course, if someone asks him, he'll tell them that you're his deepest friend, but his actions express that way more than words ever could. He uses all his resources to keep you safe, makes sure you are in good health both mentally and physically, and overall does everything to insure your happiness.

L doesn't believe anyone understands him like you do, not just because you're Aroace, but because you're able to notice things about him that others don't. You can tell when he's hungry before he calls for Watari, handing him a piece of cake. You're the only person who can tell when he's joking around, not feeling afraid to laugh at his dry sense of humor. You share your interests in him, knowing that he's listening even if he doesn't say anything.

L doesn't feel the need to explain your guy's relationship to anyone. If someone asks if you're dating, he says no, just because you two were holding hands, going on dates, sitting close together doesn't mean you're dating. If someone asks who you are to him, he says that you're his dearest companion. He doesn't care what other people think about your relationship, what he cares about is you.

L doesn't really get jealous, especially with a reader who is Aroace. He knows there is no likelihood you're leaving him to be in a relationship, so he never feels challenged by people trying to take you from him. In fact, he doesn't really do anything about it. He doesn't want to dignify the person with a reaction, knowing you're mature enough to tell them you're not interested.

However, he is possessive. If you live with him, he makes you stay home on days when he knows he's going to come across someone who is going to take up all your time. If you are with him at work, he makes you stay near him he can keep an eye on you. If you call him out on is possessive behavior, he'll say it's nothing more than him keeping you safe, whether or not that's a lie is hard to tell.

Speaking of moving in together, I can definitely image you two having separate rooms. He'd thinks it's important to have lives and interest separate from each other, and I personally don't see him ever being close enough with someone to share a bed with them. Though, even if you do have separate rooms, he spends most of his time in yours, even taking his work to your room just so he can be with you. He doesn't view himself as clingy, but his actions betray him.

L doesn't exactly know what that future looks like for him and you. For so long, marriage has been pushed on to the both of you as the ultimate end goal, so once L is done with the Kira case (in this he doesn't die), he fears that you'd leave him, and he'd be alone once again. But he's comforted by the fact that you don't plan on leaving him any time soon. Your relationship might not be conventional, but it's one he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #death note fanfiction #death note x reader #yandere death note #l lawliet x reader #l lawiet #yandere l lawliet

256 notes · View notes

lectercunt · 5 months

Note

more omega Hannibal fic list please 💗

Thanks for the request! Below are my Omega!Hannibal fic recommendations. Read responsibly and mind the tags!

The only fic ranked on this list is the first—stink in the nostrils by murdertrout. It is my favorite fic of all time, period, and just happens to be Omega!Hannibal. The last fic on the list is mine. Enjoy <3

stink in the nostrils

Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear

Fromage AU. When Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

prime

He bares his teeth in a smile that makes Will answer in kind. "I'll find you," he says; a threatening promise of his own. Will grins, and purrs for him in a way that makes Hannibal ache all over again. "Good," he replies. "I want you to."

feral

“Will,” Jack Crawford growls down the line, “Tell me Hannibal Lecter never confided in you that he was an Omega.” “Oh, shit.” “Oh, shit,” Jack agrees. They’ve come a long way from the old days, where Omegas in heat would slaughter anyone who stood between them and their chosen Alpha. Where Omegas would fight each other to the death in order to claim their prize, and some Alphas died of rut exhaustion or from injuries sustained from a too-eager Omega. Now, Omegas temper their heats with stabilizing pills and Alphas have a say in who they breed. But there would have been no stabilizing pills provided to an incarcerated Beta.

asserting dominance (dead dove!)

Hannibal has spent years of imprisonment without Will properly acknowledging their mating bond. When Hannibal sends the Dragon to kill Molly and Walter, he finally provokes Will into action: to remedy his jealous behavior by inducing his heat, and putting him in his place.

top dog, lost kitten

Hannibal, an omega catboy belonging to a rich family, finds himself drawn to a stray alpha dogboy by the name of Will. When Hannibal wanders the streets during his heat, he gets unwanted attention. As he had hoped, Will is there to look out for him.

soaked through

Season 3 AU, where Will shows his face and instead of receiving pain, Hannibal receives everything he's ever wanted.

we don't need to heal

Tired of wasting resources dealing with a horrific Omega criminal who is definitely not insane, the BSHCI and the FBI decide that the best course of action is to have him mated to an Alpha who can keep him under control. Find an Alpha for the job, and Hannibal Lecter can be out of their hands for good. Will Graham enters the BSCHI, believing himself to have been selected to interview the notorious killer about a cold case that has recently been attributed to him. What he finds instead will change their lives forever, and leave him wracked with guilt. Hannibal, on the other hand, could not be more satisfied with how things panned out for them both.

distraction

Hannibal smiles, purring softly, and leans down to nuzzle Will's forehead. "You needn't be so distressed, darling," he murmurs. There is blood on Will's neck, and his cut palm smears more fresh up his mate's bare forearm. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, so he can give Will all of his scent. Hannibal licks the smear of his own slick on Will's cheek, his purr for a moment growing louder. "When have I ever denied you?"

tables turned (dead dove!)

