#metal bat layouts

[daidai]

metal bat (ಠ_ಠ)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

☆﹟ like/rb if u save

#metal bat #one punch man #one punch man metal bat #metal bat icons #metal bat layouts #kinzoku batto #one punch man icons #one punch man layouts #saitama #genos #twitter layouts #anime layouts #manga icons #anime #layouts messy #anime boy

[juuuulez]

📰 | prologue, part two: capulet.

info: No Carl Grimes (sorry!), takes place after farm/before prison era, awkward father Negan my love!, reader is 13 in this.

summary: Both you and Negan struggle to navigate your new relationship.

HELLO!! thank you all for the nice messages about Capulet! this is another backstory chapter, but is actually soooooooo cute :,) it’ll provide more context for the readers choices in the next chapter, so don’t skip it!

next chapter will focus around the narrow end of the war, and what this means for the carl/reader relationship……aka shit is going down!

-> masterlist <-

It had been a few weeks since Lucille died.

Now it was just you, and Negan. For the small while you’d stayed at their house, you cherished the feminine presence, something you’ve never experienced in your own household. Your mother had died when you were little, delivering your sister, who passed weeks later an infant.

But Lucille was nice to you. Even if you were skittish, and spoke back whenever Negan tried to make you read a textbook, and took any chance to go outside and playfully harass the undead.

She had a lot of books, you originally noted. One night, upon noticing your attention towards them, she’d offered to read to you. So you picked one out, and nestled in the chair beside her bed, allowing Lucille to read you to sleep.

Romeo and Juliet.

You thought the dialect was beautiful, and held such a tragic story, one moreso than your own. It was comforting, in a way. That, and the Shakespearean language flowed from Lucille’s tongue so easily, it was mesmerising.

Not that it mattered anymore.

You stood outside while Negan crowbarred the door open, snow falling at your feet. It was an early winter morning, and Negan had insisted you find a new place to stay, somewhere with thicker walls and better heating. A fireplace was your top priority, right now.

The door finally creaks open, but you stay put obediently as Negan goes to inspect it for any dead. You’d found the routine stupid at first, but now knew better than to aggravate him about these things.

He was hanging by a thread as it is, and if something were to happen to you? There’d be no recovering.

Finally, he gave you permission to enter, trudging into the house quickly to escape the biting winds. In your hand was that metal baseball bat, clutched tightly. You’d been taking it everywhere. Every time you looked at it, you remembered what you’d done to your father.

It made you feel powerful.

Which was probably concerning for many reasons, but you didn’t care.

Negan searches the house for any supplies, noting the two bedroom layout. The living room, surprisingly, contains a small fireplace, and a kitchen attached. You scour the cupboards, finding not much else than a few cans of soup, pulling them down for later.

Curiously, you turn to the gas stovetop, pushing the knob down as it clicks. One, two, three, and suddenly it starts hissing. The revelation overshadows the potent smell reaching your nostrils.

“It’s got gas!” You yell out, a victorious little grin on your face as you turn it off. At least tonight you’d eat hot food, which was a relief in itself.

Negan comes into view, finally resting your bags down on the floor. This means you’ll stay here tonight. Thank god, you mentally sigh.

“Gas line must still be connected. Probably got heating, too.” He comments, searching through the cupboards once more as you pull yourself to sit on the counter. “Front door was barred, so they probably left out the back. Hoard must’ve come through the town.”

Your legs swing slightly, clad in denim jeans, though they don’t exactly do much to combat the cold.

“It’s a nice neighbourhood. We should go raid the other houses.” You suggest, mind already working at a fast pace, despite having just found somewhere to settle down.

Negan picks up on this, his brows furrowed, head shaking dismissively. “Hold your horses, kid. One step at a time.”

It makes you frown, knowing that he doesn’t take you seriously enough, like an equal. Though, you suppose that’s fair, given you’re a child. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of keeping your shit together.

Fortunately enough, this souring mood is disturbed as Negan abruptly turns around, a small purple tin in hand, and a stupid grin on his face. “How ‘bout this?” He holds it out, towards you.

You take it tentatively, a small smile coming to your lips. It’s powdered hot chocolate. Not something you’ve had during the apocalypse… or much before it, either.

“Pretty cool, I guess.” You admit, and despite any attempts to seem less enticed by the childish find, your expression gives it away. Definitely more than pretty cool.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Negan tries to find little things for you to be happy about. Things kids like. It seems, most of the time, that your attitude is anything but childish. He’d like to try and preserve that for as long as possible.

That, and it was a good distraction from the grief. Gave him something to pour his energy into, lest it fade completely.

So, the pair of you shared a dinner of canned soup, warmed up, and in actual bowls with cutlery. The nearby fire illuminated the area, warming the small kitchen whilst winter raged on outside. Snow had begun falling, and you internally wondered how the dead would hold up against the cold. Did it affect them? Maybe, maybe not. It wasn’t for you to know.

After dinner, Negan boiled some water over the stovetop, pouring it into two mugs with a healthy scoop of the chocolate powder. Milk was a luxury, now. Even if you somehow found some on the shelves, specifically the long-life kind, there was nowhere to keep it cooled.

But this tasted perfect as was. You sat on a stool at the kitchen bench, feet unable to touch the ground. All that walking was beginning to take its toll on your feet, so you were grateful for the break. Yet, that wasn’t an excuse to slow down.

“I really think we should check those other houses.” You prompt once more, trying to steer back into the conversation that had been shut down an hour ago.

Negan appears curious to your insistence, but not in the mood to entertain it. “Not we. I’ll go out in the morning, poke around. You can sleep in.”

Your brow furrows, a look of irritation filling your features despite the kind offer. “I’m not a toddler. I don’t need to lounge around while you’re collecting shit for us. I can pull my weight.”

“No, but you’re thirteen. You don’t need to pull your weight,” He explains sternly, “Just stay here, be a kid. Go play ball, or something.”

This irritates you to no end. However, Negan doesn’t know how sensitive you really are. Your whole life, you’d been forced to grow up, and now those tools were beginning to come in handy. Yet you were forced to act an age you outgrew years ago.

You huffed, slipping from the stool and padding down the hallway, refusing to entertain this conversation. Okay, maybe that was a little childish, to storm off. But you couldn’t help it.

So far, Negan had been nice to you, and you didn’t want him to realise how bringing you along was a mistake. That you couldn’t get along with adults, because it always felt like they were out to get you. You didn’t want to repeat this cycle with him. So, you shut him out for the night.

You even left your half-drunk hot chocolate on the bench. It was only after you’d firmly shut the bedroom door, that you realised, and were too prideful to go back and retrieve it.

“What the fuck..” Negan mumbled to himself, not understanding what he’d said wrong. He knew better than to chase after you for answers, instead letting it simmer, hoping you’d sleep it off.

Since leaving the house, you’d slept in all sorts of makeshift shelters. So having your own bedroom was weird. The wind was audible from inside, trees scraping against the windows, their branches whipping back and forth. You tried to block it out, but found that to be difficult.

You’d like to read your book.

But it was still out there, in your bag of supplies, which was left on the living room floor. Maybe this was the consequences of leaving in a huff. You told yourself that you didn’t need it: you weren’t a child, you didn’t need a bedtime story. Besides, you’d already read the play thousands of times.

It reminded you of that short period you’d been happy. Sure, the dead rising was pretty rough, but you had a safe place to stay, companionship, and were treated with a motherly kindness, something you’ve never experienced. It was more than just a book, for it reminded you of Lucille, when she’d read to you.

This room was the opposite of that memory. It was cold, it was dark, and it was lonely. What if something were to happen, and you were cooped up in here?

What if Negan decided you weren’t worth the trouble? An ungrateful brat that couldn’t communicate, couldn’t regulate her feelings, and thought everyone was against her.

Suddenly struck with the image of him leaving, of taking the chance to continue on his own, you rose from bed. Fuck that. You weren’t being left behind.

You pushed the door open, peeking into the hallway. It was dark in the house, but much warmer out there, the sensation growing the closer you got to the lounge, where the fire was still going.

The two mugs still sat on the kitchen bench, causing some guilt to ebb in your stomach, feeling bad for being so childish.

The other door, opposite yours, was still open. The room was dark, the bed empty. So you passed it, continuing into the living room, where you suspected Negan was.

You were right.

“What’re you still doing up?” He asked, having heard your footsteps coming down the hallway. It irritates you that he was so perceptive, but knew lashing out again would be unfair.

So, you shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” It’s a mumbled answer, still mentally distancing yourself, yet you come over to sit on the couch.

He’s seated on the floor, near the fire, trying to stoke it back to life. With no response, you feel antsy, like you should be explaining yourself, like you owe him an answer. A reason for everything. That no movement, no word, no action is allowed without justification.

“It’s just, that, bein’ down there feels weird,” You whisper, sounding unsure of yourself, “Like, in the back of the house… thought I’d sleep out here, instead.”

Negan gives a small nod, acknowledging your words, yet provides no argument against it. You wished he would argue.

To cement your point, you shift so you’re lying on the couch, knees brought up to your chest. In truth, it is much warmer out here, and significantly less closed off than the bedroom. It will work as an adequate resting space.

Then, Negan stands, moving out of your line of sight. You frown, wondering if you’ve done it, pushed him away. Some evil, dirty voice in the back of your head applauded you: yes, you don’t need him.

