#semi-soft apocalypse

[cats2019forthenintendoswitch]

Early Adventure Time episodes: Ice King "kidnaps" Wire Princess, a vaguely humanoid heap of scrap with a smiley face painted on its "head" which he obviously made. Finn wants to stop him on the principle of kidnapping being bad, while Jake argues that since his "victim" is an inanimate piece of junk, no one's getting hurt and it might even quell his kidnapping thirst. After a series of shenanigans, Ice King attacks Jake, at which point Wire Princess speaks, revealing that not only was she alive, but consenting to the kidnapping as well, because of Ice King's fluffy beard. But now that she has seen him attack Jake, another fluffy thing, her heart is wavering and she must journey alone to find the true meaning of fluff. The end gag is Ice King screaming "She was alive?"

Middle Adventure Time episode: Raggedy Princess' kingdom is being attacked, and the assailant is revealed to be none other than Wire Princess, whose quest for fluff has turned destructive. PB appears excessively distraught by this, and it's revealed that she created Wire and Raggedy Princess (then known as cloth princess) in a recreation of the monkey experiment to best gauge her approach to ruling, in the early days of the Candy Kingdom. However, when the Wire Princess AI realized the candy people were more driven to Cloth Princess' caring nature, it logically concluded the only biological need of candy people is "fluff", and so tried her best to imitate Cloth's behavior, while Cloth Princess' deeply ingrained love for her citizens caused her to attempt to physically care for them. Declaring the experiment a failure, PB mind-wiped them both, gave Cloth Princess a new kingdom and name, and put WP in sleep mode, as well as left her in Ice King's junk pile. Jake, who has been listening, says "PB, that's messed up, man". Although they deliberate whether to reboot her again, she ends up being smashed by a gumball guardian or something. While everyone staress in shock, Raggedy Princess says "That's messed up, man. Also I didn't have time to say this earlier but I'm fine with either Raggedy Princess or Cloth Princess. So, um, yeah. Anyway, I'm going to call the cleanup crew"

Late Adventure Time episode: A strange techno-magical maze appears out of the blue in the Ice Kingdom. Finn and Jake explore it and find imagery of both softness and some sort of pre-apocalypse university, ultimately discovering it was created by Magic Woman/Betty mind-melding with Wire Princes, who was trying to reverse engineer an AI with love magic infused through Simon or whatever. She inadvertently mind-melded then, accidentally creating the semi-physical maze with her magic powers, and in turn realized that WP was, in fact, not only functional and aware this whole time, but she also had a slowed down perception of time. Finn and Jake sever the link after fighting some techno-nightmares. Magic Woman, despite only having been mind-melded for a day, has experienced a whole year, and appears distraught. But this is only momentary, as she declares that her accelerated madness means that her magic will grow exponentially stronger, and runs off appearing to have a plan. Finn and Jake are worried about Wire Princess going haywire (the pun is pointed out), but she clarifies (her voicebox is working now, but not much else) that actually, since she didn't have or understand emotions for most of her aware existence, she was just fine then. She then goes on a beautiful monologue about how, since she's now bonded to one, she finally, truly understands emotional beings and their complex needs. She renames herself "wire knight", and downloads her consciousnesses onto Finn's arm. A later episode has BMO and Wire Knight debating the trolley problem

#my own posts #adventure time #I couldve made it simpler but like NO there needs to be STRUCTURE there needs to be TONE there needs to be an ARC

[gretavanlace]

Stars Collide

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, adult themes, semi public sexual acts, dirty talk, pet names, digital penetration, etc.

First, special thanks to this ask who got my gears turning, I know it isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you love it all the same. Second, I asked for josh pics and ya’ll 👏 came 👏 through 👏 Thank you so much for taking the time to help out with my little request, you guys are the greatest! They were all incredible, but in the end @jakekiszkasbelly-button killed it with this stunning pic featuring a camera flare-halo that stole my heart. Just look at him!

Photo credit to the lovely @indigo-starcatcher

You wake with a start, eyes wide with drowsy confusion, and he thinks you’re adorable. Like a tiny baby bunny, startled in the brush by rustling leaves. It makes him want to scoop you up, to hold you cupped in his hands, safe from the world. To peer down at you and soothe your nerves softly. To pet you and marvel at your softness, your warmth….

It also makes him long to corrupt all that innocence. To strip it away down to the bones of what you’re really capable of. That wicked glint in your eye that appears when there’s no one to bear witness but him - he wants to see it.

“Josh?” Your voice is gritty with the impromptu slumber you’d fallen into after the show. Curled up like a cat in one corner of the couch in the corner of his dressing room. He hadn’t the heart to disturb you.

Instead, he’d lost the satin suit and showered, and was now slipped into something a little more pedestrian, scribbling lyrics and ideas upon the lined pages of his notebook, sipping from a glass filled with honey-laced whiskey.

He speaks softly, as is so often his way “I’m here, princess.”

Your gaze swings over to him, and he watches the tension leave your form and loves you just a little bit more. They way you find solace in his presence softens his heart indescribably.

“It’s so quiet.” You sigh, arms reaching for the ceiling in a dramatic, feline stretch. “Where is everyone? Did I sleep through the apocalypse?”

He laughs gently, eyes trained on the page where he’s finishing a rough sketch to present to wardrobe. You’re right to ask questions, he knows. Normally the energy backstage is electric before a show, and even more so after. Voices booming from all directions, golf carts grinding up and down the halls, equipment being dragged across concrete, shouts of congratulations and instructions. The rock and roll circus of live wire sound is easily tuned out as seasoned as you all are. Silence, on the other hand, is deafening.

“They’ve all gone back to the hotel.” He shrugs, setting everything aside in order to focus on you. He loves to watch you do anything, but witnessing you inch your way out of floating dreams deserves his full attention. “I told them we’d just call a car. Wanted to let you sleep.”

You shimmy your shoulders in a mock shudder. “This feels weird. It’s way too quiet.”

A smile that it feels like he can’t help, shapes his lips beautifully. You resemble a fallen angel, all wrinkled skirt and tangled hair, a groupie who just clawed her way out of the pit, disheveled and out of breath, all for him. “It is sort of weird, isn’t it?”

An idea lights his face up, urging an unsure giggle out of your sleepy chest before he’s even shared what he’s thinking.

“You want to go walk around a little? It’ll be like being at school after a play. Remember that? When the halls and classrooms were dark and it felt like you shouldn’t be there…when it felt like some strange, alien, terrain…remember?”

His enthusiasm is catching, “No, I don’t remember that…I wasn’t a theater nerd.” You toss a tasseled throw pillow at him and, in retaliation, he rises and grabs your hands, tugging you to your feet.

“That’s what’s wrong with you, my love.” He nudges you closer to your shoes and smooths out your clothes while you toe them on. “Too much time bouncing around in your little cheerleader uniform and not enough time down in the trenches with the drama club dreck.”

“I wasn’t a cheerleader and you damn well know it.” You roll your eyes with love and swing open the door to find the hall desolate and dimly lit. “You don’t think we’re completely alone in here, do you?”

“Nah,” he steps out behind you. “They’d kick us out before all that. But even if they missed us, there’d be security. Still, probably the closest to alone we’re ever gonna be.”

You spin around, grabbing up his hand tightly in both of yours…the spirited fire in your eyes lighting his own. “Let’s go check out the stage. Think anyone will stop us?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, waving you off like he can’t believe you even said such a thing. “Do you have any idea who I am, princess?”

“Humble, aren’t you, Kiszka?” You kiss the air at him and trot off ahead in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Lewis and Clark?” He calls out smugly, “Stage is this way.”

~

“Look at all these seats,” you marvel, staring out at a sea of now empty chairs feeling nearly worshipful. An incredible talent stands beside you. Warm as the sun, and just as revered. You’d kneel at his feet, a peasant before her king, if it might please him…though he would likely despise it.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking the same thing about you. Wondering at your beauty, and how it threatens to steal the breath from his lungs, even in the shadows of the darkened arena. Loving you and your gorgeous soul. Adoring your light. You are an angel. His angel. His princess.

“You fill these seats,” you shake your head, amazed by him as if he’s brand new. “Ever think about that? You and your brothers, you fill these seats. It’s incredible what you guys do. I’ll never get enough of it.”

He sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “You don’t get bored with it? Same show night after night? Rehearsal after rehearsal?”

“Same jokes…” you tease sweetly, “champagne, caviar, anyone?”

“Shut up,” he squeezes you with a quiet chuckle, “I haven’t used that one in a while. It’s a classic, though.”

