#scenes from the concrete river

[mscottphoto]

The Los Angeles River, June- July 2022 from my ongoing project The Concrete River

#scenes from the concrete river #los angeles river #la river #documentary photography #color photography

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

[cryptotheism]

(politely) the kneejerk reaction to dismiss anything as a 'conspiracy' is just as bad as believing something without thinking about it critically. yes, csa is something that is oversensationalised, but understand that elite crime (specifically sex crime) is of a very different character than sex crime commited by the man on the street. high-end fashion is an especially dirty scene. i dont know how you can read about something like pizzagate and think 'yep. nothing fishy going on there. steven colbert told me so' yes, there is always a lot of ill-informed 'noise' around such topics, and god knows we need more rational voices in the discussion, but too many are too eager to debunk stuff regardless of evidence; and it only strengthens the conviction of the people of people who believe there is a coverup. same reason no one takes snopes seriously anymore. criminals do love hiding in plain sight, they do communicate with eachother by means of secret symbols, and many of them are in high positions in entertainment, fashion, government, police, etc. this is fact. its a recipe for paranoia to start seeing it everywhere, but its just ignorant to deny it happens. also, such abuse often involves drugs and psychological torture, and sadly victims often do sound like crazy people when they try to tell their stories; especially if they are children. the mcmartin preschool, for example. although the whole trial was a mess, they did actually find suspicious tunnels under the ground (though not where the children claimed) filled in with concrete, there are a number of other strange things about the case. but no one will ever know the truth now, because the absurd publicity around the trial guaranteed that no truth or justice could come about from it. sortof a fitting metaphor about how even if any given 'conspiracy theory' were to be true, no one would ever be able to know anyway.

(politely) Conspiracy research skills are not a kneejerk reaction. Sex trafficking at the highest echelons of power is a problem, but you are deeply and conspiratorially misrepresenting it. It's not this crazy James bond fantasy of drugs and torture prisons and secret codes, it's just rich assholes breaking the law.

There was nothing suspicious about Comet Pizza. That whole crock of horseshit came from a single white supremacist on twitter. He lied and it went viral.

Also there were no tunnels under the McMartin preschool, that's been repeatedly disproven.

You want know what really helps my research skills? Comparing theoretical conspiracy theories to actual, proven conspiracy theories like MK-Ultra and Iran-Contra, both very real things that happened.

Here's the thing; sober, critical, research into a conspiracy theory involves wading through a river of sensationalist bullshit, and it's no wonder that people get lost. If you want an example of conspiracy research done right, I HIGHLY reccomend Gerald Posner's Case Closed, it's a veritable master class on how to research weird conspiratorial bullshit like as a journalist while keeping your head on straight.

#conspiracy

[noroi1000]

F**k your fav 13 - You, and your boyfriend's friend

F**k your fav | ←Previous • Next→

Summary: It finally happened.  After watching your boyfriend have sex with his best friend, it was your turn. You started kissing Suguru, then you started undressing. Your boyfriend was watching all this. What was about to happen was obvious... You're going to have sex with Suguru...

A/N: I wrote the last three chapters one after the other, so they may seem short. Just like I ended the previous chapter with the start of sex between Satoru and Suguru, here I went further and ended the smut scene.

Warnings: Geto x reader smut (oral - m!receiving and f!receiving; vaginal sex; cum on body) watching someone having sex; masturbation.

"Suguru, Follow my advice, and she will melt beneath you."

"Same as you?" the dark-haired man laughed, styling his hair. 

"I don't have a pussy!"

"But you were moaning. So..."

"You're asking me to hit you!"

"Fine fine! So what are your tips?"

The white-haired man sighed, sitting up straighter on the couch. They had to hurry. After all, they heard you splashing in the bathtub. You could leave soon. 

"Well, you already have a big cock, so you don't have to worry about most of it." he said, thinking for a moment.  "Eat her pussy and she will be more sensitive. Almost every time after I ate her, she squirted all over my cock. Besides, let her give you a blowjob, and she'll be so wet that even a concrete dam wouldn't keep the river out of her pussy."

"I hate how you talk about the most perverted things calmly, comparing them to things that no one finds arousing..."

"And?"

You were visibly nervous as you sat between his legs on the bed as he lay down, giving you plenty of space between his knees. 

Your fingers finally played with the waistband of his boxers as you very gently kissed his cock through the material. You were shy, that was obvious. You finally have a boyfriend, and now you have to fuck someone else. Plus, your boyfriend is sitting in the corner of the room with his dick out. 

He wanted to somehow encourage you not to be afraid. After all, it won't be as pleasant as it can be when you're so nervous. 

He leaned on his hands to look at you properly. 

Satoru was forbidden to speak. If he said something that would embarrass you, it would be bad.  So all he could do was sit there and jerk off while watching someone else fuck his girlfriend. 

Sure, it turned him on. But he was also a little jealous now that you were lying between another guy's legs, grabbing his cock. All this time, you were only catching his! He wanted you to fuck Suguru. He wanted to see if you felt as comfortable with him as you did with Suguru.  He was a bit selfish, thinking that he should be the one lying there now and not Suguru. But he also wanted you to discover new lands. This will be absolutely new for you. And he wanted you to feel as good as you could. Besides, he found out that if you weren't his girlfriend, you would probably fall in love with Suguru.  That's why there was nothing so bad about it...

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid. There's nothing wrong with that." He said it with a small smile, waving to you. Looking at your small blush. 

That was the only sentence now. And it was very normal. He wanted to convince you to move forward. 

You nodded, looking into Suguru's eyes, before swallowing, and with a little help from him, you pulled his boxers down, removing fabric from him. 

Up close, Suguru was bigger than it seemed before. So what Satoru had inside him was a really good piece of cock... No wonder even your boyfriend, who had so much stamina during sex, trembled under his thrusts. So even he is sensitive when you approach him properly?

Maybe you should use your dildo on him more often?

But when he was with Suguru, he apparently felt different. This shows that they feel good together. So maybe you should let them fuck you more often? After all, what's going on between them goes back even before your relationship with Satoru. 

Maybe when you two are comfortable now, you can give Satoru some more sex with Suguru in the future?

Although you weren't sure if you should consider it normal. 

You wrapped your hand around the thick shaft, massaging the hot skin to tentatively place a chaste kiss on his head, licking up some of the precum. 

You're not sure what exactly Suguru likes. Satoru sure liked watching you choke on his cock.  But from what you could see, Satoru was a little slower when he was in your position. While Satoru received strong, sudden sensations, Suguru received strong but slow sensations.  Maybe it's something of his preference? But you also saw him fucking Satoru hard. And it certainly wasn't calm and gentle. 

It was powerful and intense.

Satoru always fucked you hard. Quick. All at once. He changes styles to annoy you. But you're sure his favorite was strong. Abuse all the sensitive points in you. 

To find out, all you could do was do what you had to do. You lay there and sucked and kissed Suguru's cock, sometimes lowering yourself to lick a stripe from his base to the tip. 

Everything about it was right. Both Satoru and him like it. 

When you lick like a kitten. Those were Satoru's words. 

You wanted to take another hint of what he likes best. But his hand suddenly grabbed your chin, pulling you away from his length. 

He pulled your face away to look at him. And in this position, you really felt how he radiated the energy of dominance over you. 

"Lie on your back, okay?" He said it with a small smile, sitting up straight and pulling your wrists to make you obey him.

Sitting almost breathless on the bed, you watched as the dark-haired man placed himself under your hips, suddenly opening your legs. 

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled you down slightly, signaling you to go a little lower. You obediently did so, slightly resisting his hands as they spread your thighs open for him. 

Suguru was the type who expected obedience. He tells you to do something, so he expects you to do it. While Satoru doesn't wait for obedience, he just keeps going. With Suguru, you feel more pressure than he causes. It turns you on. He dominates you so much. As soon as he says something, you're ready to do it. This is what sets them apart. Satoru is not patient. He may do something unexpectedly and suddenly. He can come up with something, set you up, and move you himself. And Suguru tells you calmly but firmly what he wants from you. And this is a sign that he dominates you and wants to do it all the time. Suguru told you how to position yourself as an order.

You looked to the side at Satoru, whose hand was slowly sliding down his length as he looked at your friend between your legs. 

A mouth appeared on your clit, giving you a kind of command. You were supposed to focus on him. 

Satoru was right. You were wet as hell. Even though you acted shy, you were so horny for him. 

Every time Satoru eats your pussy, you squirt all over his cock? We'll find out soon.

Two fingers press into your wet heat, finding a spot to massage your g-spot. 

Apparently it's hard to find, and this is the second man who found it in you the first time and will abuse this place!

Soft moans escaped your lips as you tugged on his bangs lightly as he played with your nub with his tongue and rubbed your sensitive spot with his fingers. 

Another difference between Satoru and Suguru. 

Satoru would like to make you orgasm and give you the most intense sensations.  Suguru slowly and carefully pushes on, doing something to make you a little disappointed, but in the end you get the most intense orgasm. 

You feel equally good with both of them. But their technique is different. 

You moaned loudly as his fingers unexpectedly dug into your walls, pressing hard against that spot and sucking harshly. Forcing you to orgasm suddenly.  And your body complied, sending sparks up your spine as you trembled against his lips and fingers. 

By this time, Satoru would probably be smiling and starting to lick up your juices. Suguru didn't pull away from your pussy, lightly flicking his tongue against your clit as he slowly fingered you, letting you come down from your high faster. 

The sooner you come to your senses after your orgasm, the sooner he will be able to load you up with his cock. 

Only when you stopped shaking did he pull his fingers out of you, letting you rest for less than a minute before he knelt between your thighs, stroking your swollen cock with his hand. 

You saw out of the corner of your eye as Satoru moved his chair to get a better view of your pussy, which was about to be loaded with cock. But he didn't speak.

"Are you ready?" Geto asked, lightly rubbing your entrance with his tip. 

"... Mhm..." you muttered, looking a little horrified at its width. It was the same when you were to take Satoru inside for the first time. 

But since you can do everything with Satoru, there won't be any problems with a dick like that, right? 

"Without a condom? So brave." Satoru laughed. "Cum on her, okay? I want to see it."

Satoru's words, although perverted, were fine. You could bear it. 

But it was different when you felt the wide tip pressing against the ring of muscle, stretching you to fit inside you.

You're really doing it...

You can take it. It will fit inside. You can take Satoru, so Suguru won't be a problem either.  It just seems that they are so big! They are just very tall! And you seem smaller next to them! But it doesn't change the fact that their dicks are also big!!!

You moaned loudly into your hand as he reached the end. You placed your hand on your stomach. You knew he was there. You didn't feel him as deeply as Satoru did. But he stretched you more. And it was as overwhelming as with Satoru...

You lose track of time lying there with your legs on either side of his hips.  That's why you didn't know how long it had been since you were lying there and getting used to him. 

"Can I move?" he asked you, holding your knee.

You nodded, giving permission.

And he didn't regret it. His hand pushed your knee closer to your chest, giving him better access and also giving Satoru a better view. 

You were so tight and hot. No matter how he moved, you still pulled him in. 

And slamming his hips against yours, he growled softly, enjoying your moans. You held his shoulders, trembling.  He now knew how Satoru felt inside you. It's a divine feeling... You're so damn tight... 

Even though Satoru was doing a lot to your pussy, you would still remain just as tight. 

Satoru laughed and said that your pussy was the same as at the beginning. And after he had fucked you a few times, he thought you were still a virgin because you were still just as tight.  But you take big cocks like his so well. 

His plan was to stuff your pussy into his shape. So that he will feel crazy about you. But he didn't know if it would be better to have you this tight. It's the perfect feeling when you squeeze him and suck him inside.

Suguru also felt so good.

It wasn't long before you came underneath him, murmuring his name as you tightened around him. 

And your grunts caused Satoru to stand up, struggling quickly. And he moved towards your body as Suguru continued to thrust into your heat to spill his load onto your chest and watch how it all flowed over you.  That was right.

The sight of you covered in cum was fucking beautiful. 

So Geto added more to your stomach so they could watch, stewing over your sweaty, wet body. 

Next time, you'll be dealing with two cocks at once...

The last chapter is coming soon. Something I'm excited about but terrified of.  Because the first and last chapters are the hardest to write. I don't want to disappoint anyone with a poorly written last chapter.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo #geto suguru #jjk x reader #geto x reader smut #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #f**k your fav

[yazthebookish]

I posted my take on the Lightsinger theory and Gwyn's "luring" powers theory on Reddit two days ago but thought I'll reshare it here (with some additional thoughts)

The only canon information we have on Lightsingers:

Nesta winced. Cassian went on as she scanned the bog, "There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you're in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren't fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food."

Does this correlate with anything Gwyn did in ACOSF? The answer is no.

I am not saying it is impossible for her to be a Lightsinger though where things stand it's unlikely in my opinion, but I'd attribute any potential powers either singing or glowing to her River Nymph heritage. We have no idea of her powers and she's also half High Fae of course she'll have powers like every other High Fae.

I think a lot of the "canon evidence" are different interpretations of the text but sometimes try to present itself as concrete evidence or proof when it isn't. Some attribute her singing during the services as the cause to Nesta having vision of the Prison and the Harp, but that also means we will have to ask what connection is there between Lightsingers and the Prison/Harp? And some believe it's the lyrics that trigger the vision as they're written in the ancient language and "Nesta saw what the song spoke of". Some believe Nesta power reacting to the crackling energy around Gwyn is a sign that she is a Lightsinger, but like... that's an indicator she has powers just like how Nesta in a later chapter felt Merrill's ornerry power. How is crackling energy means it's a Lightsinger when we never saw them? Powers recognize each other sometimes, just like how Feyre was surprised when Eris was able to detect a cold flame in the Dagger Nesta forged when it was given to him as a gift (like calls to like, Eris also has flame power).

In the bonus chapter, it's described at one point that the Shadows danced with Gwyn's breath as if it heard some Silent MUSIC (emphasis on music and not song). What was referred to as Music between Souls? The mating bond. Interestingly enough it was that same night when Nessian consummated their bond and they were connected by a music between their souls. So that could be a hint, and at the end of the scene Azriel hears a distant beautiful singing and the shadows sing back, hard to tell whether if it's Gwyn, who went back to trying to cut the ribbon, starts to sing or it's also another wording for a hint at the mating bond (also called the Song of the Soul).

I'm more keen to believe it's the mating bond because there are far more parallels and similar mate language to support it across all her three series and if someone is going to tell me "but Lorcan's chest glowed after he took the blood oath from Aelin—" my love context matters in this case and it doesn't invalidate the 10+ examples I can pull out of similar mate language like in the bonus chapter.

To ADD, for Azriel to be lured to the library at 7pm because of said Lightsinger singing, he has to be able to HEAR the singing for the power to influence him and Azriel didn't hear any singing, he was conscious and aware of his actions. It was mentioned Nesta sang with Gwyn at the services frequently and she didn't make any comments on a vision being triggered or her constantly seeking out Gwyn so there are holes in those kind of conclusions—again, because we never see Lightsingers on page.

