#not because of death itself but much more so him desperately not wanting to die alone

[scribbledghost]

Hurt

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Reader, gender neutral, no Y/N)

Rating: T

Word count: 1850

Warnings: nightmares, descriptions of violence, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of vomiting

Note: This started out as a relatively simple idea and then it morphed into more Character Study because that's who I am as a person I guess.

Simon jolts awake, sharply inhaling as a telltale churning in his stomach sends him rushing for the bathroom across the hall. He knows he's woken you, but he's sure you'd rather him scramble out of bed in chaos than vomit on you.

A few moments later, when the contents of his stomach have been sent back up his throat and he's left panting and coughing into the toilet bowl, he feels your hand gently place itself on his back.

He doesn't mean to flinch. Really, he doesn't.

But he does anyway, and he feels your touch leave him.

Simon tries to even his breaths as he leans back on his haunches, but it's difficult. He wants to turn to you, to tell you that he's fine, but an irrational part of him is still convinced that he'll find you bruised and beaten when he looks at you. That he’ll find his own knuckles raw and covered in blood that isn’t his. The thought alone is enough to send another wave of nausea through him.

Instead, he closes his eyes, and takes several deep breaths.

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask softly.

"No," he blurts out immediately. He doesn't think he could bear to explain to you what's brought him to where he is right now.

"Need space?"

This time, he has to pause. Does he want you to leave him alone? No. He wants to go back to bed, pull you close, and softly tell you how he'd never hurt you. How he'd rather die than ever lay a hand on you in malice. How he'd never forgive himself if he ever marked your body with anything more than gentle love bites. He wants to hear you say 'I know' in return.

But he doesn't know how to ask for that. Not right now. So instead he says -

"Yeah."

He clasps his eyelids shut as you give him a soft and gentle "okay" before walking from the bathroom. His hands twitch, desperate to move and grab you and bring you back, but he dutifully keeps them in place. 

Simon stays where he is until his legs begin to go numb beneath him. He then cleans up, brushes his teeth, then returns to find an empty bed. He leans back towards the hallway and notices the guest room door is closed, a soft glow emanating from beneath it.

He begins a practiced routine, though he’s acutely aware that this time will require much more effort to get his mind to settle. He pads into the kitchen, gulps down a glass and a half of water, and sits at the table with his head in his hands.

His stomach roils when he remembers back to the nightmare, how it had started with the memory of him nearly beating his good-for-nothing father to death. It had been satisfying, feeling his old man’s nose break beneath his hand again. But somewhere along the line, the face beneath Simon’s fist changed. At some point, he wasn’t punching his father anymore, he was punching you.

He nearly gags when he remembers how he had noticed the change, how he had recognized that it was now you with the black eye and bloody nose, but he had simply kept going.

His subconscious self had known it was you he was hurting. And he hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d jolted awake after feeling your throat constrict beneath his hands.

He’s listened to enough therapists tell him that there’s no deeper meaning to his dreams, that his subconscious violent outbursts don’t determine what he’s like in his waking life, but it still rattles him every time he experiences it. Especially this time. He continues to waste time trying to make sense of something that can’t be untangled.

Why had his subconscious changed the target of his rage from his father to you? Why had he not bothered to stop as soon as he realized what he was doing? Why did that version of himself not seem to have a problem with hurting you?

He doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions, and he hates himself for it.

The next time he bothers to look up from the table, the digital clock on the stove reads 4:34 in the morning. Realistically, he knows he should go back to bed and at least try to get another hour or so of sleep before he has to be up for work. But he can’t bring himself to move.

Simon has done this song and dance before, and he knows roughly how it will play out unless he willingly changes the tune or adjusts his steps. He knows that if this continues like any other time he’s suffered from a particularly bad nightmare, he’ll drag himself through his morning routine, zone out during important meetings, then limp back home to your arms that evening. But something tells Simon he won’t be able to get away with doing the bare minimum this time.

He’s never hurt you in his nightmares before. Even the worst ones pale in comparison to this one. Even the ones where he’s back in Mexico with sharp hooks digging into his ribs or the ones where his mother’s bloodied face screams at him, telling him that he killed her.

He’d take any of those in a heartbeat over the one he just had. Because at least with the others, he can rationally explain to himself that they'll never happen, that Roba is dead and so is his mother. 

But this… this feels more real. Like there's some sort of sick chance that he could be at the punching bag later only to blink and realize he's really been beating you the entire time and has simply hallucinated being at the gym.

He thinks - no, he knows - he'd destroy himself if such a thing ever happened. If he ever laid his hands on you in such a manner, whether it was intentional or not, he knows deep in his bones that his first reaction would be to head to base, go to the shooting range, and immediately turn his rifle on himself.

Simon shakes his head, trying to dislodge the line of thinking he's managed to go down. He heaves a sigh from his chest and pushes himself to stand from the kitchen table, knowing his usual "keep quiet until the unsettling feeling in his gut goes away" routine won't help him this time.

He needs you.

As scared as he is as he approaches the now-dark spare room, as terrified as he is that he'll see you broken and ruined by his hands, he needs you.

"Love?" he asks softly as he knocks. "You still awake?"

"'M awake," comes your groggy voice from beyond.

He steps in, closing the door behind him as he uses the dim moonlight streaming in from the curtains to navigate. You lift the blanket for him, and he crawls beneath it and curls into you. After running a thumb along your cheek, he discreetly holds it up to the light.

He finds no blood there.

“Sorry I woke you up,” he mumbles.

“Don’t apologize.”

The quiet extends, and for a moment Simon thinks you’ve fallen asleep. 

“Wanna talk about it now?”

He pauses.

“‘S’okay if you don’t.”

He knows. He knows if he tells you no, you won’t push it any further.

But he doesn’t want to tell you no.

“...I hurt you,” is all he says at first.

You drape an arm around him and pull yourself closer to his chest.

“It was my old man at first. Was beatin’ the hell out of him. Then it… it wasn’t him anymore. ‘S not like I didn’t realize it was you either. I knew. An’ I… I kept doing it anyway. I kept hurting you.”

You’re still quiet, and Simon worries that he’s scared you. Not that he would blame you, hell, he’s scared himself.

“I wouldn’t,” he breathes quickly into the dark. “I…”

He swallows thickly.

“I’d rather die.”

It’s a soft, vulnerable confession. One he’s never said aloud before, but he hopes he’s made abundantly clear nonetheless.

“I know, Simon.”

He releases a breath and closes his eyes.

“Just… I don’t know why," he says. "Aren’t dreams usually… I dunno, a reflection of yourself or whatever?”

“Not really,” you say. “Sometimes they can help you process stuff, but I don’t think it really has any bearing on who you are when you’re awake.”

“Sure felt like it had bearing.”

You don’t answer at first, and Simon feels you tracing the skin of his back, fingertips feather-light against him.

“I think… you think that you’re hurting me. In real life, I mean,” you start slowly. “Not physically, but in some other way. And I think maybe that translated into your nightmare.”

Suddenly, something clicks into place in Simon’s brain.

You’re right.

He knows he hurts you frequently. Never because he wants to, but because he has to. He knows he hurts you every time he tells you he’s been called away for another deployment. He hurts you every time he’s away longer than he anticipated. He hurts you every time he returns with just a little bit more of him missing than when he left.

He hurts you often. And he can’t bring himself to stop. Because the only way he could stop would be to leave you, and such a thing is not an option.

The guilt consumes him frequently, especially when he’s in the field, knowing you’re at home alone waiting for him to return. Hoping he returns standing upright, not lying down in a pine box. 

You deserve better. You deserve someone who isn’t so goddamn hard to love. He knows that. But he refuses to let you go.

“You’re thinking too loud,” your voice calls to him through the fog. 

A short hum leaves him as he feels you kiss the column of his throat.

“I knew what I was signing up for when you asked me to be yours,” you murmur against his skin. “I know you don’t control your job, or where it sends you, or when, or for how long. But I do know I’ll be waiting here whenever you come home.”

Another kiss at his throat.

“And I know you’d never lay a hand on me in malice.”

Simon pulls you closer; holds you tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You deserve better,” he mumbles.

“I deserve you. And you deserve me.”

“No I don-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt, shimmying up to kiss his lips, “no arguing, it’s late.”

He smiles against your lips, conceding defeat for now as he tucks you against him. He soon notices your breathing even out and deepen, and he presses another kiss to your crown.

Simon doubts he’ll get any more sleep tonight. But for right now, he’s content to stay awake, keeping watch over your sleeping form and ensuring no harm comes to you in the dark.

He may not be able to chase away his own nightmares, but he can at least protect you from yours.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

[kaltacore]

no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.

and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.

the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.

and none of them was celebrating.

mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.

and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.

for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.

but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.

the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.

i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.

how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.

and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.

it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it

#sorry. i cannot shut up about this. this scene stuck with me the moment i saw it and i just couldn't get it out of my head #i mean. i liked essek well enough. i just got attached to other characters more. but then 'it's not fair' happened and it sealed the deal #it was just. so beautiful. so sincere. so important for a character who just started to learn how to care about people #his reaction wasn't intentional. it didn't change anything. but it showed how humane he had become. how deeply he cared #mighty nein are no joke pal #they're gonna make you feel all these unknown emotions like sympathy and love and affection even when they're incredibly painful #essek experiencing closeness and attachment in all their forms. as something beautiful and something aching. is so important to me #they saved him because they had good hearts! and these good hearts sparked so much joy around them! #but if a good heart grants you an ability to experience joy so profoundly. it makes everything else feel like that #you get it. i hope you get it. anyway e140 did so much psychic damage on me i probably will never recover #in a good way mostly <3 but yeah. yeah. it makes me feel a little insane #the mighty nein #essek thelyss #critical role

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Sneek peak)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your track record with trying to survive is a checkered one. This is a red spot among the black and white.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, forced murder? Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.0k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 66: Go for the Throat

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner. 

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; this one is white with red splotch on the cheeks, not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. Like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is black and a generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. Hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things. Rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet, you take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away- before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill, it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill, emotionless and analytic. it being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it perfectly or cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Only now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweet worship. How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, you know how to use it. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps light as a butterfly’s wings. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

Coming Saturday February 3rd at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

#bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #bts gang au #bts au #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg

[cattimeswithjellie]

I do like the fact that in a session where there were three permadeaths, they were all so very different.

There was the useless, senseless accident that was Jimmy's death. Jimmy's death was unique because it was both preordained and fiercely denied. After three series with Jimmy the first permadeath, it's almost a game in itself to make it not happen again. People were willing to die to keep Jimmy from going out first. Bdubs, who was barely Jimmy's ally, literally begged Jimmy to kill him when Jimmy's timer ran into the single minutes. Scott jumped off a bridge to give Jimmy just a bit more time to live. Grian and Joel were on deck, ready to spoonfeed more life into Jimmy with their own deaths if they needed to, just to keep that canary chirping a little longer. But none of it mattered in the end, because Jimmy's foot slipped in a moment of excitement and he was too startled to pearl or bucket clutch or do anything to save himself. Gone in an instant for no reason and no chance to say goodbye.

There was Joel's death, a helpless, hopeless race against time and an implacable enemy. Joel made some serious tactical mistakes in his final episode. His gleeful killing alienated him from his allies, antagonizing the Clockers by killing Cleo, annoying the Nosy Neighbors by killing BigB. He griefed Scott's base with TNT twice, once tactically and once just because he wanted to blow stuff up. By the time he was down to the wire, there were lots of people who wanted him dead and barely anybody who wanted him alive. Even Grian, his Day One ally, eventually realized that trying to keep Joel alive was a losing proposition when Scott and Scar and Martyn and Cleo could siphon away Joel's time much faster than Grian could ever donate it. But even knowing that it was hopeless, even knowing that a _best case scenario_ would barely carry him into the next session, Joel fought desperately til his last second ticked away.

And then there was Skizz's death, premeditated and proud, carried out at the hands of a friend. Skizz had been dying from the very first day of the server. His Session One was absolutely atrocious, losing four hours right off the bat to back-to-back Bogey kills. No matter how well he played after that, no matter how many kills he got or plans he came up with, Skizz was never seriously in contention to win the game. And he knew that. He came up with alternate win conditions for himself. He set a goal to affirm every person on the server and he did. He set a goal to make the team he led a force to be reckoned with, and he did. And most importantly, he set a goal that somebody from TIES make it to the end of the game. By Session Seven, it was clear that Skizz wasn't going to be around to bring that goal to fruition himself. Time was not on his side, and his skill was just not there. Skizz is a clever redstoner and a good entertainer, but he's no PVPer and his bow skills are mediocre. Every time he tried to get a kill, he wound up losing more time. So when it came down to the wire, he didn't beg for his life or fight for more time, despite knowing his friends would give it to him. He called his team together and he gave them his new strategy. Someone from TIES needed to make it to the end, and it couldn't be him. But they could take his resources and his time forward with them, so long as he gave them up willingly. By sacrificing himself for his team, Skizz lost his last 20 minutes of life, but he put his team one step closer to that final goal.