“You look like a god, you know?” You’ve fallen hushed, picturing the way he shines, “Divine, a graven image come to life. Sometimes it’s like…it’s like I forget I even know you. You aren’t my Josh, how could that breathtaking spirit glittering under lights be mine? You’re magic.”

“Not to negate the poetry in which you’ve just showered me, but it makes my dick hard when you talk like that.” His lips have found the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“Yeah?” You’ve begun swaying along with him to some inaudible song it seems you both can hear. “Well, what doesn’t make your dick hard?”

“Hey!” He nips at the side of your throat in punishment. “I put it away for this tour.”

You gasp and tingle beneath his kiss, but hold fast to your footing. “Mmm-hmm. We’ll see how long that lasts. You’ll get tired of tucking. Plus, you like it when they look.”

Now, his arms have loosened to allow his hands to explore the silken skin of your stomach…palms searching and slow, hidden below your shirt. “Maybe I do like it. Maybe there’s no maybe about it.” He pulls you closer and there is his cock, hard and inviting, no longer concealed behind a stage costume, but pressing into the small of your back like an offering. “Do you like it? When they look? When they want what’s yours? When they want to fuck what’s yours?”

He wants you to say yes. He wants to know that you find some sort of perverse pleasure in it, the same way he does. He wants you to love their need as much as he does. He wants you to be secure in his love enough to enjoy it all.

And he’s in luck.

“I do like it when they look. Sometimes it makes me want to go out there and drop to my knees right in front of them,” you confess, listening to his breathing pick up, “makes me want to suck your cock right in front of them. To show them that you don’t only sound pretty when you sing.”

He’s toying with the button on your skirt now, like he’s contemplating unfastening them, like he’s wrestling with the idea of something he knows he shouldn’t want.

And he is. He’s thinking about laying you right down, of giving it to you right there on the catwalk beneath both of your feet. He’s imagining how lovely you’d sound given the acoustics, he’s wondering how loud he could allow you to be. His beautiful mind is pondering how open you might be to the idea, whether you’d think about the risk of getting caught, whether you’d care even if you did think about it.

“When do I sound pretty, princess? Besides when I sing?” He gives in to how badly he wants you, but forgoes the buttons, choosing to slip his hand under your skirt from behind, instead. “Hm? Tell me.”

“Josh,” it squeaks out of you, and he’s never loved the sound of his own name more. His fingers inch under the hem of your panties in reward.

“You sound pretty when you can’t catch your breath,” the pads of his fingers circle your trembling entrance, gathering your warm, slick, desire, as his opposite forearm snakes around your throat to hold you in place. He listens with rapt attention as you whisper his praises. “And when you moan. When you get close and start to whimper, that’s pretty…the filthy things you say, pretty…even prettier when you cum. I think about it all the time, the way you sound.”

He sinks into you, curling and stroking, petting you from the inside. “Wish they could hear you. All those beautiful little whines when you’re right on the edge. You’re a star, princess. You’re a fucking star.”

Thankful for his centering hold on you, you reach back, gripping his thigh for a moment before grabbing at his cock as your body rolls and arches, free hand squeezing viciously at your breast, urgent and frantic in your need.

With a kiss bestowed upon your temple he brings his lips to the shell of your ear and hums, “Reach down and touch your clit. Rub her just right while I finger fuck your sweet little cunt. Want you to feel good. Can you do that, baby? Can you feel good for me?”

A hurried nod accompanies a breathy gasp of his name as he works you over on stage, on display like art for the gaze of anyone who might happen upon the both of you.

You can’t imagine caring any less. You want this, and you want it now. Let them see.

“Be a good girl and close your eyes, princess.” Your lids drift shut, instantly obeying his gentle command. “You listen so well. My princess likes to make me proud, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” you thrust your hips forward, wanting, needing, him deeper still.

“I’m honored, my love.” His lips are kissing over your cheek, nuzzling and pecking tenderly as he fucks against that heavenly spot deep inside that makes you want to scream. “Keep your eyes closed. Picture them out there. Watching you. Watching you flush and squirm. Watching me want you, watching me touch you, watching me take you apart. Wanting to be you. Wanting to be the girl up here with her cunt wrapped up tight and wet around my fingers…making such a pretty mess of me.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity flits off your tongue as you gush into his palm.

“Yeah?” He taunts, biting tingles into your dewy skin. “You like that? Show them, princess. Show them what a gorgeous girl you are when I make you cum. C’mon, show them how pretty my favorite star shines.”

“Josh, please,” you’re balanced upon the razor, praying to be sliced open and bared to him. It’s so close, but…

“Please what, princess?” He’s rocking his clothed cock against the swell of your ass from behind, fucking those perfect, insistent, fingers into you at a delicious clip, coaxing you nearer and nearer as you soak his skin and your thighs. “Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you, baby, I’ll fucking give it to you. You know I will.”

Your fingernails want to bury into his flesh, but you’re careful not to leave marks. “I’m gonna cum…” it breathes out of you wildly, as an uncontrollable desperation steps in to steal your sense. “I’m gonna cum. Talk to me, Josh. Talk to me while I cum for you. I want your voice…talk me through it.”

A feral sound growls out of him, but it dissolves into something weak, as though he can’t handle you. “I’ll talk to you princess, don’t you worry that pretty fucking head. I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. You feel that?”

He tightens his grip, holding you upright, and you fuck against his hand faster in reply, thrusting your hand back to bury into, and pull at, his curls “Yeah you do. My girl feels it. She knows. She knows I’ve got her, and she’s gonna cum pretty just for me, isn’t she?”

You explode into sensation in response. Sparks fly and batter themselves against your nerve endings as you coil up sung around his pumping fingers…pouring and dripping against his skin like warm, floral bath water.

“There you go, sweet girl…” he praises softly, in contrast with the relentless pace his hand is working away at you. “You let it all go, alright? Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it. Let it out, princess, just for me, let it all out. good girl, fucking sing for me just like that.”

You’re wailing into the empty space, likely alerting anyone still wandering the halls, but you can’t hear yourself and he can’t be bothered to care.

His voice carries you through, groaning your praises as he ruts his aching cock against you, holding you fast and safe in his embrace until you fall limp, a rag doll with his blissful fingers still filling her throbbing cunt.

“That’s my girl, princess…” he kisses along the curve of your jaw, bringing you down gingerly. “So, so good. You’re an angel.”

Head now descending from the rumbling clouds of the storm he’s created, you realize suddenly what you’re faced with, “Josh, I was so loud…we have to go.”

“Not now,” he protests, languidly slipping his fingers in and out of you still.

“Yes, now.” Your thighs tighten, barring his movement, until he shakes out of his stupor.

“Okay, Okay…” he lowers your skirt and sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you from his wrist and inner forearm as you begin yanking him towards the stage exit. “But I’m about to make sure the whole hotel knows how pretty you can sing, too, princess. You’re a star.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #fanfic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #gvf smut #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #gvf josh #gvf imagine #gvf fanfiction #gvf #gvf one shot

[fathergrimes]

rick grimes x reader (male or female insert)

warnings: public sex (kinda), begging, smut of course

pre-apocalypse, bf!rick grimes, submissive rick grimes

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

Rick is a vanilla man; he takes things too far when it comes to the two of you in the sheets, but still, he knows how to please you. Except this night would be different, going places he'd never thought to go. You rested against the armrest, the two of you sitting in the back of the theater. The entire row was empty except for you and Rick, and you were going to take that to your advantage. The movie was around halfway through, and you were bored. You removed your arm from the armrest and slowly moved your hand down Rick's thigh. He felt your touch and glared at you; he knew what you were doing. “We can't; we could get caught.” He whispered with a smooth southern accent. You didn't care; you wanted to test him. “Nobody will know.” You say this in a hushed voice, gesturing to the near-empty theater. You glided your hand up and down his thigh, seeing him struggle to keep his composure. You grin as he looks at you with pleading eyes, but you ignore his pleas. You can tell he's enjoying it by the way his jeans are getting tighter. You decide if you'll help relieve him. You move your hand to his belt buckle, quietly and quickly undoing it and pulling the zipper down. “F..Fuck…” He muttered under his breath. Soon enough, you had pulled his cock out, and he was sporting a semi. You began to stroke his entire length—8 thick inches of meat. Rick's breath hitched as you began to touch him. You could tell he was trying to keep quiet, but his attempts were feeble as he let out soft moans. You snicker at his attempts and smile. His sounds were like music to your ears as you picked up the pace. He let out a quiet groan, his hips buckling into your hand as you rubbed his tip, the cum sticking to your thumb. Nobody noticed what the two of you were doing in the back of the theater, as they were too focused on the movie. Rick was solely focused on keeping it that way, covering his mouth to quiet himself. “P-please… Don't stop…” He begged you, his hips thrusting into your hand. You grinned, enjoying his quiet moans. You continued to stroke, squeezing his cock harder as you jerked him off. "Please, I'm about to cum.” He whispered desperately. You continue to ignore his pleas and fondle his balls with your other hand. He finally gives in, and with a final thrust, he reaches his climax, letting out a groan muffled by his hand. He shot thick, hot ropes of cum into your hand and onto the back of the empty seat in front of you. He continuously ejaculated for thirteen seconds before finally finishing, panting heavily. He had painted your hand and the back of the seat white. He lets out an exasperated sigh and looks you in the eyes before saying, “Never try that again.” He warns. He enjoyed it but wouldn't want to take the risk a second time. You giggled and kissed him as he stuffed his cock into his pants and made you clean up the mess.