"But when he arrives to the library it chimed 7pm!! That's when they sing for the dusk service" welp that's another hole in the theory, it depends on Azriel being drawn to the library because of Gwyn's singing but if he showed up at the library and they don't sing until 7pm then before the clock chimes at 7pm, they weren't singing so... not a convincing answer. Also, Clotho is usually seen during those services and Azriel still found her at her desk.

Early on when ACOSF came out, some readers made connections between Lightsingers and Shadowsingers and made the assumption that Lightsingers are the Shadowsingers' Light counterparts. That's why you had people musing about Azriel's mate being a Lightsinger, but canonically Lightsingers are evil once we go back to the text but we don't even see them to know for sure how they wield their powers or if they even sing because Shadowsinger Azriel doesn't need to sing when he uses his power.

In an Elain book (in this scenario it's her and Azriel), I don't see any purpose of Gwyn being revealed as a Lightsinger or anything about her powers because it'll be used as a plot device for an Elain/Azriel romance rather than contribute to Gwyn's own growth and that's why I don't like it. It will have implications on Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic too. If that's the case it will mean Gwyn will need more page time in an Elain and Azriel book to tackle something like that, especially if they're going to "help" her since that's the reasoning I see often—that she's not evil but she doesn't know it and if she did they will help her but like... why? To make her realize she has been keeping them apart or that she wanted a necklace she didn't even have any clue about.

Given Gwyn's history who even at the end of the book said despite training it didn't erase the fact that she let her sister die, she is still dealing with survivor's guilt, she still refuses to wear the priestesses stone, and also her desire to leave the library and see the world (which we didn't see yet). She has a lot of promise as a character than be a plot device for someone else's relationship.

The way I see it, Gwyn's theoretical powers is used to absolve Azriel of any accountability for his actions (ala Necklacegate) because it's not a good look on him, so it's better to pin it on someone else by saying he was lured against his will (since I often see that the reasoning behind her presence in the bonus chapter is to hint at her powers).

So if I have to read about Gwyn dealing with her powers whether they're good or bad, I'd rather see it from her point of view and for it to be beneficial for her own personal arc and healing journey. My problem isn't her having questionable powers (which I don't mind because many SJM characters had questionable powers but used it for good), I don't want it to be used as a plot device for another couple just to smear her as a character and clear the actions of the other male character so his "love interest" doesn't blame him for his actions.

Whew, this was long but I adore Gwyn and I am not a fan of the current version of the Lightsinger theory. I think even if SJM makes it happen, it would probably play out way differently than the fandom expects.

Also, it's not in SJM's style to use other woman drama in her romances. The other women are often 💀 or insignificant past lovers. I don't see her taking that route with Gwyn at all.

She could be half Asteri and I would still love her and be eager to explore her powers and story, I just don't like it being used to further another couple's conflict or whatever (they already have Rhys and Lucien).

And no, I hate the idea of Gwyn being controlled by either Koschei or Merrill because it takes away her agency and the suggestion here is about her doing things that harms others, how will that not have any implications on Nesta and Emerie and the trio's healing journey? Given her own tragic history and the fact that she was helpless and powerless to help her twin sister and she's still dealing with survivor's guilt over it all.

"Why did you sign up for this, then?" Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. "If you already have mind-calming exercises you're accustomed to?"

"Because I don't ever want to feel powerless again," Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.

Her being controlled is putting her in a powerless position again because she has no choice but to do Koschei or "evil" Merrill's bidding that could potentially harm Nesta and the others. I despite it.

And if I have to read about any comparisons between Gwyn and Ianthe as proof that priestesses can be evil, I'll go insane.

Also, if Gwyn's power can influence anyone through her singing, it would've influenced every single person in the services. It would have influenced other members of the IC. This particular theory is weak and depends one interpretation of the text that tries to present itself as evidence of an evil creature that never even shows up on page.

Gwyn wasn't added in the bonus chapter by coincidence. Sarah confirmed she left crumbs all over the book and specifically his bonus chapter, and what we speculate may or may not be confirmed in the next book so you can't dismiss the bonus by saying it has no relevance when the author said she left crumbs for readers to theorize about, which leads me to believe she wants us to come up with different theories until she publishes the next book where we'll know for sure if we nailed it or not.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

[strangerstilinski]

another sneak peek of void stiles because the other day i wrote like a madwoman and this bit of one of the scenes will not let me rest. (yes i know i'm still writing season two. shh.)

tw for blood but i think that's all

A startled cry of pain burst from her lips as her nose came into contact with cold concrete. Her knees buckled in response to the pain and she slipped out of his grasp as her hand hurriedly came up to her face to assess the damage.

When she peered down, her fingers were already dripping, thick streams of crimson filling her palm, welling over and slipping between her fingertips as she tried in vain to catch the blood as it fell.

"Oh, dear. Look at you," Void tutted with a step closer, his words soft and condescending all at once as he manhandled her back around to face him, as if he hadn't been the one to bash her head against the wall in the first place, as if he wasn't to blame for the blood currently pouring from her nose. He brushed her hand away to place his own unnaturally cold palms to her cheeks, "I didn't want to have to do that, dove, but you left me no choice. Here."

He tipped her head back and an instantaneous, wet-sounding gag made its way from her lips in response to the way the blood pouring from her nose suddenly changed route, the thick river beginning to cascade down her throat instead as gravity took hold. She made a small, choked sound of protest as the bitter metallic tang coated the back of her tongue, reflexively trying to bring her head forward again.

"Shh, shh, shh. Hey."

One of his hands drifted higher while the other cupped the back of her neck, a cool palm pressing to her forehead as he forced her to keep her head tilted back.

If not for the blood choking her, she might've spit curses at him, despite the fact that it was precisely what had gotten her into her current situation. Hearing her boyfriend's voice so hollow, so empty of all of the passion and softness that made Stiles Stiles — The boy she loved was likely dying, just a shell of himself, and Void saw it all as a means to an end.

She was enraged, but when his icy fingers tightened around the back of her neck, thumb stroking her jaw with surprising tenderness, she found herself weak to do anything but submit. Her head fell slack in his grip as he spoke, catching sight of a splash of red against pale skin as he wiped errant drops of blood from her lips and placed his wide palm over her forehead again.

"I'll take the pain, don't you worry. I'll take it for myself." He murmured, voice little more than a husky grumble as he began do just that.

#i have no self control so here you go #void!stiles #void stiles #void x reader #void stiles x reader #void!stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #void stiles imagine

[skittishlikefromthewar]

my favorite headcanon to ponder is that as soon as they enter the Champions League - and it becomes official that this level of cardiovascular training is going to become Jamie's new longterm normal - Roy immediately bans him from running on pavement (so that he'll still have cartilage in his knees by age 60, and because no trainer ever cared enough to do that for Roy and he's gonna do better by Jamie if it kills him).

However...

--they can't limit all his running to a treadmill or track either, because that's a GREAT way to get hurt when he's on the pitch. 

Cue a hilarious montage of Jamie biking to some park, folding the bike to carry over a shoulder while running through said park, hopping back on the bike once he reaches the road, biking until he reaches a grass/dirt track along the river, running until the dirt track runs out, biking again, etc.

Cut to a shot of Roy frowning studiously because This Isn't Working Out, before he turns to Jamie and dead-serious, he asks, "Can you run the pavement on your hands?"

And Jamie is 😭😭😭 on the inside but verbally he's just "uh....yeah! Yeah sure I mean yeah no don't think so but yeah sure yeah why not I'll give it a go?"

Cut to Jamie managing seven whole haphazard steps in a handstand before, "aiyeeee..." and a close-up of Roy cringing with his fists over his mouth. 

Cut to Roy frowning studiously again. This time Jamie's got a big abrasion on his cheek. Again, deadly serious-

"Could you cartwheel the asphalt bits?"

Cut to Jamie cartwheeling over and over and over like. well, like a wheel, making good speed...

in a very much NOT straight line, until he cartwheels right into a bush.

"Well." Roy's got his studious frown, Jamie's got his scraped cheek and leaves in his hair. "I think we're out of options."

And Jamie's face falls. "Coach no. Please I can figure it out. Just need to keep trying things don't I?"

But Roy's shaking his head. 

And Jamie just looks sadder and sadder, and he starts to look a little scared. "Coach really I can just run the pavement like I used to it's f-"

"Nope. I'm calling it."

We linger on Jamie's devastated face. 

Quick cut to Jamie's torso. He's running on the road. He reaches the park. He runs through the park and reaches pavement again. He runs the pavement until he reaches the dirt track by the river. He runs the dirt track until it ends, transitioning straight onto the road once again. Scene cuts to him panting at Richmond Green once he's all done. He slowly straightens up, turning to Roy (who it's revealed bicycled the whole way with him) with the angriest, most murderous glare we've ever seen cross Jamie's face.

Roy breaks into his first grin of the entire montage. 

We finally pan down to Jamie's feet

--clad in every runner's favorite pseudo-orthopedic clown shoes. They let you run on a beautiful, cartilage-preserving cloud (edit: ASSUMING you don't immediately let your stride get sloppy, which people often do! that's important, can't believe i didn't say it initially!) and not even Jamie can make them look slick. 

*This post dedicated to my own hoka-related humiliations. They're lovely at what they're designed for but oyyyye. tbf hoka does make slightly less gigantic, less hideous models (ones that visually limit themselves to the type of loud garishness that Jamie would actually probably adore). But also tbf, you KNOW Roy would insist on Jamie cycling through the dumbest, ugliest, most embarrassing, "it's yer fuckin knees, Tartt come on!" models he could find. 

(Bonus: Practically overnight, Jamie suddenly becomes an expert in every dirt, grass, and otherwise natural running trail in all of London because as long as there's no concrete or asphalt anywhere on his run, he can go back to his normal low drop shoes.) (Edit: which, to reiterate, is a much better choice for both your joints and feet, than running pavement in hokas!)

#had to actually think about that #bc jamie's legs are *important* #how might you balance wanting to preserve his knees with not wanting his feet to weaken from running with a ton of support all the time? 🤔 #easiest answer (to me anyway tho i'm DEFINITELY no expert): run exclusively on dirt #in his normal minimalist shoes #but they're 2 people who can't *ever* do things the easy way so... #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #royjamie #roy x jamie

[the-pale-goddess]

Vices & Virtues - Ethan Ramsey x MC

Dr. Ramsey's weaknesses don’t disturb his everyday life often, but when they do, a certain intern happens to always be involved.

Book: Open Heart, Intern Year (between Chapters 5 & 6)

Warnings: language, my rusty writing, a truckload of pining

Rating/Category: Teen+ / fluffy angst

Author’s note: [insert the ‘surprise, bitch’ & 'it's been 84 years' reaction GIFs]

I’m eternally grateful for the very few angels still waiting for new E&T content—this one’s for you 🫶🏻 Hope you’ll find a moment to read my word vomit and enjoy the mess (aka my writing). I appreciate every comment and like more than words can convey!

Edenbrook is indigestible on Mondays. Though Ethan Ramsey doesn’t believe in whatever ‘curse’ humankind attributed to an absolutely random day, he cannot deny the madness that usually ensues upon the beginning of each week. An inexplicable air of post-weekend malaise does tend to envelop the globe, and Boston is no lucky exception.

“Mondays suck!”

Striding across the hustly-bustly pediatric ward, Doctor Ramsey overhears an agitated boy explicitly expressing his annoyance.

Ethan’s Monday has been a doozy of a day as well, but he’d rather keep his troubles six feet under, preferably in concrete. Nevertheless, a drop of sympathy implores him to stop near the patient’s room and watch the scene unfold at a safe distance.

The child blows a raspberry at the nurse preparing him for a corridor-long wheelchair ride, clearly upset about the surgery he’s being taken to.

A heavy sigh followed by the unmistakable giggle of a certain copper-haired radiologist interrupts Ethan’s first break during today’s demanding shift.

“It’s not Monday, kid. It’s just your life.” Doctor Herbert whispers into Ethan’s ear, a large cup of raspberry tea in her hand. “But at least it’s going to be all rainbows and candy again in three weeks.”

Meanwhile, the situation has escalated quickly: a river of tears streams down the young Monday-hater's cheeks now, his concerned mother shooting pleading looks between her shuddering offspring and the strict nurse trying to efficiently finish the task so she could move on with her hectic schedule.

A pang of dejection pierces Ethan all of a sudden when a long-forgotten fragment of the past he buried flashes through his mind. Before its splinters reopen old wounds, he swiftly pushes the unwanted memory back to the unexplored depths of his psyche.

“I don’t think he’s heard you.”

“Gee, Doctor Ramsey, share some of that cheerful attitude with the rest of us!” Liz nudges his side, almost spilling her hot beverage on his foot. She mouths an apology, but his unimpressed gaze falls elsewhere.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“Thank God your interns still haven’t caught that grumpiness you’re suffering from.”

“No need to worry, it’s not contagious.” He gives a dismissive wave of his hand, partially to announce his departure, then continues the journey to his primary destination: the harmonious sanctuary of his private office.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind Ethan, the confined space becomes his temporary resort. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his sunken, aweary eyes to relieve the tension—an aching remnant of the sleepless night. The exhaustion begins to mess with his senses, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary; permanent fatigue has been his steadfast companion for more than a decade of his career as a doctor.

There’s a crack in that orderly, borderline clinical life of his, as big as a closed fist, and he’s slowly beginning to realize its detrimental consequences.

But none of that matters now.

What matters is that his desperate efforts to bend Naveen’s stubbornness weren’t in vain; there’s still hope—a notion Ethan isn’t exactly on board with, but he puts his trust in science, and beyond any doubt science will point him in the right direction. As long as there’s time, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his mentor, his friend. He’s confident he can do it, he’s capable of diagnosing and curing whichever mysterious illness keeps Naveen captive.

He’s the only one who can do it.

A double shot of deep roasted espresso shall help this cause. Or, at the very least, make his Monday slightly more endurable.

Loud metallic thud followed by a streak of bright fluorescent lighting annunciates the arrival. Empty, windowless corridor welcomes his nostrils with the odious mixture of staleness and antiseptic, typical of the office wing on the sixth floor. He operates on autopilot, mindlessly trudging ahead, marginally consoled by the aura of eerie quietude. Blissfully oblivious to what the so-called Manic Monday has prepared for him next.

All his rational thought and peerless logic evaporate into thin air the second his drowsy gaze zooms in on the old waiting room under renovation currently withheld by the recent budget cuts. Within its hoary walls, a familiar sylphlike figure catches his eye, unwittingly staking her claim to his undivided attention.

Ethan’s dire need of coffee has vanished as well; he’s wide awake now.

Smiling to herself, a sense of pride evident in the alluring dimples carved into her cheeks, Doctor Addams arranges a stack of papers atop a massive couch protected by thin plastic sheet.

Ethan acknowledges that he must ignore the tempest raging inside his chest, but he’s unable to focus on anything else other than the energy she exudes, luring him in like a siren’s song.