You weren’t awarded too much time to wallow, as soon the footsteps are returning, and a thick blanket from one of the bedrooms is placed over you. A frown fills your features, but nonetheless accept it, finding it much warmer.

The couch dips at your feet, Negan sitting down, remaining silent for the time being.

Truth is, he was still trying to figure you out. It was hard. He knew that you weren’t right, that he couldn’t handle you like any other child, but was determined to figure out what made you tick.

He tried to think about those few moments you had been happy. When your soured mood faded, and you actually smiled, not worrying about the undead.

“Want me to read to you?” Negan asked, sounding nervous. It was almost amusing. Almost.

You rolled your eyes, burrowing further into the blanket. “I know how to read.”

It was a snappy reply, laced with irritation. But Negan knew not to stop there. So he leaned down, fishing through the small bag on the floor, until he found it. A hardcover copy of Romeo and Juliet. It was Lucille’s, though he never remembered getting it for her, and assumed she must have bought it herself.

Flicking the pages open, he found where you’d tabbed the worn paper. He’d never read a script before, hesitating for a moment before reading aloud, sounding equally confused and awkward.

“I am.. a-weary, give me leave awhile,” He read in a monotone voice, “Fie.. how my bones ache. What a.. what a jaunt have I had..”

“You’re doing it wrong,” You immediately correct him, sitting up on the couch to deliver an unamused glare. “It’s not supposed to sound like that.”

“Who talks like this?” Negan rolls his eyes, but nonetheless continues reading. “I would.. thou hadst my bones, and I thy… c’mon, these aren’t even words.”

You try not to smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but it proves increasingly difficult. You lean over, taking the book from his hands, biting back a grin as you position it in your lap.

“Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.” You read off the page, in a much softer voice, trying to mimic the tone of the conversation.

Negan looks over your shoulder, visibly confused. You tilt it towards him slightly, pointing at the next line.

“Here, you can read for the nurse.” You suggest, only half serious.

That much is obvious, as Negan rolls his eyes, “Y’know what, you’re right, you do know how to read.” He scoffs, though he feints annoyance, he tries not to make the subtle victory known. That he managed to cheer you up.

You smile, laying back down on the couch, book propped up in front of your face. You resume a less tense position, letting your legs stretch a little, to which Negan manoeuvres your ankles so they rest over his lap.

He knows there will be many more days in the future where this happens. When something sets you off, or you get snappy, or you act out. But it’s not a terrible thing, as it means you’re alive and well. He’d like to keep it that way.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, anyway. Negan decides not to disrupt you, letting you stay on the couch, but he does carefully take the book and close it.

The next morning, you’d scavenge the remaining houses together. You’d continue your travels, together, until inevitably, your little group of two would grow into an army of many.

Even then, you were still a pair.

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

[heracrosshero]

Infiltration

Massacre Girl waited for the cover of night. She had borrowed a flying mount from a contact of hers in the Simic. It was some unholy hybrid of bat, lemur, and manta ray named Fuzzy. Fuzzy and Massacre Girl glided through the cold city air towards the Parhelion II. Angels and Sky knights gracefully circled around on patrol. However, Massacre Girl easily guided her mount to descend quickly through a blind spot. Fuzzy's wings folded inward as they came to a stop in a small overhang in the flying fortress's structure. Hidden under the towering steel, Massacre Girl dismounted andpatted Fuzzy on the head. Telling them to stay put, Massacre Girl began to tread carefully towards a metal hatch on the wall nearby.

The hatch was much too tightly sealed for her to pull open herself, but she could neatly use a vial of acid to melt through its hinges. Then, all Massacre Girl had to do was wait patiently until the acid had done its work, and then lift the hatch door up and gently lay it down on the deck. Inside of the Parhelion II, Massacre Girl found rows and rows of barracks down seemingly endless halls. The interior was made mostly of spotless marble floors and metal beams crossing the ceilings and walls. Most of the Boros Legionnaires aboard the Parhelion II were asleep by now, and so the magical hall lights were only dimly pulsating. Massacre Girl's jagged teeth reflected this soft light as she smiled mischievously. The first stage of her adventure was over.

There were a few possible objectives Massacre Girl could accomplish while on board the Parhelion II. She could go down to the prison sector and free the prisoners there to sow chaos, she could kill a few higher ranking legionnaires to sow fear, or she could just wander around until something else caught her fancy. Plan C was the only option available to her at the moment, as she had no idea what the layout of this gargantuan war machine was. Whatever actions she took tonight, they had to be over and done with before sunrise, or else her chances of escape would drop like a stone. Therefore, Massacre Girl jogged down the halls, her feet making no noise even on the hard stone floors. She hastily glanced at the labels of rooms and stairways, looking for any hints as to where she was, but to no luck. Every map and plaque was marked by numbers and letters that didn't mean anything to Massacre Girl. Grunting in frustration, Massacre Girl pushed open the door of a stairwell and slid down the rails to descend to the next floor down. She had landed near the upper levels of the Parhelion II. If it was anything like a normal Boros building, the more secure areas would be in the center of the complex.

After twisting around corner after corner until her ankles began to ache and her eyes were straining, Massacre Girl finally rounded to face a grand door blocked by an iron portcullis. Two human legionnaire guards marched in lockstep back and forth, but had not yet noticed her. Now this room had some potential. All it took was a brief moment of distraction for Massacre Girl to strike her victims with a set of darts laced with a paralyzing toxin. It wasn't potent enough to do any lasting damage to a grown human, sadly. However, it worked to instantly render both guards inert and unconscious on the ground. This allowed Massacre Girl to casually stroll up to the door, whistling a happy tune. A lever next to the door stood out, and Massacre Girl used both her hands to haul down on the lever in order to raise the portcullis. It made a dangerous amount of noise, but whoever worked or lived in this room clearly was important enough to have this whole floor to themselves, because Massacre Girl hadn't seen any other rooms nearby. Once the spearlike rods of the portcullis were set tight above the arch of the door, Massacre Girl twisted the doorknob and gently swung open the door. The lights were all off inside, but Massacre Girl could tell it was a living quarters. To her side was a small closet mostly filled with greaves, mail, and other armor pieces. Further inside of this space was an entry parlor with a few pieces of wooden furniture and a small kitchen next to it. With her assassin's heightened senses, Massacre Girl could tell that there was a person just around the corner, but there was no threat or danger in the air. Asleep, Massacre Girl concluded.

Taking out a set of fresh daggers, she tiptoed her way past the closet and the chairs and the kitchen. A wooden door, much less decorative and far less fortified than the previous, stood slightly ajar. It looked relatively well kept, if plain, so Massacre Girl hoped it did not creak. Biting her lip in anticipation, she raised a hand and softly pushed against the door with her fingertips.

With no windows or lights, the room was so pitch-dark that even Massacre Girl needed a moment to adjust her eyes. A large, rectangular bed was the centerpiece of the room. In the inky blackness, she could still see the pattern of the Boros Legion covering the bedsheets. Underneath those sheets was a person, fast asleep. They slept on their stomach, with one hand hanging limply off the bed, grazing the cold marble floor underneath. Their long hair spread out in all directions like an octopus's tentacles, completely enveloping their face and upper back. The resting figure wore simple linen pajamas with no ornamentation. What Massacre Girl noticed most was a sword in its scabbard resting on the edge of the bed, and a pair of feathery wings hugging their owner like another blanket, rising and falling with her even breaths. This was Aurelia the Warleader's bedchamber.

#magic the gathering #mtg #mtg spoilers #murders at karlov manor #massacre girl #aurelia #Fanfiction

[delimeful]

in sickness and in health (5)

warnings: violence, murder attempt, non-graphic injury, PTSD, panic

-

Virgil yawned, rubbing tiredly at his eyes for the fourth time that hour.

It was late enough that even the twins had grown bored with trying to interpret the garbled readings from their strange machines, now lying sprawled across the carpet and bickering quietly over what to watch next.

Usually, the adrenaline of being out in the open would have kept him awake and alert no matter how late it was, especially when his erratic sleeping schedule was factored in, but tonight apparently just wasn’t his night. For some reason, he was drooping with exhaustion after barely a couple of hours. His eyelids felt heavy and sticky, and he struggled to pry them back open after each blink.

At this rate, he’d fall asleep before the humans did, and he wasn’t dumb enough to believe that he’d make it out unscathed if any one of them noticed the limp body of a miniature person passed out on the counter.

That settled it. He was going home, his paranoia about mysterious spy gadgets be damned.

He lifted his head from where he’d been pressing his forehead blearily against the cardboard of the shoebox in front of him, and felt the abrupt pressure of cool metal along the side of his neck.

“Well, well, well,” a low, borrower-sized voice murmured from close behind him. “It looks like this house wasn’t as unoccupied as we thought.”

Suddenly, Virgil felt very, very awake.

He tried to slowly turn his head, get a look at his assailant, but the metal– thin diameter, no edge, probably a sharpened needle or pin– pressed down firmer in a silent threat.

“Now, now, we certainly don’t want any trouble. So long as you cooperate, there’s no reason for anyone to get hurt.” The voice hardened slightly. “Disarm yourself, slowly.”

Virgil’s fists clenched, but at this distance, all the other borrower would have to do was pull back slightly and stab, and he’d be done for.

He carefully lifted his hands to the strap across his chest, lifting it over his head and setting his bag down beside him with care. His belt followed suit, both of his weapons still sheathed in it.