There's probably only one session left, which means it's going to be choked with permadeaths that don't get focused or remarked on very much. Each one will be different though, each one will have its own flavor. In a series like Limited Life, the end is never in question, but the ending is unique to each player.

#limited life #limited life spoilers #limited life smp #trafficblr #solidaritygaming #smallishbeans #skizzleman #thinking too much about the block guys again

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 18

PREVIOUS

Weirdly enough the only thing that FF can think of as they head down the stairs is the first Saw movie.

That one happened IN a bathroom right? He kind of watched all of them in a row to prepare himself for whatever Andrew might decide to do to him. But he’s near positive that one happened in a bathroom. It was derelict and he didn’t think it really had running water (or did it? Didn’t the guy wake up in a half-full tub? His memory is hazy in his bathroom related desperation and may be trying to protect him from thinking about water).

All leading to the main thought going through his head as he slowly headed down the narrow stairway to his death.

Would Andrew let him use the facilities before he’s handcuffed to a pipe?

The worst part about all of this is that he is not sure if he needs to take a dump or if he just needs to fart, he knows he has to take a piss. He’s read that when you die your body will relax and it’ll all just flow out of you and Nicky gave him these pants so he feels bad but he also does not want to face his death without pants. If he needs to take a shit then they’re definitely going to be absolutely ruined, if it’s a fart well…Andrew can’t kill him any further? He can mutilate his corpse a little but FF won’t be around to experience it.

No matter what he’s definitely going to piss himself. He had way too much water at Sweeties trying to consume the spicy ice cream.

You may be wondering why FF has not run away from his predicament and is walking down these steps without protest or comment or plea for his life.

First of all he is pretty sure that if he makes any sudden movements he will ruin these pants that Nicky bought for him. Second of all Andrew had already told him once that he wouldn’t accept any pleading for mercy he still remembers how he asked Andrew, “Please give me back my pen?” and Andrew had shot him a look that had his stomach cramp and his fingers itch for the bottle sweet pink relief in his backpack.

“I don’t like that word, don’t use it around me.” He said.

FF ever the pragmatic sort, “Which one?” He had asked because he had said a few, “I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.” He followed up with when Andrew glowered at him only for the glare’s intensity to increase 10 fold.

“Don’t use the first word of your first statement or the last word of your second.” Andrew grit out and got up to leave without a word.

Message received loud and clear Andrew did NOT like words ‘Please’ or ‘Misunderstanding’.

So FF knows that any pleading for mercy would ABSOLUTELY result in Andrew not letting him take a bathroom break before him and Captain Neil make destroying him into a couple activity. The fact that Captain Neil is here is a bit of a shock but maybe Captain Neil has finally gotten the other Freshman Dealer up to snuff.

Maybe Kevin really did want to dissect him to figure out how Strikers keep passing straight to him?

They reach the door at the bottom of the stairs.

Ah, time to face the music.

At least he’d texted Gran that he was going to die when they had gotten into the club and the bathroom had not made itself readily apparent. Sure it was about his current ‘gotta piss / gotta shit’ situation but he’d been wise to keep his cause of death vague in that text.

The door opens and…

This is the NICEST torture chamber FF has EVER seen. (And after his desperation watch of all the Saw movies he has seen quite a FEW)

“Minyard, Josten, and Guest. Table 6 is yours.” A voice comes from the side and when he looks over there’s a man in quite a nice uniform standing behind a soft-lit bar polishing a glass looking every bit like a bar tender at those high-end places you see in movies. He looks around a bit more and there are some other people down here. It’s not quiet per se but it is a comfortable level of noise in comparison to the IQ dropping noise upstairs.

“C’mon Smith.” Andrew juts his chin towards a table in the back.

FF follows but continues to try and fit this nice little room into his world view.

Do these people watch other people get tortured to death for fun on a Friday night? Unlikely considering the upholstery on the booths and chairs looked like it’d stain if blood got on it. Was this perhaps a trafficking location where Andrew would sell off his organs to the highest bidder? He looked at the other patrons who seemed a bit higher class than the general club scene upstairs but not like they had the money to buy one of his kidneys. Maybe-

“Do not tell Nicky about this place, ever.” Andrew says as they slide into the booth. FF nods but can’t help but tilt his head slightly in an unspoken question, “He would absolutely tell any and everyone about it. Eden’s wants to keep this place a secret from the general public.” Andrew explains.

“Nicky currently thinks that there’s a straight swingers club down here.” Captain Neil says with a huff of laughter.

“Eden’s is cool, even though there’s some sick shit in the basement.” Floats through his head again.

What the fuck was a swinger?

His fingers itch for his phone but he’s currently talking with Andrew and Captain Neil so that’d be rude but they’re talking to him like he absolutely knows what a swinger is and he DOES NOT.

“It’s quieter down here. Figured you’d prefer it.” Andrew says as he gets up and heads towards the bar down here where the bartender was aggressively cutting ice chunks.

He and Captain Neil sit in silence for a few seconds before Captain Neil offers him a slight smile, “I know you’d rather be with your grandma and you and Andrew prefer not to say things out loud but we’ve really liked hanging out with you.” Captain Neil says.

????????????????????????????????????????????????

That’s such a nice thing to say to someone.

Especially someone like FF.

Especially especially when they’re planning on killing him?

He hopes his confusion stays off his face as he nods once. “It’s been fun.” It’s not even really a lie. Thanksgiving yesterday had been nice and loud and FF had missed the chaos of a Family Dinner more than he had ever realized. The car ride had been…a time but once he’d asked Andrew to either keep his eyes on the road or let him out Andrew’s hands had stayed at 10 and 2 and the ride had been smooth. Aaron and Nicky’s weight against him had been nice too, a warm memory before he developed a possible life long aversion to whipped cream. He’d gotten to go Black Friday shopping and Captain Neil even helped carry it home for him. Baking bad been nice even if the stress of doing it with his life on the line was less so. The subsequent nap and day spent doing normal college guy things had been…it’d all been nice.

It’s starting to feel like….

“Drink this.” Andrew puts a drink down in front of him.

No Andrew definitely wants his bladder to burst.

“What is it?” He asks instead looking at the creamy looking drink with suspicion.

Andrew rolls his eyes as he hands Neil a fruity looking drink as he sits with what is a few fingers of scotch. “It’s virgin.” Andrew says not answering the question at all and must pick up that FF won’t be drinking it until he gets the full answer because he continues after a moment, “It’s like a Pina Colada but with bananas instead.” Andrew answers.

It’s not that FF hates banana but why in the world would Andrew grab him this? Was it just one of the few virgins options on this place’s fancy menu or-

“Bananas will help get your stomach acid back down.” Andrew says, “Since you’re an idiot and ate that mango ice cream just because you wanted to impress that girl.” He rolls his eyes.

“Impress that girl?” There weren’t any girls at the table and how in the world would him eating that god-forsaken spicy ice cream impress anyone other than Betsy. Even Betsy would only be impressed by the depths he was willing to reach just to avoid what he perceives as an awkward social situation.

“The waitress.” Neil reminds him as if that cleared anything up.

“Yeah,” he says as if he has understood the conversation but he has not. “It was spicy mango.” He says because maybe if he keeps the conversation going he’ll get enough context clues to understand what might be his last conversation.

Andrew let out a huff of laughter and pushed FF’s drink closer to him, “Drink your fancy Banana smoothie Casanova.” He says.

No closer to understanding the conversation he accepts that it might be something that only becomes clear after he sheds his mortal coil and is no longer given a -10 INT debuff by his full bladder and revolting stomach.

He takes a sip.

Oh that’s actually pretty good.

It feels like he can feel it sizzling in his stomach and soothing the discomfort there. Maybe he should look into Banana smoothies as a replacement for what Abby has called a ‘concerning co-dependence’ in regards to Pepto Bismol. No one can put him on a medical watch if it’s just banana smoothies he’s chugging down like they’re going out of style.

“Thanks,” he says, “that was good.” He admits before reaching into his jacket and moving past the Megamind toy and grabbing his wallet. “What do I owe you for that?” He asks.

“We’re even.” Andrew waves away the money.

“You bought the stuff for breakfast, those brownies, and the pie tomorrow.” Neil says and FF blinks surprised to hear that they were talking about the pie he didn’t think he was going to get the chance to make.

“You don’t need to buy a spot with us.” Andrew says and FF leans back slightly at the intensity on Andrew’s face as he says it. “I invited you here because I wanted to. The brownies were good but if you don’t feel like making the pie tomorrow? It’s not like I’m going to drive you back to Palmetto and leave you on Abby’s doorstep.” He says.

FF feels gears start to turn in his head.

“It’s good pie.” He hears himself say.

“I didn’t even know about the pie when I invited you.” Andrew says and…

Andrew and FF sit in silence but honestly it’s not like Andrew’s sharpening his knives. The two of them mostly just do their own work or read. FF has been getting his German literacy up to snuff so that he can read the language when he goes there to visit Nicky’s fiance next year. He likes how serious Andrew is about learning it so that he doesn’t have to ask Captain Neil a thousand questions and it’d be nice if Andrew wasn’t obviously planning on murdering him.

Andrew brings dried apples and sends Captain Neil along with probiotic yogurts to their meetings. Both of those things tend to soothe his stomach and the yogurt that had been unflavored before was now vanilla which he liked a fair bit. It would have been a really nice gesture if it wasn’t for the fact that Andrew was making fun of his tummy troubles.

Andrew will put his foot down in practice sometimes when Kevin is getting too demanding wanting to know exactly how FF intercepted his passes to Neil. Kevin always backs off and Andrew will do the same when Jack starts to get a little too personal in his attacks at FF or when Sheena decides she’s going to be a bitch. It’d be nice if it wasn’t Andrew staking his claim that he was the one who was going to make FF’s life miserable.

Andrew drove FF around for an hour after Greg had shown up. He found out later from one of his friends that Andrew had threatened Greg after he had power walked away into the building. Andrew had driven him around and had only started heading towards the tower when FF had relaxed. It would have been nice if Andrew wasn’t trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

Andrew had invited him to his Family’s house over Thanksgiving when the bad storm had ruined his Thanksgiving plans. Andrew had threatened Jack to stop him from eating his Grandma’s pie and complaining about it. Andrew had stopped messing around with Captain Neil when FF had made it clear he was uncomfortable being in a car where the driver wasn’t paying attention to the road. Andrew had twice made him go to bed in the last couple hours.

It’d be nice if…

“We’ve really liked hanging out with you” Captain Neil had said.

Andrew was just trying to be nice.

Embarrassment rolls over him like a wave but FF has many years of pretending like he’s not going to die from embarrassment, “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll still probably make the pie tomorrow.” He offers.

Andrew’s eyes change slightly and FF is under the impression that he’s happy to hear that.

“Just enjoy your drink Smith.” Andrew says.

FF does go back to sipping his drink and letting more and more memories of things Andrew had done come to him and lets his embarrassment grow.

He finishes his drink and only then realizes that he is a code red in terms of bladder capacity. The new knowledge that this is not a torture chamber but in fact yet another overture of friendship from Andrew paired with his desperation finally loosens the question from his mouth, “Where’s the bathroom here?” He asks.

“There isn’t one downstairs but just head up stairs and hug the wall to the left.” Captain Neil answers.

“Bring your phone. If Frank doesn’t recognize you to let you back in.” Andrew reminds him.

FF nods and heads out of the club and up the stairs.

He might be doing a bit of a potty dance so he forces himself to become unnoticeable because he does not need cool people at a cool club to see him about to piss himself. Once he enters into a stealth mode that the United States Military would like to talk to him about he hugs the wall and nearly cries tears of relief when he sees a door labelled MEN.

He doesn’t think about the possibility of letting up on stealth mode because he is sure that he is about to make a face that he does NOT want any human being to see when he unzips his pants and starts to take the world’s most life-affirming piss on the planet.

As his bladder empties his brain is able to process the understanding that he had come to down in the basement he had thought would be his final resting place.

Andrew has been trying to be nice (and succeeding it was all so nice! He feels like an asshole! He is an asshole! Gran always told him that assuming makes an Ass out of U and Me. He had just thought it was funny grandma humor not valuable life advice!)

The night wasn’t going to end with Andrew’s knife in his stomach, it was probably just going to end with Nicky puking on his shoes (which is fine because these are the shoes Nicky was letting him borrow for the club anyways, they’re his shoes to puke onto.)