#rick grimes x reader #smut #x reader #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #submisive and breedable

[urfavenarrator]

hi hi could you please do top rick grimes x bottom male reader who has a praise kink?? If so, tysm!!

YeppI Didn't add build up but I hope you still like it

---Nights like These---

Your get on your shared, bed your ass in the air your face on a Semi-cool pillow. rick get behind you with a bottle of lube in hand, he drowns middle and ring fingers in it and pushes the in at the same time. "Christ, rick." you memmer, your face hard to read because you bit down on the pillow. "You alright baby?" He says kindly.

"Yeah 'm fine just wasn't expecting it" you relax and melt into his touch, he keeps prying around looking for your sweet spot. He leans over you, your backs now flush against his chest. "Yer doing so good" rick says and leans down to kiss your shoulder blade, it was nights like theses that you live where you could get a brake from the apocalypse and have a hour or two of mundane life, you rick, the kid off with gleen and Maggie.

A soft relaxed sigh leaves your mouth its cut off by your breath hitching when his fingers curl on your prostate "Mmm~" you hum and Bury your face in the pillow.

He curl and scissor his fingers til he thinks your ready "ready hun?" His voice soft and lazy "mhm" you hum in a lax tone, he pulls his fingers out and stokes himself a couple time making sure he's completely coate

You flip over to you back and watch him a soft smile appears on your face, how could it not, the prettiest guy you've hand the pleasure of dating is with you.

He lifts your legs arw wrapped around his wait and lines himself up, he moved slowly not wanting to hurt you; you both let out a small gasp when he bottoms out in you. He leaned down and kissed you

His thrusts aren't weak but arnts rough and rushed. He wasn't to make you feel special and that what he's gonna do. He angles himself so he can hit your prostate.

"Your so beautiful" he says before ruining you

"Mmm~ good boy" rick groans

You melt into a pile on the bed yous bodies hot and lightly coated in sweat, after a while of this blissful torture " 'm close" you pant softly, rick picks his pace up "be a good boy for me and come" 'good boy' run in your head on repeat for a bit, he know the power that names holds on you.

You drag him in for another long kiss, he comes inside you and you follow shortly after. The sound of skin on skin and panting slowly leave the room "think we're gonna need another shower" rick laughs, picking you up bridle style and bringing you to the bathroom, yeah nights like these were your favorites.

Sorry it's so short I didn't have a lot tj go off of and I didn't know what to do for it 😔 I'll probably rework this later

#- ̗̀❀⋆˚̩̥̩🪻Bo writes🪻˚̩̥̩⋆❀ ̖́- #rick grimes smut #rick grimes #rick grimes x male reader #bottom reader #x male!reader #twd #twd rick #the walking dead

[illunicae]

When the Light Goes Out

Was rewatching The Last of Us and got inspired so I wrote this in a single sitting. (Also found on Ao3)

Pairing: Rise Donatello x Female Reader

TWs: Semi-graphic description of wounds, Character death, Passive suicidal ideation, Loss of a child, The Kraang apocalypse, Mentions of past character deaths

Plot: The world broke when you were just a child, but you learned to survive and every day since has been a constant fight. Despite the hell outside your door, you found solace in your husband, Donatello, and you had a daughter a few years into the apocalypse. You did not like the world you brought your daughter into, but you promised her one day the war would end. But hope is a dimming candle, especially when you're losing family left and right: including your beloved Donatello. What more could you lose?

or

Sarah's death scene from The Last of Us, but with you and your daughter instead.

"Mom, will I ever see the stars?" 

You looked down at your young daughter, barely the age you were when the whole kraang apocalypse started. Lenore's eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you could see the small flash of doubt and sorrow that seemed to cling to your daughter these months of late. You cupped your daughter's green-scaled cheek in your palm, swiping your thumb across the purple spot on her cheekbone. "Oh, my sweet little light, that is why we fight this war. Because when we win, I will show you all the stars." 

Lenore didn't quite look convinced. 

"And my little light, it is so beautiful. There are more stars in the sky than you can count. And they shine so brightly that it's like the sun never set, lighting the world with a silver glow where shadows spill secrets and the world is at peace." You pulled Lenore closer, and you two touched your foreheads together in a silent expression of love. "I promise. At the end of this war, I will show you the stars and tell you all their names."

Lenore sank into your embrace, and the two of you sat together on your small bed, listening to the workings of the resistance around you. This was the world Lenore was born into—a world where you constantly had to fight to survive, where food seemed to always be on the verge of running out, where the sun burns red, and the moon drowns in dark clouds.

✧*

"Look out!" Leo shouted, and you were on the move instantly, trying to reach your daughter right as the blast struck the ground. Your feet left the ground as the explosion scorched the very air. You could hear your daughter scream as she hit the ground. Your body ached, your ears rang, and your head spun.

You groaned as you felt a spike of pain in your side. No doubt, something grazed you. You came to your senses just as a kraang hound loomed over you. Its maw was wide and dripping with bloody saliva; the low growl in its throat seemed to shake your bones as you groped around yourself for a weapon of any kind. Like a tightening spring, the beast moved, preparing for the kill. 

The singing of metal through flesh caused you to flinch slightly as the hound yelped a pitiful sound before slumping dead with a familiar katana through its skull. You could feel the relief wash over you as you glanced up at Leo; gratitude was on the tip of your tongue, but it died as Leo's horrified look swept over you to something beyond. 

"Oh, god." His voice was barely audible above the sounds of war around you, but you heard it, and the fear it brought struck you like the blade he wielded. You flipped over to see what caught Leo's attention. 

The battle continued around you, but all you could see was the limp form of your daughter, Lenore. The bright and brilliant little girl who was always smiling despite the hell that resided outside her window. The little girl you would tear the world apart for. 

"Lenore?" Your voice was soft as your vision spun; the blast had knocked you clear to the floor causing you to hit your head, but your focus was zeroed in on the rapid rising and falling of Lenore's chest. All other sounds fell away as Lenore's rapid panting echoed in your mind.  

As fear and a cold grip of dread crawled under your skin, you pulled yourself up, and only then did you see the blood slowly soaking the already red earth. Alarm bells rang, blaring in your mind as you scrambled forward. 

"No. No, no, no." Your knees dug into the soft ground as you crawled desperately. "No, no, no." Like a mantra, you repeated the single phrase over and over. 

Lenore had landed on her carapace with her gaze to the sky as her eyes glazed over unfocused. Her hand clutched her side, where blood was freely pouring from the wound in her plastron. The dark ground drank up her blood greedily as if it hadn't had enough already with everyone the resistance had lost. You wouldn't let your daughter's blood feed the soil as well; you couldn't bear to sink your daughter down into the infected dirt like so many family members before her: Splinter, Raph, Casey…him.

No, you would not lose your daughter, too. You couldn't: you were still healing.

"Let me see, baby. Let me see." You begged, fighting to keep the thick tears from clogging your throat and silencing your voice. 

Looking into your daughter's eyes bright with pain as she focused on you instead of the hellish sky, you gripped Lenore's hand. The warm blood glazing Lenore's skin swiftly coated your own palms as you moved the appendage. The sight that greeted you threw a bundle of barbed wire down your throat. There was a large gash in Lenore's side, along with a crack and hole in her plastron where a piece of shrapnel tore right through her muscle and shell. Blood poured freely from the wound as Lenore cried out. 

"Shh. Shh, you're okay." You placed your hand over the wound to apply pressure in a desperate attempt to stall the bleeding. "You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay, baby, I promise." The wound needed to be patched now, and you two couldn't stay there in the middle of the battlefield. 