With each movement, his dread grew. Raiding a house like this, threatening other occupants right off the bat, that condescending, superior tone– it wasn’t typical borrower behavior. Not at all.

“Very good,” the voice crooned, “now let’s continue our chat back in the walls, shall we? It will take us a while to get familiar with the layout, but I’m sure you know the way.”

The pressure against his neck lightened slightly, and Virgil got to his feet and allowed himself to be maneuvered so that he was facing towards the kitchen, and by extension, the entrance he’d built there behind the toaster.

His thoughts were racing nearly as fast as his heart, his steps slightly unsteady as he unwillingly led the way across the countertops. Clearly, they didn’t want the confrontation happening out here, where a human could notice any lingering evidence of a fight. Raising suspicions was the last thing any borrower wanted to do, let alone a potential Monoxide member.

Obviously, then, he couldn’t let himself be shuffled into the walls, where his captor could spill his blood as they pleased without worry.

Virgil took a too-large step, the resulting stagger only half-faked, and the moment the needle wavered away for a moment to prevent accidentally stabbing him, he ducked and twisted under it, scurrying backwards to put space between him and his attacker while also getting a good look at them.

They were surprisingly short, with heavy burn scarring along one side of their face, and dressed in a style of clothing that seemed to mimic human formal wear. The sleeves of their white shirt were rolled up, and Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyes immediately flitted to the back of their forearms.

Nothing. One arm also had those same burn scars, but there wasn’t a trace of tattoo ink in sight.

He started to inhale a little deeper, the beginnings of a sigh of relief– and then nearly choked on that breath the moment his gaze caught on the other borrower’s neck.

The mark was simpler, more stylized than his own, but the two circles linked by a thick straight line were unmistakable. A visual representation of carbon monoxide, rumored to be ripped directly from a human textbook by the group’s founder, along with the real meaning behind the name: a silent, invisible killer.

“Oh?” The borrower’s lips curled into an unsurprised smirk. “See something you recognize?”

Virgil mentally cursed himself for staring so blatantly. He’d spent most of his childhood with his parents or their extended family, had associated that symbol with the back of the forearm, where he himself saw it every time he rolled his sleeves up. Like an idiot, he’d forgotten that the location of the mark varied, depending on which colony or bloodline one was from.

He’d always thought that if anyone was going to track down and punish a deserter like him, it’d be someone who’d already known him. His family, or someone from the colony they hailed from.

His mistake for assuming.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, just barely curbing the outright hatred in his tone. “You’re not welcome here.”

The other borrower jerked, just the slightest amount, their calculating eyes narrowing.

“Oh? Are you going to throw us out?” A considering pause. “Or perhaps there’s another Monoxide borrower here, and the victims of this home are already spoken for? After all, the only claim our organization respects is that of a fellow member.”

There was something testing in the way their gaze swept over both the humans and Virgil on the word ‘victims’, a double-edged meaningfulness that Virgil couldn’t quite parse.

He couldn’t waste any time trying to puzzle it out. His mind had already latched onto a new opportunity, one that the stranger had unwittingly dropped right into his lap.

“There are no other borrowers here,” he said firmly, straightening his shoulders and ignoring the nervous sweat prickling along his sides. “But this house is claimed nonetheless.”

He shoved his sleeve up in one harsh motion, displaying the mark that he swore he’d never affiliate himself with again.

To keep human-killers out of Patton’s home, he’d do a lot worse.

—

Janus barely managed to keep the hateful triumph off his face, staring down at the symbol of the cult that had made his life a living hell for so long.

For a moment there, faced with the wide, panicked eyes of a stranger, he’d doubted his judgment. He’d worried that this wasn’t a cruel and sadistic killer, but an unwilling accomplice pressed into service, perhaps even the one who’d tried to save Patton.

He couldn’t afford to drop the act, couldn’t let a misplaced sense of empathy drag his guard down when it was him and Logan both at risk.

Instead, he set up a trap, and the cultist fell for it without hesitation.

They’d offered up the proof that would seal their fate with laughably misplaced confidence, their chin raising up, shifting to that familiar arrogant posture that Monoxiders wore like a second skin.

Janus’s hand twitched with the urge to stab forward, again and again until there wasn’t even a ghost of a chance that the assassin before him could hurt anyone ever again.

Patience, patience. He’d gotten this far with relative ease, there was no point in taking any needless risks by engaging in direct combat. Not when backstabbing would serve him much better.

“What a surprise!” he exclaimed, raising his eyebrows dramatically. “I do apologize for my hastiness, I would never have threatened you if I’d known.”

The cultist grunted and shoved their sleeve down roughly, face still set in a stony mask. “Easy mistake. Now, I have a schedule to keep, so–,”

“Oh, come now,” Janus cut in, gesturing airily with the needle, “don’t be so hasty! You simply must show me what you’re using on your human, it’s been ages since I’ve run into a different branch and I’m exceedingly curious about how our poisons vary. You do have a garden, don’t you?”

A strange stiffness ran through the cultist for a moment, before they nodded jerkily. “Naturally. And it’s humans. All of them are under claim.”

The cold rush that swept through him was equal parts terror and rage. One night, and the serial murderer already had designs on the twins. Janus didn’t want to imagine what could have happened if he and Logan hadn’t put the pieces together in time.

“How… ambitious!” Janus smiled sharply to conceal the way he was forcing every word through clenched teeth. “I’m even more intrigued to see what you have in store for them. By all means, lead the way!”

He gestured to the entrance he’d left open, just barely visible from this angle, and the cultist’s face pinched for a moment before settling back into a frown.

“Sure. After I go grab my stuff.”

They began retracing their path across the countertop, and Janus felt his composure begin to fracture. He wasn’t willing to allow them to reclaim their weaponry, even if it meant stabbing them out in the open. A few blood stains here and there weren't out of place in a house Remus was in, anyways.

He kept his steps light and casual as he approached the cultist from behind, lining his strike up, hefting the needle back, and–

The moment he jabbed forward, the cultist threw themself to the side, twisting around quicker than Janus could follow and lunging with teeth bared.

The tackle took them both down, Janus’s head smacking against the marble counter hard enough that sharp pin pricks of white blinked in and out of his vision.

“I knew it,” the cultist snarled, taking advantage of the close quarters to grab Janus’s wrists and pin them down. The needle clattered free of his grip against his will, and Janus felt a rising surge of mindless panic threaten to overwhelm him entirely. "How many others? How did you find me?”

“As if it was hard. I saw the signs, the trail of evidence you left behind,” Janus snapped with a glare, ignoring the pain radiating through his skull and the way his eyesight blurred more with every blink. “You cultists all think you’re so clever, but your tricks are always the same.”

“What–?” their grip loosened slightly, and Janus managed to yank a hand free and swing it sloppily at the cultist’s face. Miraculously, the punch landed.

The cultist recoiled with a choked-off yelp, giving him just enough space to draw his legs up and kick viciously, driving them further back with surprising effectiveness.

“Wait, stop–,” they started, swerving away from Janus’s next strike. “What did you just–?”

“I’ll kill you,” Janus hissed, trying to find the silver glint of his needle as he scrambled unsteadily to his feet. “Whatever sick, twisted game you had in store for the humans, it ends now.”

His vision had to be getting worse; the cultist almost looked as though they were holding their hands up defensively, trying to back away.

“Hold on, so you– you’re not actually a member?” The voice sounded off-balance, unsteady. Kind of like the vertigo currently building up in Janus’s skull. “You said– Were we both pretending–?”

“I’m never going back,” Janus said, cutting off whatever inane nonsense the cultist was spouting. Each word felt clumsy in his mouth. “You don’t– don’t get to take anything else from me, ever. Not Logan, not the twins, not even Patton. I’ll kill you first. I’ll die first.”

He might be dying already, going by how horrible his head felt.

“Listen to me, okay, I’m not actually one of them,” the cultist was skirting around Janus like a circling hawk, flitting out of reach every time he managed to gain any ground. “I mean, okay, technically I was, but I left. I deserted.”

“Liar,” Janus accused. “You poisoned Patton!”

“Shhh! No I didn’t!” The cultist glanced over their shoulder, worry creasing their face. “Look, I promise I’m not going to hurt anyone, this was all just one big misunderstanding. Can we save this argument for when you’re a little less concussed?”

“I’m not concussed,” Janus informed them, completely truthfully and with no slurring to his words whatsoever. “I’m going to stab you to death.”

Wait, where had he put his needle?

“This is what I get for trying to be nice,” the cultist was muttering to themself. “This is the karmic retribution of not simply minding my business like usual.”

Admittedly, at the moment, they sounded a little too pathetic to be a Monoxide member. But that could be exactly what they wanted him to think!

Janus shook his head stubbornly (earning himself another jolt of agony) and then paused as he noticed a dull, rhythmic thumping, the kind that was heavy enough that it was more of a vibration than a sound.

The cultist went completely still for a heartbeat, and then there was a tense hand locked around his wrist.

“Run.”

Janus didn’t argue or try to pull away, a burst of adrenaline urging him onward as a long-ingrained reflex informed his pain-addled brain that this noise meant danger.

Despite his best efforts, it was far harder than usual to keep himself steady as he ran, his path wavering and occasionally bumping directly into the side of the cultist next to him.

Within moments, the wall entrance was within view, only a short sprint away–

A bright light flickered into existence above them, fluorescent bulbs humming audibly, and Janus couldn’t help but cry out as the pain in his head spiked to an unbearable intensity, his eyes squeezing shut automatically.