A secondary relief fills his system. His stomach, soothed by the Banana smoothie and now this, feels like it might actually let him live through the night.

While FF was distracted with a piss that would have made any number of cult leaders jealous with the number of divine revelations he was experiencing he failed to notice a second man enter the bathroom.

There was a reason that FF always ALWAYS became noticeable when he was at a urinal and the man who came to the urinal right next to him was showcasing that VERY reason.

He was trapped here for at least ten more seconds and he could hear the man grumbling distractedly but didn’t really pay it too much attention until…

“Fucking Wesninski Brat.” He grumbled under his breath.

Oh god dammit.

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​

#Fluent Freshman AU #FINALLY CAN PUT DOWN MY TAGS #You have no idea the number of times that I had to sing hollaback girl to myself during this #It was B-A-N-A-N-A-S #We have now closed the 'Andrew is going to crazy murder me' emotional arc #The 'Oh god if Andrew or Neil find out that I know Russian they're going to stop being my friends and hate me' arc begins #He's gotten a confirmed 3 friends today #And he got to go to the bathroom #He's riding a high #Not only is it 3 friends it is 3 friends who like him enough to invite him to spend the holiday break together #That's so nice #Andrew is so nice #FF cannot BELIEVE he thought Andrew 'eat these dried apples' Minyard was going to stab him #Captain Neil is lucky to have him #Also Andrew is lucky to have Captain Neil #Neil and Andrew are definitely down in the Speakeasy right now enjoying FF's bathroom break #Andrew's ordered FF another round of Banana daiquiri #Andrew: I can't believe he ate that ice cream. His stomach must have been killing him. #Neil: Yeah he was really pale and sweaty until he started drinking that banana drink #Neil: I'm a little worried about Smith finding the bathroom. Maybe I should go up? #Andrew hand on Neil's thigh: he'll be fine. We can go look if he's not back in 10. #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG #AFTG Shitpost #AFTG Fic #My Fic #Andreil #FF - Pt.18

[viviennevermillion]

finding solace

notes: i don't feel like this one lives up to my usual standards of writing i hold myself to because i wrote it while experiencing writer's block and mental health issues but i really wanted to write something.

also if you like my works, feel free to commission me!

word count: 2.7k

contains: leona kingscholar x gn!reader, comfort, reader has depression

warnings: symptoms of depression, non-sexual nudity (taking a shower together)

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun broke through the blinds in an almost grotesque, unnerving way. Or at least, that was what it felt like for you. Seeing Leona of all people be more active than you was a bad sign by itself, but your own mood was something you could hardly ignore at this current moment. The more time passed, with you idly laying in your boyfriend’s bed, covered only half by the blanket and the bedsheets a mess from the tossing and turning you had done throughout the day; the worse you started to feel. But anything you could do seemed as pleasant of an idea as climbing a whole mountain right now. You scolded Leona often enough, but this was probably what he felt like all the time. Minutes seemed to turn into hours and you wanted to cry but the tears were far from coming out. You knew crying could sometimes make one feel better but it seemed like not even that was an option for you now. 

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, tired and exhausted; then setting it down and trying to rest but ultimately realizing destiny was hellbent on keeping you awake, no matter if your eyes became red and felt like they were burning. So you gave up and picked up the phone again. What was the point of anything right now?

You wished there was at least something you were looking forward to in the near future that would motivate you to do something or make you feel happier. But all there was, left a bland taste in your mouth and a hopeless expression of defeat in your eyes as you gazed up to the ceiling in a desperate search for anything that wouldn’t bore you to death. Leona wasn’t a big help either. He had his own depressed state of mind to deal with and right now that consisted of laying in bed next to you, not doing anything as well. You tried to snuggle closer to him but no position you found in his arms brought you the comfort and happiness you were used to. It was warm in Savanaclaw and you wished the blinding sun and the heat would be replaced by a cool wind of the night, even if it was just 10 minutes.

Leona had told you a story once of one of the kings of the past who ran away from the palace after a coup when he was just a child; collapsing in a merciless drought and destined to die of thirst and heatstroke had it not been for two kind strangers who’d take care of him and look after him. That was how you felt at this moment. Like you were left in a barren wasteland as the sun was looking forward to grill you alive, even though Leona had put up a ventilator in front of the bed so you’d be more comfortable. 

You could see from the corner of your eyes that he was watching you, silently, as the minutes passed and nothing happened. You wondered what was on his mind. He gave you your answer soon enough.

“You don’t seem to be doing too well there, herbivore”, he commented and turned your head to face him. You simply shrugged, not knowing what to respond. Leona’s expression darkened. He was used to this attitude from himself, but seeing you like this; with the same lack of energy and optimism as him; made his heart ache. He had long since given up on himself but in his eyes you deserved so much. You deserved that beautiful smile he slowly but deeply fell for and you deserved to feel excited and hopeful. 

He hated to see you like this. If anything motivated Leona on days like these it was trying to make sure you were at least content. Ever since he had confessed to you, he had been coming to classes more frequently and trying to fill his day with more activities. He could hardly motivate himself to do anything for himself but doing things for you gave him that final kick needed to get up from the bed and stay up.

He absentmindedly looked at you for a while; lying next to him with your eyes closed. Leona was lost in his own thoughts and when his attention shifted back to you, he noticed there were tears staining your cheeks now. Your slowed breathing indicated that you had fallen asleep at last and Leona propped himself up on his right elbow to press a kiss to your forehead. Get well soon, herbivore…, he thought and gently caressed your cheek before getting up from the bed.

When you woke up, Leona was nowhere to be found. You tried calling out to him but he didn’t respond. Just as you sat up to scan the room for signs of where he might have gone, the door to Leona’s room opened. Your boyfriend entered and tossed his leather jacket loosely onto the desk chair. You hadn’t even woken up by him leaving.

“Where did you go?”, you asked curiously. “You’ll see”, Leona gave you a reassuring smile, “I got a surprise for you. But first, we should take a shower. It’ll do you good.” You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted motion and kicked the bedsheets off you. “Are you trying to say I smell bad?”, you groaned and Leona rolled his eyes. “No. The counselor they sent me to after I…uh…got a little too enthusiastic about winning the Spelldrive Tournament; well anyway, they said that sometimes a cold shower, a walk or somethin’ like that can already make a big difference in my mood or whatever”, he ran a hand through his hair. That’s a very mild way to say ‘overblotted’, you thought but refrained from commenting on it. “By the way, I got us food”, Leona handed you a bag with a bunch of meaty snacks, “I even got you a vegetable.” You reached inside the bag, inspecting the contents. “Leona, that’s just a whole cucumber.” “If ya don’t want it, I’ll give it to someone else, herbivore.” You glanced at him for a moment before starting to eat the cucumber. Not what you would have picked for lunch, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

“Anyway, you comin’?”, he asked and gestured towards the bathroom. You nodded weakly before Leona went to grab some towels, but you didn’t find the energy to get up; scrolling through the same five apps on your phone again but having run out of anything new to look at. “Herbivore?”, Leona called out and entered his room again, to find you with one leg and one arm off the bed; trying to motivate yourself to just get up and join him. He sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the desk. “Your mandatory hydration”, he commented dryly as he handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow at him but drank quite a bit of it, finding that you’ve needed this after all. As soon as you had finished, Leona just picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, gently putting you down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“Thank you”, you sighed, grateful that Leona had done for you what felt like it’d take you another 30 minutes. When you stepped into the shower, you wrapped your arms around Leona’s waist and rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes once more as you let the water run over you. “It’s cold”, you complained as Leona took care of everything for you. “It’s supposed to be, genius”, he mumbled as he applied the shower gel to your skin, “otherwise you’d probably fall right back asleep and wake up feeling even worse. Trust me, I know.” The last sentence was nothing more but a quiet whisper but you picked up on it anyway. 

You remembered the past few days and how you could hardly tell what happened on which day of the week because they all seemed to blend into one another like a never ending loop of mediocrity. You remembered the stress and your worries for the future. And suddenly you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Quiet sobs left your lips and Leona’s ears instantly perked up at the signs of distress coming from you. 

You gasped in surprise as you were met with the cold water from the shower head directly into your face. “What the fuck, Leona?”, you hissed. “It got you to stop sobbin’”, Leona shrugged and you noticed that he was right; you were becoming aware of your surroundings again and your breathing calmed down a bit. Leona lifted your chin up and looked into your eyes. “I love you, herbivore. So cheer up. Don’t make me worry so much, alright?”, he said and patted your head.

He hugged you from behind and his voice became softer as he nuzzled your neck. “I love you so much. Don’t forget that, okay?”, he whispered and pressed kisses to your cheek and your neck repeatedly until you had stopped crying, “I can’t stand to see you like this.” To see you like me, he thought but kept that to himself. “I hope I can lift your mood a little”, Leona gave you that soft smile only you got to see and kissed your lips gently.

Once you stepped out of the shower, you felt refreshed and already a lot better than before. You helped Leona dry off his hair, a smile finding its way to your face when you saw how the water pearled off his ears and how they flicked when you were rubbing them with the towel. This didn’t go unnoticed by Leona. He crossed his arms with an annoyed expression. “Why is it that when you feel like shit and you smile for the first time again, it’s always from treatin’ me like an oversized cat?”, you could hear the pouting tone in his voice and a chuckle escaped you. “You’re cute”, you smirked and booped his nose. “Stop that”, he warned but leaned into your touch immediately when you started to caress his ears with your fingertips, sighing softly, "the things I put up with to see you happy..."

“So, what was that surprise you wanted to show me?”, you asked once the two of you had gotten dressed again. “Put on a jacket. Something warm”, Leona grabbed a small backpack and you could hear the jingling of keys, “we’re gonna go on a small trip.” Curious about where he would take you, you followed him out of the dorm. Outside of the Hall of Mirrors, Leona gestured towards a Magical Wheel which had been parked at the side of the building. “I rented that one while you were slumbering”, he tossed you a helmet and smirked at you, “hold on tight or I might just lose you and never look back.” You poked his side in response to his teasing.

“You should put on a helmet too”, you crossed your arms. “I’ll be fine”, Leona said, putting the key into the engine and starting up the vehicle. “Leona.” “Fine, I’ll wear the damn helmet”, he rolled his eyes and then grinned at you, “I’ll keep it on for the rest of the day and watch you complain that you’re not getting any kisses.” You sighed but got onto the vehicle behind him after Leona had put on his helmet. You wrapped your arms around Leona's waist, trying to adjust to the movement of the Magical Wheel. It was a little intimidating at first, given how different it was to a regular car; but Leona kept you safe and even though he teased you a little, you could tell he made sure not to drive any faster than you were comfortable with.

As you made your way down the path on the hill that Night Raven College was located on, you could see the village on the island as well as the ocean; the light of the sun now seemed a lot softer and bearable than it had been about an hour ago. You could feel the pressure of the wind as Leona drove the vehicle across the island, giving you the scenic tour of the area. 

The two of you stopped by the lake and the forest for short breaks, laying down in the grass next to each other while gazing up at the vibrant green of the trees and the red apples that grew on them. You could hear the humming of the birds and watched the clouds pass by. “That one looks like you”, you pointed at one and poked Leona. “How the fuck does that look like me?”, the second prince raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning your overactive imagination. “It’s pretty”, you just shrugged and Leona leaned over you, smirking and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I can live with that answer”, he chuckled and his ears twitched while he did this. 

You kissed his lips gently and could feel Leona smile into the kiss. 

The sinking feeling in your chest you had felt for the whole day wasn’t fully gone yet, but every new thing you saw and every word Leona spoke to distract you seemed to soothe the pain a little and made it something you could deal with and overlook with ease. 

Your final stop was the beach near Royal Sword Academy. The sun was already beginning to set and you had taken your shoes off to walk along the shore, holding Leona’s hand. He squeezed it gently and gave you a reassuring smile, as if to tell you silently that things were going to be okay eventually. You’d figure things out together. 

He then grabbed your hand and took a bite out of the hot dog you had bought for yourself. “Hey”, you protested and Leona smirked at you. “Sorry herbivore…but surely you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “take some pity on me, the bird took mine.” He gestured towards the seagull in a couple meters distance, picking at Leona’s meal that it had stolen from him. “Prince Leona Kingscholar, king of the beasts, bested by the common seagull”, you exclaimed with a false notion of drama and tragedy in your voice. “I could grill that little bastard here and now if I wanted to”, he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, “I decided to have some mercy today.” “Sure”, you laughed and raised your eyebrows. 

The waves crashing onto the shore felt cold when they met the skin of your feet but in a way the sensation also helped to ground you. “Feeling better?”, Leona asked and you could hear worry in his voice; something he only felt comfortable showing around you. “A little”, you nodded and picked up a seashell from the sand, inspecting it as you turned it in your hand. “Do you feel ready to go back to the dorm?” You hesitated for a moment, then shook your head. 