This isn’t the first time the infamous Doctor Terminator is utterly powerless in the face of her—the most intriguing mystery he’s tempted to unravel for some godforsaken, unfathomable reason.

Everything he knows about Tiffany Addams has been collateral damage from their close proximity and the isolating nature of their work. Against better judgment, Ethan has stored every single crumb of information thrown at him, like it’s a treasure guarded in the vault of his mind, acquiring new pieces and adding them to this clandestine collection.

With certainty, there’s a new element behind that glass wall, ready to be studied in secret.

As though pulled by a magnet, his feet carry him towards the room while Ethan shuffles through a myriad of excuses plausible enough to start a conversation. A good excuse, however, requires an elaborate background story, supported by a carefully planned follow-up—both of which clearly out of his reach at the moment.

Fully aware of the possible disaster awaiting inside, Ethan steps into the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest. A sophisticated scent of sultry vanilla wrapped with notes of luminous lavender pervades the space, handily smothering the musty odor of the old hospital furniture stored here for at least a year.

Heedless of his presence, Tiffany remains locked in her own bubble. She’s seated on the couch, browsing through a large leather bag with a lot of noise.

Long onyx locks neatly tamed in a sleek bun reveal the exquisitely sculpted contour of her features, its sharp edges so far removed from the overpowering warmth hiding in her sparkling emeralds and tenacious kindness dripping from the corners of her full mouth.

That stark contrast surely must be a part of her allure, he reckons. Not that there’s any evidence at his disposal—he’s her boss, for fuck’s sake. But the set of cardinal rules applying to the situation doesn’t stop him from looking, nor does it dilute the poison seeping from that singular contaminated thought…

Loud, treacherous voice snarls inside his mind like a beast at the gates of his sanity.

This isn’t staring, this is a comprehensive risk assessment.

Regardless of the pretext, watching her feels almost perverse, but he’s too transfixed to listen to his voice of reason hopelessly trying to redirect him to the path of impeccable propriety.

He can’t look away. Can’t move either. She'll notice him…Eventually.

Is that all he’s become? A disappointment, a fraud. One of the best diagnosticians of the generation, the esteemed Dr. Ethan Ramsey is consistently failing to do his job. His own mind appalls him—once the most treasured asset, his pride and joy, now compromised, useless, struggling to cut through the veil of his inappropriate longing.

Perhaps instead of triggering a spiral of destruction, he should address a more pressing matter: why is there a splotch of purple paint on her cheek?

Better late than never, his focus switches from Tiffany to the negligible surroundings. On her left, spread across the polythene-covered couch, lie a couple of ridiculously abstract drawings, colorful and confusing, each of them made with the skill and precision equal to a six-year-old if he has to guess.

Suddenly, it all clicks.

Along with his tongue.

The short clack doesn’t make her flinch, though she straightens immediately, a glimmer of surprise shining in her riveting eyes when she looks up at the intruder and deems him worthy of a smile. Her lush, rosy lips curl up generously, greeting him with a beam so dazzling his body heats up like bare skin kissed by the blazing midday sun in the middle of summer.

The older doctor doesn’t return the cordial gesture—he has a reputation to uphold and his bruised dignity to save. He quickly takes refuge in the shadow of his perfect decorum, dexterously covering the unjustifiable act of treason committed by his very own carnality.

Tiffany, however, is undeterred in her mission to melt his callous indifference with the disarming sincerity of her vivacious spirit.

“Before you drop your sarcastic grenades on me: no, I have not found my true calling elsewhere. I have not been slacking up either. These aren’t even mine, so insulting someone else’s artistic skills would be totally inappropriate.” Her hand waves over the drawings.

“I wouldn’t dare to insult a respected artist and credit you with their art.” He retorts flatly, then spills the aforementioned sarcasm like the Lord intended. “Early Pollock must cost a fortune or two. How come such rare artworks ended up in your possession?”

His comment inspires a peal of infectious laughter; the powerful melody of Tiffany’s unadulterated amusement conquers the room, all but obliterating the chronic sternness of Ethan’s face.

He cannot help but bask in the glory of this unexpected outcome: he’s the reason behind the glorious, velvety sound; she’s laughing because of him.

“You made a pretty solid assumption, Doctor Ramsey, but I have to disappoint you: early Pollock had an affair with surrealism and his style was way more compositional than this.” She points at the glittery mess splashed in the center of one of the pieces, not so subtly suppressing another wave of laughter.

Miss Addams and her irreplaceable wit painfully remind him of the golden rule he often pretends doesn’t concern his giant ego: do not speak on the topics your knowledge of is insufficient.

Lustrous vivid-green eyes fixed on him and the urgency he’s facing at the moment leave him no choice but to quickly shake off the embarrassment and adapt his reaction accordingly.

Reluctantly, Ethan clings to brutal honesty. “I’m not an art connoisseur, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Oh, trust me, you would.”

A smudge of amethyst retrieves the diagnostician’s attention for one split second, demanding a seamless change of topic.

“I presume you spent your lunch break on the pediatric ward again, trying to start a new art movement.”

Doctor Addams gasps theatrically and presses her slender fingers to her mouth, lowering her head slightly. “What gave me away?”

Ethan considers revealing the truth through another shot of bluntly delivered sarcasm (something he would have done in any other case), but his body betrays him, subconsciously drawing near Tiffany.

“Apart from the excited chatter on the second floor? Nothing.” He replies, straining to keep his impeccable composure just as she bites into her lower lip tantalizingly in what appears to be keen anticipation.

A few risky steps later she’s at his arm’s length, and he decides to measure that dangerously short distance; akin to an audience member of some ludicrous soap opera, the diagnostician observes his hand move towards the intern’s face in slow motion, as if that bloody limb wasn’t his and the falsely innocent intention swarming inside his incisive, virtuous mind filled him with repulsion.

Except he wants this. He needs to feel her.

Even though the mere ghost of an idea may bring his demise, he cannot break free, imprisoned by the torturous vision of her vanilla-scented skin gliding smoothly against his.

Much to his bewilderment, her breath quickens just as much as his; the evergreen forest in her eyes bursts into flames when their gazes meet, burning his hesitation down.

She wants this too.

Nothing could convince him to refrain from acting on this forbidden desire now, not a single reasonable thought seems to be charged with a cogent argument.

So he lets his thumb brush down her right cheek, down the lick of wet paint smeared across her warm skin, taking most of the dark purple off the silken canvas along the way.

The sky didn’t tear in half, there was no divine retribution exacted upon a sinner like him, no sign of punishment fit for his appalling misdeed.

“Nothing. At. All.”

Nothing but the silky smoothness of her face, rapid rise and fall of her shapely chest, and fiery heat searing through his veins…

Inevitably, the unbearable tension crackling between them dissipates in a flash when Tiffany snorts at the sight of his acrylic-stained thumb, a soundless ‘fuck’ escapes her mouth as she sprints to find a prompt solution for the paintmergency, stripping him of time to ponder on what the living hell just happened.

He takes advantage of the moment, immediately scolding himself, forcing his thoughts to flee from the crime scene concocted by his newly depraved brain.

“Must be your enviable instinct of an outstanding diagnostician then.” Cheeky as ever, she casts a playful eye over Ethan while rummaging through the drawers, summoning him to focus on her.

Within a long minute, she scuttles back to him, stretched arm offering one of the two pieces of paper towel sprayed with hand sanitizer. They use it to rub the paint off their skin. As soon as they’re done, Ethan quips back. Sort of.

“The balance between mockery and flattery is a bit too delicate to be used in a professional environment, don’t you agree, Addams?”

Unintimidated by the tricky question, Tiffany lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “It all depends on the intelligence of the person you’re speaking with. You’re ultrawealthy in that department, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind some harmless friendly banter.”

“We’re not friends.” The speed with which he retaliates might have just sealed his fate. Deep down, he doesn’t quite believe those words himself, but there are rules to be followed unconditionally, rules that cannot be broken under any circumstances.

Dark, noble brows accentuating the breadth of her radiance crease together in sheer bewilderment. He can almost hear the scoff she’s choking back when she sees right through the cone-shaped hole in the thick wall separating them.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“We’re getting there.” She nods vigorously, openly mocking his well-meaning mendacity with lips pursed into a thin line and narrowed eyes surveying him diligently.

„An attending befriending his intern? I can’t see that happening.”

A winning grin lights Tiffany’s features up. „It’s already happening, whether you like it or not.”

The more she pushes forward, infuriatingly so, the more he resists, fortifying his helpless defense.

„Would you be kind enough to explain why on Earth would I let it happen?”

“It’s beyond your control.” She shakes her head. „There’s nothing you can do now.”

He frowns at her, takes her fierce expression in, feigning utter disinterest in the mesmerizing spatter of freckles adorning her glowy skin.

Is the intensity of his glare too revealing? Can there be a flash of ardent curiosity swimming in his eyes and acting up against him?

„You’re awfully confident about all the wrong things, Rookie.”

She mimics the military salute, right hand raised sharply, touching her forehead, fingers and thumb extended and joined, palm facing down. „The colossal pain in your ass reporting for duty, sir.”

This display of her goofiness, derived from the smidgeon of irreverence he’s found himself covertly fond of, successfully penetrates his ruptured facade.

At last, Doctor Terminator’s perpetually grim face blooms with an ear-to-ear smile, so wide and genuine that Tiffany blinks once, twice, most probably questioning whether the exceptionally unusual scene in front of her is real.

The way she gapes at his mouth almost drills a hole in him—she’s that awestruck, like a pious believer who stumbled upon irrefutable evidence confirming the foundation of her faith.

“You should smile more. You…” Her plush lips part when she trails off, then sucks in a breath, as if to stop the profanation of their professional relationship jumping on the tip of her tongue from slipping out recklessly.

She wants this too.

“It suits you.”

Ethan’s cheeks erupt with disgraceful heat, resembling an awkward teenager attracting his crush’s attention for the very first time—the feeling almost as mortifying and inexcusable as the unprecedented lack of any snarky response.

As if the worst was yet to come, Tiffany keeps on staring at him with such exhilarating wonder and sureness he doesn’t quite know how to proceed with such abundance of emotion meddling with his stoic approach.

She wants this too.

For a fleeting moment, the abyss of his solitude shrinks significantly, purple paint filling the crack on the illusory contentment with the life he’s chosen, just as her piercing gaze invites him further into the impossible fantasy.

Then, a jolt of sobering guilt runs along his spine in a rude awakening, at the same time when Tiffany realizes the gravity of her daring statement and its perilous implications.

“I, erm…”

“Uhm, my…”

Ethan smashes the uncharacteristic uneasiness descending on them, a benign half-smile and barely perceptible nod encourage her to continue. “Go on.”

Her gaze flickers towards the hall, a tinge of crimson reddening freckled porcelain. “My break is almost over. I should head back to the ER.”

Hell must have frozen over: his fearless protégée, strong-willed and sharp-tongued at all times, befuddles him with this uncommonly demure armor plate she has put on. The most challenging obstacles and cases fail to break her down, stress and pressure never threaten her admirable strength, and yet there she is—bleeding from her own sword.

This supremely fascinating token of hidden vulnerability sheds new light on the beguiling collection of contradictions making her whole.

He examines the younger doctor pacing around the room as she gathers her belongings up, stuffing her capacious bag with them. Half-way, she spins to address him directly and points at her cheek.

“Am I…Still…?”

“No, you’re alright. The paint is gone.”

“Splendid.”

As she goes forward, assembling her patients’ drawings into a neat pile, and—rather intentionally—ignoring Ethan, he readjusts his tie and dives headfirst into the pool of her discomfort.

“Addams?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to dedicate such a vast portion of your free time to helping others.”

She freezes, visibly offended, but still intent on avoiding his gaze. “I know. I want to.”

“What I meant...Is that you need to add yourself to the equation, Tiffany.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She scoffs, the barely noticeable defensive undertone reverberating in her firm answer not entirely convincing for the diagnostics virtuoso.

His evaluation is disrupted by the abominably loud beeping of Tiffany’s pager. Their eyes finally clash for a brief shootout with no winner before she shuts the damn thing up.

“Well then. See you later, Doctor Ramsey.” She blurts out hastily without giving him a second glance and turns round to rush out of the room, but stops in her tracks near the door.

Something sparks inside that brilliant mind of hers, reigniting her boldness. Dense curtain of long lashes flutters at him over her shoulder, inky-black and luxurious akin to the finest lace, the signature magnetic smile dancing on her lips again—this time infused with genuine concern. She inspects his countenance for a still moment, inch by inch, crease by crease, until her head falls to the side like she has just uncovered his biggest secret.

“Consider locking the door in your office and getting some rest.”

“Giving me advice isn’t included in your job description.” He sneers, the unnecessarily harsh huff of his disapproval concealing the alien sentiment spilling inside his chest.

Somehow it’s still not enough to antagonize her.

Her eyes bore into his audaciously; the gentleness gleaming from elusive emerald green, reminiscent of safety, offers shelter he despairingly seeks, but cannot take. “But it’s nice to have someone watching out for you, isn’t it?”

Somehow they might have more in common than one would think.

Careful not to expose the motley collection of feelings stirring his blood, Ethan draws in a long breath and slips his hands into the pockets of pristine white coat, perfecting his posture, with tense body standing even taller, as though to appear completely unaffected by her undeniable appeal, more unrelenting.

He’s been looked at countless times, yes, but this must be the first instance where he feels truly seen.

It is indeed nice.

The attending doesn’t say a word, for he would have to agree with the intern. She smirks triumphantly, accepting the tacit disbelief etched on his face as conclusive proof of her diagnosis.

Instead of claiming victory through verbal manifestation of her sass, Doctor Addams attacks him using a different weapon: a provocative wink. “Just think about it.”

With a graceful twirl indicating goodbye, his Rookie struts out, leaving a dizzying mist of her divine scent behind.

Wasting no time, Ethan scoots to the exact place where she stood prior to this moment, soaking up the delicious cloud of fragrance, unable to resist sniffing the air like some sort of disgustingly pathetic creep.

Thankfully, there are no witnesses to this particularly revolting descent into madness.

No witnesses to the beginning of his fall.

Mind over heart has never sounded more delusional than now, that his hard-won empire of spotless reason stands on the verge of crumbling. But he’s not giving up—he can’t give up. There’s too much at stake.

Beyond dispute, Ethan Ramsey is not an easy man to defeat. The King of Quiet Desperation wears his broken crown with arrogance, each burnished gem representing his sins, though the ultimate one hasn’t brought him down yet.

Having put the mask of nonchalance back on, Doctor Ramsey turns off the lights and stomps into the empty corridor—his hand still carrying the heavenly softness of Tiffany’s skin like a fingerprint, like a sin, shaky fingers curling at the very thought of the contact—then begins a seemingly casual stroll to his office.

He doesn’t have many vices—she is all of them.

_____

A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this bad boy ❤️ Sorry (not sorry) if it's too long and repetitive...I literally can't shut up when it comes to these two fsksjdkfjs Plus it felt really good to find my writing mojo after such a long time!