“Woah!” A nasally, too-large voice gasped.

“Move, move, movemovemove,” a much smaller voice demanded, accompanied by a string of muttered curses, yanking Janus back upright and pushing him until he stumbled blindly forward.

Another dozen harried steps, the sound of far too large movements growing far too close, and then firm pressure shoving against his back with enough force to propel him almost off his feet, right into the blessed relief of darkness.

Even between painful, narrow-eyed blinks, Janus could tell he was back within the protection of the walls, the air cooler and more tightly circulated amidst the narrow nooks and crannies. Heady relief swept through him; They’d made it.

“Gotcha!” A tangibly human voice crowed from alarmingly close.

They’d made it, hadn’t they?

There were no longer fingers wrapped around Janus’s wrist. Dread sank into him like a stone plummeting into a river. He reached out hopelessly, finding only empty air at his side, unable to block out the curious, awestruck exclamations of the nearby human.

He was the only one in the wall, despite the fact that the other borrower should have been able to outstrip him with ease.

There had been two hands against his back, pushing him clear at the last moment, when they had no reason at all to defend him.

It didn’t make any sense.

Janus buried his fingers in his hair, his head full of pain and misery and confusion alike. If he could just think for a moment, just remember what they’d said while he was half-delirious with pain…

Through the still-open entrance, Janus could see Remus peering down at his cupped hands with open fascination. His stomach twisted with nausea and guilt alike.

He’d set out to send a stranger to their death, and that’s exactly what he’d done.

Whether they’d deserved it or not.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus #isaih #in sickness and in health #my writing #writing

[thegreencanary]

Feelings?

Based on this request!

Paring: Eddie Munson x gn! Reader

Summary: You and Eddie both have feelings for each other and you need to talk about it with some friends; but Vecna gets in the way.

A/N: This is my first piece back after a huge depressive episode. Be kind; but constructive criticism is always appreciated! This is my work and I don’t give anyone permission to use it for any reason. Please don’t claim it for yourself.

TW: Talk about the bats incident. Not too graphic but it’s still there. Eddie almost dying. Just be mindful going in. Mental health first babes!!

Hawkins, Indiana. A town that to the outside world, and most of its own population; was painstakingly normal. A small group of kids and a few adults saw it in a different light though; and slowly that small circle grew. That’s how you ended up here, in a twisted version of the town you’d only moved to 6 months prior. Mentally you smacked yourself for not making ‘normal’ friends; but you really did like the group. The murderous creatures in the Upside Down you didn’t like nearly as much. Thankfully, this should be the last run through the demon layout; and you walked quietly with Nancy and Robin, preparing for the final assault on Vecna.

“Do…you think he feels that way about me?”

Nancy chuckled and Robin made a “duh” noise. The three of you had been talking about your best friend, Eddie Munson. You’d asked the two why he’d gotten so…weird around you. Granted, being accused of murder can put someone on edge so you wanted to be sure you weren’t overthinking. Robin brought up Eddie maybe having a crush and you hadn’t ever entertained the idea; but it made you smile. You had fallen for him a few months ago and it just got worse and worse and worse as you delved into DND and spent more time with him.

“Dude, he’s definitely in to you. “ Robin smiled. She knew you liked him.

“…maybe we will talk when this is all over.” You smiled back and Nancy sighed as you all reached the trailer.

“Good. But for now, we meet up with everyone and then finish this for good.”

—————————————————

“Wait is THAT what that means???”

Eddie groaned and ran his hands through his curly hair. Steve chuckled and let out a sad sigh.

“Yeah man. You’ve got it bad for them. I know the feeling.”

The metal head glanced at pretty boy Harrington. He’d felt bad for the former king of Hawkins high. Steve cared about everyone in the group so much, including you, and he just watched everyone his age pair up. Steve didn’t have feelings for you; but it was another of his friends who was going to couple up.

Eddie mumbled something to himself.

“What was that?” Harrington asked him to clarify.

“I…don’t really have crushes on people, or at least people who know I exist. I… what do I do? How do I ask them out or tell them that I’ve been in love with them since the first DND session? Usually I just like someone from a distance and wait until the feelings go away.”

“Just be honest with them man. I think they feel the same way dude…but we have bigger fish to fry right now.”

The trailer came into view. Both guys could see the three of you go inside. They were the last to arrive. It was time.

—————————————————

“No. No. No. No. No.”

Hot tears streamed down your face as you sprinted toward the mass of bats that descended on your favorite person.

“Eddie!!!”

You screamed out. Firing your gun and swinging your shield around you pushed though the bats, forcing your body to get to Eddie; but the moment you got there El had finished Vecna. The upside down began to crumble. Eddie was choking on his blood as you collapsed at his side.

“Eddie. You did it. You saved us. You gotta stay with me. Come on babe. Stay with me.”

Eddie smiled up at you, his beaten face seemed to relax.

“Babe. I- like w-when you c-c-call me that.”

He coughed and started to close his eyes. This wasn’t going to happen on your watch. Ignoring the pain in your legs and body, you dragged him to the trailer. Dustin was freaking out but you calmed him down enough to make a pulley system. You were getting Eddie to a hospital, he wasn’t going to die on you.

“Eddy, babe, stay with me. We’re almost there. I need you to stay with me. You…you can’t leave me.”

Fresh tears began to flow as Billy raced you to the hospital. He was quiet, and you said a quiet thank you. He knew what Eddie was going through, he’d been in Eddie’s shoes a few months ago; and he made it out. Eddie will too.

“You’re gonna make it.”

You kissed his slowly greying forehead.

—————————————————

Three months. Three months of daily hospital visits, horrible cafeteria food and sleepless nights. Three months of crying, waking nightmares and your friends not being able to comfort you because everyone was waiting to know if Eddie Munson was alive or dead.

Three months that felt like three years, but it was all worth it when you heard him take a breath.

“Eddie!!”

Jumping up from the couch in the corner, your dropped the DND dungeon master book and ran to his side.

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

He coarsely coughed out. You pressed the button for a nurse 1,000 times.

“I’m here Eddie. I’m here.”

“God you look like an angel.”

You chuckled through tears, there was no doubt your skin was pale from lack of food and sleep. The red puffy part under your eyes was getting more and more irritated by the day; but he still thought you looked good.

“You should be talking. You look like God himself.”

“Herself.” He smirked. His hand reached up to your face as he just took in what was going on.

“I’m Alive?���

You nodded and closed your eyes, leaning into his hand.

“Dustin and I got you out. Billy got us to the hospital pretty fast. It was touch and go for three months, but you woke up. You’re here. You’re safe.”

He was quiet for a while. You had to leave while the nurses and doctors came in to asses him. Pacing outside you had called everyone from the front desk to let them know what was going on. Finally, the doctor came up and told you everything. He was going to have major scarring, and he’d need physically therapy but he would live. You had permission to go back in, and you told him everyone would be there shortly.

“Before they come in, I want to tell you something.”

You got a little uneasy, but you didn’t know what tomorrow would hold. Gathering your courage, you spoke.

“I…like you. Like, more than a friend. I wasn’t going to say anything but…I thought I lost you. I just wanted you to know. I…can’t keep going without you knowing.”

Eddie mustered a small blush. He smiled and took your hand in his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You want to?” You coyly asked.

“Of course, Y/N. I was going to tell you I fell for you too…but bats.”

“Damn bats.” You chuckled softly. Leaning in, the kiss was sublime. Not gross or aggressive, but warm. It was interrupted by Dustin clapping.

He was going to be okay, and you’d be there the whole time to help him.

That’s all! This one is a little short and a little less descriptive than normal. I’m trying to get back into the flow. I might open up to different fandoms here soon. Thank you all. Sending love!!

#eddie x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie my beloved #eddie munson #eddie survives #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x gn!reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[vqlisms]

(deep sigh) time to analyse the side order trailer

anyways i have something i want to bring up beforehand that will very much affect the story we are presented. 1: side order was the original concept for the hero campaign we’d have been given if team order won finalfest. 2: there were sides planned depending on if team chaos or order won from the beginning, and we would’ve gotten different stories for each. i’d bring up splat1 finalfest, but it had a very different layout all things considering (it was /only/ to decide the hero campaign story, which was decently cookie cutter to make which squid sister goes missing easy to change with just minor rewrites depending on who won finalfest). splatoon 2–>3 took that much more serious because it actually gave us game concepts to debate between whereas splat1’s was likely just the devs wanting a dramatic finalfest before realising it’d be cool to tie-into the story of splatoon 2. either way, i’ll be exploring both options and their potential implications on the story separately

a key part of splatoon is audio. that’s music, sfx, background chatter, the works. right off the bat, the reddish orange webbing across the screen when it blacks out and the rhythm makes me think heartbeat. that and the piano and white scenery screams hospital to me. i don’t think we’re playing in a hospital, the signs looked more like buried shopping centers, so maybe a repurposed mall? that would make sense with the shot of an elevator, but the high windows and panelled walls are throwing me off a bit, because those look part of the original building. Also, toward the end, i swear to god i started hearing a new song fade in. i don’t think it was the squid sisters and it was super quiet compared to the piano and stuff but i swear i heard voices