Leona sat down in the sand, pulling you onto his lap and resting his head against yours as the two of you watched the sunset together. “That’s fine by me”, he said, wrapping his tail around you, “we can stay here for as long as you like. I don’t mind.”

You remained silent for a while, running your fingers along Leona’s tail absentmindedly. “I love you”, you whispered and leaned back against his chest. “I love you too”, Leona said quietly, closing his eyes as the wind brushed through his hair and the sunset made his skin feel a comforting warmth. Things weren’t easy on days like these. But both of you knew, come what may, you always had each other to lean on. Things had changed from the days of being alone with your thoughts and having to sort out your feelings by yourself. Whenever one of you was feeling down, the other usually found the strength to get up and drag both of you to a place that gave you comfort. 

“You know, I think I’m going to keep the ride for a while”, Leona nodded towards the Magical Wheel with a smile on his face, “nothin’ much to see here after 3 years of being on this island but I’ll make it work.” You nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Leona”, you whispered and squeezed his hand, "for everything."

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x you #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #twst leona

[calisources]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒   𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒   all   quotes   and   sentences   are   taken   from   sarah   j.   mass's   throne   of   glass.   spoilers   for   the   book.   change   names,   pronouns,   locations   and   whatever   else   you   see   fit.

“Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.”

"You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”

“No. I can survive well enough on my own— if given the proper reading material.”

We all bear scars,... Mine just happen to be more visible than most.”

“My name is Celaena Sardothien. But it makes no difference if my name's Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I'd still beat you, no matter what you call me.”

“Names are not important. It's what lies inside of you that matters.”

“Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.”

“Sometimes, the wicked will tell us things just to confuse us–to haunt our thoughts long after we've faced them.”

"No fair maiden should die alone,"

“We each survive in our own way.”

“As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company."

“Second place is a nice title for the first loser.”

“I wasn't going to kill him, you buffoon.”

"Now you must pretend that you like me, or else everything will be ruined.”

“I'm not married,because I can't stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul.”

“Apparently, a woman can only go so long without a sword between her hands.”

“I never intended to escape.”

“I don't quite comprehend why you'd force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.”

“What's the point in having a mind if you don't use it to make judgements?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“If he weren’t here, I would have said yes.”

“I mean it. Why aren’t you dancing with anyone? Aren’t there ladies whom you like?”

“You always wear that necklace”

“No one deserves to be whipped like an animal.”

“You’re remarkably judgmental.”

“Magic makes people dangerous. ”

“The fear of loss … it can destroy you as much as the loss itself.” 

“There was good in people - deep down, there was always a shred of good.”

Well, 'scowling escort' is a better description. Or 'reluctant acquaintance', if you prefer.

I'm the Captain of the Guard-I'm not exactly a catch for any of them."

I want a husband to warm my bed, and my bed alone.

"I can act and talk like a lady, if it pleases me.

“If you'd like to unwrap me, we still have an hour until the temple service.”

“Perhaps you should consider your difficulty in getting past Wendlyn's naval defences to be a sign that you should stop playing at being a god."

“You deserve to be laughed at for such foolish thoughts! I spoke from my soul; you speak only from selfishness.”

“What’s the point in having a heart if you don’t use it to spare others from the harsh judgments of your mind?”

“Marriage is a legal contract -- it's not a sacred thing.”

“I hate women like that. They're so desperate for the attention of men that they'd willingly betray and harm members of their own sex.”

“I was merely observing; I have no agenda."

"If it pleases Your Magnanimous Holiness, I shall call you by your first name.”

 “You look rather pretty today,”

“Shall I gag you, or are you capable of being silent without my assistance?”

“If you don’t stop feeling and start instructing, I’m going to rip out your eyes and replace them with these billiard balls.”

“Perhaps allowing them to be friends was a horrible, dangerous idea.”

“I win,” he breathed.”

 “I am still your king. You will obey me, Dorian Havilliard, or you will pay. I’ll have no more of your questioning.”

“I can survive well enough on my own—if given proper reading material.”

“Beautiful. Deadly. Destined for greatness.”

“This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn,”

“You could win the hand of a king, looking like that.Or perhaps a Crown Prince will do.”

“What a miserable state for a girl of former beauty!”

“This is Her Royal Highness the Princess Nehemia Ytger of Eyllwe.”

“The princess tires of your company.”

“You’re awfully quiet today,” 

“The city on the Silver Lake?

“to face a featureless young woman with golden hair and a crown far too heavy for her to bear—”

“Stop whining. No one gives a damn about your clothes.”

“You’re immensely entertaining when you’re hopping mad.”

“You certainly have a lot of stamina,"

"While some parents hit their children, mine also punished me with dancing lessons."

“Magic calls to magic.”

I like music,because when I hear it, I … I lose myself within myself, if that makes sense. I become empty and full all at once, and I can feel the whole earth roiling around me.”

“Light and darkness. Life and death. Where do I fit in?”

“I should go to bed,”

“Winter was unforgiving when you lived in the shadow of the Ruhnn Mountains.”

“I  sort of wanted to kiss him.”

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

“Cain seemed bigger and bigger.”

“Dorian is more inclined to associate with ladies of better breeding and beauty.”

“What a foolish tradition.”

“Princes are not supposed to be handsome! They’re sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures! This one … this … How unfair of him to be royal and beautiful.”

“Something about him makes me want to beat in his face.”

“She knew that sword. Nothung was its name.”

“Damn him for being so handsome!”

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

[sureuncertainty]

so as a former employee of RMS Titanic Inc, I have some thoughts I need to get out about this whole current situation, or I will literally explode.

for context, I worked for RMST Inc. for a year and a half as a tour guide and artifact specialist. The company owns the salvage rights to the wreck site, and partners with Oceangate and other companies to retrieve artifacts. the artifacts are used for educational purposes only, in the museum that I worked at, although they weren’t above selling little bits of coal from the Titanic in stupid little tchotchkes like snowglobes and hourglasses.

i dedicated so much of my life and passion to that company and that museum and was treated like absolute dirt lol. and I didn’t even get the worst of it, I had friends and coworkers whose safety and wellbeing was consistently disregarded for the sake of profit, fighting desperately for corporate to stop pretending to care about the legacy of Titanic when all they really cared about was making money

so despite my initial shock at reading about what was going on with the missing submersible, I can’t say I’m surprised. This is what fucking happens when you cut corners and put profit over everything else. If only there was some big historical event that we could look to that would show us just exactly how dangerous that can be...  oh wait.

Jack Thayer, who was 17 when he survived Titanic, said that “the world woke up on April 15, 1912″, which pretty much sums up how SURE people were in 1912 that they would never make those same mistakes again. They realized had gotten complacent and swore things would be different. They enacted safety laws, pointed fingers at survivors, created conspiracy theories to try to explain what happened, all out of fear of it happening again. And yet, history always repeats itself

and now people are fucking OBSESSED with the Titanic, they find it fascinating,  they won’t fucking leave it alone, and the company I worked for, and Oceangate, and others, capitalize on that because they’re greedy and want to make money off of it. all they care about is how to profit off of it. they PRETEND to care about Titanic but they don’t. They never did.

I also actually have a personal connection to one of the five members of the team in the submersible. I met P.H. Nargeolet at the event our museum did commemorating the 110th anniversary of the sinking, I spoke to him and heard firsthand some of his accounts of dives to the wreck site, I even took a picture with him. He cared, he cared so much about Titanic and its legacy, and so do I and so did so many of my friends I worked with. The company we worked for took advantage of our caring, it took advantage of how passionate we were about it in order to line its executives’ fucking pocket

I’m horrified, I’m devastated, I’m vindicated.

on the one hand, I hope this ruins them. i want to watch the company die. there’s a satisfaction in that. but the shitty thing is how much suffering has to happen for things to change. i just wish good people didn’t have to die to make change happen. I wish people cared first, before tragedy strikes. I wish our world wasn’t so fucked up and shit like this didn’t happen. But it did. And it does. And money won’t save any of those people any more than it saved John Jacob Astor or Benjamin Guggenheim, or any of the other rich greedy assholes who died on Titanic. I’m not celebrating their deaths. But I won’t ever forget who suffers the most. The coal trimmers and the stewards and the minimum wage guest service associates at the museum I worked at.

I’m glad I don’t work there anymore. But some of my best friends still do. And I don’t want them to suffer more because of this. All I can hope is that it enacts meaningful change that actually lasts. But I know that’s just wishful thinking.

#win rambles #this is very convoluted and not really... idk how much sense it makes i just had to get thoughts out #i don' thave a witty conclusion or a message or anything like that #i just want people to know how shitty our company was and i want you to know how much i loved that job and how much i cared #and how much people in the titanic community do care #i'm just tired of seeing posts and memes about it from poeple who don't know what they're talking about #the titanic community is full of shitty bigoted white men and people who fucked me over bc i'm trans #and fucked over my queer nonwhite neurodivergent disabled friends #but me and my friends are in the community too whether they like it or not and we care and WE matter #titanic #rms titanic

[any-mouse]

Ra’s Al-Ghul Is Why We Batclan Can’t have Nice Relationships Things.

Ok, so. I am not someone who knows a lot about the DC fandom, but fics and the DCxDP crowd (who are why I’m here) have given me information and research binges have given me more. And here’s a take I haven’t seen about Jason’s death, and why Batman not killing Joker made things dangerous for Robins. Or did it?

Batman could not win. If Ra’s decided the only thing that would get his chosen heir, or at least son-in-law, into killing would be to kill Robin, it’s time to send his assassins in. Batman keeping to the “no-killing” rule is the only thing keeping a bunch of kids and teens from facing down, not the gangs and henchmen of Gotham, but a literal death cult.

Which is one thing that makes me wonder if that’s hadn’t been Ra’s’ plan, only manipulating the Joker into doing it for him. Which casts Batman undoing Nightwing’s killing of Joker in a very different light.

But there are other things that go along with that. And why Ra’s is a bit, fixated, on poor Tim. With how wrathful and brutal Batman became after, everything, it was only a matter of time before someone died. And then all Ra’s has to do is, wait. Drop hints or little reminders of the League, maybe have Talia swing by a few times. Allow the previous rapport to rebuild itself. In the meantime, build up Jason’s rage, anger, betrayal, and then unleash him on Gotham. Watch as the two brutal titans clashed, until Batman kills Red Hood. It would utterly destroy Bruce to have been the one to kill Jason a second time.

But, ah, there is a chance to fix this. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce will do anything to undo this fatal mistake, wrought at his hands and driven by his wrath. And in his grief stricken desperation, as he looks back on his rampage with despair, at all of the people he maimed, crippled, and killed in his agony, in steps Ra’s. Don’t worry, Ra’s has been collecting them. Fixing them. He does not agree with Bruce’s decision to leave, he still does not support Batman’s policies. But he knew it was important to Bruce so he took steps to ensure that no irreparable damage was done. Slowly, carefully, drawing a grateful Batman back into the fold. Wearing away at morals already cracked by grief and rage, using soft words where harshness has failed. Reviving Jason once again, keeping the two of them orbiting each other like binary stars, unable to leave, but always wanting to stay.

And it’s all foiled by one rich brat who’s stealthier than he has any right to be. Tim knows that Batman is going off the rails of sanity at an ever quickening pace. If he’s close enough for good pictures, he’s close enough for first aid and responder calls. So there is A Lot of damage and wreckage left in Batman’s wake, but nothing that isn’t salvageable. Ra’s won’t have a cadre of former henchmen and goons brainwashed into serving as Gotham’s foot soldiers but that would have been secondary. But Tim does more than that. Tim throws himself between Gotham and Batman because no one else will. Tim is a highly intelligent and self-sufficient child. His self-worth is in the toilet, thank you very much Drake bio-donors.

So Tim out-stubborns Batman and glues himself to his side and pulls him back. He cuts off the roaring rampage of revenge. Batman starts healing and Ra’s just can’t have that, oh no. But this is an easy enough fix, and it’s even better than the first plan. After all, loosing the last Robin to a violent villain led them to this point. How much worse would it be, to have started to heal, only to have it happen again? To destabilize that way again? Oh, Batman will never be able to resist, there had always been the possibility that Red Hood would win. Not high, and not an unworkable outcome, but snuffing out yet another Robin would ensure Red Hood would die, and then Ra’s would have another knife to twist Jason to his will. Taking pointer from his killer, not just his name, tsk tsk.