You moved quickly as your heart hammered in your chest. You got your arm under Lenore's neck, but the movement jostled her, and Lenore cried out while attempting to fight you off, to push you away. 

"I know, baby. I know. I know. I know. I know." You kept pressure on the wound while trying to get your daughter into your arms. Lenore's arms flew up and latched onto your shoulder and your forearm. She cried out in pain as another movement jostled her. "I know it hurts, but we gotta get you back. We gotta get you home. I gotta get you up."

Lenore shook her head as tears flowed down the sides of her face. Her breathing was still sporadic and rapid as she cried.

"Momma."

"I know. I know. I know. I know. I know, baby." You could only keep pressure on the wound as you watched your daughter gasp for breath. "I know it hurts, but you're gonna be okay. Okay? You're gonna be okay." You threaded your arm around Lenore's shoulders and pulled her up. Lenore gasped and wheezed in pain while shaking her head. 

"I gotta get you home. I gotta get you home. I know, baby. I'm sorry." 

Lenore cried out again as you shifted to get her more in your lap. A small, bloodied hand left a trail on your cheek before Lenore grabbed around the back of your neck. Eyes screwed shut in pain, Lenore's breathing was getting faster and more shallow. "I know. I know. I know." Lenore whimpered.

"LEO, HELP ME!" You whipped your head up toward the slider standing a few feet away surrounded by more hound bodies. 

"(Y/n), we can't stay here." His voice was soft and heavy with an ugly mix of grief, pity, and authority.

Shaking your head, you pulled Lenore closer as her grip was becoming lighter and her breaths quieter. "Come on, baby girl." The limp arm fell off your shoulder. "Come on. I gotta get you home." You pulled your little girl closer to you and more fully into your lap. 

Lenore wasn't fighting anymore. 

"Come on, I gotta get you up. Lenore, we gotta go home." You held your daughter close as you cupped her cheek with your hand, only leaving a smear of blood along the skin that once seemed to glow with infectious joy. "Come on, baby. Come on. I–I can't–" Your breath wheezed out, a shaky exhale as hope dimmed in your heart in time with the light dimming from your little daughter's eyes. "I can't lose you too." Silent sobs shook your lungs as you clutched your daughter to your lap, blood soaking your shirt and cloak. 

"Oh, my little light." Your voice was soft and scratchy as the barbed wire in your throat tightened. Lenore's plastron dug into your skin as you hugged her tightly, but you didn't care. You held on, arms tight around Lenore's soft, leathery shell. Refusing to let go of your once shiny star, you began rocking back and forth as sobs were building in strength. 

Unfocused, dulled eyes stared at the sky above. No longer would they twinkle with mischief. No longer would they sparkle with that ravenous need to learn, much like her father. No longer would they shine against the dark, leading you to the hope against this never ending hellfire. 

The ground shook as the battle crescendoed. There were screams and shouts, gunfire and explosions: all of it white noise to your drowning heartbeat as you lowered Lenore slowly away from your chest. There was no movement from her body and no color in her skin. The overbearing urge to let a kraang find you and finish you off weighed down on your shoulders. Your whole fight, this whole resistance against the kraang, was for Lenore and children born into this unfair world. So that they may have a chance to see a world that is not torn apart by red skies and live a life that is not dictated by fear. 

Your fight was gone. Your reason was gone. 

What motive do you have now that your daughter will never see the end of this war? What could you possibly live for knowing that you'll never show your daughter the stars?

You gasped as a hand gripped your shoulder tightly, pulling you from the spiraling thoughts. You looked over your shoulder with unseeing eyes. Leo was shouting something, but you weren't hearing it. How could you over the rushing in your ears?

"(Y/n), we have to get out of here. You have to let her go." Leo's voice and the cacophony of battle rushed back to you in an overwhelming wave. Registering Leo's words, you shook your head, looking down at Lenore. Leo knelt down across from you and cupped your cheek with his palm, forcing you to look at him and not Lenore. "(Y/n), listen to me, she's gone. There's nothing we can do for her now."

A broken whine left your lips as you tried to look down again, but Leo wouldn't let you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)." He got to his feet and, in the same movement, lifted you from the ground, trapping you over his shoulder to take you out of the battlefield and back to base. 

"No. NO! Leo, let go. I need to bring her home. I have to bring her home! I can't leave her!" You screamed as you beat on the shell of your best friend. Leo just secured his grip on you while you thrashed.

"We have to go, (Y/n). If we stay here we'll die. I'm sorry." His voice was once again laden with a crushing mix of grief and authority. 

You fell semi-limp as you sobbed openly. You barely heard Mikey's or CJ's shocked voices as Leo called out the order to retreat. Deep down, you knew they'd be back to retrieve the dead once New York no longer feels like Hell-on-Earth, but you couldn't help but stare across the field at where your daughter lay, abandoned. You swore to protect her. You promised him she'd be safe. You failed. A once bright, shining star now lays dull and dark. 

A vibrant, beautiful light, now snuffed out.

#my writing #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #donatello hamato #rottmnt oc #rottmnt angst #x reader #reader insert

[murdrdocs]

5K/6K CELEBRATION

first of all, thank you for 5k and for 6k, so close together, too! it seriously means a lot. if you read for my blog, i want to also bring attention to other blogs and works that i like, and sometimes draw inspiration from! really work through this list and these blogs, show everyone here love !! xx

ꕥ represents no smut

ao3

mcu

: ̗̀➛ caroldantop's i could be your favorite girl

¡! ❞ wanda maximoff, babysitting, infidelity, milf!wanda

: ̗̀➛ talklokitome's the chase

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, sex pollen, asgardian nature, hunter/prey, jotun heat

: ̗̀➛ endlessreverie's luck be a lady

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, 1960s, vegas casino, loki is "some guy"

: ̗̀➛ con_fection's violence and intimacy are the only universal languages

¡! ❞ james "bucky" barnes, mean!bucky, so much just read it

: ̗̀➛ bellesque's sweet dreams

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, incubus, creative sex, legit just read it

- ,,

star wars

: ̗̀➛ anon's this is where the fun begins

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker & obi wan kenobi, sharing is caring, voyeur anakin

: ̗̀➛ therealmaxrebo's a practical lesson in patience

¡! ❞ obi wan kebobi, some anakin akywalker, dom!obi wan

: ̗̀➛ laserbrain's exposure.

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker, public sex, possessive anakin

- ,,

detroit: become human

: ̗̀➛ precursor's deviant behavior

¡! ❞ connor, changed my entire life, one of my favorite fics of all time

: ̗̀➛ chaos_thirium's in dreams he came

¡! ❞ connor, incubus, monster fucking

- ,,

misc

: ̗̀➛ tinybluewitch's nothing's gonna hurt you baby

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, angst, slow burn, smut

: ̗̀➛ lettalady's a turn of the knife

I ¡! ❞ hugh "ransom" drysdale, very autumnal

: ̗̀➛ honeycombstrawberry's you are the only one

¡! ❞ adrian chase, fake/pretend relationship, haven't read yet tbh

tumblr

misc

: ̗̀➛ babbushka's poolside

¡! ❞ philip "flip" zimmerman, slightly public sex, protective husband flip

: ̗̀➛ hanasnx's final girl

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker, alternate universe, ghostface!anakin, murder

: ̗̀➛ matchmorphosis' hello, cowgirl

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, inspired me to get cowgirl boots

: ̗̀➛ carmybear's assembly required

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, established relationship, soft!carmy

: ̗̀➛ rassvetsky's carry you away with me

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, needy carmen >

: ̗̀➛ jangofctts's hot venom

¡! ❞ adrian chase, too much to mention, guided my adrian obsession

: ̗̀➛ love-toxin's shadysider sunshine

¡! ❞ tommy slater, one of my all time favorites, shower fucking, normal tommy

: ̗̀➛ keravnous' bathroom b!tch

¡! ❞ tangerine, bathroom sex, semi canon-complicit

nonpoppin's paul atreides works

¡! ❞ inspired me to write a 4k word essay about him

claireunoia's [8:00] mike wheeler

¡! ❞ mike wheeler, literally altered my brain chemistry

- ,,

mcu

: ̗̀➛ inklore's spectral tease

¡! ❞ druig, kept me afloat for months

: ̗̀➛ greenorangevioletgrass' only joy, only anguish

¡! ❞ druig, also kept me afloat for months

: ̗̀➛ silkscream's peter parker works

¡! ❞ just read them. all of them

- ,,

outer banks

: ̗̀➛ gxtitobxby's dark rafe blurb

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, changed my life, tw for dark!rafe and manipulation