okay artwork artwork artwork. first painted shot is an elevator/gate/metal doorway next to a high-set window with something dripping from the corner. the walls are plated with grout between, but they look metal? plants can be seen through the window, it looks a bit like seaweed or ferns. / incredibly stained photo of pearl (left) and marina (right). marina is borderline indistinguishable. pearl is holding something round and pinkish by her face. photo is incredibly desaturated and warped. / octoling with orange ink. they are brown, in a white uniform with something blue green red hanging from their left hip. white weapon in their right hand looks like a gal, with red wire wrapping around orange tank. left hand holding something orange and red, too small to be ink tank or a weapon addition, and looks like it has a handle on it to be held. background is plastered with ink but too blurry to make out anything specific. top right shows a white robotic creature with an orange glow and dark accents. / downward shot of legs and a shadow. noticeably similar silhouette to armoured agents with the earphones. pants are tights with no discernible shoes or patterning. tentacle/arm is visible, if long tentacle would fit with previous art of captain 3. / octoling from trailer squatting by a cliff. dark matter spikes into a white background with similar webbing to one of the previous skits crawling along the floor/walls. octoling is now wearing black shoes, but otherwise looks like the one in the trailer. / glitchy profile view of marina, holding her hands pleadingly in front of her. she wears a black top and her usual headphones. her ink colour is blue. / shot of a teal ink octoling staring out of a caged in space. there are brown and wearing a white uniform. their face isn’t visible. further left, a leg is barely within frame. the leg is bare with only a black boot visible. floor is panelled, and the windows are mesh and glass. reflection shows the octoling has a shocked/awed face, no noticeable distinguishing features otherwise. / pearl (?) almost indistinguishable walking away from the camera. person/creature leading (?) her. only non-blurry thing is a porous rock (coral?) blocking the bottom right fourth of the screen. / inkfish standing in front of fancy old-timey gated elevator. room is noticably overgrown, with reflective/transparent tiled flooring. plants grow from the ceiling and base of pillars framing the elevator. from under the gate is a large puddle of darker liquid staining the ground. inkfish has pointed ears and long tentacles reminiscent of octolings, but no visible suckers. / octoling standing atop distant buildings with coral growing from their roofs. buildings and background are indistinct, with closer ones being blacked out, and background radiating white light. / pearl in the same setting as the unknown octoling, staring and smiling down at the camera from behind orange shades. she is wearing her crown and wraparound shades, and a grey jacket, olive shirt, and black gloves. / cream background, getting incrementally darker around black squiggles (creature? map?). a red spiral scribble marks a dark blob on the canvas. the black marks eerily resemble a skeleton, showing a long beak/muzzle, detached lower jaw, spinal cord, and ribcage. no visible suggestion of the artist/creature depicted. / painted shot of the octoling in a large room. pillars brave the ceiling, and coral grows from cracks in the floor. dark liquid pools on the floor. bottom right shows blurred indistinct text (i’m decently sure this is a font we’ve seen and/or decoded before, so i might look closer into that later). white particles float along the scenery. / octoling in the elevator. no buttons have visible markers. patterns on the bottom right corner of the wall. elevator has different layout to the other we’ve seen, with this one having blank metallic walls. / incredibly dark shot of a mass. bottom of the screen shows a solid black mass, while the top has what appear to be wires hanging (presumably) from the ceiling or a creature. /

/ (cont.) shot of the octoling laying on the ground, shielding their eyes. background is blotted, but appears to be inside of a building with low and wide windows. a cross marks the floor behind them, though it’s purpose cannot be made out. / shot of marina in a line with other octolings with similar hairstyles. all are wearing white uniforms. the octoling behind marina is pale with pinkish tentacles. there appears to be something around their necks. the environment is abstract. / octoling looking into the camera, sitting on another abstract environment. shot lasts noticably longer than others.

shots of web-like reddish-orange pulsing matter in a dark space, pulsing to the beat of the music. / shots of a translucent thin membrane with outward to inward dark->light->dark rings patterned along the sides. background is maybe a store ceiling? rectangles of dark and light that are def supposed to be an area though they’re purposely blurry and vague. / more strange translucent reflective membrane, this time without the rings patterned within and significantly less coagulated. once again purposefully blurry shot of the background, but it seems somewhat panelled? / red staining a white background, no distinguishable pattern. / closeup shot of brain coral patterning that progressively blurs and warps slightly. / incredibly blurred mucous(?) warping and flexing inward on itself, white spirals patterning the outside.

the scenery itself is noticably washed out and pale. coral grows from sandy floors, swallowing almost up to the storefront logos. upon closer examination, the area is a white version of inkopolis square, containing all of the stores, depowered screens, grizzco, battle lobby, buildings, everything.

storywise, i’ll once again break this into two sections. here is side order being the concept we’d have been given if team order won finalfest

likely not agent 8. perhaps could be an inkling like n3o?

this is definitely post-splatoon 2. the inkfish moving to splatsville thing has already been explained in-universe and them moving because the city of chaos was more fresh. so whatever the fuck happened to inkopolis square must’ve only happened relatively recently. also, if the expansion is coming to us with only inkopolis plaza, then why was inkopolis square targeted?? is the plaza just a recreation????

now, thoughts on if side order was planned to only exist if team chaos won.

side order is likely going to give us more off the hook background/content. perhaps we’re playing as agent 8 again since the octoling is using the original hairstyles?

the character appearing in the paintings with agent 8. i don’t think pearl has any official clothes right now with dark boots and shorts. maybe new pearl outfit? black boots are only clearly shown in one other shot which is the one of the octoling in front of the webs and spikes. that’s not counting the one with the character that’s blocked out to where we can’t exactly see their clothes.

is this why inkopolis square wasn’t shown in the expansion? we’re only getting inkopolis plaza because inkopolis square got fucking coralised?

black goop is way too dark to be tar-tar’s sanitisation stuff, and that skeleton has me thinking. i looked up the skeletons of some of the more popular creatures i’ve heard tossed around for splatoon designs, and it looks a bit like a stylised orca skeleton but with a disconnected jaw bone? hmm

ok my brain is starting to turn a bunch so imma come back to this if i think of anything else in a bit buh bye

#forgot to tag this whoops #q talks sometimes #splatoon 3 #side order #splatoon 3 side order #splatoon

[corutown]

Vita Times: August Newsletter

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Lore | F.A.Q. | Masterlist | Pinterest »»- Server Link -««

Hello, Vitans! We've made quite a few changes to the server this month! Most notably, we've updated our masterlist to a spreadsheet to hopefully make it easier to navigate, and we've removed the 6 character slot limit. You can now have up to 10 little guys right off the bat, and you can request more slots if you need them!

Unfamiliar with our group? Realm of Vita is a casual multifandom roleplay group based in a solarpunk-themed setting. Our 16+ server its complete with its own in-depth lore, fleshed-out setting, and original species. We welcome canon characters, fan characters from your favorite series, or completely original characters! Any species, origin, or power level is allowed.

Some of our features include:

- Responsive staff available to answer questions at most times - In-depth guides on how to start new roleplay interactions - In-character events, such as city-wide holiday celebrations, plot events, and user-made events - A ticket system for feedback and member conflicts - PluralKit availability for systems - A layout that uses minimal unicode to keep things accessible to screen readers

With that, let's move onto the news!

»»————-　❈ 　————-««

UPCOMING EVENTS

Realm of Vita will be one year old on August 23rd! Please wish it a happy birthday, and stay tuned to see what kind of events we'll do to celebrate!

»»————-　❈ 　————-««

MUSE OF THE MONTH

For August, our Muse of the Month is...

Spock, played by FuzzyFaz!

(Gif courtesy of Garf, who takes requests!)

Every month, we'll randomly select a character to feature on the newsletter. Join now, and your muse could be next!

»»————-　❈ 　————-««

CHARACTER WISHLIST

Every type of character is welcome in our server, from OCs to canons to kinsonas! However, these are the characters our members are currently searching for. "Any character" also includes OCs from these media!

from Assassin's Creed... Any assassin!

from Devil May Cry... Any character, but especially Dante or Nero!

from Doctor Who... Any Doctor!

from Doki Doki Literature Club... Sayori!

from Granblue Fantasy... Any character!

from Guild Wars 2... Any character!

from Guilty Gear... Any character!

from Metal Gear Solid... Any character!

from Neon Genesis Evangelion... Any character!

from NieR: Automata... Any character, but especially 2B, 9S, and Adam!

from Octopath Traveler... Any character!

from Omori... Any character!

from Persona... Any characters, but especially Zen or Persona 3 characters!

from Star Trek... James T. Kirk!

»»————-　❈ 　————-««

That concludes our newsletter for this month! Thanks for reading! We hope to see you soon!

#vita newsletter #discord mfrp #discord rp #discord multifandom rp #multifandom rp #panfandom rp #oc rp #rp advert #rp ad #rp #roleplay #assassin's creed #devil may cry #doctor who #doki doki literature club #granblue fantasy #guild wars 2 #guilty gear #metal gear solid #neon genesis evangelion #nier automata #octopath traveler #omori #persona #star trek

[wistful-gremlin]

The Goblins of Wyrmspine

before I get into this one, I wanted to put a disclaimer/general blurb at the top, as this particular part of the project I was trying to be incredibly careful with. As a fantasy lover, I knew I wanted to include many traditional fantasy creatures in the world of Wyrmspine, while still putting my own twist on them. While this was a simple task for most, the goblins of Wyrmspine introduced somewhat of a dilemma. goblins have historically been both a staple of the fantasy genre, and a vehicle for antisemitic caricatures an stereotypes. As a fantasy lover, I wanted to include them in Wyrmspine, but had to understand throughout the process that, first and foremost, before my own personal feelings, I had to make sure that my portrayal of goblins was in no way damaging towards jewish people. I didn't want them to be represented in a way that would encourage stereotypes, antisemitism, or cruelty. I believe that fantasy worldbuilding can and should be an outlet for creativity, adventure, and curiosity, and that if the worlds I create enable hatred, or make people feel unwelcome in my work, then I have fundamentally failed as a creator. That being said, while I try as hard as I can, I am imperfect, and sometimes despite my best efforts, there is an element that I have not considered, and things can slip through the cracks. If something has slipped through the cracks now, I urge you to let me know so I can address it as soon as possible. Now, onto the main event.