And it’s not like he couldn’t revive Tim as well, play the two of them off against each other and Bruce. Using their enmity and bitterness to wound Bruce, using Bruce to keep the two of them from spiraling out of control in their rivalry, make them resent Bruce for picking sides, rubbing salt into Jason that Bruce cared enough to avenge Tim but not him. Taunting Tim for what Bruce dragged them all into over Jason. Throw Damian into it just when it seemed to be settling into an uneasy dynamic equilibrium. Setting the boys on Blüdhaven, drawing in Bruce. See which way Bruce jumped, to protect Dick from the boys or if Bruce will try and recruit Nightwing for the League.

Ra’s has so much to gain from Joker killing Jason. It wouldn’t be difficult to send in a few assassins disguised as henchmen to plant the idea. Sacrifice a pawn or two, to gain a queen and rook.

#dc extended universe #dc fandom #ra’s al ghul #batman #batfam #league of assassins #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #jason todd #red hood #dc joker

[luxlightly]

I Said To You in Your Blood, "Live!" - a Gabv1el fic (AO3 link in the reblogs)

“And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’" - Ezekiel 16:6

Gabriel dragged himself forward, slumped against a wall of Hell, wings drooped and dragging on the floor behind him.

Of course he'd returned. Where else could he have gone? 

Where else do angels go when they fall? To die?

And he was dying. It was a strange and impossible seeming notion. Something he would have laughed at the very idea of just a few days ago. How could you kill the Hand of God? Ridiculous. 

As ridiculous as that Hand being bested by a mere machine, built by mortal hands for profane purposes. 

Crude, merciless…

Beautiful. 

He'd grown so used to the beauty of Heaven. Clean, pristine, and perfect. A cold, calculated beauty of carved marble, precise and willful. Flawless and impersonal as the Father himself.

How could a machine, dripping with blood and gore, built of an unholy mix of flesh and steel, with frantic, desperate movements and torn, jagged edges have, at first meeting, been anything but hideous to him? Repulsive in all ways? 

And so how could their fight, and his defeat, have felt anything other than violating? Something that stained him, made him imperfect and unworthy of the Light that was stripped from him? 

And so it had. So he had been at war with himself. Had felt corrupted, defiled. Impure. So he had begun their second fight with hate and desperation to cleanse himself of the stain of their first. 

Then something changed. 

Imprecise movements no longer felt imperfect. They became natural. 

Organic.

Alive.

Life is frantic. Is desperate and uncalculated. Is imperfect and unpredictable. 

His fights for Heaven were about death. About punishment. One sided executions and exterminations. 

Fighting with the machine was about life. The fight itself had felt alive. 

And Gabriel…Gabriel had felt Alive.

More than he'd ever remembered feeling. He'd felt the movement of combat like music, like the pounding of drums and the thrum of blood in veins. Excited and full of life. And so did fighting become like dancing, unable to be lost, only lead.

He'd laughed. 

It had felt so incredible. To fight the way living things do. As animals clawing to survive. To want to bite and scratch and claw and cling to life for every second he could. To be desperate in his desire. He'd understood so clearly, in those moments, how creatures of flesh and blood were in the image of God. How could such fighting, to cling to that living flesh, be anything but the most reverent form of worship? 

And so how could one’s partner in such a dance, be anything but the purest and most true kind of beauty? Blinding and breathtaking?

Then, all too soon, it was over. 

Cast down again, for the second time in his existence, Gabriel tasted defeat and, for the first, he tasted blood. 

And it tasted divine. 

It filled the cold void left behind where the Father's Light had been torn away from him and it tasted so much the same, yet somehow purer. The Light he'd been granted, the metered grace he was allotted by the Council so long as he served their will seemed, by comparison, like a shadow or reflection. The lingering warmth after a farewell compared to the fiery heat of sudden embrace. 

How could it be warmer than God’s Light? If the fire of God was so much warmer in the blood of Hell, then what burned in the Council chambers of Heaven? 

How could he, cast from grace and laid low before the machine, feel closer to the Divine than he'd felt while basked in His Light? 

There could be only one answer: because the Light that the Council had to offer him was not Divine. Maybe it never had been. After all, if God was really dead, how could the Council have His Light to give, anyway? 

And if it hadn't been His Light, His Will, then what had Gabriel been sustained on? Only the Council’s approval. 

He forsook it. Better to die, consumed by the flames of Hell than live sustained by the cold indifference of Heaven. 

At least consumption is akin to embrace, in the way that hunger is akin to desire. 

His legs losing their strength at last, Gabriel finally slumped to his knees, breathing ragged and vision blurry. 

The way he'd cut down the Council, had bathed the chambers of Heaven with their blood, had seemed to rejuvenate him, at least temporarily, at least long enough to finish the grim task. But now, his connection to the Light of the Father severed for good and the last remnants of its warmth drained from him, he felt his end very much at hand. 

Ridiculous as it would have seemed, mere days ago, to contemplate his own death, it would have been even more so to contemplate his own life. 

His existence was a constant. It had no true beginning or end. It could not be covetted or cherished because it could not be quantified. It simply was. He could not want to live any more than the sky could want to hold its place above the Earth. Than the wind could desire to blow or the celestial bodies desire to continue their journey through the endless void of space. 

A force of nature could not want. Could not hope. Could not hunger, not for food, nor life, nor love.

But Gabriel did. For the first time, he faced his future with something other than cold, perfect acceptance. In its place was a hot, bitter disappointment and a gnawing, desperate hunger.

He wanted to live. Damn him, he did not want to die. He wanted to see the Machine again, as he had promised he would. He wanted to fight for the sake of fighting. He wanted to live and to feel alive. 

He wanted to drag the eyes of the God that had abandoned him back to that chaotic dance and dare Him to find it beautiful. He wanted the eyes of God to weep for the beauty they'd turned away from. To mourn every second they'd spent not beholding it. The way he mourned it, now. 

Perhaps it was that desire, more so than anything, that brought him back to the depths of Hell. A vain hope to fulfill his promise and to feel the embrace of life one more time before dying, however briefly.

He did not rouse when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He had no strength to fight. If one of the denizens of Hell wanted to end him now, it would only be speeding up the inevitable. 

With his faith so shattered, Gabriel was not sure if he believed there was any force that could intervene in the affairs of Earth, Heaven, and Hell in the way he'd once called “miracles”, nor did he have any name to give thanks to for such an act, but the gratitude he felt when the owner of the footsteps appeared before him could not have been greater if he had known it to be an act of God Himself. 

“Machine…” he breathed. “We meet again…as I said we would. Sadly…I do not think we shall face each other in righteous combat a third time. Still, I am…glad to see you. One last time…”

V1 dripped with fresh blood. It must have freshly killed. Its wings raised, encircling it like a golden halo in Gabriel’s blurred vision. Blue, gold, and red swam before his failing eyes, shimmering and ethereal.

“Divine…” he whispered. 

V1’s inner mechanisms whirred and it tilted its head, inquisitively. It seemed to inspect him, clicking and humming. Its hands grasped and released its weapons, seeming unable to fully process or deal with an encounter that was not immediately violent. 

It knelt before him, looking him over for some cause for his current state.

Gabriel laughed, weakly, strangely endeared by the robot’s apparent concern. Strange, for a being that had only known him as a threat. 

How to explain the Light of the Father to a machine? How could it possibly understand what it meant for him to be cut off from it, or why he had been? 

“I am…hungry,” Gabriel said. “Empty…dying.”

The Machine stood again, looming over him. Gabriel wondered if it would leave, assured that he was no threat. After all, what use did it have, with its limited time, to stand around and watch him die? 

Instead, as it had nearly every moment he knew it, it surprised him. 

With a screech of metal against metal, the Machine dug a clawed hand into its own chest, peeling back a small patch of the metal plating to reveal the pulsing mass of flesh and mechanics that comprised its innards. 

Hot blood poured from the self inflicted wound and onto Gabriel's helmet, flowing down and dripping into the holes above his mouth. 

Gabriel was stunned for a moment, then almost laughed. 

Of course. Its whole idea of life revolved around blood. Life, health, food; blood was synonymous with all of them. What other thought could it have had to help him, than to try to feed him the way it fed? 

A misguided effort, of course, but nonetheless meaningful. It had to fight for every second of life that blood afforded it, and it likely knew the supply was dwindling, yet it would harm itself and willingly part with its most precious life force, in the hopes it would help him. 

Gabriel opened his mouth beneath his helmet and let the blood trickle onto his tongue. Misguided or not, he recognized a sacrament when he saw one, and he would not dream to waste it. 

Again the taste of divinity alit on his tongue and he shuddered. The hunger is his gut that had first been sparked the moment he'd been struck down the first time by the Machine and that had been kindled by the taste of his own blood, then fanned to flame by the slaughter of the council roared up in him as an inferno.

He tilted his head back and shifted himself to kneel before the Machine allowing blood to pour more directly onto his supplicated form. 

Like liquid fire, it bathed his skin and coated his throat, lighting him up from the inside the way the cold reflection of Heaven had never dreamed to compare to. 

“Machine!” he choked, a desperate plea he hadn't meant to utter for a desire he didn't understand being dragged from somewhere deep inside him that knew what it was to struggle to survive, even if he didn't.

Luckily, the Machine understood what he could not. 

It guided him to his knees, pressed close to it for support, and guided his hands with its own to the wound on its chest, held his hand in its while an instinct Gabriel never knew he could have harbored dug their clasped fingers into the metal and stripped back the plating even further. 

Life blood bathed him and Gabriel cried out with a mix of relief and need. His arms encircled the Machine, clinging to it like a lifeline as he pressed his face to the now gaping wound, feeling its pulsing, churning, whirring insides against his armor and skin, which both seemed to drink up the blood as eagerly as his mouth. 

He wanted to pray, but couldn't. For there was no prayer he had known to fit such a sacrament, nor any that he could conceive of that could be more reverent than the worship he was already partaking in. 

He wanted to reach in with his hands and pull out its innards while it did the same to him. He wanted to tear it open with his teeth and taste where the metal and flesh met. 

He wanted to understand how animals could eat their prey alive.

He wanted to know that only his blood filled it, fed it, while only its fed him, like a heart passing blood between its chambers, like the two raw wounds that they were, pressed together so close they shared a heartbeat. 

He wanted them to hunger for every drop of each other and never be satisfied. 

He wanted. He hungered. He lived!

And yet, a gentle push was all that was needed to unclasp his hands and send him toppling back against the wall behind him, gasping for breath.

Blood continued to sink into his armor and skin and for a moment Gabriel felt the urge to peel off his helmet and lick the fading drops up before they disappeared, but he suddenly realized he could not fully recall what lay beneath that shell of white and gold. 

V1 clutched at its chest as its body began the work of repairing the damage, sealing up the opening and fusing the metal back together. 

Gabriel felt his own body similarly set to work on repairing itself. Energy seemed to return to his limbs and he felt that he once again had the strength to stand. 

“Let Us make man in Our image. In Our likeness…” Gabriel quoted, in a daze.

V1 tilted its head at him again. 

“For the life of every creature is its blood: its blood is its life.”

Gabriel shook his head and laughed. 

“We're so much more alike than I'd even thought possible, Machine. The Father's Light has always fed both of us, hasn't it?” he said. “If God is dead, then what in his abandoned Heaven could be left of his Light that is not lesser than that in the lifeblood of those He made in His image?” 

He looked to V1. 

“You…saved me. I owe you a debt of gratitude. But… I don't understand.”

He shook his head. 

“Blood is finite. It's running out. Why share any with me? Why cut down the little time you have left to save someone who only ever tried to kill you?” 

The Machine turned away, as though lost in thought.

Gabriel wondered if it even really understood, itself. 

At last, it turned to him and, in a garbled, robotic tone that seemed to take great effort for it to produce, it said:

”I A M H U N G R Y”

Somehow it seemed to look past him. This creature of war who never knew a life beyond bloodshed. Whose purpose died before it came to be. Whose life, since its inception, had been a clawing, desperate, and ultimately doomed fight for just a little more time. A little more life  Even in hell, even if it's only ever filled with pain and death. 

“I think I understand you, Machine,” Gabriel said. “I used to think your being here was pointless. A remnant of a dead war that could only know hunger. Could only bring destruction. But this is what you feel, isn't it?”

He put a hand to his chest.

“I want to live, Machine. I want to fight for every bloodsoaked second I can squeeze from this existence, no matter how brief. I'll fight until I'm torn to pieces for one more moment. If it means I get to keep feeling what it is to be alive.”

He looked up at V1.

“And I want you to be alive. I want to fight you again. I want you to never let me forget this feeling. You…make me know what it is…to want something.”

V1 blinked its optic, slowly, as if in agreement. 

Gabriel staggered to his feet and pulled Justice from its sheath. He pointed it at V1 before laying the blade flat across his palms and bending one knee, holding the sword up to V1.