PS. If there are any typos and/or mistakes...No, there aren't lol I'm fighting COVID at the moment, so my brain's a little foggy. I had this fic sitting in my drafts and decided to just go with the flow while I'm feverish and can't see any faults sjfskfkjf I'll get back to everyone waiting for a reply when I'm more coherent. Stay safe, lovelies!

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #fluffy angst #choices open heart #open heart fanfiction

[siriusleee]

Simon apocalypse au

keep me

send in an au and a character and I'll write the first scene that I can think of.

Sometimes the world seems to be stitching itself back together: wildflowers blooming between cracked concrete slabs, the sun blazing in the east, the sound of acorns snapping underneath heavy boots. Other times the rot seeps in through the guards put up: the sound of the undead moaning in their shallow graves, fingers sticky with blood that river water can’t wash away, the knowledge that was before will never be after - the ghosts whispering in the night breezes that you’re alone and you will stay alone.

But tonight the world is putting itself back together - the stars spin wildly against the blackness of the night, the feeling of Simon pressed against you as the two of you rotate to the sound of music that disappeared years ago, the feeling that there is something out there more than just the smell of rot and sound of shuffling feet and fear that looms around each unknown corner. 

Simon’s breath is warm against the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer, feet slowing in time to with the sounds of the forest. He is the stray dog that refused to leave, the stubborn weed that pushes up from the dirt and still blooms beautiful in the spring that you pluck to tuck in your breast to keep safe. 

“Keep me?” Simon asks, fingers gripping you tightly; after all this time you know he’s still worried about the answer. 

“Of course.”

#my fics #simon ghost riley #au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley #cod ghost x reader #ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cog ghost headcanon #simon ghost riley headcanons #ghost riley headcanon #Simon ghost riley fluff

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of JOEL MILLER'S dialogue/lines from the TV show THE LAST OF US.

EPISODE 1 - WHEN YOU'RE LOST IN THE DARKNESS

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Oh, was I… Oh yeah, I was. Sorry. 

You know, I don’t really like pancakes. 

You get your, uh, homework done? Fractions?

Thirty-six.

Who says I don’t already?

Shell.

Lovely. Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?

He’s dependent on me. Not the same. 

We’ll pick you something up on the road. Concrete guy's gonna be there? 

Maybe? We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not paid until we frame. 

No, no. I’m not splittin’ this job. I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double. 

I know. I’d be done by nine. By nine right? 

I’ll bring back a cake. Promise. 

Jakarta. Where is that? Middle East? 

Alright. Finish up quick, we’ll drop you off. 

You got seven minutes. 

Shit.

__________________

Sarah!

It’ll make ‘em happy. 

I do. But I’m on Atkins.

It’s uh… You know what? We gotta run, but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want. Tell ya all about Atkins. 

Put that out. 

__________________

You locked the door for once. Good job. 

I know. They… gave us the wrong size for the headers. That doesn’t mean anything to ya, I'm sorry.  

Shit. 

I’ll get us one tomorrow. 

You got me a present? 

On my life. 

Wow. 

Did you? I don’t hear anything. 

Yeah, I know. Where’d you get the money for this? 

It’s better than what I do. 

Mm.

Thank you.

Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.

Don’t fall asleep. 

__________________

Hello? Yeah? Goddamnit. Now? Well, which jail? Travis County? Goddamnit, Tommy. Okay.

Fuckin’ idiot. 

__________________

Get in the truck! Right now! Move!

Baby, I'm sorry! 

Sarah, listen to me. It’s not just the Adlers. We’re gonna be brave and we’re gonna get out of this. 

Denise, you get back inside the house! You lock your doors, now! 

Get your seatbelt on! 

Take the seventy. 

We don’t know. 

We don’t… know.

No, of course not. 

What?

That’s right, they would. It’s probably why. 

No, what are you doing?

So do we. Keep driving. 

Somebody else’ll come along. 

Alright, alright, let’s think it through. Let’s think it through. 

Alright, take the field. Cut across and we’ll pick it up over on the west side. 

Alright, keep moving, head north. 

Well, we can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west! Hell else are we supposed to go? Tommy, come on! 

Yeah, I know that place. This could work. 

I don’t know, Mexico. Just far. As far as we can. How much gas? 

We’ll go through town. Golf course by the river straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we’re out. 

Alright, keep going, keep going - shit, Tommy! 

Tommy, we can’t stop here.

Are you serious? Just keep going!  

No, back, back, back, back, back, back, back!

Tommy, go faster! 

*inaudible* Don’t pull it the fuck over, we gotta get off this street, now! 

Go, go, go, just keep driving!

Move! Move!

__________________

Sarah… Sarah, stay right there. Don’t move. Tommy? Are you okay? 

Sarah! Don’t look! You look at me, okay? Sorry, baby, I know. I know. Come here, put your arms around me. Come here. Come here! I got you. I got you. I got you. Are you okay? Are you okay? 

Alright, okay.

Tommy! Tommy! Tommy! 

He’ll be fine. Can you run?

You keep your eyes on me, okay? You don’t look anywhere else. Alright.

__________________

It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. 

My daughter’s hurt, her ankle.

Okay, easy now. We’re not sick! 

Let me get you somewhere safe first, then I’ll go back for him, okay? Okay. 

We’re not sick. Sir. We are not sick! 

Please, don’t... 

Oh, no. No. No, no. Ssh, ssh, ssh. okay. You’re okay. You're okay, move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know! I know it hurts. Let go, let go, let go... Come on baby, you're okay. You're okay. I know, I know. I know, baby, I know! I know! I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay. Alright. Baby. Baby, baby listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up. Alright, you come on. You come on. I know, baby. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! I know! I know! Tommy, help me!

Come on, baby girl. Come on baby girl, I gotta get you up. Come on. Come on. Get up. Come on, baby girl… *Sobs* Come on… Come on… *Fading out* Please… Oh God… Oh God…

__________________

You got anything else?

Which pays more? 

__________________

Yeah, but then what would you do? You’re short five. 

Hydro.

Three months.

I don’t know where he gets ‘em from. I just know they’re real. 

The more you shoot people the harder it is to sleep, I guess. 

You want ‘em or not?

I need the bag back. How we doin’ with the vehicle? 

Okay, how much?

And they don’t have any batteries. I know. I can see about 200 for the other guys. 200 for you. 

Yeah, you too. 

__________________

Nothing? Is there any chance it’s coming in at night? You’re asleep and you miss it? 

And you’re talkin’ to the tower? 

It’s been three weeks. It’s never taken him more than a day to respond. 

Show me where the tower is. 

But you’re ��sure” Tommy’s okay?

__________________

What guys?

It’s a miracle you’re alive. 

These aren’t new. 

What?

What?

I need the battery, Tess. Truck’s no good without one and if I don’t get to Tommy soon, he’s gonna die out there! 

Who’d he sell it to? 

Well, where is he?

Alright. 

__________________

You tell me to “look for the light” and I’ll break your jaw. 

The one Miguel used to use. 

Pay this fucker back. 

__________________

Yeah.

This one’s done. 

Take it he wasn’t down here last time? 

Well, maybe "down here" is where he was infected. 

__________________

It’s like they reframed the whole structure. Probably in the 80’s. Everyone was cutting down on apartment sizes to sell more condos. 

How far up we goin’?

You smell that?

Tess.

Marlene?

What do you need a car battery for?

Don’t.

“To know things”. You’re the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me. 

The hell we are!

Tess, we don’t have time for this. 

We don’t smuggle people. Sorry.

Firefly vehicle usually means repurposed FEDRA stuff. So better-than-decent chance of makin’ it to Tommy in one of those. The second we hand that kid over-

__________________

So, what’s the plan? 

*Behind the door* That leaves the long way. Things look bad, we come up with something. Make the drop, head to Bill and Frank’s. Stock up on anything we may need. 

*Behind the door* Tess. Tess!

Killing time. 

I’m sure you’ll figure that out. 

__________________

I guess. 

Maybe a year. What’s it matter?

Yeah. So, what’s the deal with you anyway? You some kinda bigwig’s daughter or somethin’?

What? What was the song?

Shit.

Listen…

__________________

Okay, let’s talk this out. 

Now, hold on-

Hold on!

Fine. Everythin’ off of this run, and half off on all pills. 

Whoa! Whoa! We can fix this.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller dialogue #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #pedro character dialogue

[cloudninetonine]

A Player's Aid: Chapter 11

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N:....I'm just sorry OUYDBUDHD but also my tag list got lost, if you could please say if you'd like to be tagged in the comments! (I know I can look at previous chapters but I lost some new names and it would be easier to build from scratch so I have it HDOCDHJ)

Warnings: Foul language, descriptions of gore, violence and mentions of injuries

Enjoy!

The effect was immediate. 

The sound of many boots against concrete was deafening and your vision blurred as Hyrule tugged you along, his grip still tight as you stumbled after the men in the direction of the castle. 

The Hero's instinct is what you deduced, it’s what powered these boys. To jump so readily into action, unafraid of what was to come- these men had a mission to protect the people of Hyrule and you admired everything they did for them. Not even Wind flinched at the scream, didn't hesitate like the others as they raced away from the Sacred Ground, you tumbling along almost unable to keep up with Hyrule's speed (Jesus christ these fuckers were fast-) 

You finally broke through the treeline to see the scene before you- horrid and bone-chilling as it played out. 

A lone adventurer had seemed to be downed, blood running down a deep gash on their arm in rivers as they tried desperately to claw away from the behemoth of a creature, hissing and spitting towards them as it stalked closer, the giant skull on its back just as intimidating as its many eyes and snapping fangs. 

Skulltula were always intimidating enemies in theory. Spiders were already scary, making them the size of a horse with a withering skull on their back, legs similar to knives and pincers dripping with what you could only guess to be venom only made them even more terrifying- you didn’t want to shame the Zelda graphics, but there was no way, from the deepest and darkest depths of hell they could even begin to bring justice to the creature that stood before you all.

"Not a fucking Skulltula…" You whispered in a blood-freezing horror, ducking behind Hyrule when it turned towards your group, seemingly hearing your words. "Christ on the cross, set it alight." 

With another hiss, it dashed in your direction, your whole body locking up only for it to cry out in pain as an arrow landed right in one of its many eyes, the group dashing forward with Hyrule removing something from his pocket and pressing it into your hands: a dagger. 

"Stay here." He held your cheek softly. "I'll be right back." 

He turned towards Wild, situated in front. 

"I've got them." The blonde reassured, sending him a knowing look. "Don't worry." 

With a firm nod, Hyrule ran to the group sword at the ready with a pat on Wild’s shoulder, your eyes wide in awe as you watched him hurl a phantom red projection of his sword right at the gigantic monster, its shrill calls making you cringe.

As its wails pierced the air, you could vaguely see Sky raise the Master Sword with a calculating look on his face, an almost holy light climbing up the length of the sharpened blade until a familiar sound reached your ears and the hero slashed across the air, the sight of a skyward strike cutting through the lengths of grass and slicing one of its many legs clean off its body, the appendage flailing before disintegrating into dust as the monstrous bug got even louder.

Sickening to see this close.

"Stay behind me." It was a soft order but you weren't about to defy him, slightly ducking behind him as he continued to aim at the Skulltula, the men fighting valiantly. "I promise to keep you safe."

You dug your fingers gently into his tunic. "I know you will, no need for promises."

His ears fluttered subtly at the words.

Watching the guys fight up close was much better than watching from afar, you could have only imagined just how amazing the fight from the riverside bokoblin must have been- breathtaking would have been too small a word to use, there wasn't any word the dictionary that could begin to perfectly describe how the boys fought. Calling it a movie scene would have been underrated, no, it was an art piece even with something as pathetic as a Skulltula, these men looked as if they had just been plucked from the Renaissance itself and you almost went breathless as you continued to bear spectacle to the scene.

Their footwork, their swings, the looks on their faces- they were heroes alright, not a doubt in your mind would refute that. Wild's steeled gaze and the way he handled the bow were just so amazing to you, he was a professional of course but there was an energy about him, not the goofy wild man but the hero that bore the Triforce of Courage.

You were in the presence of some of the strongest men in the current world…

Twilight and Warriors had rushed over to the fallen victim while the others had continued with the battle, arm over each shoulder as they had hauled them further away with reassurances of safety, appearing close to your side as they fished into their bags for a potion to deal with their wounds. The gash on their arm was horrible but the apparent one on their side was worse, bleeding profusely and long, your stomach churning at the mere thought while Warriors called for their attention, deeming this “no place to die.”

…You weren’t about to see someone die, were you?

The idea sickened you to the core.

A cry echoed out as Hyrule used a nearby boulder to leap onto the back of the great beast, the shrill shrieks of the horse-sized spider bloodcurdling as the Hero raised his bejewelled sword and thrust it into its head, tainted blood gushing onto the grass below leaving a bloody mess.

Your heartbeat pounded in your own ears as the monster screamed.

A horrid sound, disgusting and gut-wrenching, you felt even more nauseous as you were able to hear the faint sound of a popping squelch as your hero dug the sword deeper and deeper, blood spurting onto his forest green tunic and catching some of the other boys also. 

From your vantage point on that cliff, the destruction of these creatures wasn't something that had gotten to you but seeing this was way worse than your own imagination, no matter how majestic the men looked as they fought, this was still disturbing when the valiant filter was pushed aside. This wasn’t the pg-rated game any more, the one you would play for hours when you were younger, not a care in the world as you gathered the convenient drops- this was real life, these were real living things-

And this was real gore.

You gagged, hiding your face into Wild’s shoulder to force away the morbid curiosity as the other heroes continued to beat down the monster, its shrills engraining into your mind as one of the boys dealt the finishing blow.

(It had been Legend, watching Hyrule flail about as the Skulltula tried to rid him of its back, the man sliding down beneath the monster while digging his weapon into its stomach as he skidded against the grass, opening a mortal wound that had entrails spilling from its underbelly)

The familiar sound of a monster’s corpse poofing away was what brought you back, shyly peaking over Wild’s shoulder as you watched Legend stand, the stains of his tunic a gruesome eyesore that dusted away in the wind along with the smoke of dark magic that was once the Skulltula, Hyrule’s own caked clothes cleaning in a similar fashion until both were free of the thick, murky substance that was monster blood and huffing from the fight. The two looked at one another, conflicting feelings dancing on their faces until they nodded at one another, a sign of acknowledgement in their tense times.

You felt embarrassed at the shaky sigh you released, Wild looking back at you worriedly as you took a step back to compose yourself.

Why were you even scared? It’s not like you contributed to the fight in any way.

“Are you well?”

“Y-Yeah- yeah I’m good.”

His brows furrowed, his hand coming to hold yours. “You can talk to me.”

Your thumb gently danced over his knuckles. “It’s just…scary seeing them up so close.”

Cringing at his soft expression, your free hand moved to rub at the back of your neck. 