When Will turns a gun on him, Hannibal goes into heat. Will decides to toy with him before giving him what he wants.

an unexpected guest

Ten-year-old Henry Lecter’s sitter just bailed, leaving him alone to watch over his younger siblings. And that would have been fine, had a man from the FBI not chosen that precise moment to show up at their door. or Will and Hannibal got a little too close in Naka-Choko, resulting in a surprise pregnancy. Rather than having the bloody canon break-up, they took their new family, including Abigail, and skipped off to Europe for their happily ever after. Enter Jack, tracking them down almost eleven years later in the quaint Italian countryside, with only young Henry there to protect the family.

stronger than memory (dead dove!)

"Your real name can't possibly be Schatje." "It's the only real thing you need to know, Will." “Fine, at least tell me what it means.” It wasn’t a question nor a request, but a statement. "It means little treasure." “And are you, then? A little treasure?”

cover to cover (the mark of a lover)

Will and Hannibal are both Omegas. After Tobias' death, Will takes Hannibal home. Hannibal comes to the realization that, if the world will not give him the Alpha he so desires... he will create one.

time reversed

Hannibal and Will traverse an unexpected intimate development.

black in the moonlight

With his upcoming dinner with Hannibal and Jack hanging heavy on his mind, Will is drawn to Hannibal's house in the middle of the night. What he finds there affects him—for better or worse, it's hard to say.

trick me twice

Hannibal and Will are leaders of allied gangs, and were friends at one point - until Hannibal almost killed Will and sent him to prison. Now he needs Will's pack, his numbers, to stop his own pack being overrun. Will might never trust him again, but there's no reason they cannot keep things professional. At least, that's what Hannibal tells himself, as he enters the BSHCI to ask for Will's help.

a rare bouquet

Will finds himself drawn in by the darkness at Hannibal’s core—something only fully revealed in heat when the violent deaths of his alpha suitors can be legally excused. When Will witnesses the aftermath of one of those murders first hand, he feels compelled to begin a courtship, wanting to see everything that lies beneath the surface. But what he seeks is not tame, and it will take more than flowers to earn its respect.

into the wild

Alpha Will stumbles upon a feral Omega in Lithuanian forests. Too fascinated to leave him be, he follows him, not knowing what awaits him.

genesis

The fish of Hannibal's trust is a spritely and skittish thing, but Will is patient. He can follow the bubbles in the water and the shining slip of scales within the currents. He can fashion beautiful lures, both mental and physical, to please and soften his mate.

brouillé

Unthinkingly, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out the top shirt, holding it to his face and breathing in. No bleach, only the faintest trace of salt sweat, and none of the bitter fear he had expected. Instead, what Hannibal inhales is the pure, unsuppressed scent of alpha. That’s all it takes. One. Deep. Breath.

use your words

“Don’t worry, darling,” Hannibal says softly. “I know just what you need. You’re here for a reason—because you need a Daddy to guide you. So let go of your preoccupation with control and let me take care of you.”

series: other people's hearts

Truck driver Will suddenly finds himself with an armful of bloody omega named Hannibal, far too young and pretty to be hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere, and to Will's horror… fast approaching heat.

on the grounds where we feel safe

"Single Omega household seeking a primary caretaker for high-school aged female. Must own vehicle for chauffeuring, errands, and other duties as necessary. Room and board provided, and a stipend for necessities available for negotiation. Must have open availability and be willing to submit to a background check and drug test. Immediate start." Then a name, and a phone number. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

it takes two to nest

When Hannibal hears a commotion down the hall at the hospital, naturally he goes to investigate. When he finds out that the omega patient, a Mr. Will Graham, is struggling so hard that the doctors are having difficulties handling him, naturally he is intrigued. And when he finds out that the on-call OBGYN has been delayed, naturally he steps in to deliver Will's baby himself. Dr. Hannibal Lecter can do anything, after all. Including deliver someone else's baby while minutes away from going into labor himself.

sweet tooth

He has prepared for this, of course. No self-respecting Omega of his stature and skill would deign to let themselves be taken by surprise. Although, again, he has not expected his final heat to approach for some time, it is one of those occurrences people prepare for like Doomsday. He has plans, and bags packed, and knows what he will need to do, to make sure he makes it through the ordeal with minimal discomfort. The first step will be to hunt, to stock his fridge and his stores so he will not go hungry. The second step will be to find a suitable companion.

slow like honey

Hannibal’s childbearing years are behind him, but Will manages to send him into his first heat in years. Will offers to help him out—it’s the least he can do.

duty calls

Tonight, Will is hungry.

#lectercunt #lectercunt fanfic rec #lectercunt fic rec #ask #asks #anon #hannigram #hannigram fanfic #hannigram fanfiction #hannigram fic #hannigram fic rec #hannigram fanfic rec #omega hannibal #alpha will graham

106 notes · View notes