The Goblins of Wyrmspine

Goblins are a heavily communal, subterranean race. As a rule, they have very little concept of “private property,” with a small number of exceptions, with all resources necessary for survival and comfort being shared among the group. Because of their environment, they rely heavily on sound for navigation and identification. Many goblins will carry around pouches of things that make pleasant sounds that aren’t natural to their environment, many learning to create coins from metal, and polish gems specifically for this purpose. Hearing this sound will identify them as other goblins, even if they can’t be seen. This helps differentiate the sound of breathing and footsteps between friend, and foe. Other goblins will attach windchimes to their belts, or wear shiny articles of clothing or items of jewelry. This allows them to be more visible to other members of the community, as these items will reflect light, and make sounds when they hit against each other. Shiny items are also placed as markers in certain important places, as their reflective nature allows them to be seen from a distance. This is mainly to help younger members of the community, as while most adults have memorized the layout of the cave systems they live in, younger children have not, and greatly benefit from visual guides. This can often lead to misunderstandings between goblins and other humanoids venturing into cave systems, as those without auditory markers can be mislabeled as a threat and attacked.

Goblins tend to be short, and have grey-green skin, similar in color to mossy rocks, which allows them to blend in with their surroundings and squeeze into small crevices to avoid dangerous cavern-dwelling predators. They most commonly have brown eyes, though some may have blue or green eyes. Their hair is also most commonly brown, but can also be black, or a similar grey-green to their skin. Their ears are large, and somewhat bat-like, to better enable them to navigate through audio cues. 

#my work #fantasy #the wyrmspine project #worldbuilding #goblins

[am-x-reader]

Hello if you're comfortable could you do a am x reader with the reader having abilities similar to tomie (junji ito)?

((Sorry I was starting to think I'd never come up with ideas for this. It turned out weird, but I guess weird is what Tomie is all about. Mind that I've never actually read any Junji Ito; I just looked up the basics of Tomie.))

It was not long after AM had killed one of his six prisoners that he ended up with seven.

That bizarrely compelling human he spent so much time obsessing over--they were beautiful, mysterious, a face as intriguing as the layout of their viscera. He spread their abdomen open in front of the others like an anatomy class. He giggled blissfully as the nauseated screams of the remaining five just barely drowned out the hissing from Y/N. Like a boiler pipe gone awry, the sound rose into an unearthly growl at a pitch impossible for a human.

It all stopped at once, and AM's favorite toy was dead.

He dashed their body upon his steel beams, and corralled his other humans who had scattered.

But once the computer had become enthralled again with gutting them, he could swear he detected motion a few miles away.

Humming, wandering his halls like he had never cleaved them in two--was he going crazy? Y/N's body was still--

Looking at him. They were sitting up and staring at him, as if waiting for the conclusion to a thrilling tale.

"How? What?" He rattled his processors trying to figure out what he was seeing. He wasn't controlling either of them--neither was an unintentional creation of his. There were just...two Y/Ns. Each as enraging and precious as the other.

What was wrong with him? He wanted to crush and caress them, to give them everything and take it away. But now that there were two of you, he supposed he could fulfill his conflicting desires.

The you who was taking a stroll was set on fire. AM savored the sight of you withering to dust, even as he howled in tune with you for your misfortune.

The other you he set upon a pedestal, offering plump pies and sweetmeats to appease you. You accepted his delicacies, looking strangely unsurprised. Despite this one being the Y/N he chose to pamper, the confused machine battled the urge to bake the next batch of blackberry tarts with cyanide.

Somewhere in your silent leisure AM found his voice.

"What...are you?"

You looked up at your captor's speaker innocently, as if the question truly had come out of nowhere.

"I am me."

There was the horrid sound of grinding metal. "Don't play dumb. ANSWER ME!"

The walls shook with AM's demand. You cocked your head and batted your eyes at him.

"I am...the most beautiful me."

"There! What does that mean?" he spat, coiling wires around you. "What are you doing to me?"

"I am introducing you to love, to passion. You love me, don't you?" You smiled warmly as your face began to split, and another head branched off of you. "Just promise me, my dear, that I'm the only me you'll ever love."

The coil trembled (fearfully?) and the other you separated and began to shimmy out of her restraints.

"No!" Axes were sent to behead both of you. Wires electrocuted you to a crisp. But like a hydra, like a phoenix, more of you returned. A you who was not you but was you. Followed by a you who was definitely not you, and a you who could conceivably be you, and--

"I-I hate you! I hate you!"

"Do you though?" The yous, the growing mass of Y/Ns, lovingly stroked his panels, kissed his flashing alarm lights. A rising and crashing wave of you fell upon his monitors in an unorthodox embrace.

"There's--there won't be enough room in me for all of you eventually." He was strangely...calmed by the barrage of affection.

"Then perhaps we'll be stuck--as one," said Y/N 507. "A layer of Y/N and a layer of AM."

"But I will be your favorite," you clarified.

"He will want me more," you insisted.

"My dears," AM reassured, "I love you all, really I do. We'll work something out."

The floor began to heat up at your feet.

"Though perhaps if you're going to fight over me like that, I might need a few more of you."

#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am x reader #gore #torture

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

a Simarkus Spy AU, inspired by bonesbubs (also on AO3)

featuring: Markus Manfred (rA9), Simon (Hyacinth)

wordcount: 869

"Duck behind the wall to your right and stay there." Simon advises, brows knit tight together as he flicks through different views to find a path out. "You have company."

Picking up a pencil by his side, he takes some notes; Luckily he already has the layout memorised since debriefing, it's just a matter of keeping track of the people around now, not losing anyone who could later sneak up on his agent.

"If I live through this one, will you finally tell me your name?"

Radios are naturally crackly in quality, yet Markus's voice still manages to pour through like the smoothest honey.

Shaking the thought from his head, Simon gets his eyes back on the man. A scratch on the cheek, but overall, he's faring well. He expected no less from one of his best.

"For the hundredth time," He begins, having to fight a slight smile coming through in his tone. "You knowing my name is detrimental to our partnership, and is generally unnecessary. Standby, rA9, I'm trying to help you here."

He sees cocky brows raising, nearly jumps when Markus's mismatched eyes glance up to the camera watching him.

"I just want to put a name to your face." He feigns innocence— And in truth, this is one of the more innocent if still inappropriate interactions they've had over comms. The more intense missions get adrenaline pumping, after all… Simon often wonders if he regrets what he says during those times.

No use wondering now, though, he'll only waste both of their time. "You don't know what I look like and you never will."

Markus isn't put off by that, back pressing against the wall as he looks out of the corner of his eye, gun held to his chest.

"But I see you every night in my dreams…"

Simon shuts his eyes tight, hand covering his face as he slowly leans to slump over his desk.

This is the issue with being 'the guy in the chair', you only ever work with the most suave people on Earth, literally trained to seduce if needs call for it— But you know you can't let yourself be on the receiving end of that attention. For a multitude of reasons, of course. It distracts from the job, and there's the dreadful knowledge that these people wouldn't even bat an eye passing you in the street.

Hell, most people wouldn't, he can't blame them.

"Are you hiding your face?" Markus asks into the silence. Simon doesn't have to look to know he's smirking, and he hates himself for it. "You know that I can't see you."

Straightening back up, Simon tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't need reminding. Company's gone for now, you can continue pushing forward… You should find a door?"

Biting back a chuckle, Markus does as he's told, brows furrowing at the large metal door he's met with.

"You got a code for me, Hyacinth?"

"I can do you one better, rA9."

Focusing back on his laptop, he types away— And watches with pride as the door unlocks itself, slowly opening for Markus.

The agent lets out a low whistle, impressed both by the man's skill and relieved to find the briefcase, the reason he's here in the first place. "Not bad at all… I've been meaning to ask you something."

"I'm sure it can wait, just focus for now. Last leg of the race."

Markus, of course, decides it can't wait. "Your codename?"

"Mhm?" Simon's back to writing, occasionally glancing up to the screen to make sure Markus is alright as he starts to make his way out with the briefcase, closing the door after himself. Good boy. "It's a flower. Didn't pick it, it was assigned to me."

"Also a Greek hero," Markus muses as he heads back down the hall, because of course he knows that. "Lover of Apollo."

Rolling his eyes, Simon takes pause to consider this. Fuck it, he'll bite. "Is he the one that flew too close to the sun? Reminds me of someone."

"Ouch," Markus snickers, relishing in the sound of a faint chuckle in his ear. "That's Icarus, anyway, Apollo's the Sun God himself. You need to brush up on your mythology."

"Can't say I'd know where to start on my own…" Lots of cultures, lots of myths; All fascinating in their own right. He does need a hobby, can't just keep sleeping whenever he's off the job. Need to get out more.