“If the Divine can still live on, even in the blood of His dead and damned creations, then maybe this fight is not one doomed to end once you reach the bottom of Hell,” he said. “Take my sword. And my vow that if I cannot find a way to replenish the energy of the Divine, then I will meet you at the center of Hell and Splendor and Justice will cross one last time as we duel for the last drops of blood in creation.” 

V1 took the sword from Gabriel’s hands and brandished it, feeling the perfect balance of the expertly crafted blade. 

“We will meet again, Machine. Until then, may your woes be many. And your days few.” 

---

Me, pointing at a big blackboard with insane scrawlings covering it: "Here's how gabriel can still live"

I've never played ultrakill but I am not immune to the eroticism of the machine. Written all at once at 3am waiting for my pain medication mo kick in. bone app the teeth

#ultrakill #ultrakill spoilers #gabriel ultrakill #gabv1el #fellas is it gay to fight the homies like animals #blood tw #gore tw #it's ultrakill #v1 ultrakill

[write-and-wander]

In Words

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav (Reader) Description: Astarion, haunted by the seemingly inevitable darkness his future holds, tries to take it into his own hands and cling to the bit of power he might still have. Yet, as the cliche goes, love always finds a way. Warnings: Suicide mention Author's Note: I wrote this immediately after finishing Act One of Baldur's Gate 3. Idk man I listened to The Pale Elf by Jonathan Young and this appeared in my brain and I had to put it somewhere.

Oddly enough, he was thinking about everything other than the situation at hand. He had accepted the fact that it would hurt. There was no other choice but to accept it. Life is full of pain, after all. He knew that well. But it’s full of so much beauty, too.

He thought about the friends he had made. Some that didn’t like him much at all, others that did. Either way, they were people who stuck together and risked their lives for his, as he did for theirs. They healed him, in some ways. Not just because he was free from the pain he had been forced to endure- though, that really was a treat. No, it was more than that. He was glad to die feeling the sun’s warmth on his skin. He loved that he could go wherever he pleased, do whatever he pleased. It was healing to have that freedom again.

Yet, they couldn’t save him. He knew that- and he knew that they were in denial about it. They would likely be angry with him, wondering if he had given up on them. No, he had just given up on himself; but they could believe whatever they like. Many have thought worse. Their collective anger would subside with time. Wounds would heal again. Even the wounds of the one he cared for most.

They wouldn’t just be angry- they would be grieved. He always knew their heart was far too soft for his. They loved him from the moment they found him. Even when he bore his teeth as a cornered animal, they loved him.

He had told them that he felt the same- that he wanted them from the very moment he had first laid eyes on them. They both knew this was a lie. He was more concerned about survival (and the security of his freedom), and his cold demeanor made it clear that being close to others was not his strong suit.

At the same time, it was hard to ignore his draw to them. Their immediate forgiveness upon the withdrawal of his knife from their neck sent him reeling. He was a monster to everyone but them, even in that moment- he was just another person. Someone with real feelings and thoughts that actually mattered. They were one of the few people who could keep up with his wit, and yet, they were the most gentle soul he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. They could whole-heartedly love the cold surface and the man that hides beneath. Their love just... was that way.

He really had come to love them, though. He was putty in their hands; a now-willing slave who would use whatever power he had to move the heavens and the earth for them without a second thought. Yet, he had never said it out loud. He couldn’t. He would never be able to do what must now be done if he had.

And so, with a steak leveled at his own chest, hands shaking as they might, he thought not of this moment. The darkness of his memories and the promise of their reprise had driven him here. The warmth of the sun was the only thing to embrace him now. Yet, his thoughts were on the beacons of light that were his friends. His mind wrapped itself in the comfort of his lover, who could gently carry him unto death through memory alone. Now, he would finally embrace the once thing he had begged for over the last 200 years. His fists tightened around the steak as he began to press it into his chest.

Then they called out his name.

Their voice was no longer an echo in his mind.

They were there, calling for him out loud, their quivering voice echoing against the cliffside.

“There is another way,” they pleaded, desperation clear in their face as he finally opened his screwed-shut eyes to meet their gaze.

Suddenly, his plan was ruined before it began.

They ran to him, and rested their hand on the stake that still pressed against his chest. A drop of blood ran down his torso with the same heaviness as a tear running down a cheek. It teased him with death; with the power that would now hold, and the power that was now lost.

“You’ve made me soft,” he whispered, eyes watering. How dare they, he thought, less in offense and more in helplessness. He would not go like this. He could not go like this. Not when they would beg him to stay.

They'd saved him once- perhaps, against all odds and demons and gods that were pitted against him, they could save him again. Perhaps they already had; perhaps the victory was already claimed before the fight even began. They had a way of doing that with the ease of a breath- cheating time for those they loved.

They gently took the stake out of his white-knuckled hands. “I know,” they murmured, kissing his cheek.

He folded into them, finally able to relax completely. It was like the two of them fit together perfectly; like every moment they spent apart strained against their very nature. They were meant to be like this- together.

He resolved that, if he was never to be freed from his burden, so be it. At the very least, his taste of wretched freedom had granted him the beauty of the purest love. That could sustain him for eternity, if that were his fate. If the two of them died trying to promise his freedom, at least they tried. Hope had pierced his hardened heart and promised light in a never-ending night. He no longer knew how to do anything but strive for it.

As they held him in silence, he finally confessed his love in words.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #reader insert #in words #write and wander #write-and-wander #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #baldur's gate 3 tav #drabble

[rainba]

Starvation

✰ TWs/Tags: dark content, graphic violence, cannibalism

✰ Xiao x GN! Reader

✰ Word count: ~900

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

People say hunger presents itself in various forms.

There’s the hunger for food- the most basic of desires.

There’s a hunger for attention, a hunger for someone’s touch.

And there’s also a hunger for unconditional love.

Is craving all of these things at once what one would consider true starvation?

If that were true… Perhaps Xiao could be considered ‘starving.’

You tasted so sickly delicious in his mouth, your blood seeping onto his tongue. It was warm, sweet, and satisfying… You satiated his raging hunger. He devoured your arms, your legs, and the softness of your stomach. Your bones were exposed to the outside, and all of your nerves were completely shot. All of it was a nightmare borne into reality.

But the yaksha wasn't done yet.

Xiao’s dagger-like fangs pierced your shoulder, and it was in this moment his likeness rivaled that of a crazed demon’s.

Tears were pouring out of his golden eyes as guilt throbbed within his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. You just tasted so delicious– too delicious for your own good.

You should have heeded his warnings from the start to stay away from him. 

Maybe then you wouldn't be in this mess.

Your trembling hands reached out and caressed his cheeks while he’s tearing you apart, and it confuses him to no end. Why are you still being so nice to him? He’s killing you slowly, forcing you to endure the most painful death imaginable, and yet…

“I love you, Xiao.”

Those heavy words escape your lips.

Do you really mean that? From the bottom of your heart?

His red-stained lips come crashing down on yours, silencing his own incessant sobbing. He loves you too. He… He loves you so much that being apart from you has become the very definition of suffering. He wanted you, needed you, craved every part of you– both metaphorically and literally.

Archons… You were making him lose his mind. His karmic debts shot through his veins and ignited him with a stinging jealousy like no other, forcing him to helplessly writhe in agony. He was jealous of everyone else in this world– jealous because everyone else could have you, but not him. As a yaksha, there’s no space in his life for love, he’s incapable of it… That’s what he's convinced of.

It was his deep-rooted obsessions with you that brought him to this moment. He just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you go. He couldn’t get enough of you– he wanted all of you, entirely for himself. He caved in to his rotten jealousy and claimed you as his own. That’s all this was.

He was selfish.

“S-shut it,” the adeptus choked out before intertwining his fingers with yours. “You can’t… You don’t mean that!” It’s in that moment that his mind goes dark and his mouth darts towards your throat, desperately trying to silence you. But he stops right as his teeth reach the surface of your vulnerable skin.

He… He doesn’t truly want you to die.

But you’re already at death’s door.

“Xiao…” You’re at a total loss for words. Your vision is blurring, fading away, but you can still make out his beautifully monstrous face. He’s the one you love so much. He's the one you wanted to spend your entire life with. In your final moments, the only thing you have left to give is your honesty. 

What more do you have to lose now?

“Y-you’re the only one who has ever made me feel so… So…” You coughed on your words as you choked on your own blood, a brutal sight for Xiao to behold. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind as he waited for you to finish your words. “...So alive. So loved.”

Even when suffering through the worst kind of agony, you mustered a smile for him.

And you would only ever smile for him.

 “I hope… I hope I tasted good enough for you.” Your breathing inevitably started to slow, nearly coming to a halt. All it would take is a little more pressure for you to break. Xiao knows this. Your heartbeat is fading away…

He did this to you.

And he can’t undo what’s already been done.

Before you leave this world forever… Xiao needed you to hear one more thing. 

Just one more.

The words are totally foreign to his tongue, like that of a language far removed from his own. They get stuck in his throat and get trapped behind his teeth, but he’s fighting so desperately to get it out. He’s running out of time.

Xiao senselessly kisses your lips over and over, as if kissing you could somehow fix the damage he’s inflicted. But at the same time… Because of his actions, he knows you’ll forever be his, and his alone– so should he truly feel regret?

He parts his lips and the message he’s been meaning to spill finally escapes the prison of his uncertainty.

“(Y/n)...” His fangs graze the sensitive skin on your neck once more.

“I love you.”

And then he sinks his teeth into your flesh, consuming the last of your innocence, silencing the beating of your bleeding heart.

The smile on your cold blue lips is a sight that Xiao will never forget… The smile of the human he wished to call his partner.

His eternal soulmate… Forever to be together;

Even after death do you both part.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere xiao #xiao x reader

[fanaticsnail]

I watched the Storyteller version of Sapsorrow and knew it sounded familiar! I read "The Magic Fish" by Trung Le Nguyen. It's a graphic novel about a young Vietnamese boy struggling to come out to his friends and parents, particularly because they're immigrants and he feels they might not understand. His mother and him bond over fairy tales and there are three main tales in the novel that are used thematically, the first is Tattercoats (i.e; Sapsorrow), the second is a Vietnamese story Tâm Cám, and the third is the little mermaid. The Tattercoats story is a little different than the Sapsorrow Storyteller version or your version, but the art is beautiful I seriously recommend the book from the art alone (and if not the art, the Vietnamese fairy tale is kind of like Cinderella at the beginning but so interesting and full of plot twists).

I have to thank you for introducing me to Storyteller though, I'm gonna have fun looking at all their other retellings.

Oh my goodness, I know The Magic Fish! I haven't read that one in years!! Thank you for reminding me it exists, sweet snail. I adore it.

Of the Storyteller Series (1988), I have littered some of the plot points in several others.

Remember Me: (Shanks x Bride!Reader), I had "the true bride" in mind. Particularly her apprehension at having her hair touched. In the story in that case, it was a promise to not let another person kiss their cheek - in mine it was a sweep of the hair.

Drawing inspiration from things that impact your heart is so much fun. Makes it all the more real, in my humble opinion.

There are only nine episodes: (All are linked to YouTube for ease)

The Soldier and Death

Fearnot

The Luck Child

A Story Short

Hans My Hedgehog

The Three Ravens

Sapsorrow

The Heartless Giant

The True Bride

I would honestly love to write an OP fic for each of these.

Soldier and Death - Zoro He traps death, now unable to die. He has lived his life to the fullest, but death is the only thing that truly fears him. Reader is the reaper, ordered by Death to not claim him. Fearnot - Luffy He's just a sunshine boy who has never been frightened a day in his life. He wants to experience fear. Just once. The Luck Child - Buggy He is a failing forward king, as the usual. Circumstances demand his death, he continues to thrive. A Story Short - Usopp He has to perform a series of storytelling adventures and present them towards the court for a hundred days. On the hundredth day, he has come up with nothing. What will he do? Hans My Hedgehog - Corazon He will only reveal himself to his wife at night, cursed as a monster within the hours of daylight. She wants to break him of this curse, but has no knowledge to help him. The Three Ravens - Sanji Just imagine Sanji desperately crying out for his love to grace him with the sound of her voice, begging her to say something to aid in her defence - bound to the stake and threatened with death if she does not speak. Ahhhhh. Screaming. Sapsorrow - The one I'm actively working on with Mihawk The Heartless Giant - Doflamingo Speaks for itself, truly. He just is. I could also do this for Sir Crocodile, if I wasn't too busy shipping him with @empressofmankind's Shivs. The True Bride - Already partially did for Shanks. I would love to visit this trope again for him though. Have him be the one with amnesia trope.

Honestly, I would love to do this as a massive moot fairytale collaborative au.

@since-im-already-here - what say you, sis? You reckon I've got the characters and the prompts down for each series?

@gingernut1314, do you know this jim henson series? You want to take a crack at one of them?