: ̗̀➛ idcntlikedarkness's jj works ꕥ

¡! ❞ fueled my budding jj addiction, made me a jj lover, so srs

: ̗̀➛ folkloreslovechild's sweet nothing ꕥ

¡! ❞ soft!rafe cameron !!!, so so cute, literally my ideal scenario

: ̗̀➛ onsunnyside's innocent reader and jj

¡! ❞ jj maybank, drew inspiration from for 'teaching ethan how to kiss', love love love

: ̗̀➛ storiesbound's halley's comet

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, so super soft rafe, changed my life

: ̗̀➛ bettysupremacy's summer girl

¡! ❞ soft!rafe cameron prevails, channeling this when i go to isle of palms,

: ̗̀➛ forevermoreharrington's i looked at you like the stars that shine

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, love rafe begging for forgiveness,

- ,,

stranger things

: ̗̀➛ wtfsteveharrington's tequila & strawberry lip gloss + others

¡! ❞ robin buckley, steve harrington, smut with many feelings

: ̗̀➛ luveline's zombie apocalypse works ꕥ

¡! ❞ steve harrington, alternate universe, so cute

- ,,

scream

: ̗̀➛ slxsherr's feeling like i never should

¡! ❞ charlie walker, kirby reed, opened my eyes to charlie

: ̗̀➛ castieltrash's the devil has come home

¡! ❞ charlie walker, needy virg charlie>

: ̗̀➛ msgorrilagripcoohie's generous, tunnel vision, after hours

¡! ❞ chad meeks-martin, so chad the characterization is so good

blogs

: ̗̀➛ @fleurfairie

: ̗̀➛ @arachine

: ̗̀➛ @idcntlikedarkness

: ̗̀➛ @forevermoreharrington

: ̗̀➛ @neo-novaa

#𓆩♡𓆪 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𝟱𝗸/𝟲𝗸 #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic recs #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic recs #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fic recs #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fic recs

[soulofapatrick]

Fighting to Survive - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You get dangerously hurt on patrol and things are said in your state of semi conscious, what happened when you wake a few days later barely escaping death?

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Blood and gore; near death; bruising

Y/N’s POV

I’m struggling to stay conscious as Dina’s half dragging me towards the gates, Jackson is only minutes away and looming into view but my legs feel heavy and the blood is still seeping past mine and Dina’s fingers as we hold her balled up hoodie to the gaping wound. The hoodie is already drenched and Dina’s yelling but it sounds far away, getting harder to keep my eyes open and continue walking, one of my legs giving out and we’re stumbling, almost falling which makes Dina cry out in frustration and anguish. 

“Come on! We are almost there!” Dina’s growling out and I try to make a witty response but my vision is getting hazy, “For fucks sake Y/N! Joel is waiting for you beyond those gates and you are going to tell him how much you fucking love him!” There’s a sting across my cheek and Dina is pulling me back up from my knees and I can hear the grinding of the gates a few steps later. 

I can see the blur of figures rushing towards us but my mind is struggling to focus, everyone blurring into each other and everything feels so distant and surreal. The pain in my side now almost unbearable and I can feel myself slipping away, consciousness beginning to fade into nothingness as I’m falling. Then, strong arms are wrapping around me, catching me under my legs and behind my back and I’m being pulled into a strong chest, the soft breeze ghosting over my face as words rumble from my saviour’s chest. I’m prying my heavy eyes open to see Joel, weatherworn face full of panic and fear as he’s practically running us somewhere and I can’t help but notice how pretty he is. My hand makes it’s way up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his salt and pepper beard beneath my palm and his honey eyes flick down to mine. 

“Dina…” I try to speak, feeling a metallic tang in my throat as he hushes me gently, “You,” I tap his cheek as he begins to fade from my vision and my body gets heavy, “You, I love.” As the words leave my lips, my vision blurs and my body goes limp. The pain in my side fading away, replaced with a weightlessness as I pass out, the last thing I feel is my head falling back. 

*

I’m momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room when my eyes flutter open, the harsh florescent lights overhead making my head throb and I have to squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. My vision clears after a few more blinks and I take in my surrounds. I’m lying in a hospital bed, the sheets as crisp and white as possible in a post apocalypse world and the room is small and sterile, a window overlooking Jackson outside. I’m turning my head to the side to see Joel, he’s curled up uncomfortably in a chair next to my bed, fast asleep. 

He looks so young, his rugged and weathered appearance having been softened by his time in Jackson and despite his muscular build and broad shoulders, he seems peaceful and almost vulnerable in his sleep. His salt and peppered hair falling over his eyes, beard framing his face and adding a sense of warmth to his tanned features, drawing out the very faint freckles scattered over his nose. He’s in his usual attire: plaid shirt, jean and boots and his jacket is being used a pillow. I want to reach out for him but I can’t remember what happened before I passed out, I know I said something to him and feeling his heart increase against me but I can’t remember what I said exactly. 

My throat is dry and scratchy when I try to make a sound, nothing coming out except there’s a dull ache throughout my body, aggravated by moving my mouth. I try to sit up anyway but a sharp pain stops me, making me whimper in pain and shove the blankets off of me to see a bandage covering the gaping wound, spots of blood on it and it’s tender to touch when I ghost my fingers over it. It’s like the sight of the injury makes all the pain come flooding in and I’m crying out softly, causing Joel to jolt awake. 

His eyes widen in alarm as he seems me awake and leaning on my elbows as I’m finally registering my other injuries, the expanse of my stomach and hips are a galaxy of greens, blues, reds and purples and I’m guessing my face and legs are going to be very similar with a few more bandages dotted over me. I’m only in a pair of thin shorts that look like they could be Dina’s and my sports bra as Joel gets up from the chair, his movements sluggish from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He’s at my side, calloused hand cupping my jaw as he sits on the edge of the bed, rough pad of his thumb soothing over my cheek as his eyes flick all over my face.

“Let me get Tommy.” His voice is deep and gruff, filled with concern and worry, “He’s been keeping an eye on you, he’s the one who patched you up darlin’.” I can only nod weakly, unable to speak as my throat still feels to tight and raw to form words. Joel gets up and heads to the door, pausing before he opens it and looks back at me, “I’m glad you’re awake.” He says softly before stepping out of the room. 

I’m sinking back into the pillows, my body feeling heavy and drained. The memories of the attack come rushing back and tears are welling up in my eyes as the fear and pain becomes almost overwhelming and I’m slamming my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It does calm me down a little but then I remember what I said to Joel as he took me from Dina and carried me to the hospital. I’m flushing with embarrassment, did I really tell Joel I loved him? Was it just the pain and fear talking? Was it because of what Dina said when she slapped me to stay awake? 

Before I can dwell on my thoughts any longer the door open and both Miller brothers are stepping in, Tommy carrying a try of food and water for me. He places it on the table by the bed before he and Joel help me move myself into a sitting position, the younger speaking with a cheeky grin, “Well, look who finally decided to join us! How are you feeling kiddo?” 

I try and smile weakly, grateful for his light tone and teasing demeanour as I grab the water from the tray and down it as fast as I can, not caring if I end throwing it back up as it feels like my throat is filled with sawdust. 

“I’ll take that as thirsty.” Tommy laughs softly as Joel moves to sit back in the chair beside my bed, eyes still watching me with concern and like I’ll disappear if he looks away.

“You gave us quite a scare there,” He murmurs, leaning forwards and capturing my hand in both of his, “But Tommy did a damn good job with those stitches. You'll be as good as new in no time.”

Tommy begins moving around the room, grabbing things he needs before he’s standing on my left side where the bandages are. He begins to change them, a wave of dizziness hitting me when I finally catch a glance at the stitched up hole in my side. The wound is now closed but it’s a gruesome sight and I can’t help but grip Joel’s hand tightly, feeling the rough pad of his thumb rub soothing circles over the back of my hand. The pain is still present but it has become a dull ache compared to what it was before, realising Tommy’s put some sort of numbing cream on it and I want to cry. 

He’s so gentle but firm as he words on changing the bandages. His experienced hands move quickly and efficiently and I can’t help but feel grateful he’s here, knowing I owe him everything as he saved my life. He seems to sense my feelings, sending me a soft smile and squeezing my shoulder lightly when he finishes, speaking in a reassuring tone, “You’re healing up just fine.” 