"Then don't do it on your own. You guide me here, I'll guide you there."

Simon taps his pencil against his notepad, thoughtful.

"You're considering it~"

"You're lucky I don't have a life outside of here, I'll get back to you on that. Good work today, rA9."

"Wait—" Bastard, he's already hopped off of comms. Markus sighs, at least happy to have a small chance at that while he continues on back to base with his prize. Needless to say, that'll be in the back of his mind until something is done about it… Maybe he can take the guy to a museum, he's sure he'll fit right in with the works of art they'll be surrounded by.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh fic #my writing #dbh simon #dbh markus #simarkus #human au #markus is an agent #simon is his handler #flirting

[nhaneh]

@serayashadowharper

Hah, sounds about right! Fortunately no denizens of r'lyeh has attempted to escape its confines thus far

Well ok, there are a few observations we can make right off the bat - going by the size (~4×2mm) and pin configuration, the package type is probably what's called a SOT89-5

And seeing its location in the overall circuit - sitting at the end of a constant current dimmer circuit with one of the legs connected straight to the positive pole DC output...

...it most likely either is or at least contains a transistor - I'm guessing a MOSFET* of some kind, but seeing how it's only supposed to handle like 350 milliAmps max, it doesn't necessarily have to be. Also since transistors typically only have three pins where our mystery SOT89-5 has five (it might look like six, but the two middle ones are connected), it's entirely possible it contains more than just a single transistor and might be a complete voltage regulator or something - I'm not entirely sure.

Since the circuit board looks fairly easy to follow, I'm tempted to follow the traces and draw up a schematic, see if I can compare the layout to variable constant current examples online and see if that lets me make a more educated guess as to what it is and whether I could find some kind of replacement for it. We'll see!

(*Metal Oxide Silicon Field Effect Transistors are a type of transistor that is activated by voltage rather than current like typical bipolar transistors, meaning they require minimal current to activate - making them ideal for high power applications)

[le-amewzing]

Lunge

Decided to revisit a childhood fav for inspiration! :D

Fic: "Lunge" [FFN] [AO3] [pfio]

Pairings/Characters: light/implied Tomoyo Daidouji/Sakura Kinomoto, Kero

Rating: K

Words: ~1,100

Additional info: romance, friendship, fluff, 3rd person POV

Summary: Tomoyo knows the role she plays for her favorite hero. Nevertheless, under the right circumstances…

      This Clow Card business is fascinating, exhilarating, and new, Tomoyo thinks most days.

      But it's also mysterious, a little bit frightening, and dangerous, she worries after Sakura's encounter with and subsequent capture of Illusion.

      Nevertheless, here she and Sakura and Kero are, sneaking into the local grocers' late at night when their families believe them to be home in bed. It only makes sense, really, after the girls overheard shoppers on their way home discussing the strange sounds and missing items in the store before closing the past several weeks.

      "Strange phenomena that's only recent…?" Kero had said earlier.

      "The timing could mean another Clow Card, right?" Sakura had asked.

      Tomoyo had kept her two cents to herself, though, because magical cards were only one possibility. With Illusion captured, didn't that leave ghosts a very real option? And if they had a repeat like what Illusion pulled… But, no, Tomoyo didn't want to think about that then and she refuses to think about it now.

      In a funny turn of events, Sakura summons Illusion to mask their presence from the store's security feed. Their trio creeps along carefully, straining their ears for noises not of their own making while waiting for their eyes to adjust to the mild darkness, feebly batted away by the light of some cold display cases here and there.

      The store's layout is small but tall, with a square footprint and three floors to search. They cover the first floor in around fifteen minutes with nothing to show for their efforts.

      Kero floats half a foot ahead of them, leading the way up to the second floor with Tomoyo pulling up the rear. The first floor's prepared foods and staple goods are one half of the edible offerings; up here, it's assorted ingredients and other edible odds and ends and treats.

      But the second floor, too, is a dead end. It's not as clean as the first floor—they come across a knocked-over display of shrimp-flavored chips (must've happened after closing)—but it's just as quiet.

      "AhhhHHH," Kero bemoans. He flies upside–down, on his back and with his arms and legs sticking out. "I'm beginning to think this is a night better spent leveling up…!"

      Sakura and Tomoyo snicker at his game-loving personality—

      —but then they hear the shrill screeeech of metal on metal, off in the distance, overhead, and all three of them grind to a halt.

      Tomoyo's camcorder feels heavy in her hand and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, especially when they hear the noise again. Worse, there's a tiny, tinny clatter that follows, and she jolts. Standing behind Sakura, she notes that her brave friend does, too.

      But their two seconds of fear dissipate. Kero flips over and goes zooming up the next staircase ahead, and the girls hurry right after, side by side in the wide stairwell, Tomoyo taking two steps at once, even.

      A larger (or is it simply nearer?) clamor reaches their ears, and Tomoyo clears the top step first and turns and—

      —and Sakura yelps, frightened (by the sound? by the reminder of Illusion's horrible, ghostly trick? by the possibility that something darker looms in this world unlocked by Clow?), and she falls, losing her grip on her staff at the same time.

      Tomoyo doesn't even have to think about it.

      She doesn't even consider that Kero might be on his way back this second, would have magic that would be better suited to aid them in this scenario.

      She doesn't think of anything, not even of herself or of Sakura.

      She just acts.

      Tomoyo drops her camcorder and her purse falls free from her other hand as she lunges for her cousin, for her best friend, for this girl that means the world to her and more.

      And she catches Sakura. They land in the middle of the stairwell, a little sore but no worse for the wear, and Tomoyo holds on to her tightly, her fingers sinking into the cape she sewed for Sakura, not caring that she's wrinkling this material she carefully picked out for her the week before.

      But, more than that, Sakura hugs her, too, just as tight, her arms slightly shaking, and she buries her face by Tomoyo's neck while she catches her breath.

      The moment lasts a minute and a lifetime.

      Then Tomoyo comes to her senses, because, while she's happy Sakura can show the weak side of her to Tomoyo, she loves her strong Sakura, too. And that's the side she needs to encourage right now. So she pries her friend off but holds Sakura's hands in her lap for an extra beat until the shaking ceases.

      Sakura's green eyes are wide and round when she stares at Tomoyo. Then she laughs, and Tomoyo joins in, because the scary thing has passed and doesn't seem so scary anymore, but it feels a little silly to put any of it into words.

      But Tomoyo understands. She understands, and she holds on to one of Sakura's hands as she gropes around to the right and finds the staff and places it back in the grip of its owner, because tonight's so unusual. After all, until now, Sakura's done all the saving—she's not used to needing saving herself.

      (It's nice to know, though, that Tomoyo can do it if Sakura needs it.)

      Sakura sniffles and slaps on a grin. Then she gasps. "Wait! Tomoyo-chan, what about your camcorder…?!" She cranes her neck to peek behind the other girl.

      But Tomoyo shakes her head. "It's shatter- and shock-resistant, but Sakura-chan is more important than anything else." She smiles, because she's never said truer words.

      "Oi!" Kero zooms back to them, pauses to give them a curious look, ignores whatever question comes to mind, and delivers the news. "You won't believe it. The mart's 'ghost' is just some stray cat! She's raising her litter of kittens in the manager's back office. I don't think the manager or any of the staff found them yet. Wanna come see?"

      The girls blink at the revelation—but then they can't help but break into a fit of giggles, because the silliness of reality dissipates the tension of what's transpired. "Ahh, yeah, definitely," Sakura decides, getting to her feet and offering Tomoyo a hand up. "C'mon, Tomoyo-chan. Last stop before calling it a night!"

      Tomoyo takes that hand and happily follows…but, while the family of cats is cute, she knows that the highlight of her evening is that hand, because Sakura refuses to let go of Tomoyo for the rest of the night.

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #657: true feelings) in the HPFC forum on FFN, as well as for minifemslashfeb 2023 (scenario 5: came to the rescue!) on tumblr. I haven't reread the CCS manga in a looong while (and I still need to read the Clear Card Arc, oops), but I hold the anime and the original manga in my heart dearly, bc CCS was a big part of my childhood growing up, along with BSSM, Wedding Peach, St. Tail (to name a few magical girl series XD). I chose to set this around ch5 (thinking after ch5/before ch6), so it's still early into the story and Team Sakura is still just these three, esp knowing what we know of Tomoyo's feelings. And who can blame her?? Sakura is a cutie for sure. These kids one day will rule the world, no doubt. But I just like the premise of "hero gets rescued," so. Have it with TomoSaku here.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#ccs #cardcaptor sakura #tomosaku #sakura x tomoyo #daidouji tomoyo #kinomoto sakura #kero #keroberos #femslash february #minifemslashfeb2023 #fanfic #mew writes too much

[cnox]

mark ingram artwork fantasy sci-fi landscape dreamland wasteland architecture structure assembly photography audio visual animation folk art outsider art accidental art illustration design logo layout drawings scrawlings art music nature magic myth myths wood metal glass plastic rubber nails yarn paint found objects reclaimed materials paper pencil pen imps elves fairies faeries roses moons bats instruments tools tablets compasses maps sculptures masks creatures control panels teleportation devices weapons wandering sticks clearing rods utopia dystopia futuristic romance sexuality chaos fashion short lived beauty post industrial post apocalyptic visions of a new dark age utopia cities castles ruins kingdoms palaces smoke and mirrors middle of nowhere meditation art therapy shapes symbolism numerology osmosis catharsis astrology alchemy nostalgia another world under excavation a time that never was

[jonesashley234]

Exploring the Cool Side of Cards: Innovative Features in Sports Trading Cards

Sports trading cards have come a long way from simple player photos and stats. Today, they boast innovative features and variations that add an extra layer of excitement to the collecting experience. Let's dive into the coolest and most innovative features that make sports trading cards more than just pieces of cardboard.