“Monsters are a disturbing sight to many, you don’t need to be embarrassed for your reaction.” 

“I know I just don’t like being some sort of damsel- I can’t fight but I’ve got enough sense to know how to protect myself and it just feels ridiculous and sad hiding behind you like some scared kid.”

It wasn’t a fault of yours, of course, especially in the presence of such skilled fighters it made sense but you couldn’t help it- you felt inferior, you felt weak, you hated having to hide behind your friend and you wished that you could at least stand beside him, a partner more of a cowering fool.

Wild hesitated, his mouth pursing in thought when both your attention drew to coughing close by, the presumed random traveller spluttering as the ranch hand and Captain pulled them into a seated position, the group circling her.

“Are you alright?” Twilight asked, a supporting hand on the person’s back. “Are you able to speak?”

“Yes.” The young woman coughed, covering her mouth with her arm, “Yes, thank you, I thought those moments would be my last.”

A shiver run down your back at the thought of something as hideous as a Skulltula being the last thing you saw before your body grew cold and stiff- would it eat you in that state? Could Skulltulas even eat?

“Do you know of what became of the people here?” Straight to the chase, Time leaned down to the level of the woman, face gentle similar to your shared first interaction, a show of support from such a traumatizing moment. “It was filled with many but now it lays barren.”

Her face curled in confusion. “You mean…you’re not here to help us?”

Your stomach dropped.

Help with what?

She continued. “The head of the people sent a bird not two days ago- we were attacked, by these things-”

“The Skulltula?” 

“Yes- they came in every direction, there were so many, we couldn’t run so we held up in the castle-” Warriors rested his hand gently against their shoulder, a soft mutter of ‘breathe’ leaving his mouth as the person panted, her shaky breaths slowing in an effort to calm her racing heart. “There was an opening and I took it when no one had responded then I got caught by that monster- I- I thought you were responding to our call-”

Time’s face had hardened with each word, his scowl like his sharpened sword. His anger was evident, the lingering tension in his shoulders shown even under that heavy chest plate; you knew why, everyone did, it was very much obvious this was the work of the Shadow, predictable and vile, coming for the public like the coward he was to draw out the many heroes for his own gain and entertainment.

This was a trap.

And a very obvious trap.

And he dragged innocent civilians into this mess.

“Can you stand?”

The woman stumbled over herself before nodding, pushing to her full height with the help of the other elders.

“Good- leave to the nearest Inn, we will clear the castle.” 

Your mouth dropped at the words, looking towards the towering Hyrule Castle in horror.

The whole thing!?

“T-The entire castle?! But that’s not possible!”

Not possible for most, but then again these were the Links you were talking about, heroes of the times- if they had fought against Ganon, Demon King and bringer of Darkness, of course, they could fight off a few Skulltula.

A few dozen sounded a bit of a stretch though.

“We’ll be fine.” There was a cocksure attitude to Warrior’s words, his smile confident and eyes sparkling with his fighting pride. “A few giant insects won’t be getting the best of us.”

Oh yes, he did sound very cocky indeed- you wondered if the woman was judging him silently from his tone, god knows you would have had you not known he was a great hero.

She tried to argue more, stumbling over her words and trying to reason however it reached deaf ears her stance slowly falling as the group began to discuss their next plans- Wild was the focal point of this, after all this was his home and he knew it like the back of his hand, planning a rescue mission was going to fall to him. 

You studied her for a moment now that you could- pale skin, black hair and dark eyes, just a regular-looking adventurer who seemed to be caught on the wrong side of things.

Something felt…off though. Maybe it was just your skewered sense, or your simple wary nature after being thrown through a magic portal by a magic shadow.

It felt like one of those scenes in movies: discovering the wounded adventurer, aiding them in their time of need and watching as the hero lets them accompany them on their quest, after all, it’s not a hindrance right? Betrayal would usually follow, disguised by that weak damsel now shown to be their deceitful enemy this whole time, tearing apart the group by the seams and leaving them all to rot with nothing but a prideful cackle.

Yet, that was the work of fiction, this was real life (such a strange thought now that you pondered it) and so nothing like that would happen, right?

“Please, let me at least join you!”

…right?

Your eyes narrowed, watching the expression on her face then shifted to study the rest of the men, sharing uncertain glances with each other.

Did they feel a similar unease or did they simply want to keep this woman safe?

“I don’t think that’s for the best-”

“My family is in there! My friends too! I’m not just gonna sit by while they’re suffering!”

Any persuasion was met with refusal, the woman becoming only angrier with every second until Time let out a sigh, steeling his gaze as he looked down at the woman.

“Your name?”

She stood taller, “Maggie.”

“Do you even know how to handle a weapon that hangs off your hip?” This was a test, you could tell, the complete shift in his personality was a warning of sorts for what was to come- you would reasonably back down from such a hard look and you were positive that was what Time was trying to do. “Fought any monsters? Been in any battles?”

It didn’t work, as shown when Maggie glared right back. “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“Seems you can’t.” Legend quipped and Time sent him a scolding look, the pink-streaked blonde throwing his hands with a look of surrender. “I’m just saying we saved you.”

She flushed a deep red “I was by myself but if I’m with you guys I should have a chance- strength in numbers.”

Your eyes stayed trained on Time as he listened intently, the others sharing different glances with one another as they waited for their chosen leader to finalise his decision, your shoulders dropping when he sighed in defeat, dragging a hand down his tired face.

“....Maggie, I will be responsible for you if you venture back into this castle with us- so, you must stay close and not stray far, no matter what you see, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, we move now.”

“Old-” Twilight’s mouth snapped shut, eyes averting from the flaming ones of the eldest. “...”

With a sigh, the man backed off, whistling for Epona who perked up happily, trotting back over to the forest. "I'm not taking her in there."

And you couldn't blame him, not with the threat of something like Skulltulas lurking around the castle halls, Epona could be jumped without a second thought- but leaving her alone wasn't an option, someone had to watch her just in case, right? So taking Gilda gently from your hair, you gestured her over.

"It'll be safer for you with her."

She crossed her arms. "(Name), I've been in more fights than you."

"...Gilda please-"

"I'm just teasing! I'll keep an eye on her, you've already got your fairy by your side~"

Had Hyrule been in hearing range you knew he would have swiped at her, so you spared her a chuckle and watched her whizz off after the ranch hand with a shake of the head.

"Should have guessed these fairies were just as cheeky as the fae."

Time glanced back over to Maggie, gesturing her forward once Twilight had returned, adorned with weapon and shield. “I want you to lead us, if you were able to escape then there may be a good chance that it was a blindspot to the monsters.”

You didn’t trust this, not a single bit. Your radar was going haywire, your body pumping the adrenaline into every little crevice within your body, hands shaking as you watched Maggie take the lead, the others slowly but surely following behind her until you were trailing right at the back with your fingers tightly secured around the dagger Hyrule had only given you moments ago.

The traveller had rejoined your side in haste, eyes ahead as his hand came to grab your own protectively, Wild marching on your opposite with a similar protective sense hanging over him.

“He’s got a plan…”

Hyrule muttered more to himself than anyone but Wild wasn’t far behind with his scepticism.

“A dangerous one- thought that was supposed to be my job?” The comedic tilt in his voice did not aid you at all, Wild’s face pinching in worry at your expression. “We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

You knew they would, they were your heroes and you knew they would do anything to keep you safe.

Yet something told you that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wouldn’t say you suffered from arachnophobia. Sure, you weren’t a fan of the things, but not in a way to say you had a fear of them. They were certainly freaky looking, eight eyes, eight legs, could produce cobwebs and drunk the blood of flies and other such small insects- but a true fear of them was not what you had, nowhere near. You had seen someone with the phobia, their dropping jaws and the way they raced to the opposite side of the room-

To avoid the tiny money spider that hadn’t even gotten close to them.

That was true fear- that fear would have had them dying right on the spot at the sight before you at this very moment.

The webbing was huge, like sheer curtains decorating the old stone walls of the castle, the few egg sacs a disgusting sight as the men cleared them out, the many Walltula shrieking and spitting fiercely only to die by the steel of the heroes’ blades, monster smoke almost thick enough to choke on.

It was terrifying how quickly the monsters had seemingly taken over, not a place in sight was free of the streams of natural mesh, over the carpets, over the paintings, over the windows and in the doorways- suffocating was the best way to describe it all, especially from the number of times you had walked into the cobwebs, spitting and waving your arms in a horrid frantic boogie to be rid of the texture.

Wind could only laugh so many times.

“Shut the fuck up, Wind.” You had whispered harshly, patting down your tunic once again. “You’re only laughing because you’re too fucking short to get hit by them.”

He waved off your insult with another hushed laugh. “You just look so fucking stupid when you do that.”

You flipped him off, pushing your finger into his face harshly and jerking back when he tried to nip at the skin, calling him another colourful nickname in which he elbowed you painfully in the side.

Fucking hell he was strong for a fourteen-year-old.

"Just around this corner here." Maggie's voice brought you back in, focusing on her head between the many others. 

The feeling still hadn’t gone away, not with you and certainly not with the others- you all knew you were walking right into a trap. The signs were evident to them all, a reason as to why Wind had been sent to the back with you three.

“The old man says as soon as anything sketchy happens he wants us to split!”

“Isn’t that dangerous? What if you guys get hurt?”

“Have some faith, (Name), we’re stronger than you make us out to be!”

You knew that- of course you did! Yet the threat still lay bare to the world. Skulltula were probably surrounding you at that very moment and it was clear that you could all be ambushed at any time, the further you walked into the castle, the deeper and darker it got only certainty grew in your brain that the upcoming fight would be inevitable if you were caught in a small corner.

That had to have crossed the old man’s mind, right? Under the blonde head of hair was a smart man, a calculating one so Time must have had a counteractive plan just up his armoured sleeve. He’d get everyone out of here, maybe with a few bumps and bruises, but you’d all come out of this ordeal alive and well with only a little major life-changing trauma- nothing you hadn’t gone through already.

The thought didn’t help though, not really without some partnering action, the weight on your shoulders only growing with each step you took, each room you passed, each corridor you turned into-

…You recognised this corridor.

Rebuilt and better than ever, with the help of the construction team and two years of passing, the winding path that lead to the Dining Hall was almost unrecognisable, the one you had trekked so many times when scouring the castle as you played. You wanted secrets, you wanted weapons and you wanted Korok seeds, if it meant having to lap the entire behemoth 100 times to get what you wanted you were ready to do it, you had practically memorised the route in game but it seemed the rebuilding of Hyrule Castle alongside the millions of cobwebs and the fact you were currently walking through its corridors had gotten in the way of your near photogenic memory of the place.

The archway to the armoury lay only a few feet ahead, along with the following path towards the library-

“The library’s this way, there should be some patrolling but we can easily get through them if we work together.”

The library….

There was a resounding click in your mind, footsteps stopping before they could meet the stone of the walkway, the dawn finally breaking in your mind.

It didn’t make sense- it didn’t make sense.

These hallways were always full, they were the main paths, why would she go through here when they were clearly the most dangerous routes?

Why did she take this way when she could have gone through-

“The secret passage.”

Pause.

You were staring, waiting, watching for that reaction.

And here it had finally come.

Time had been looking for an opportunity, and that had to be it, a broken piece within the glass that was her facade, once pristine and perfect, now so obviously cracked as Maggie finally paused just a few feet ahead of you all, the Chain having stopped when noticing your further figure.

You had given them all they needed.

“Pardon?”

It was cryptic in a way, horror and thriller running down your spine as your body shook with the adrenaline now running its course through your body as you readied yourself for what was bound to come.

“The secret passage, behind the bookcase.” There wasn’t a way they didn’t know about it, Wild had left it open for fuck’s sake, they had been rebuilding, it had to be common knowledge that Hyrule Castle had a secret passage. “In the library, why didn’t you just go through there?”

“I didn’t know there was one.”

Wild looked at you.

You looked at him.

He shook his head.

Liar- as expected.

“I really fucking doubt that.” The Chain had backed up to you quickly, quietly, aware that one false move would have broken the hypnotic spell your words had cast over them all. You licked your dry lips in an effort to stop the dryness from taking over your mouth. “How could you, as part of the restoration, not know about the secret passage in the library?”

“I’m not part of the team.”

Your voice was shaking. “S-So you just stayed ignorant about the place you were inhabiting for the past year or two? Not a single soul bothered to tell you about the cool secret passage in the library?”

“No.”

You grasped Wild’s hand frantically, terrified tears in your eyes.

“You’re a really bad fucking liar, Maggie.”

You could hear the grin in her voice. “I know.”

Weapons were pulled from sheaths, battle faces pulled sharp as you were quickly yanked once again behind them all, their stances deadly as they waited for something, anything that Maggie- whoever this was was about to bring down on you all.

“Are you with the Shadow?” Time called, a sneer on his face. “Or did you just crawl out from one of its portals like the rest of them?”

She laughed, still refusing to turn around as she did, her voice bouncing off the stones and echoing throughout the area- almost masking the rumbling footsteps that were quickly making their way to your direction, a quick glance back the way you had came showing a Skulltula quickly making its way towards you all- no, many were heading over and a quick glance in the opposite direction showed the same. 

Fuck you were being cornered.

"Link." 

One look and the circle drew tighter.

You were in real danger this time, weren’t you?

“I was just passing through,” Maggie’s voice was quick to change, sinister and cold, curling into this scratchy forced sound as if talking itself was a struggle. "Though I will say that Shadow of yours had an offer too tempting, so I thought why not?"

"And what offer did he give you?"

There was a snap, crack and following pop as Maggie finally turned, your stomach dropping at the body horror of her face expanding to form a snout, skin tearing away to reveal the blue fur beneath and murky gold tint taking over her face.

"The death of the Hero of Courage, of course."

Poof!

The cloud of magic saved you from the horrific scene of the monster’s full transfiguration, dark purple blocking your vision before the sound of flapping wings caught your attention, eyes widening in surprise as you watched the view return to you and replaced what was once Maggie, was a blue bat-like creature also similar to a keese.

"Ache?" You muttered in confusion, backing into Hyrule warily and feeling the man tense beneath you.

Not a common monster, not at all, the eyes of Ganon that hailed all the way from the traveller's timeline- they weren't impossibly hard to beat, well, depending on the Ache of course, a single hit usually was enough to have them out. But that's not what they were for, they weren't exactly fighting monsters, Ache's were pretty much spies for the other foul, grotesque beings, the ones watching for your hero closely so they could snatch him up and use him as a sacrifice for their master: Ganon.

The Ache was here for Hyrule, you knew that and so did Hyrule, so without another thought, you sidestepped to keep him out of its view.

It's the least you could have done.

Even if it was useless in this moment of time.

"I'm not really one for fighting." The creature cackled, hovering a little further away. "So I'll just let them deal with you- no need to worry though, I'll be back soon."

It swooped away into the armoury, just as another group of Skulltula came rounding the arch, their hisses and squeals like nails against a chalkboard.

Shields were up at the ready, swords poised and you, little old you, were in the middle with your dagger at the ready as if you knew the first thing about fighting.