I just nod, still feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s hard to believe I’ve been out for a few days. It’s like as I look between Joel and Tommy’s faces the reality of what happened really hits me and it hits me hard, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Tommy’s bidding his goodbyes, saying he’ll be back soon with more water for me but I barely hear him because Joel’s by my side again and his hand is squeezing mine. I’m taking a deep breath before mumbling out a question that I need to know the answer to, “I-I was serious when I… what I said when I passed out.” 

His honey eyes light up with something akin to disbelief mixed with relief and a hint of amusement as he leans in closer, his hand slowly moving to my face again, brushing my hair from my face. 

“I know sweet girl,” He says softly, voice filled with so much love and tenderness that it almost makes me forget the pain and fear I’ve been feeling, “I love you too. More than anything.” 

He leans in even closer, lips brushing against mine in the gentlest of kisses. It’s like he’s trying to convert everything he feels fro me through this one kiss, all of the love and the care and the worry and the relief. It’s overwhelming but in the best way possible as his lips move against mine and I can feel my heart racing in my chest. It’s not just the pain I feel all over my body but also the love and tenderness that’s expressing in the kiss, his hands gently cupping my face and I can feel his breath mingling with mine as he deepens the kiss. 

It’s like time has slowed down and the only thing that matters in Joel’s lips on mine, his warmth and his love and the way he makes me feel. I can’t help myself when I ball my fists in his plaid shirt and yank, unbalancing him but he steadies himself, a light rumble in his chest as he gets the hint, moving himself over me so his hips are flush against mine and he’s hovering above me. I think my heart tries to burst as I realise just how much Joel cares for me as he makes sure not to put any of his weight on my battered and bruised body. He’s resting on his forearm next to my head and I feel like I might cry at it, feeling how gentle and considerate he’s being with me despite both of us wanting this. 

A soft moan slips from my cracked lips as he moves his lips from my mouth to my neck and trailing hot kisses along my skin, my fingers moving to tangle in his hair. He’s always known just how to make me feel so loved, even if neither of us realised it, how to ease my worries and calm my fears. In this moment, with him holding me oh so carefully, I feel like nothing else matters. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved and cherished before, the outbreak stopping me from having any romantically meaningful relationship but I don’t care as it’s Joel I want. Just Joel. 

“Thank you.” I whisper, voice still rough and scratchy, as he pulls back enough to meet my gaze. Love and devotion filling the honey colour and I know I’m safe in his arms. He smiles down at me, rough pads of his fingers brushing the hair from my face again before he’s gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

He surges down to capture my lips in another kiss, this one not a gentle but he’s still being wary of my body and how injured I am. The kiss deepens quickly and becomes more urgent, passion building between us as Joel’s hands start to carefully roan my body. I’m letting out a soft sound into his mouths arching up into him despite the pain in my side, needing to feeling him everywhere. It’s like we’re trying to erase the memories of the attack and the pain that came from it. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance and I eagerly grant it. Our tongues tangling together, hot and wet, as we explore each other’s mouths. I can feel his hardness pressing against my hip and it only spurs me on, my own desire building in response as I tug at his salt and pepper hair, drawing a deep rumble from his chest. 

We don’t hear the door opening again until there’s a clearing of someones throat and Joel is groaning, letting his head fall into the crook of my neck in a mixture of frustration at being cockblocked and embarrassment at Tommy’s shit eating grin at catching his older brother getting some action. 

“Sorry to interrupt lovebirds,” Tommy’s practically giggling like a child, shaking his head at the two of us, “Do I have to remind you that Y/N could have guests any minute and that you,” He points at Joel, “Should not be on top of her at the moment.” 

Joel pulls away with a defeated sigh, moving his body so he’s beside me instead, keeping me in his arms protectively. The heat rises to my cheeks as I try to compose myself, suddenly aware of my disheveled appearance and the fact that I am practically naked in shorts and a sports bra. 

“I brought you some more water and some pain meds.” Tommy is handing me the three small pills before pouring me another glass of water before pushing it into my hands. He stands with his hands on his hips as he waits to make sure I’ve swallowed the pills before he’s sniggering lightest again. 

“Thank you Tommy.” I say, feeling so grateful for Tommy’s kindness despite the awkwardness of this situation. He just nods, turning to leave the room still wearing that stupid shit eating grin and I’m flushing even redder with the close of the door behind the younger Miller. 

Joel’s turning my face to his, a soft smile gracing his features and he’s brushing his thumb over my cheek as he speaks, “I’m sorry about that sweet girl,” His voice is low and apologetic, “I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

I just shake my head, feeling a little shy but also happy that he wants me the same way I want him. "It's okay," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, "I kind of liked it." 

Joel grins, leaning in to give me a quick but searing kiss before he unwinds himself from my side to settle back in the chair, a sense of relief washing over me. Being in his presence makes everything feel a little less overwhelming and a little less scary. I can feel his eyes on me even though mine are slipping shut and it’s comforting to know he’s there, especially when his calloused hand slips into mine again and he’s speaking softly, "You rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up." 

The memory of the kiss still lingers in my mind, making my heart skip a beat or two as it's not just the physical sensation of the kiss itself, but the emotion behind it. Joel's love and devotion are palpable, and I can feel it in every touch and every word. I’m drifting off to sleep with a sense of gratitude for having Joel in my life. He's been by my side through this terrifying experience, and I know that he'll continue to be there for me no matter what. With him by my side, I feel like I can face anything that comes my way.

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

The Last of Us Masterlist

TAGS: Tag List Form

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#Joel Miller #Joel Miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #Joel Miller angst #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller fics #Joel Miller Drabble #Joel miller x smut #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal character #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us smut #the last of us x y/n #the last of us angst #the last of us fluff #tlou #tlou2 #tlou Joel #Joel tlou #tlou smut #tlou fluff #tlou angst #tlou x reader

[vshushmshu]

live wires

your body ached.

laying in a bunk secluded from the rest of the camp, you sighed and rubbed your bleary eyes, trying to exhume any amount of willpower from within you to get up. you had learned to sleep on your stomach after the incident, not able to trust yourself not get semi-paralyzed again. your back hurt though, nerves on fire and yet so numb, and you could really use… something. anything, really, that would make the pain go away, even for just a little while.

there were probably a handful of pain killers left over in storage somewhere but… you figured any of the freshly injured and sick needed that more than you did. so you lay there trying not to writhe in agony, because that would only worsen said agony, until it faded to something duller and easier to ignore. you huffed, hoisting yourself into a sitting position and turning a blind eye to the tremors in your arms, trying to stretch the stiff muscles in your back. that effort quickly made it worse, though, so you bit back a pathetic whimper and sat still while trying to calm your breathing.

every time you thought you were getting better, the damaged nerves in your back liked to remind you that they were still there, impeding your ability to fight or even do menial tasks. such as right now; up in the middle of the night, and you weren’t even able to get some tea to help you sleep. everyone else seemed to be asleep, judging by the silence outside your shoebox of a pre-assigned room. you wondered if you could try to power through, make it to the common area to get something going for yourself.

an attempt at standing, and you stumbled halfway over to the door until there was another protest of your body. now, you sat in the middle of the room, silently cursing your feeble form while also thankful that you hadn’t landed on your back. didn’t want everything to seize up again, you grumbled to yourself internally. you would never regret what you did to cause this injury that kept you half crippled, though maybe you lamented the circumstances every now and then.

it was only fair to be able to mope, considering you were in the middle of a literal apocalypse. as mikey had said to you once, trying to ignore everything and force yourself to be upbeat would most definitely be more detrimental to you than being sad every now and then. albeit, you wished the sadness wasn’t always as ever-present as it was, but it was what it was. as long as you could protect what was left of what you love, you’d bear the burn seeping into your spine.

cliché, maybe even cringe, but you did very much care. you weren’t sure of how long you had spent swallowing down pain curled up on the hard floor, but eventually you heard footsteps. they weren’t ones that caused you any real alarm, however, since you had already memorized these to the best of your ability. they were trying not to be too conspicuous, carefully making their way over to your closed door.

you couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard him fiddle with the doorknob, frustrated whispers about how “doorknobs weren’t even needed, who invented doorknobs???” before it clicked open.

a green hand darted out to avoid the door creaking too loudly, slowly but surely cracking it wider until a sheepish red eared slider came into view. you always had to crane your head up to look at him now, your neck missing when the pair of you were around the same height in the past (he would always get pissy when you pointed out he was shorter than you, so you gave in to his delusions); though, you had to even more so now, considering you had been sat on the floor for a considerably considerable amount of time, “what’s good, blue?”

you heard a small laugh, which made your strained grin brighten a little more, and the turtle made his way in the room with a soft click of the door closing behind him, “not much, figured i’d give my favorite a visit.”