@writingmysanity - go on. I know you want to do the Corazon. You so, so want to do the Corazon.

@sordidmusings 👀 c'mon now. Romance, pining. Angst. All that good stuff, dear.

@feral-artistry, you've even already drawn some puppets. You know you want to....

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #buggy #mihawk #shanks #usopp #zoro #sanji #luffy #doflamingo #corazon #the storyteller #the storyteller au #fic prompt

[softestnatalie]

Abandoned corridors of the heart

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Timing: Season 1

Chapter Summary: There are a few complications on Merle's rescue mission. Your group is forced to leave the camp as chaos erupts.

Warnings: swearing, mild language, blood, gore, character death

Autor's note: School's starting again in a week and I'm NOT ready. I'll have much less time to write :( so updates will proably take a few more days as soon as I have classes again, hope you can understand. Also, reader crying because of Daryl got my heart aching :( And the reader gets to see sb she thought she'd never see again ;)

Chapter 3: Everything changes

You're stronger than you think.

That's what your mother used to tell you whenever you needed to hear it - whenever something was putting you down. And right in this moment, you were trying so much to hold onto her words, an axe in your hands and a geek on the ground, a few men of the camp beating it up. Still, no matter how many punches they delieverd, it didn't die. You didn't exactly know how to help, but you did remember the moment you saved Daryl - he shot it right through the eye as soon as he'd been able to grab his crossbow. After that, it didn't move anymore, so you assumed the head was the important part.

You were just waiting for the right moment to interfere and when Rick hit the geek with a pitchork, the spikes piercing it's abdomen and forcing it to stay on the ground, you quickly pushed the other men out of the way, raising your arms high above your head before bringing them down with as much force as you could, cutting it's head off in a swift movement.

All of you were breathing heavily, drops of sweat running down your foreheads. Rick looked at you and nodded, saying thank you for your help. You nodded back and drooped the axe right next to the bodyless head, blood leaking from the open throat.

"That's the first one we had up here," Dale spoke after a few heavy seconds of silence, "They usually don't come that far up the hill."

"Maybe because the cities are getting empty," you decided to speak your mind, "I mean as far as we know, they bite humans - we're their food - they're searching for more," your eyes trailed to the poor deer laying on the ground, it's neck wide open and chewed up. Your heart ached for the animal, which had to give his life for no reason at all.

You jumped when you heard more rustling from the woods, grabbing Rick's arm - since he was closest to you - and hiding behind him. He turned his head to you and raised an eyerbrow, making you lower your head in embarrassment.

Shane raised his gun instantly, pointing it at the forest and waiting for the creature to show itself. You grabbed Rick's arm a bit harder when the rustling got closer as you held your breath, body tensing. You relaxed though, when you realised who it was.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, looking at the gun in shock before his eyes trailed to the dead deer on the ground, geek laying next to the animal. His shock turned into anger, "Son of a bitch," he walked closer, "That's mah deer. Been trackin' it fo' miles."

The geek's head started to move again, making you cringe and Daryl scoff, "Don' ya know anythin’, people? Gotta be the brain," he lifted his crossbow and just like the first time you'd met him, he shot an arrow right through the eye.

Your group decided to leave the deer for safety reasons since nobody knew if it was still edible after it got bit. And you really couldn't say you were disappointed about the news, you probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway - your guilty conscience way too big. Though, the squirrel Daryl brought back with him wouldn't be any better.

But before you went back to the camp, there was one thing you desperately wanted to do; bury the deer. You wanted to give the poor animal at least a little bit of peace. So, you begged Shane - since he was always the one to make desicions - to help you. And after a few minutes he actually agreed, shoveling a grave before laying the deer inside.

After you were satisfied, you made your way back inside the camp, Shane following behind you. And the first thing you saw was Rick arguing with Daryl, and you could only imagine what the argument was about.

Daryl was rubbing his forehead, his eyes narrowing in anger as you and Shane walked closer. It probably wsn't the smartest idea to interfere in what was happening but you were curious and you did want to know how Daryl would take the news about his brother.

"Hold on, lemme process this," Daryl turned away from Rick, rubbing over his eyes with his elbow - and you thought he looked close to crying by the way his face twisted up for only a second before he turned to face Rick again, "Ya sayin' ya cuffed mah brother to a roof," his voice raised in volume, practically screaming, "And ya fuckin' left 'im there?"

Rick put his hands on his hips - a move he seemed to be doing a lot, you noticed - and nodded, "Yeah," unlike Daryl's, his voice was calm.

A 'pfft' left Daryl's lips and he pursed his lips, pressing them together and trying to supress his upcoming rage. It didn't seem to work though as he grabbed the rope hanging on his left shoulder and threw the squirrel he'd caught into Rick's direction.

The situation escalated even more when Daryl pulled his knife out of the holster he had on his left hip, swinging his arm around widly, trying to hit Rick with the weapon. Luckily, Shane was able to put Daryl down before he actually got to hurt anyone.

Soon after, they decided to go back and get Merle and for some weird reason Shane decided to send you with them. He came up to you while the boys were preparing the truck, you about to go back into your tent when he spoke to you, "Think you should go with them."

You turned around and your mouth opened in shock when you realised he meant you. You. "Wha- why me?"

Honestly, the last thing you wanted to do was to go outside the camp because, really, you didn't have a death wish. Moreover, you had close to no experience killing geeks and the others having to look out for you constantly would just slow them down.

Shane shrugged, his left eye twitching a little, "You were doing a good job earlier, you know, helping us with the geek."

You shook your head quickly, a confused chuckle escaping your lips, "Shane, I had no idea what I was doing," you pulled the hair tie Lori had given you only a few hours ago off your wrist and put your hair up into a ponytail, "Really, I'd be more of a problem rather than help."

You tried to talk your way out of it but by the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no chance of you staying at the camp, "You're going," he walked away and continued talking with his back to you, "I'm sure it'll be okay."

And then he was gone. And you were left standing there, your eyes trailing after him until he disappeared from your sight and if looks could kill, he'd have died on the spot. His words didn't make any sense to you.

You've done great.

You surely hadn't done great. You had a conjecture and acted on it, basically trying your luck without knowing how it would go. And it's not like you actually killed the geek - Daryl did.

I'm sure it'll be okay.

You wondered how he could even say that after the situation which had happened just a day ago. The last group to leave the camp was faced with death and almost didn't make it back - and you were sure they were far more experienced than you. You were also sure about one more thing; you really didn't like Shane.

You were standing beside the truck when you had prepared yourself to go - and with prepared you meant getting a knife from Dale. You were still hoping someone would come and safe you from having to go since you were sure the four men would be fine without you, and there really wasn't any reason for you to go. Again, you questioned Shane's intentions.

"Oh," you lifted your head at Glenn's suprised voice, Daryl standing next to him, making you even more nervous. The absurdity of the situation wouldn't allow you to give the young man a smile. You. Going on a rescue mission to safe the brother of a man who acted like he despised you.

"Yeah," you muttured, nodding your head.

Glenn seemed to realise you didn't really like the idea of going with them - and he could understand, of course - so he didn't answer anymore, just nodded and gave you a reassuring smile as he opened the back doors of the truck to let you inside.

The ride was awkward. Glenn was driving the truck, Rick siting next to him in the passenger seat. Daryl and T-Dog were in the back with you, each one of you sitting in a different corner. None of you said a word.

It didn't take long before the vehicle stopped - the brake squeaking - and Glenn turned around to face the three of you, "We'll walk from here."

Daryl was the first to stand up and jump outside while you and T-Dog started at each other before he slowly stood up as well. You allowed yourself a few more seconds to take a few deep breaths, rubbing your thighs with your shaking hands as Glenn reached out his hand in order to help you out. And, honestly, Glenn was about to become your favorite person and, hopefully, a good friend over time.

The walk was short and only took a few more minutes until you were standing in front of a large building, the sun blending you when you looked into the sky to see the roof as best as you could. You just wanted to get Merle as fast as possible so y'all would be able to go 'home'.

But to everyone's suprise, the roof was empty, only a bloody and cold hand was left behind.

You covered your mouth as your eyes widened and a gasp left you, staring at the limb before you looked at the redneck when he started to scream for his brother. And you were almost scared he would attract geeks with how loud he was being.

Your group followed the trail of blood in hopes of finding him somewhere inside the building. But it didn't change anything.

Merle was gone.

"I lost my police bag when Glenn saved me," Rick said as he stopped Daryl from searching for his brother on his own, "We can go and get it. It's full of weapons - guns, lots of guns - and then we can look for him together."

Daryl stepped away from Rick's touch and thought about the spoken words before he gave a curt nod, "We can do tha'."

And so it was decided. Your group made a plan how to get the police bag first and for that plan to work, you had to be in pairs. And, of course, just your luck, you were paired with Daryl. While Glenn would be the one to run and get the bag, Rick and T-Dog would wait around a corner while you and Daryl would wait around another corner to be able to help Glenn if anything went wrong.

And, oh, a lot of things went wrong.

Before you could react, there was a boy standing in front of you, screaming in a language you couldn't understand - but you assumed it sounded like spanish. Daryl raised his crossbow but before he could do anything, two older men came running towards the three of you, pushing Daryl to the ground and giving him a kick in his side.

Right in that moment, Glenn returned with the bag and a hat in his hands, looking at Daryl before his eyes trailed to you. His expression matched yours; mouth opened wide just as well as your eyes.

You ran to get Daryl's crossbow, which was laying a few meters away from him, as soon as the men's attention was on Glenn, sprinting over to him. It was heavier than you thought and your arms burned a bit when you picked it up and gave it to Daryl, who managed to shoot an arrow into one man's ass.

The next thing you knew, you were picked up and thrown over a shoulder before you got pushed inside a car, Glenn right after you.

"Daryl!" you screamed a few times until the car started moving and there was nothing the redneck could do to safe you. The car was small, you and Glenn sitting shoulder to shoulder, so he could feel your shaking body right next to him.

"We're gonna be all right," he whispered but it did little to calm you. And you loathed Shane for forcing you to go on that stupid mission, all you had done was give Daryl his crossbow, so why were you even there?

It took at least an hour until your kidnappers reached their destination. One of the men opened your door and grabbed your arm, pulling you out and leading you and Glenn inside what looked like a hospital.

"Ese," there was a light voice calling and the man behind you turned around, looking at the source of the noise, "What?" the unknown man lifted his arms, pointing them in your direction and having a look of utter confusion on his face, "Who are they?"

You lowered your head as the two of them started to discuss about you and Glenn, rocking back and forth on your feet. You were scared of them and what they would or could do to you. Nobody would be there to help.

"I said grab the bag, not bring two strangers with you!"

The voice pulled you out of your thoughts and only a few seconds later were you led further down the white corridors. And the sight you were met with almost eased your fear just the tiniest bit. Old people. A lot of old people. They were sitting in their chairs, just enjoying their time and it almost looked like a retirement home.

"You can just sit down if you want," the unknown man said, pointing at a few empty chairs. You and Glenn looked at each other and you raised your eyebrows as if to ask him what he thought, him responding with a little shrug and a nod. So, the both of you walked over in small steps and sat down.

That was pretty much how you spent the next few hours, just sitting there and watching the old people talk, occasionally standing up to change position or help somebody. At some point, you were brave enough to start talking to Glenn, not being all too scared anymore.

It was pretty late already, the sun starting to go down when the man from earlier walked in again but this time with a familiar face.

Rick.

You nudged Glenn with your shoulder as soon as you saw the member of the camp, nodding into his direction so that Glenn could see him as well. Daryl and T-Dog followed soon after, looking around skeptically.

"I thought you two were bein' eaten by dogs," T-Dog said when he saw you and Glenn walking towards them. And you almost laughed when the korean man raised an eyebrow and turned around, looking at the three tiny chihuahuas as they started barking as if they could understand our words.

You and your group got pulled into another room to talk about the situation without the seniors having to hear.

The unknown man - what seemed to be the leader of that hospital - explained their story. They didn't mean any harm, didn't even plan on meeting other people on their way to get the weapons. They were just as scared as you were.

Rick decided to give them a few of the guns and ammo we had inside the bag, showing his understanding. Still, he kept most of the weapons to himself and saved them for the camp. After the conversation, your group could go 'home'. The leader of the Vatos - that's how they called their group - said a big 'thank you' before he led y'all out.

But, of course, the relief you felt didn't last very long. Because when you and your people walked outside, the truck Rick and the other two had came with was gone.

"The hell is the truck?" Daryl asked at the same time Glenn spoke, "Who'd take it?"

"Merle," Rick pursed his lips as he seemed to realise Merle wouldn't want anything positive for the people who had left him behind - even if it was by accident. And if he found his way back to the camp, nothing good would happen.