"There's more than anticipated."

"Can we take this many black-blooded?"

"Who's to say they are black-blooded?"

"You think the Shadow wouldn't do that?"

"Enough- stand at the ready, do not break this circle."

The feeling had come back, but then again it hadn't gone away either, crawling up your back, poison seeping into your skin as you glanced around frantically for the feeling.

Something was watching you.

Not the heroes.

You.

Just, you.

And you knew that, because it was the exact same pair of eyes that had stared at you from atop that cliff the other day, menacing, cold and cruel, every dark intention you could think of rolling through your mind space. It wasn't the Chuchu back then, their googly eyes were never that evil, they could elicit a body-numbing reaction, but they could have never brought this kind of primal fear that laid deep into your stomach- not like that night after work had.

Dink was looking straight at you.

But from where? You couldn't see him through the bodies of monsters that the boys were fending off, nor in the Dining Hall, in the shadows of the dark corridor, hell, even the damn ceiling didn't have those red piercing eyes of his.

So where-

Fingers grasped your ankle firmly, nails practically piercing through the fabric and digging into the skin as a deep, breathy chuckle caught your ear through all the noise.

"Got you~"

You didn't have time to scream as you were dragged straight through the portal beneath your feet, catching a glimpse of the others turning in surprise, the feeling of a hand trying to grab yours, a possible scream- before your whole body had disappeared into the absolute black.

It took mere seconds to re-emerge from the inky abyss, spluttering and coughing for stolen breath where your body met the floor violently, cheek meeting the scratchy carpet beneath that tore at your poor, victim skin as you were dragged across the floor, a weird sound echoing through the room before you could take a small glance to see the portal vanish into nothing, leaving a stone wall in its place.

You looked at the area solemnly, wishing it would just open back up to you so you could jump back towards the boys, gut-churning with a violently sick feeling at the thought of looking back.

To make the situation real.

"Awh, are you scared, little guide?"

Yes.

Yes, you were.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid

[highpriestofpalkism]

Also, if I may ask, how do you interpret the Creation Trio + Arceus as deities? In other words, do you think they're benevolent and merciful or wrathful and quick to anger? For instance, the story of the human and the sword in D/P/Pt indicates that while they will certainly intimidate, they seem hesitant to kill, even in retaliation. On the other hand, in PMD and the anime, they seem all too eager to eliminate humans because of perceived slights.

Now! This sure is a question, because I've basically created my set of headcanons for all of the Creation family throughout the years, since they're one of my the main objects of my brainrot DJHDGD

To me, they all act differently, and also situationally.

Dialga is the most cynical one. He is benevolent and enacts the role and purpose Arceus gave him fully, and he can show warmer emotions such as gratefulness when in the right situations (PMD2 being the biggest example), but, normally, in my opinion Dialga is neutral at best and has a certain disregard for mortals at worst, thinking of them as mere droplets of water in the vast river of time; thus, he often ignores them and their troubles, unless they do trouble him directly, unless reverence and worship is shown to him. He can also be very merciless.

Palkia is instead pretty emotional. He's the kindest and warmest of the three, and appreciates mortals as their own unique microcosms that should be respected as such, and he offers thankfulness to those who worship him. However he can also turn out to be very ruthless and instinctive in what he's doing, and he doesn't stand when his dominion is messed with by someone or something (PMD2), often harbouring to brute force. Despite his naturally kind nature, he can turn out to be as solemn as Dialga when the situation requires it.

Giratina despises mortals, be it Pokémon or humans. He sees them as the "perfect creations of his father" whom he wants to destroy as vengeance for what has been done to him: not only banished, but also forgotten by all. While probably the most brutal of the three, he is still very subtle most times, being deceptive and persuading to mortals as to use them as means for his own schemes (Volo). For short, in his eyes mortals are just a means to an end, so easily fooled and tricked.

Arceus, instead, is generally emotionally far from the mortal world, but they love their own creations and cares for them from the distance, as they watch over all (PMD2, Legends). They're not very prone to anger, but rather tends to resolve conflict with intricancies behind the scenes as to solve the universe's biggest problems. Regarding the mainline universe, they originally thought of Pokémon as the only creatures to inhabit this world, as humans were born as a "mistake of evolution"; but once the Ancient Hero of Hisuian mythos proved human dignity to them by challenging them in a friendly match, Arceus got that Pokémon and humans deserved equal respect, and even more did deserve the bond between them

I hope I haven't been too long with this DJDGDHDHDH, I know these are mostly headcanons and don't have much concrete proof in the games (be it DPPT, PLA or PMD), but I've grown to imagine them as their own characters, and with such personalities! I hope I answered your question in a satisfying way ♥️😭🙏

#arcy's shit #arcy's headcanons #headcanons #pokemon #creation trio #arceus #dialga #palkia #giratina

[pieroulette]

#007. serendipity ▶ koga yudai.

one word prompt.

warning: bittersweet angsty oneshot ig, mentions of depression and anything related to that so please read with discretion.

a/n: not sure how this turn out to be quite lengthy, it should've been a drabble but anyways 🤸

"SERENDIPITY."

they say, that wonderful or good things happen when you least expected them to. refraining from actively seeking them out leads you to a better solitude, less expectation and a fulfilled life rather than frantically chasing after them. but what is there to life if you will only wait for good things to happen?

isn't it better for you take the lead, take charge of your own life, lift your pair of feet to achieve each imaginary moment you desire?

or was it simply that you couldn't understand the word despite rereading the explanation since a few hours ago?

you couldn't understand. but what right do you even have when you couldn't even push yourself off the chair, to a life you desire? a simple contradiction, or maybe a hypocrite you call yourself.

you knew what was needed to be done, but there remains no energy left in you for you to execute each meaning in this particular word.

"tell me a new word, again?"

the golden rays drenching over the green board, blending with the white dust chalk engraved on them gave you a rather solemn atmosphere. with the shadows of the window frame casting on the walls and desks, you never understood why you found them so terribly saddening to look at.

"serendipity," you sighed, resting the hard edge of your open book on your desk, emitting a hard thud that resonated throughout the empty classroom.

empty, almost — if it wasn't for the hazy figure floating around you, shifting its position by leaning against the wall, placing himself on the window seat—quite a funny scene for you as he didn't need to go that far when the colours of his skin weren't as vibrant as the smile on his face.

"pretty word for the first time! se-ren-di-" his lips formed each corresponding shape that perfectly enunciate each syllable, but the foreign word hasn't been completely integrated into his mind as his tongue fumbles at the end. "truly a pretty word, but there's no point in making it so long and hard to pronounce."

his pretty features contorted into an animated expressions of a thumping soul.

giggling as you shook your head at him, "each word is no accident, at least in my opinion. therefore, do your best to learn it. who knows, god up there would compliment you for your well-earned english skills and probably give you a chance to be reincarnated in another country, perhaps in london?"

well, it didn't matter which country; as long as it was far, far away from this concrete, from this land your feet are bound on for eternity, with the terrible noise of the invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles. or perhaps, it was just your mind fabricating scenarios to appease yourself, like they said.

"eh, who says i want to be reborn in a foreign country?" his eyebrows raised in disbelief, "as if kanji aren't anywhere difficult."

another amusement adorned your face, "i didn't say kanji wasn't difficult."

he shrugged in return, swaying his translucent feet in a hypnotic motion in the empty air.

"a kindergarten teacher, you say?" he snorted, "bet your future little students would cry a river for every word of the day you write on the damn board."

"well, they gotta catch up."

"cruel, i wouldn't want to be your student when i'm reborn someday."

"gotta toughen up the lil kids while early, kei."

this lost soul in his translucent body where the luminous sun rays pierce through like an arrow grew even more vibrant, making each edge of his existence breathe life into them. every now and then, you almost always forget that he was nowhere as alive as his animated expressions.

the reddish rusty pin of muted green cactus with a cartoonish art embedded on his school's jacket, right on his chest—had you initially wondering what leads to it's eventual discoloration when his neatly ironed uniform, white pair of shoes, and a well kept slicked back hair were very much a stark contrast from it.

and now that you eventually come to know about it, you'd rather not say anything.

"yeah, yeah. anyways, what does it even mean?" he gestured his index finger to the written word of 'serendipity' below the list of words you've studied.

"happy accidents." you answered, looking through the big fat dictionary on the right side of your desk to make sure. "luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for; a lucky stroke, or you could compare it with a four-leaf clover that is difficult to find but when you found it, that's serendipity."

"quite the same as meeting you on the stair that day."

"that," you averted your eyes from the dictionary to the boy, "a happy accident for you?"

"almost." he corrected, a mischievous grin reaching his pale cheeks. you scoffed at him. "watch your steps though, doesn't seem like a nice way to go."

"what if i don't watch my steps next time?" you replied, adding a tone of playfulness. but who were you even fooling?

"you would be an idiot." his pearly white teeth came into view, laughing at your choice of words. "but please, save me the trouble. let's not be born on the same day in my next life." kei shook his head, not taking the idea very well.

"why not?" you asked, curious of the intention behind his words.

"just." his lower lip jutted in a pout, "atleast wait a few years before you follow me, or even better, atleast seventy years or so."

a heavy silence replaces the conversation, followed by the sudden increase of the breeze flowing into the classroom, gracing the curtains through a dance. if the boy had a beating heart at this very moment, then it would've brush against his cheeks.

you tucked your locks beside your ear, pressing the tip of your feet slightly hard on the floor as you lean back against your chair. letting your shoulders droop down, "seventy? that's too far-fetched."

"not as far-fetched as mine, you got a long life ahead of you, why not anticipate the serendipity that will come along with each day?" kei suddenly paused, chuckling at his minor mistake. "oh wait, we shouldn't anticipate it."

"i don't think i can live that long, i do not look forward to anything.." you let out those eight words as murmurs, a sound so low it's impossible to be heard by a normal human.

but to him, he could. your voice were as clear as the blue sky, devoid of the dense clouds and heavy storm.

"is memorising your daily vocabularies, not something to look forward to?"

"they're only meant to keep me alive." you replied nonchalantly.

tap, tap, tap.

the noise emitting from the tip of your pen resonated through the empty room, forming a calming atmosphere for you as it resembled a thumping heart; where the boy on the window seat had none of that, and while you, despite having it—

"you know," kei shifted his position his back rested on the wall slightly, lifting his left leg up in a leisure manner. "my mom used to cook me a meal whenever i'd go for dance practice, but they weren't that healthy enough to keep me fit for it, you see."

you lifted your heavy eyes at him, "so you threw it away?"

"i gave it to someone else." kei corrected, "but it's not like i don't want to eat it, i do want to eat it. just, not yet."

you nodded, humming along. imagining a scenario where you put yourself in his shoes, wondering how it was to roamed around about everywhere as a translucent being, left with remnants of the past, a beating heart, and a starving soul—yet unable to fed oneself for eternal.

"—now i couldn't eat them anymore, all because of a damn reckless driver." kei's pupils remain stuck, and yet still he blinks, even when he knows it's all too useless to even do so. but atleast, it still provide him the comfort that he was once alive, that he had left his footprints somewhere else even if it was bound to covered by almost anything. "it was a happy day, skipping school just to get to the place where the audition was held, that doesn't seem like a happy accident at all, isn't? or maybe it was a conjunction, the word you taught me for the first time!"

you tilted your head at him, a glimpse through your memories where your figure were laying on cold surface of the rooftop, and him sitting beside with you with his legs apart as if he had no care in the world yet with his head looking up above the sky as if he was hoping, wishing, or more specifically—longing for something. a totally weird situation that follows after a tiny 'accident' down the stairs which leads up to this rooftop.

"conjunction, it is the words we used such as "and", "but", and "if". or in other words, where two or more things occured at the same time." you randomly blurted out much to the boy's initial surprise and dumbfounded expression, "this, our situation, you and i, are a conjunction of utter ridiculousness and lack of scientific evidence, also a potential symptom that i might've gone insane and that i could be sent to the nearest mental asylum in this city."

kei's face contorted in utter awkwardness, mind malfunctioning as he tries to understand your barrage of words. "i don't have any heck the slightest idea you're talking about, miss." and with a random afterthought, he added. "i love to dance, though.. hm, the name is kei, by the way. what's yours?"

a ghost asking you for your name sounds too comical, you've always thought that they automatically knew your name through some random articles, newspapers, gossips from your peers, and the myth circulating around the kids in your neighborhood.

"are you.." you frowned, "trying to be friends?"

and he simply nodded, almost exaggeratedly, with the brightest spark imbued in his marble-like eyes.

from then on, with the days following after and so on, it doesn't feel that difficult to breathe, atleast for a tad bit—with this soul of a teenage boy following you around like a lost puppy for a few days, and when he disappears for a short period, you were engulfed with fear—but what were you even fearing about?

was it because you were concerned that he might've disappeared or that a worst case scenario had happened to him? which is quite stupid despite knowing very well what he is, or perhaps you were being selfish—desiring for that poor soul to remain by your side so you won't feel lonely as you used to before?

you didn't know which route to settle your mind on, but everytime he appears back, returning to your side—not too close, but not too far, paired with his lively expressions and bustling vibe, you found your lips drifting onto a vast array of conversations but surprisingly, it was almost about anything but you and him.

as if you and him knew that it's better to not to go past the threshold where there's a big possibility, huge even, that a desire for belonging and attachment might arise. yet for some reason, today feels a bit different.

just a bit.

kei lifted both his hands for you to see, bending the rest of his fingers for his index finger to emerged, forming a 'one'. and he slowly attached them together as he speaks, "happy plus accident."

"finally you got it." you squeeze out a chuckle, although deep inside, a crawling sentiment or rather a heavy lump were emerging to the surface of your relaxed eyebrows and lips.

and despite not asking each other what drove you to do that, and what lead him to the way he is right now, the sign was all too obvious. it was as if both of you knew the answer from the very beginning the day you first met each other.

you knew very well of how he ended up the way he is right now, and that was also on the rooftop where after shortly you taught him the word—you dozed off to sleep, but not before listening to him talking about how he used to live, and how he reached the end of his dreams.

"sing," his eyes squinted at the golden sun, a reaction that simply won't deliver the same effect to him right now but out of habit, he often did so. "and dance."

observing him and his little antics, a desire to ask him a question squeezes its way out of your mouth before you could think.

"don't you hate him?"

kei paused, knowing very well who you meant. "hate who?"

"that person who took your life."

a heavy beat of silence consumed the space again as kei's eyes fluttered rather slowly, "well, having my life wasted away by some crazy bastard that chose to drive despite having his more than enough shots that day." a sigh follows after, a long and deep one. "hate is a pretty weak word. resentment? yeah. at some point, i did."

"then why don't you go possess him or something? perhaps give him a taste of his own karma? i heard those stuffs exist."

"good idea," kei hummed in approval, pressing his chin on his knuckles. "but wouldn't that cost my precious ticket to reincarnation if i became a vengeful spirit, eh?" he shrugged in a playful manner, a mischievous grew on the corners of his lips.