with a dramatic gasp, you propped a damning twitchy hand up to your forehead, “me?? your favorite?? how scandalous! you would think the resistance leader would have no reservations considering the amount of people that look up to him, yet here we are!!”

he squinted at you, setting a steaming mug in his hands (that you hadn’t noticed up until now) down at a nearby desk, and you knew you weren’t gonna get off that easy, “yeah, mhm.. why are you on the floor?”

the corners of his mouth quirked up at your very visible cringe, and your trembling hand fell to the nape of your neck while you smiled with the same level of sheepishness he had when he first entered, trying not to shrug as you rubbed a particularly achey spot jerkily, “what can i say? the floor is pretty comfy. ten out of ten, solid floor.”

he hummed, already crouching down to scoop you up with little difficulty, avoiding known tender spots as he walked you back over to your bed, “same old, huh?”

you huffed at being returned to the starting point of your venture, trying not to rest your head on his oversized prosthetic and letting your hand fall to your lap, it thanking you by lessening the searing pain that shot through you at every flex, “same old.”

the slider rested you down on your bed carefully, giving you his best empathetic smile while reaching over to the mug he brought, and brandishing it to you with a small “ta-daa!!” you laughed a little, eyes crinkling while you took the mug from his hands, catching a whiff of the tea within, “all for little ol’ me? fetched in the dead of night? aw, seems like someone has a little crushhh!”

leo gave you a deadpan look, biting back a snappy remark as he pushed the bottom of the mug up to your lips with a not-so rare silence, and you rolled your eyes at the fact he didn’t humor you this time. he had a smile on his face when you opened your eyes after your sip though, which made you in turn, flash one of your own. they were infectious, after all. you finished off maybe half the mug with him in a nice quiet when he tapped your knee, making you look up at him again, “i have a surprise for you.”

you cocked your head at him, setting the mug down between you two so that your arms stopped with their tremors, “now a surprise? jeez, am i lucky, or what?”

he grinned, but it was dampened around the edges from how excruciatingly tired he seemed to be tonight, almost every night, “hmm, i guess so. now, close your eyes and say “ahh”!”

doing as told, albeit with an attempted saucy wiggle of your eyebrows that he snickered at, you felt the side of your head being held by his over-sized hand. with the good one, he popped a pill into your mouth, and you instantly tried to recoil, holding back the urge to spit it out. the staleness of the little pill registered to your tastebuds, and your eyes flew open to glare at the slider, who still had the hold on you that had prevented you from shimmying away, “wh- leo! the pain meds are for the new recruits, the severely sick and injured?? why would you-“

the turtle’s face was a sight, definitely up there in the list of times leo was the most exasperated with someone as he pinched your cheek, “why wouldn’t i? do you even remember what just happened?? hell, sometimes you can’t even make it out bed without it hurting! you’re severely injured too, idiot, you need the meds as much as anybody!”

your mug was mighty interesting, and you sloshed around the liquid in it minutely before you took another sip, washing down the powdery taste with a grimace while you mumbled a complaint about your cheek hurting. leo seemed satisfied from that though, letting out a heavy sigh that made you grateful you actually swallowed the pill, and didn’t just hide it under your tongue till later in your stubbornness. he ran his good hand over his face, dropping the other holding yours after smoothing down a stray hair and patting your cheek in silent apology, and you didn’t miss how tense his shoulders still were, “…how long have you had that arm on?”

the red eared slider had been defeated, but he still sent a mildly sour look your way, “why do you deflect?”

you could laugh again, the burning coursing through your live wires of nerves beginning to numb just a bit from the medicine, and you took another shaky sip, “i dunno, why do you deflect?”

leo grumbled, “that proves literally no point you could possibly be trying to make.”

a wiggle of your eyebrows again, “how ‘bout you point at deez nuts?”

there was a moment of silence. then a strangled bark of laughter from leo, and you both devolved into chortles, knowing the joke was too dumb to be giggling at. you tried to catch your breath, clutching the mug to make sure it didn’t shatter upon contact the floor, while the turtle collected himself against the wall. he wiped at his eyes, and you let out a debilitating snicker despite needing air, “wh- are you crying?! it was a cock and balls joke! it doesn’t deserve tears!”

he wheezed, and you crumpled against him, both your shoulders shaking, “then d-don’t call it a cock an-and balls joke??? i’m-“

you signed a time-out playfully, lightly punching at his good shoulder with a fat smile and heaving breaths, “shhhh! i said w-what i said!”

he shook his head, and you both eventually came down from your testicle-induced high, the comfortable silence being broken by little giggles every now and then. you eventually got him to take his prosthetic off for a while, on the promise that you would do your best to rest through the night. the mug was put to the side on the table, as well as the slider’s arm, which he somehow fit onto the surface of said table. like that, you exchanged stories of your days while sitting on the bed, all the while grumbling over how you couldn’t hop up to grab ice or a hot pack for leo’s shoulder.

#i’m #yeah. #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #THIS IS ALSO PART OF RYANA LMAO #this comes in wayyy later though #they are happy for a while #until they aren’t #but they survive the best they can #ao3 link in pinned!! #i will write when i feel. better #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #yes these are all things that i wrote a while ago that were just sitting in my notes app #leave me alonefg

[sunflowersoldat]

Pt. 1 Sunshine

Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader(s)

Series summary: Imagine living in the modern world, your nightmares are only figments of folklore. Werewolves & Vampires don’t exist. Neither do flesh eating Ghouls, Elves or Spirits, Magic? Yeah that's impossible, a distant what-if… 

Only it’s not.

This is a mature fantasy series with 18+ themes, along with horror aspects, violence, light gore, & smut. We follow two friends(two readers) Sunshine and Terror in their fight to survive in this new reality.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, semi-apocalyptic world setting.

Word Count: 1030

A/N: This is a dual reader fic, we will have two readers. I am so excited for this series, and have so many plans! I hope ya'll enjoy, feedback is always appreciated, even if its just you telling me your favorite part! 💕

Sunshine–

The late afternoon sun is warm on your face and arms as you pick another dandelion bloom from the ground, running its soft yellow petals between your fingers. You pluck them from the flower head, humming as they float into the wind. 

Tilting your head to the side, Terror lays on the grass beside you, her arms folded behind her head, eyes blissfully closed as she soaks up the sun’s rays. Her breathing is slow and even, in moments like this she reminds you of all the summers you had spent together when you were younger. She is carefree like this, a mere shadow of her former self; her once pristine skin now marred with scars and sun kissed from the hours upon hours in the sun.

You smile softly, before tossing the naked stem onto the ground at your feet, the soft swish of grass being stepped on pulls your attention from your best friend, your eyes traveling the length of Flynn as he leisurely makes his way toward you. A knowing smirk lifting his lips; Terror and you can almost always be found near each other, outside of the compound, but never too far off.

As he nears, he shifts his bow onto his back, the string stretching across his strong chest, rumpling the dusty blue shirt he wears. His auburn hair half pulled back into a low bun, the tips of his pointed ears peaking between the bright strands, blowing into his face.

He is stunning, for all you know he could have been Elven royalty before the world fell into bloody chaos, those strong cheekbones, and a beautiful dusting of freckles paint his nose and cheeks, dissipating outwards. He carries himself with an air of respect, but he is always one to humble himself to help anyone in need.

You smile softly, he seems too sweet for this bloodthirsty world, most don’t take him seriously, but he’s as lethal as a lion. Most think the same about you, because you're ‘softer’ compared to Terror. You couldn’t remember the last time you were soft, the brutality of this newer world changed everyone, and honestly this was the only world you could remember, much of your memories prior to the coalescence are mostly smoke and vapor, each time you reach for one it evaporates. 

The past didn't really matter much anyhow, all that really mattered now was surviving, making the most out of the shitty situation that was this new life. The world now is a mixture of the old apocalypse movies your father used to watch and the dark folklore books you read back in school; it was like another universe collided with ours, and merged both worlds into one. 

A change in the genetic code of the universe.

When the coalescence consumed both worlds, there were those who remained as human, and those who morphed into something else entirely, like something hidden deep within their genetic code and from their ancestry came to the forefront. Their bodies and minds went through changes, some turned into elves, others ravaging beasts who craved violence and destruction during full moons, or even killers whose diet depended on the consumption of blood.

Cities were mostly uninhabited, nature taking its course to reclaim what was once its own, well at least uninhabited by humans or elves. Those who had survived the coalescence and were not immediately eaten, drained, or used as whores to both bloodlust and carnage, lived in camps scattered far from large cities. Some smaller towns like the one you came from transformed into sanctuaries and strongholds. The big cities, like Boston, where Terror had lived… Well, they weren't as fortunate, the beasts took hold in those places like wildfire. 