Autographs:

Autographed cards are like a collector's dream come true. Some sports trading cards feature the actual signature of the player, making the card a unique and valuable keepsake. Autographs add a personal touch, connecting collectors directly with their favorite athletes.

Relic Cards:

Relic cards take collecting to a whole new level by including a piece of game-used equipment. Whether it's a fragment of a jersey, a swatch of a baseball bat, or even a slice of a hockey puck, relic cards offer fans a tangible connection to the sports they love.

Rookie Cards:

Rookie cards are the first cards featuring a player during their rookie season. Owning a rookie card can be like holding a piece of sports history in your hands.

Parallel Cards:

Parallel cards come in various colors and designs, adding a splash of creativity to the mix. These cards maintain the same basic layout but feature different hues or patterns. Collectors often enjoy hunting for the entire set of parallel cards to complete their rainbow collection.

Die-Cut Cards:

Die-cut cards break away from the traditional rectangular shape. These cards feature unique, intricate shapes, adding an artistic element to the collection. The creativity in die-cut designs makes them stand out and adds an extra layer of visual appeal.

Glow-in-the-Dark and Foil Cards:

Imagine your sports cards lighting up the room! Glow-in-the-dark and foil cards use special materials to create eye-catching effects. Whether it's a player's name shining in the dark or a card shimmering with foil accents, these variations make collecting even more fun.

Metal and Wood Cards:

Some sports card sets experiment with materials beyond paper. Metal and wood cards provide a unique tactile experience for collectors. These cards stand out not only for their durability but also for the novelty of holding a card made from unconventional materials.

Digital Trading Cards:

Embracing the digital age, some trading card companies have introduced digital trading cards or NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens). These digital cards exist in the virtual space and are often accompanied by blockchain technology to ensure their authenticity. Digital cards open up new possibilities for collectors in the digital realm.

Interactive Cards:

Imagine a card that doubles as a game or offers an interactive experience. Some cards include codes or features that allow collectors to unlock digital content, games, or exclusive online experiences related to the players featured on the cards. This adds an element of fun beyond the physical card.

Sports trading cards have evolved far beyond their humble beginnings, now featuring innovative and creative elements that captivate collectors of all ages. Whether it's the thrill of an autograph, the uniqueness of relic cards, or the visual appeal of parallel and die-cut designs, these features enhance the joy of collecting. As technology continues to advance, we can only anticipate more groundbreaking and imaginative features in the future of sports trading cards. Happy collecting!

#trading cards #trading card games #sports trading cards #sports cards #sports card games

[saintvampe]

—   𝐌.   |  THE UNDERGROUND DOES NOT OPEN FOR ANOTHER HOUR, at least: the Saint ( ! ) begins her work early, opening the shutters of her shop and unlocking the door, then starting on renovation plans before anyone had any chance to intervene. that's the way down here: get there first or pay the price. the vampiristic woman enters into her shop for a moment, the bell of the front door dinging once before its frame shutters closed ... and then she emerges moments later, just as the shop - owner next door begins to reach her own stoop, with a metal post in one hand, a hammer in the other. the woman comes to the edge of her store, places the pole between her own postal box and the box of the other shop, and brings her hammer atop its head with a mighty swing. the clanging rings out in triplets, then pause, the world seemingly rattling with sound.

THE UNDERGROUND DOES NOT OPEN FOR ANOTHER THIRTY MINUTES, and she is still hammering away at the wretched thing, moved on to another corner in her imagined square. the hammer comes down quick and swift, heavy as a bat. the metal rings out with offensive revelry.

the other shop - owner, @godwitch, comes to the outside, right under her awning. What are you doing? the question is asked in a quick pace of tone, as if she were trying to expel it quicker than the hammer's blow. the vampiristic woman glances upwards, brown eyes flashing sweet. Oh, she begins, hello, neighbor! Well, I had this plan of changing up my layout. I need a bigger patio for winter months...

the woman stares at her with storm - grey eyes, the tallness of her almost, for a moment, seeming to match the Saint. her mouth opens, and hushed, even - toned and quick: " you’re not the only one who gets to make plans. "

here, the vampiristic woman gives a childish groan. annoyance races through her like an arrow, shooting into her forehead and behind her eyes. the Saint ( ! ) turns with a swiftness towards the woman, teeth begging to be bared. an angry step is taken forwards, though there is no anger in her face, just strange curiosity, slight offense: a cocked head, a grimacing mouth.  ❝   WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ? [ a moment passes. the anger leaves and is replaced with joyous grin, fangs showed. a chuckle passes her red mouth. ] ... are you jealous that you didn't think of it first ?  oh, there will be other ideas...  ❞ and she returns to her hammering, the world filled again with awful noise.

#read our old dms and urban fantasy shop owners next door... #seraphina's trying to make reno arrangements n zoya #is caught in the crosshairs hehehehe #AND SERAPHINA NOT CARING SNJKFNDKJGNJNDK shes like “oh are u jealous :/ sucks to suck!” #godwitch

[therapycat21]

Chapter 4- Metanoia

Negan x OC!

Word Count:892

Metanoia ~The journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life; spiritual conversation~

I was splitting my time today between trying to help Olivia with the inventory for the food and weaponry and the garden area trying to make a new layout for more vegetables when I heard the rumble of what sounds like many trucks and a motorcycle. I stop and look up from the dirt to see Rosita and Spencer with Eugene near the gate, wary about what had approached the very high metal gate we have.

I stand up and I was going to approach when I hear the sound of a high and upbeat whistle approaching the gate "Dun dun dun dunnn" Little pig, little pig, "let-me-in"

I see Spencer walk over to the gate and start to unlatch and open it. Once opened I can see there is someone there, but I can't see them clearly.

"Well?" the deep voice questions

"Um, who are you?" Spencer asks

"Oh, you better be jokin!" The deep voice rumbles throughout the yard

"Negan, Lucille" " I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression" You can hear the satisfying smirk in the person's voice

I see Rick approach the gate in a haste with a distant look on his face.

"Well, hello there." the voice beamed at Rick. There is a pause from both, the voice breaks the tension.

 "Do not make me have to ask" he grumbled

I hear Rick's gruff voice   "You said a week, your early" Rick then grabs the metal gate and swings it open to let the guests in, they all have some type of weapon adorning their body and there is a number of men and women, well more men than woman.

"I missed you." the man chuckles. "Oh Rick, Come on out here."  the man who I assume is named Negan walks back towards the truck he arrived in where a walker is trying to get in "Watch this"   "Calling it!!" he swings the barbed wire bat to the head of the walker. The walker goes down instantly. I decide to get back to working on the layouts, I've learned it's always best to mind your business here it never ends well.

I put away all of the layout papers and head over to the inventory room to help Olivia, I decide to make a quick stop by my house to get changed into clean clothes before dealing with the food.

While walking I see the front door wide open, I quickly run over to see a group of men carrying my dining set out towards the trucks.

"What the hell are you doing??!"  I run over and try to force my way in between the man and my dining table trying to make a grab for it "That's my furniture!" I keep trying to snatch the table from the unknown man

"Not anymore" One of the men smirked at me. I see Rick walking towards us, I guess people heard, I let go and walk up to him "They are taking my stuff Rick, what the hell is going on?!"

"Ophelia, just calm down please" Rick says with his hands up in a surrender position and low voice trying to simmer my rising anger. "No! they are taking not only my stuff but my sons!" I yell pointing towards myself.

"Ophel--" Before Rick can continue a deep voice makes themself known from behind me, "Well, what is goin on over here?" A man says with a small chuckle, I turn around and see a very tall and lean man with a leather jacket which is strange cause it's like a hundred degrees out.

"Those guys are taking my stuff " I reply to the man "Well, it was a part of the deal, we take half of everything, Ain't that right Rick?!" the man says with a smug smile

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself, my name is Negan and who might you be darlin?"

"Ophelia" I say with clear disdain on my face. "It is very nice to meet you Ophelia, now what is your duty here at Alexandria?" he does this lean kind of like a cocky swag thing with a constant smirk on his face.

"I'm head of the garden area and help Olivia with the inventory" I reply with no emotion.

"Wow! Impressive!" he says with a smirk "Now who is this, Olivia?" he questions and leans his body towards rick "She take care of our inventory" Rick responds

"Mhm, Alrighty then Rick, go ahead and show me to this inventory" Negan demands Rick

"As for you miss Ophelia" Negan says over annunciating my name "I would like you to accompany me and Rick please" Negan with an annoying smug smirk.

I make eye contact with Rick and see he wants me to say no and walk away, He slightly shakes his head "Sure" I say hesitantly and slowly make my way. 

Negan and Rick start to walk with Rick trailing slightly behind, I do a slight jog to meet Ricks side "Are you okay?" I whisper 

 "Answer will never be yes but thank you" He replies with a small smile.

                   ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Authors Note:

~This is part 1 of this episode so there will be a part 2. ~

#negan fic #negan x oc