"you got a point.."

"didn't know you had that spirit in you," kei feigns a surprise, eyes widened in shock. "now that i look at it, you could pass off as sadako, especially with that long hair. and instead of coming out of a glitching tv, a big fat book is what you will use to horrify everyone."

another chuckle escapes your lips, "spirit? the thing is, i don't have anyone to that i could fight with, or hate." you slowly lifted your eyes to the blackboard, scanning each stroke of the kanjis. "simply nothing."

"you still have yourself, though." kei shoots a playful wink at you, only to receive an expression of playful disgust spreading over your features, "there's more good things that come along just by being by yourself."

"that sounds depressing."

it did sound very depressing, he agrees and yet he didn't need to verbally tell you that. not when his eyes could count the faint red shade of long, deep, and engraved visible marks on your left hand, peeking slightly beneath the hem of your sleeves as you rested your chin on your palms.

he could only wonder how hollow those carvings could be, and how deep it could've reach inside your soul.

"karma, or serendipity.. we can't control that though." kei said, "atleast that's what i heard from the spirits roaming around, but from what i believe in, atleast we could control how our life goes about, even if.. even if we die someday by others' hands or—"

he caught sight of a yellow balloon drifting up and about the empty air out the window, guided by the breeze of nature to a destination where one might or might not encounter it anymore. a thought run through the back of his mind that a child might've carelessly let go of the tight grip they had on the thread,

careless.

the word is all too familiar for him.

yet another thought surfaces, another different scenario; that someone, probably not a child by form, but by heart; one that longs for something—must have willingly let go of the balloon for a reason no one might ever know if they were unwilling to say, or if anyone even try to ask, or if even they did—words were discarded as mere form of exaggeration.

"by our own." another pause as he looked down at his lap for a brief second before he gathers the silent strength to look into your eyes again. "just memorize each word, each day, till you can form your own very word, okay?"

your eyes widened in inches, taking his words in, nodding your head in silence, as you pursed your lips in to blurt out any potential choke that might surface from your throat or how your insides grew warm for what seems like a long time, or how your stiff and rigid fingers relaxed on its own.

like a frozen statue in time, probably equivalent to the deadly temperature of the ice age but only you as it's tenant, it was short of nothing but quite a journey—one that's terribly bleak, and devoid of colours, by the way. the flickering lamp post from the park gaves you a spooky vibes back when you were a child, yet now, you couldn't but describe the scene as the equivalent of it staying alive.

just a bit more everyday, till it could.

but a common phrase would often drifted off to your ear, that a lamp post's job is basically that, automatically, to stand with absolute strength all while providing light for people.

because that's just how the people you believe in—had always believed about.

multiple beats of crunch resonated throughout the air as you walked across the autumn leaves decorating the entire ground of the school. october sounds like an old man in its muted orange sweater, a cane gripped by his right crumpled hand, and a pumpkin supported by a knotted rope as he walk about the town, and probably visiting the old cemetery where he wondered that he, too, might be buried beneath the same soil someday.

you wonder too.

soon enough, you were greeted with a sight of kei in the hallway, up in the third floor at the school. him, leaning his back against the wall, with his left leg supporting him and his right leg stretched all the way to the floor. his hands in his pockets which made you think if he was trying to warm them.

you almost wanted let out a hiss upon parting your lips due to the chapped and dry skin, yet you held yourself, forcing a small smile to lighten up the mood. "hey."

with him catching the sight of your presence, he fixed his posture with the same smile cutting back to his face. "ayo."

for sure you didn't expect that the next word would lead to that, despite knowing it all to well.

"it's time."

it caught you off guard even though you've prepared for it, repeated it like a broken affirmation in your head, even. despite anticipating it all along those months. a lump formed in your throat, as if the clock had slowed down the speed of this world that contains billions of lives. you've anticipated for this day, and it eventually came. it eventually did.

you wanted to say something, but what is there left to say?

"wanna go for a last walk?"

the hallway to the exit suddenly feels short than it used to be, it felt terribly long a few hours ago, a day ago, and the days that occured before this very day.

"i used to memorise these ridiculously hard dance steps in one go,"

you raised your head to look at his face, an expression you know too well to be emitting a sense of longing, pain, and disappointment.

"—but all it did was make my dance look like a barrage of trash, my dance teacher says." laughing at himself, you wondered if he really used to be like this when he was alive, or was it only a way to keep the remnants of his usual self intact.

you don't know, and you weren't sure if you want to.

"that's cruel."

"that sounds weird coming from you," he chuckled, shaking his head as he spun around to face you, walking backwards. "ah, in my next life, i want to eat more food. if i'm lucky enough to have a mother, that is. and right, i should brush up my skills in looking left and right before crossing the road, heh."

"you will." a curious question suddenly struck your mind after that, "but hey,"

"yeah?"

"how will i find you if you no longer have the same name?"

caught off guard by your question, he froze, blinking quite fast before bursting into an awkward chuckle. "you wanna find me?"

you nodded, feeling quite awkward at your random approach but you brushed it off.

"well, certainly, my name wouldn't be kei in my next life. but who knows what might happen? i don't know who would i be, what kind of person i would be.. i don't even know if i would be born here again."

a question left with no answer, and maybe it was for the best. you let the question drifted into the empty air, letting it sink it nowhere.

"ah!"

you jolted slightly at the unexpected rise of his voice, seeing him lifting his index finger as if a light bulb flickered above his head. "we could decide on a symbol maybe? like a secret code—" leaning in closer, "we could cheat the old man up there."

baffled by his idea, you weren't entirely sure how this was going to work but you nodded anyways, asking him what exactly he meant by a symbol and he replied rather in a tiny voice, "i probably wouldn't remember you, but i heard that souls bear if not all but a little resemblance and memories from their past lives, something that is important enough to them that it sticks no matter what."

you shook your head at him, saying that a symbol decided a few minutes before he departs to a place wherever he needs to reincarnate—wouldn't take an effect. at least that was how you perceive it, sighing as you kicked an empty soda can strewn on the path, momentarily hissing at whoever didn't throw it properly into the trashbin.

"but this is important though, isn't?"

hearing those words from him, you couldn't help the way a sudden warmth engulfed your heart and your eyes shifting from the floor back to him again; those eyes that held firm determination in it, just like you've always seen him ever since. "alright, what's the secret code then?"

"that one," his eyes gestured towards something, down at your side and with confusion, you followed his line of vision—leading to your bag.

"my bag?"

"no you idiot, that sticker."

an old, worn out cropped out sticker of a crown decorated on the side of your dark indigo schoolbag.

"a crown?"

"you sure this would work?" giggling at the idea of an old sticker being the secret code, you couldn't help but find it stupid—adorably stupid, that is. "how does a secret code like this would help me to meet you? what, do you wear a fat ass crown on your round tiny head someday?"

"i don't know, i have no idea." kei shrugged, pouting terribly. he, too, were skeptical of the idea. "but what's the harm in trying?"

"okay," you nodded, satisfied with his answer. "we'll see how this secret code would come to use someday."

straightening the worn out sticker on your palms, a warm smile made its way to your lips and unknowingly to you, you failed to caught the pair of eyes switching to a solemn shade.

"we're here, you don't have to follow after me now."

two pair of eyes; chocolate brown looking into yours as he paused on his tracks, leading you to do the same.

it finally has came to an end, no words exchanged, only a short goodbye paired with a brief nod leaves your lips and his, and as he spun round his heels with his back now facing you; one that you've longed to atleast embrace—you clenched your fist beneath the hem of your sleeves.

"say," kei paused on his tracks, and you—a few metres away from him, lifted your eyes only to be met with his locks almost obscuring his ones as he kept his vision fixated on the floor before eventually lifting it to look into your eyes. "do you still not agree that the day we met was a happy accident?"

your heels spun directly to his direction, epiphany settling itself in the back of your mind as you processed his words. you were unsure whether you were simply imagining that there was a glint of hope imbued within his marble-like eyes, or how his translucent hands fiddled the hems of his black worn out jacket. though, there was one thing you were sure of. "of course, meeting you was a happy accident."

the corners of his lips pulls up in a sheepish grin that pulls the strings in your heart, the locks of his hair swayed gracefully that it had you wanting to touch it. why is it reacting to the breeze? was this nothing but a mere imagination of yours?

"kei."

"hm?"

you clenched your hands as you observed your reflected figure on the glossy tiles, your shadow soaked on the wall on your right side as a result of the illuminated spherical sun set peering from the window on your left side, where the infirmary room was located; it's doors left opened.

"the next time you're reborn again, can you—" you held yourself, refraining from being selfish.

right.

good things happen when you don't actively seek out for them, for they're often more defined as gifts when they do happened.

with your lips parting, replacing it with a smile you've been longing to give to him, genuinely. "the next time we meet again, for the first time, i'll make sure to put on a smile—a genuine one."

kei's lips parted slightly, eyes softening paired with a gentle smile that adorned his lips.

"wanna grab a meal together next time, then?"

taken aback you did at his words, yet you hold yourself back from pouring your scattered thoughts of what ifs, you nodded, as clear as you can for him to get the message that you are more than willing to. devoid of words, yet those subtle gesture was more than enough for him, he was more than satisfied, pressing his lips into the biggest smile before spunning around his heels, walking off to the long hall where on the other side leads to a new life.

a new chance.

with his back facing you, he waves his arms off in long strides. "remember, one word at a time!"

and where beyond that—your first and last serendipity disintegrates into the waterfall of illuminated golden sea, now one of them—will he return as the sunrise for the years to come.

you walked off, but not before taking one last look at the exit. despite saying those words to him, you weren't entirely sure if you even believe at the whole "reincarnation" thing, if hell or heaven truly existed.

your eyes fixated solemnly on the very spot he disappeared into, you found the courage to say these words you weren't so sure would be ever granted yet you could only look forward for that day.

"see you later, kei."

the walk back to the classroom was now hollow than ever, your legs felt like it could snap at any point if it wasn't for your palms supporting you and guiding you up the stairs and across the hall, where you will now return to your seat without the spot on the window seat occupied as it used to.

yet white strokes, vibrant as snow caught your attention from your peripheral vision, and there written a sentence on the blackboard—something you've been longing to hear from someone. a chuckle, followed by a disbelief, and then a choke surfaces from your throat before you burst into tears; one that is devoid of sound as a long time habit as a child, paired with beads of sorrow yet a profound warmth imbued in them trails down your cheeks.

who could've known that a dying and flickering lamp post could only be understood by another one like it, but one that are devoid of light—an artificial light that is, it would be a pure mockery to say that when this one bears the light that surpasses all physical form and shape; a star.

like a star that keeps on burning in flames, etching it's existence above the glittered universe—that would be the perfect way to define him.

and with that, the year 97' will come to an end; autumn leaves will fade back to the original vibrant shades of verdure returning to adorn the land once again, going back and forth in a constant loop but despite that you'll try to memorise each word, one at a time, until you can form your own word.

" 誰もがさまざまな形で苦しみや幸福を経験します。

大丈夫、一日ずつやっていきましょう。

ただ生き続けるだけではありません。 ライブ。

あなた自身のための ：）"

a word with an alternate definition where you can create your own serendipity first, all while waiting for the rest to come. and even if it didn't come, atleast you still have yourself.

"goodnight for now."

end of footage. . .

#12112023

#&team k #andteam k #koga yudai #andteam oneshots #andteam imagines #andteam x reader #&team x reader #andteam #&team #&team scenarios

[bananafire11]

There For You

Summary: Carol finds Daryl after his fight with Alpha.

Tw: description of injury, lotta blood, some angst

The woods were too quiet for her taste.

The trees usually vibrated with the snarls of walkers, driven by the influence of the Whisperers, but there was none of that. The silence, which she’d usually welcome, did not sit well in her gut. The trail she’d been following for hours now had been littered with the bodies of dead walkers, and better yet, dead Whisperers. The arrows that killed them had been stripped cleanly from their softened skulls, the only remaining evidence of them being the tear in their skin and fresh flow of blackened blood stricken across the leaves below her boots.

Daryl had been here, and that is what worried her most.

Along the divots and ditches, she could already see how he’d been able to stalk the group. The ditches were certainly big enough to cover him. And so she kept on until she came across the creek bed.

Long, spindly branches rooted themselves in the ground of the opening, trees surrounding the area. Finally, a few walkers stumbled along the murky mud, caught in the claws of the driftwood and so they proved no real threat to her. The only one’s she would have to take care of would be the several huddled over the crumpled body of a dead whisperer.

A dead whisperer.

So he’d been here. Alright, she was still on his trail.

She pulled her bow from her back, piercing the skulls of the feeding dead, watching them drop dead for good one by one. Carol crept forward until she reached the bodies. There were more dead whisperers, gnawed on by the dead but not discernable. Only this time, the familiar black and green of his arrows stuck out of the corpse. He hadn’t had the opportunity to collect it.

Her eyes scanned the ground, and very quickly realized it hadn’t gone very well for him here. The dirt was stirred and there were streaks of fresh, crimson blood splattered in random intervals. A piece of driftwood was covered in both black and red, and doom pooled deep in Carol’s belly. What if some of that was his? There was obviously a struggle, the sheer amount of blood was proof enough.

It was a crime scene, but without his body.

Carol took a breath, because realistically she knew panicking wouldn’t do a damn thing in this situation. Instead, she kept looking. And finally, she picked up on his trail once again. A river of dried blood, leading right into the woods. So he, or hopefully not him, had retreated for cover. Okay, that was a start then.

The blue of the sky drowned into the black of night as she followed the trail.

It all led to an old gas station, the blood smattering on the sign outside in the shape of a handprint enough proof he’d been here for her to cross the lot and follow the splattered blood until she came upon the old garage. Only now, there were two trails of blood, smearing along the concrete right outside.

And that was the unmistakable form of Alpha splayed upon the floor in front of her.

Carol’s nerves sprung alive with what could only be described as red hot.

The moonlight just barely lit the expanse of the garage, highlighting the blood trail the woman–could she even be described as a woman anymore?–had left behind. Carol stepped forward, fingers itching as she unholstered the knife strapped to her belt. The knife that she would put in this monster's brain.

Everything in her body was telling her to kill her, to plunge the knife so, so deep into her skull, but the wheezing from the corner in front of her had her hesitating, and then looking over and peering upon the shape of her friend. She couldn’t even see his face, only the patched material of his pants and the pool of blood he was soaking in.

Her jaw went slack, and she bounded over to him, over the body of the woman she was about to kill.

And fuck, it was worse than she’d thought.

Blood spilled from his hairline in twin rivers around his nose and into his mouth, which was producing the most horrible of wheezes. A head injury wasn’t good, not at all, and her mind raced. She hovered over him, afraid if she even breathed wrong he’d disappear into the dark of the shadows and be gone.