And since y'all didn't have any other options, the streets being empty and no other car in sight, you started jogging towards the camp, trying to be there as soon as possible to prevent anything negative from happening.

You didn't think it'd be that bad.

The five of you could hear the screams from a distance and you could feel your heart sink once you knew they were coming from your camp. At first, you thought Merle was the reason for the loud noises, you didn't expect to see the entire - once peaceful - camp filled with geeks.

All you could hear was the screams of the people living here and the loud gunshots as they tried to defend themselves. It was dark by then but, still, you could see a lot of blood on the ground, coming from the people who had got bitten already.

You thought about running away, somewhere safer than there, but everything you had on your mind left you at once when you looked into an all too familiar face. It wasn't as beautiful as it once was, the skin being a light shade of gray and the teeth hanging out in an unnatrual way.

You took a step forward, almost as if you were in a trance, but jumped when another gunshot sounded and the face you couldn't seem to stop looking at fell backwards, blood spraying from the bullet wound.

"No!" you screamed, the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally rolling down your cheeks. Your body reacted before your mind could as you got on your knees and crawled over to the body on the ground.

The others killed the rest of the geeks as you sat on your knees, practically sobbing at this point, tears blurring your vision, "Mom," you whispered shakily, touching her hair carefully.

You didn't even realise how quiet it got as your screams echoed around the woods, holding your mother's cold hand tightly. You didn't think you'd ever get to see her again and you were just trying to accept that, but seeing her like this put you at least three steps back.

Please don't leave me, I need you, you thought, your eyes wandering around the group for the first time since your parent got shot. And only then did you realise you weren't the only one crying. Amy - the girl you had tried to comfort just a day ago - was lying on the ground, her neck wide open and bood all over her. It was obvious that she got bit.

How ironic. Amy had been so worried about Andrea's well being, scared they'd get seperated way too soon and now it was the other sister laying motionless on the ground.

The sight made you cry even more. So many lives. And they got taken away as if they didn't matter at all. The others were darting their eyes back and forth, looking at you and then at Andrea.

You looked back down at your mother, your tears wet her white and dirty shirt. Your story wasn't supposed to end yet, you wanted a happier ending for her.

You sat like that for the rest of the night, the sun raising after a few hours and you thought the worst part was sitting there the next morning, realising she was gone for good. That morning, you felt physical pain for the first time - a deep ache consuming your whole body but mostly your heart - without actually being hurt.

Daryl came over to you after some time, sitting on his heels next you and your body tensed uncomfortably.

"We gotta-" he started to talk but you didn't even let him finish his sentence.

"Stop," you spoke curtly, shaking your head at whatever he had to say, "I wanna bury her," you waited for a response but when you got none you allowed yourself to look at him. His eyes weren't as hard and cold as they usually were - still distant but not cold. Maybe because he could actually understand you considering the current situation involving his brother.

He nodded softly and stood up, grabbing your mother by her shoulders, making you tense up even more, "Hey, hey! What are you doing?"

He stopped his actions, looking at you again, "Help ya dig a grave."

You stared at him for a few more seconds before you eventually decided you could use the help, so you let him continue, "Okay," you whispered.

And it was all going okay until Shane thought he had to tell his opinion even though nobody asked for it, "Hey," he called, walking over to you and Daryl, already beginning to shovel the grave up again, "We don't bury geeks. She wasn't one of us."

Daryl scoffed at him, his eyebrows furrowing into a glare as he stopped shoveling, "Ain't yer business."

Shane shook his head and licked his lips, "Sure is," he tilted his head a bit to look at you still working to close the grave, "We don't bury them."

You shut your ears after that, focusing on your task since you really couldn't care less about Shane in that moment. And you honestly couldn't even explain how much you hated him. The argument between Daryl and Shane got more heated and at some point it just kind of escalated.

"Hell with y'all," Daryl exclaimed, waving around with his arms, "Ya had this comin'," he pointed at your mother's grave with one hand before slowly gesturing to the other bodies as well.

And this got your attention.

You had this coming.

How dare he say these words? Innocent people died. And he has the audacity to act as if they deserved it? And point at your mother - the mother you'd just lost a few hours ago - while doing so? His words hurt and they cut deeper than a knife ever could. Did she deserve to die? Did you deserve to see her like this?

Too many questions you didn't know an answer for, but you did know one thing; You didn't want to see Daryl anymore.

"Go," you suddenly spoke up, "Both of you, I can do this alone," your voice cracked towards the end, your face twisting up in pain, showing how much Drayl's words actually affected you.

The redneck started talking again, seemingly realising his hurtful words, but you didn't let him finish, raising your voice instead and telling him to fuck off. Both men left eventually, leaving you alone to do your work.

Only a few hours later did your group decide to leave the camp behind in order to find help for Jim since he got bitten. So you packed your stuff just as well as the rest of the group to head to the CDC - hoping to get a cure and save Jim.

You said goodbye to your mother before you left, sitting at her grave for some time before eventually moving towards the van. You were hoping your group would be able to come back as soon as Jim got the help he needed.

You didn't think about a lot of things when the van started moving, but in the end you realised something.

Everyone leaves at some point.

Tag list:

@goth-cowgirl-03 @paintlavillered @hotgirlsshareaccounts @tiedyedghoulette @alialiclouds

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #merle dixon #rick grimes #lori grimes #carl grimes #shane walsh #carol twd

[madrone33]

So, I've been re-reading the Deltora Quest books for the first time in years because my obsession with them has recently been revived (just finished Valley of the Lost), and man, I don't think I realised before just how, like, absolutely devoted Lief is to getting rid of the Shadow Lord and freeing Deltora. It's especially apparent in the first few books.

The Belt is basically all that matters to him. Not even finding the Heir is more important, honestly the heir is very much secondary to the Belt. They're just the person who will put on and activate the Belt's magic; they are a means to an end. His own life is secondary to the Belt - which isn't to say he's not afraid of dying, he really really is, but when shit gets real and it looks like this is the end, his thoughts almost always go to the Belt. Just like the heir, Lief thinks of himself as a means to an end. (Which is ironic, seeing as how he is the heir.) Lief will make the Belt, and the heir will wear the Belt, but it's the Belt itself that matters most to him. Because it's the Belt that will save them.

'Do not worry about me,' Lief whispered, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. 'Nothing matters but that we seize the gem. If I die in the attempt, it will not be your fault. You must take the Belt from my body and go on alone, as you have wished.'

I must prepare myself for death, Lief thought. But he could only think of the Belt around his waist. If he was killed here, the Belt would lie forgotten with his bones. The gems would never be restored to it. The heir to the throne of Deltora would never be found. The land would remain under the Shadow forever.

'No!' Lief cried. 'Wait!' At this moment of terror, his one thought was for the Belt of Deltora and the topaz fixed to it. If he did nothing to prevent it, this golden eyed giant would surely find the Belt after he was dead, take it from his body- and perhaps give it to Thaegan. Then Deltora would be lost to the Shadow Lord forever. I must throw the Belt over the cliff, he thought desperately. I must make sure that Barda and Jasmine see me do it. Then they will have some chance of finding it again. If only I can delay him until I can do it...

[Literally just died] Lief felt himself pulled to his feet and slung over Barda's shoulder. His head was spinning. He wanted to cry out, 'What of the crown? The opal?' But then he was that the crown was in Barda's hand.

Lief's fingers felt for the clasp of the Belt he wore under his shirt. If necessary, he would unloose it and let it fall into the mud at the bottom of the stream. It would be better for it to lie there than for it to fall into the hands of the Shadow Lord again.

And maybe it didn't really hit me when I first read them 'cause I was approximately A Child, but it's really sinking in now just how bad things have been in Deltora for the last 16 years. When they talk about slavery and fighting arenas and brandings and starvation and executions in the streets. For some reason all these human atrocities are hitting home a lot more than before. It used to be the monsters that seemed the scariest, but now I can see that yes, the monsters are horrifying and traumatising and terrifying, but Lief and Barda and Jasmine continuously choose to keep going, they willingly put themselves through hell, because the Shadow Lord is worse.

Anyway, all this to say, Deltora really couldn't ask for a more selfless and loyal King that Lief. This kid is willing to die so many times over if it means his people are safe.

(The only thing he tends to go off mission for are his friends and family, but even then, I'm thinking of that part in Isle of the Dead where Laughing Jack holds Jasmine hostage and demand the Belt in return. And Lief refuses. Because his people must come first. And he knows Jasmine would never want him to betray their land for her. Like??? So many feels.)

#deltora quest #essay #lief of del #emily rodda #my posts

[theshadowsingersraven]

Analyzing Blodeuwedd and What it May Mean for Elain's Character Arc/Romantic Journey (mainly Elucien)

Many people have attributed Blodeuwedd to Elain’s arc, as SJM had supposedly pinned it to her Pinterest before it was taken down and labeled it "Elain." And, generally speaking, it does seem to fit her.

Flower face? Elain is known to be beautiful and associated with flowers. Additionally, she's tied to a man by forces of magic beyond her control and is shown to want a man different than the one the magic forces designated for her. Lleu also means "light," similar to how Lucien means light. I've also seen people cite that the name Lleu itself translates to Lucien.

Now, here's what it gets interesting and parallels to Elain-Lucien-Azriel really come into play.

So, many people assume that Gronw Pebr is Azriel in this situation. Especially because of the whole Blood Duel debacle being a possible outcome. But I want to pose something different. Because here's what's said about Gronw on his own page.

An antagonist.

Now, to be clear, this isn't really a grand love story between Blodeuwedd and Gronw. It's almost comparable to Romeo and Juliet, but the main difference is that the antagonists in Romeo and Juliet are the families. The families are the ones who the narrative blames for them taking their lives. But thar doesn't appear to be the case with Blodeuwedd. Because here's what happens next:

Blodeuwedd and Gronw are blamed by the narrative. Gwydion (notice something familiar about that name? The ancient sword of Fionn? The Starsword?) punishes Blodeuwedd and turns her into an owl. (I don't anticipate this to be literal in the retelling.)

And then the last of the tale is below:

So, what does this all mean?

Incorporating SJM's hint that the next book will feature a betrayal, I think it's very possible that the traitor is Elain, but under specific circumstances. Again, assuming that SJM does maintain her statement about there being a betrayal. Especially because I personally don't see SJM killing off Azriel for trying to kill Lucien. As much as I want Az to get his desperately needed reality check, I definitely don't want him to die.

Hear me out:

What if "Gronw" is an emissary/ally of Koschei instead of Azriel?

Thinking of it this way, it's possible that SJM's adaptation would also tie in Swan Lake and the Death of Koschei the Deathless all in one.

In ACOSF, Cassian notes that no one really knows where Elain goes and that he believes her to be lying at one point when she says she's going to help an elderly faerie with her garden.

Given that the Suriel was aware of Elain scrying for him in WAR, I wonder if something similar could occur with her seeing Koschei? Or perhaps she scries in either the early part of her book or the novella should SJM decide to put a break between SF and the next novel, and that might be how we can get a more direct tie between them.

Either way, I don't think it's a coincidence that Gwydion from this tale is also the same origin name of the Starsword. Perhaps if Elain is magically manipulated in some way, Gwydion could be wielded to destroy that manipulation. Or Gwydion might be used to reveal "Gronw" as an owl/emissary of Koschei instead of "Blodeuwedd"/Elain being turned into an owl. Perhaps this "owl" could also be a reference to Maeve?

Maybe Lucien and Nesta work together to free Elain from this manipulation, thus how Gwydion as a sword could come into play. I also wouldn't be surprised that if this is the direction SJM takes, it could result in Elain being "punished"/monitored to ensure that there's no further manipulations still affecting her.

And since Madja even says that a mate will know what's wrong, maybe Lucien is included in that monitoring (especially if there was an attempt on his life)? Maybe she's put with him in a forced proximity way, like at the Band of Exiles' manor, and she spends time around humans and starts to heal the part of her that grieves her humanity. Maybe her "monitoring" is also focused on healing, and since Elain would have access to the world around her, unlike in the House of Wind, she might make her way to Spring as many have expected her to end up.

And maybe this might be where Vassa is called back to Koschei’s lake, though maybe not necessarily resolved fully in this book? Or maybe it could be, who knows!

I know very well that SJM doesn't do entirely faithful/one-to-one retellings, so who knows how it'll play out. However, I do find it interesting that this isn't the love story a lot of people seemed to expect for E/riel both on here and on Reddit. I don't see her turning Elain and/or Azriel into truly malicious antagonists. But that's also just me!

Let me know your thoughts. I'm also heavily biased towards Elucien, so def keep that in mind!

#pro elucien #elucien #elucien supremacy #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #antielriel #anti vassien #acotar theory #acotar thoughts