Carol moved his hair out of his face with trembling fingers and found the source of the bleeding. A nasty cut right above his eyebrow, about as large too. Carol knew head injuries bled a lot, but fuck. Her eyes flicked down his torso, running along the tussled fabric of his flannel and the dried splats of blood. His pants, however, were damp with it. Her breath caught in her chest, rattling against her ribs and her stomach lurched at the sheer amount of it.

I need to get him out of here.

She couldn’t assess the majority of his wounds in this lighting, it was a miracle she could even find him at all. Dragging his ass across the forest and to Hilltop, however, wouldn’t be easy and she figured they’d have to make frequent stops with the condition he’s in. I need to get him out of here.

It wouldn’t do any good sitting here on her ass as her friend bled out either.

I need to get him out of here.

Carol holstered the knife she’d previously dropped to her belt and oh-so carefully hoisted his torso up into a sitting position. His head lolled worryingly and his skin was much too cool to the touch for her liking, usually warm in the Virginia sun. His eyebrows scrunched up underneath his locks of greasy and matted hair. A response of any kind was good at this point.

She had no idea how much blood he’d lost, but it was clearly too much.

His scruff was scratchy under her fingers as she lifted his chin, kneeling beside him and whispering into the night air, “Daryl, hey. Daryl.” Nothing.

She swallowed, anxiety alight within her stomach and writhing like worms. Her temples began to tense with a headache. Great.

Ok, one thing at a time, she thought. One thing at a time.

The angle was awkward, but she managed to get her arms under his armpits soon enough and hoist him up, up, until she could quickly shuffle to have his arm over her shoulder. And hell, he was heavy, all his dead weight falling onto her. I need to get him out of here.

As determined as she was, this was going to be hell.

_____

The trek through the forest was hell and the sun was rising by the time they’d reached Hilltop, but damn if she’d gotten him there.

Without a current doctor at Hilltop, however, she still had Daryl under her care and under her roof. Her residence at Hilltop was bare with only the needed necessities, but it’d have to do.

She’d gotten the help of a gentleman to help her in carrying the unconscious man to the bedroom where he now lay across the bed, along with fetching her the materials she needed to properly patch him up and a fresh pair of clothes for the both of them. When he’d returned, she’d shooed him off and gotten to work stripping her friend.

His vest and flannel weren’t revealing anything she hadn’t seen before. However, the pants were certainly an invasion of his privacy, but she figured he trusted her enough and he’d figure it was sort of necessary with him passed out. She cringed at just how much blood there was, he seemed drowned in it. Even with his clothes removed (excluding his boxers) it still covered him in sticky red.

The majority, aside from his face, covered his left leg. A nasty gash, which she hated herself for not noticing earlier when she could have prevented more bleeding, was sliced deep into his thigh above his knee. Red crusted over the skin, and she was grateful the bleeding had at least slowed enough during their journey.

Carol gathered the rubbing alcohol and large wash cloth, dousing it in the liquid before she got to work cleaning his face. She revealed the paleness of his skin with each drag of the fabric, running along the softer skin of his neck and down his torso. Jumping to his leg, she doused it again and then carefully rubbed his skin of all the blood. Each swipe, and she could see a little more of him. A little less red.

She tossed the dirty rag to the side, getting closer to his leg until she could see the curly hairs embedded in his skin. The smell of the alcohol burned her nostrils as she got to work stitching him up.

Thread after thread, patch after patch, and Carol had successfully covered all of the various slashes and lacerations.

The smallest of groans pulled her from her thoughts, and her eyes flicked up to his face to see his nose scrunch and his eye’s pop open. His chest heaved and his breaths rung in his lungs in short wheezes as she jolted forward and held out a hand, “hey, hey, Daryl,” she hissed, “you’re ok, it’s only me.”

Daryl’s blue eyes fell onto her and she met him with her own blue gaze, scanning his face as his breathing slowed. She sighed in relief, because he was alive.

She hadn’t lost him.

The hunter lifted his head and gazed down at his almost-naked body, and then back at her. He didn’t even look surprised, just tired. She didn’t think he had the energy to think too hard right now. Daryl brought an arm up to touch her elbow, fingers cold but not as worryingly cool as they’d been earlier.

“Th’ hell happ’ned,” he rasped, voice carrying in a slow mumble. She grasped his fingers in hers, shoulders sagging. Her muscles ached.

“I found you,” Carol exhaled, “with… with Alpha.”

He held her gaze for a moment before he dropped it, letting his head hit the pillow. His other hand ran through his scruff, a motion that she had come to recognize as his thinking face.

“Fought ‘er,” he mumbled, and she already knew that. “Thought I had ‘er, had a lapse ‘n judgem’nt.”

Carol huffed, “no shit.” She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

She stepped back and grabbed the clothing she’d saved for him, a tawny button down and a pair of cotton sweatpants. They dwarfed her as she held them out, so she figured they’d be comfortably loose on him. That was good considering how the fabric wouldn’t bother his stitches too much.

Carol turned back to him, returning to his side with the clothes. He gazed up at her, still not completely there. She rested her hand on his shoulder, “C’mon, let’s get you dressed.”

Daryl sat up with her help and she got the shirt on him, buttoning it up to his chest so it’d be loose. Getting him to lift his hips while she slid the sweatpants was a struggle, but achieved nonetheless. Once he was comfortably dressed he hit the pillow once again, looking just as exhausted as she felt.

It’d been a hell of a day.

When he closed his eyes, she gazed upon him. She was just so happy that he was there, that he wasn’t dead or undead. He was still with her, within reach. Breathing and alive.

She moved toward the door, stopping short when he huffed out a curt, “wait.” Carol leaned against the door frame, watching as he motioned with his chin for her to get closer, and so she did. “Stay ‘ere t’night.”

“Alright, ya big baby,” she teased, but she’d rather be here than anywhere else in the world at that moment.

He scooched over toward the wall, grunting from the small pressure applied to his leg. Carol crawled onto the bed, pulling the cover out from underneath them as gently as she could and draped it over the two of them after slipping her boots off. She pulled the hair tie from her silver strands and let it fall over her shoulders before she lay down next to him, soaking in the heat he finally started to expel again.

She turned toward him, and he was already looking at her, eyes half lidded and soft. Carol couldn’t help but smile at him, and his lip twitched in response. He turned away, closing his eyes and exhaling.

“Hey, Daryl?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. Her heartbeat drummed against her rips.

“Wha’ for?” He looked at her again, hair falling across his face in a cascade of brown.

Carol met his gaze, throat bobbing, “Everything. The.. the cave,” and god she meant it with her whole being. She just hoped he could realize that. He blinked slowly at her, and huffed out a laugh.

“A’ready forgave ya,” he muttered, and it was a breath of fresh air.

“Okay,” she breathed, “okay.”

Daryl moved impossibly closer and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the soothing beat of his heart. It filled her ears and eased her brain and suddenly she felt all the exhaustion hit her ten fold.

As the world around them arose for the day, sunlight spilling in the window to light a path of warmth along their bodies, they fell asleep.

Requested by @murdadixon !!! Thank you SOO much for the request, your brain is brilliant. Hope you enjoy these two!! 💛💛

#my writing #daryl dixon #carol peletier #posting at odd hours of the morning is becoming a habit #caryl #the walking dead #daryl twd #got carried away with this one #kindof a daryl whump ngl #twd #twd daryl #carol twd #not proof read #i am TIRED #worth it tho

[trambrosia]

There is so much Noah's Flood stuff going on in The Locked Tomb. A lot is in Gideon the Ninth, and I feel incredibly dense for missing it until now:

The whole world is flooded

Basically everyone died

The representatives are sent two by two, like Noah's animals

Colum Asht's first name means Dove according to the appendix, and Noah used a dove to see if the flood had receded yet

(Noah also sent out a raven, is there something there?)

Teacher's sash is rainbow colored, echoing God "putting his bow in the clouds" as a sign he wouldn't flood the world again

I noticed rainbows cropping up a lot before and I'm really glad to have a more concrete basis for interpreting that.

The reason I finally put it together is that Tamsyn smashed it in our faces in Nona:

“But that’s the grace of it, Harrow. If I’m God, I can start over. The flood, you know? You can wash things clean. That’s all the end of Earth was … making things clean. It gets dirty again, you clean it again. Like those old power-washing ads. Spray and walk away, right? ("John 5:4")

So let's pause here and notice that he's styled a lot of Imperial things with rainbows, which are a reference only he understands. He went to church camp, even if it was only for the underage drinking, so he would know this. Rainbows are supposed to be a promise not to flood the world again, but it's a promise nobody else can hear and he doesn't seem to feel bound by it ("it gets dirty again, you clean it again").

The other thing about the rainbows is that Tamsyn also describes a lot of things as both rainbowed and oily, for instance the steel of the space ships and Jod's eyes ("The irises were dark and leadenly iridescent—a deep rainbow oil slick, ringed with white"). I went into this a bit more in the post linked above but we're getting farther from Noah. I don't feel like I fully understand this, other than a connection between rainbows and pollution.

The other big Noah connection comes at the end of Nona the Ninth when Alecto finds Jod:

Afterward Alecto went down to the ship and stood before John, purposing to travel through the River, and was grieved to find it yet dead. John was asleep, and not in his garments, unshaved and still drunken.

Noah was also drunk, asleep, and naked at one point after the flood. He got drunk on his own wine. He was in his tent, his son Ham saw him in the raw and said so to Noah's other sons Shem and Japheth. Shem and Japheth devised an elaborate way to cover up his tra-la-la without having to see it. When they did so, Noah awoke, intuited that Ham must have seen his ding ding dong, and therefore immediately cursed Ham and his descendants (the Canaanites) forever.

I honestly don't see the connection between the Bible story and this scene other than the image. Maybe there are other drunk naked asleep guys in scripture. But we've had so much Flood stuff.

Here's the Genesis chapter after the flood.

#wrote #the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona spoilers #nona the ninth #tlt #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb spoilers

[lady-harrowhark]

I’m more asking for confirmation than anything else since I don’t have a copy of htn or ntn I can check, but do we have any concrete evidence that John is still capable of performing full resurrections? Or were the original resurrections the kind of thing that were only possible in the aftermath of 10 billion deaths + 9 planets worth of thanergy being released (much like how harrow’s parents supposedly performed a type of resurrection in the aftermath of murdering 200 children)

I've been paging through, and I don't think we do have any concrete evidence... I also don't think we have any concrete not evidence though either...

I think most relevant to this question is this passage from when John is showing Harrow the 500 he's going to send to the Ninth:

No, I haven't truly resurrected anyone in ten thousand years. But at that time... I set many aside, for safety... and I've often felt bad about just keeping them as insurance. They've been asleep all this myriad, Harrow, and it's frankly a relief to my mind to wake them up.

So if we take this at face value (never a given with John), he resurrected them back ten thousand years ago, but will be waking them up now.

Which, of course, aligns with what he says in John 5:4 of NtN, "...resurrection is different from waking up."

That difference is something I've been mulling over since I first read it, and I don't have any great takes at the moment. It's definitely something I have flagged to keep an eye out for on my next reread though! I think your point about needing that massive amount of thanergy sounds very reasonable, especially compared to Harrow's conception, which he also refers to as a type of resurrection.

Also just as I was typing this I got curious and went back to the avulsion trial scene, where it says Gideon "died" and then pulls the "gotcha!" (except in hindsight it seems it was not a "gotcha!" at all lmao). Very interesting wording here, no?

"Ha-ha," said Gideon, "first time you didn't call me Griddle," and died. - Well, passed out. But it felt a hell of a lot like dying. Waking up had an air of resurrection, of having spent a winter as a dried-out shell and coming back to the world as a new green shoot. A new green shoot with problems.

So we've clearly got this resurrection vs waking up thing again, but I'm really curious about the comparison to the "green shoot," with green being so heavily associated with Alecto (e.g., Varun calls her "green-and-breathing thing"). And especially because it's used with this context of "A new green shoot with problems," because that particular turn of phrase sounds very much like Camilla's description of Nona getting dressed looking like a "worm with problems." (Is this anything? Am I reaching? Am I having fun while reaching?)

I'll also just throw in the verbiage around John saying he "switched [Alecto] off" as compared to, say, the NtN epigram poem's "sleep, I'll wake you in the morning" (and further: "Annabel, good morning.")

I feel like things are kind of coalescing around the difference between a true death and being brought back to life vs a sleep or suspended animation state in which one isn't actually dead, and therefore is simply waking up (I can't let myself go down this tangent right now but it does sound suspiciously like the whole cryo project... moving on!). It makes me wonder if it's not so much that John hasn't resurrected anyone in ten thousand years as much as it is that no one has truly died in ten thousand years for him to resurrect; therefore he can only wake them.

Which seems incompatible with necromancy at first, but is it? We know something's fucky with the River. Perhaps crossing the River (or whatever verb we want to use for that) constitutes a true death, and if something's stopped it up, the thanergy stays pooled up and accessible for necromantic purposes rather than crossing or being cycled back into the River or dispersed or whatever happens to it. A death magic dam, essentially. And if a soul can't finish its journey to a true death, he wouldn't be able to resurrect them, hmm.

I don't know how well that meshes with the 200 dead Ninth children, though, if that's also a resurrection, other than what Harrow says during the pool scene: "The infants alone generated enough thanergy to take out the entire planet. Babies always do - for some reason." The incomplete explanation is conspicuous here, but so is the reference to "taking out the entire planet", now that we know what we know. So that may actually track. (Is John's baby finger bone crown meant to be like... a tribute? Thank you for your service and all that? Yuck.)

Two more incomplete musings and then I really will stop! I've been harboring some thoughts about whether the Ninth (and specifically the Tomb) may have a more direct connection to the River (and the barathron specifically) than other locations do, and if that's the case, perhaps that's also at play in achieving a resurrection, whatever form that may take.

The other thing I'm thinking about here is the whole Alecto/Anastasia/tomb-keeper line situation. If the tomb-keeper line is carrying a bit of Alecto's soul, is this more of a direct, one-to-one passage down the line? Or, over the however many thousands of years since that vow, has it branched out from that central family tree and dispersed amongst the generations? What I'm getting at here is essentially, if many or all of the 200 Ninth children housed a bit of Alecto's soul, taking any/all of them out would be a small scale planetary death... which could account for why babies generate so much thanergy (again, the phrasing of "enough to take out the entire planet" seems significant). It feels reminiscent of the way Lyctors flip planets as well, turning them thanergetic... if killing a planet creates thanergy, could killing bits of a planet (and the children carrying them) create a necromancer?

I swear when I sat down to answer this, I only had the first two quotes in mind and then I just kept pulling at threads and ended up unraveling a whole sweater, so apologies from getting away from what you were asking. But thank you for providing some good food for thought!

#i'm imagining me and anon as janet and michael (respectively) in that one meme #'i was able to obtain confirmation!' 'you sure? you have confirmation and not a thousand word stream of consciousness essay?' #'that is correct! i have confirmation. i do not have a thousand word stream of consciousness essay.' #'excellent! please give me the confirmation.' 'here you go!' [posts This] #nona the ninth spoilers #tlt #tlt meta #anonymous #ask