Everything we thought we knew about these mythical creatures wasn't quite right. They definitely preferred to roam at night, when they were less likely to be seen; like most criminals– Werewolves were the biggest problem, followed by vampires. The werewolves were actually more like mobsters, aside from turning into giant flea ridden beasts. They really seemed to enjoy the finer things in life, but they absolutely ruled with iron fists, quick to punish with little to no mercy.

Your thoughts wandered to your family, still leading a stronghold in the south. You hoped they were still doing alright, the attacks usually came at night, or at least became more frequent when there were only stars to light the eerie skies–

“Sun?” Flynn’s voice broke into your mind, scattering your thoughts.

You blinked, eyes meeting Flynn’s calm green gaze, his head tilted to the side, in curious wonder, “Where’d ya go?”

Shaking your head lightly you sighed, pulling your knees closer to your chest, resting your arms against them, you hang your head, “Back in time… Flynn, do you wish you could go back? Before our worlds collided?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t remember much of my world before that…” 

You lift your head, watching as the sun lowers, casting an orange and red glow over the horizon, the shadows from the woods around you growing, reaching for the three of you and for the walls of the camp; the impending threat looming.

You draw your brows together, “I only remember bits and pieces, like–”

Terror’s hand is shoved against your lips, cutting off your voice, her leather gloves warmer then they should be. She is crouched defensively in front of you, arm stretched back covering your lips, her other hand wields a huge hunting knife. Eyes trained on the woods to our right, as still as a statue, your body freezes with hers, next to you, Flynn tenses, slowly reaching for his bow, drawing it back. 

Your ears tingle under your ball cap, they’ve become more sensitive recently, you know something is coming, but as the dark figures emerge from the treeline your heart nearly stops, their eyes shining in the setting sun.

Werewolves.

@daiseychaindisaster @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @betareader7 @silently-killing-you @ojouhama

#simon ghost riley #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ghost #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #captain john price #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 imagine #cod mw22 #johnny soap mactavish #ghost angst #mw2 drabble #ghost drabble #soap x reader x ghost #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mw fanfiction

[imslowlydisintegrating]

MADE OF OUR OWN STORMS

He was alone now, dangling from the side of a building, clinging onto a thin metal wire that was tearing the skin on his hands open. Art swung his leg to the side until he managed to plant his foot on the sill of the window that's glass had long since shattered.

——————————————————————

genre: soft apocalypse (yes ik that's an aesthetic but that's bascially the genre)

pov: 3rd limited; switches between characters

setting: it changes a lot but i think mostly post-apocalyptic north/central america and some post-apocalyptic asia

content warnings: gore, death, violence, self-harm, sui ideation, swearing, depictions of panic attacks, descriptions of dissociation

——————————————————————

blurb, characters + worldbuilding under the cut

BLURB

Some say the virus brought it on. Some say it was global warming. Some say it was a divine intervention. Whatever it was, it tore the world apart. A torrent of natural disasters struck across the globe on December 21, 2023. Billions died, and the few that survived were left to pick up the pieces of a broken world. After 100 years of successful survival in the post-apocalypse, society has been re-built into something manageable.

But it's not perfect. Hardly anything is.

ART O'CAHAN is a boy who was raised on curious looks and unhappy fathers.

ARUN NIDHI is a person who was raised on 'quiet down' and 'stop moving around so much.'

CY SEGAL is someone who was raised to be a happy person and still wasn’t able to be.

DAYA DA SILVA IGLESIAS is a girl who was raised to have a smile on her face despite her sleepless nights.

AZI TYALI is a girl who was raised to understand emotions but never learned how to express them.

These people aren't made for each other. They weren't destined to meet. But they did, and they fell in love with each other.

——————————————————————

CHARACTERS

Art O'Cahan (he/him)

Art was raised in a nomadic group of mainly Irish people like himself and Polish people. The death of his mother in childbirth solidified him as a social outcast from birth. His father never stepped forward to take care of him, too angry and grief-filled, so his aunt Indie stepped forward instead. The rejection from the group as a whole and his father resulted in self-esteem issues that started nearly from birth. As he got older, he became more and more distant from the group until he ran away at six. A traveling Claude and Cy found him half-starved and took him in. Claude was the first person who actually cared about him beyond familial necessity and helped him figure out he had inattentive type ADHD and taught him Muay Thai. Art is semi-neurotic, kind of the "Debbie Downer" of the group (along with Azi), and a terrible insomniac. Although he's the one to snap his siblings back to reality, he's very protective of them, which works since he has a very intimidating appearance at 6'3" with nearly black eyes and taped hands. He's one of the most touchy of his siblings and is INCREDIBLY touch-starved (give this little guy a hug bro). One of his most prevalent symptoms of ADHD is memory loss and often loses gaps in his recent memory, leading to one of his biggest fears of forgetting the people he loves.

Arun Nidhi (they/them)

Arun was born in Chennai, India, one of the few Indian cities left on earth. They met Claude, Cy, and Art when they were seven after leaving Chennai and traveling Southern Asia with a few other nomads. Arun pretty much to one look at Claude, Cy and Art and said 'later' to the other nomads and let themself into their group. Cy liked them immediately and Art was annoyed with them immediately. Arun is a very energetic, self-confident person. They butt heads with Art the most, usually just because they can and Art humors them. They're one of the more eccentric ones of the group, and can be described as an 'acquired taste'. They love to talk shit about anything and anyone, and cannot keep a secret to save their life. With unfamiliar people, they're more sarcastic and rougher overall, but with their siblings, they're generally a proud nuisance. They have a fondness for stick bugs and generally only eat canned food even if better food is available to them. Their energetic and excitable nature is used as a mask to hide their depression.

Cypress "Cy" Segal (she/he/they)

Cy had been with Claude pretty much since birth. She was born and raised in Halifax, Canada until she turned five and then Claude basically hauled ass to explore to world with her. Cy is Art's best friend and very much fills the role of middle child to Art's oldest brother. He's more calm and collected than most of his siblings and he is very grounded and aware of what happens around him. Overall, they're just a very steady person, not really a head-in-the-clouds type. She has memory problems and often collects natural items from specific places she wants to remember. He always has some form of jacket on and is perpetually cold. They're the semi-peacemaker of the group, so when there are fights they put in a half-assed attempt to stop it and somehow it usually works. She's heterochromatic with one green eye and one brown eye and has different levels of vision in different eyes. Due to a fight as a child, his hearing got damaged in his right ear, which led to him and his siblings learning ASL after it eventually got worse and he lost total hearing in his right ear. They also struggle with suicidal thoughts.

Daya da Silva Iglesias (she/her)

Daya was born and raised by a nomadic group of primarly Chilean and Angolan people in Santiago de Chile, Chile. Eventually, they began traveling again when Daya was around six. When Daya was seven she accidentally wandered away from the group in the Guatemala-Belize area. After a few days, she managed to find a Belizean city where Claude, Cy, Art, and Arun found her dehydrated and confused and nursed her back to health. Daya trusts people to a fault and gives them too much grace when they take advantage of her. She's definitely like the youngest child of her siblings and is very much the happy sweetheart of the group despite the trauma she experienced. Daya is on the autism spectrum, and some of her stims include clapping, tapping, humming, cracking bones, snapping, clicking her tongue, etc. Her bones crack a lot, if due to some physical condition, she doesn't know, she never experiences extreme pain from it. She makes bracelets and crochets beanies for all her siblings and carries around a bag that holds the mushrooms, pretty rocks, bird feathers, and butterfly wings that she finds. Daya struggles with chronic nightmares and insomnia as a result. Art started staying up with her to help her fall asleep and eventually, insomnia stuck with him too.

Vuyokazi "Azi" Tyali (she/her)

Azi was born into a nomadic group in South Africa of mainly Xhosa and Zulu people. When she was seven, she snuck away due to treatment from the group and survived in Cape Town for a few months. When she saw Claude, Cy, Art, Arun, and Daya in the port she was interested and followed them through the city. A few days later, Cy found her and offered to let her join them. Azi hesitantly agreed but found herself perfectly at home with them. When she started traveling with them, Claude taught her how to throw knives. She’s a really indecisive person, usually letting Daya decide things for her. Azi is incredibly perceptive of other people's body language and can detect emotions relatively easily. Out of all her siblings, Azi is the coldest and the most intimidating with her hooded eyes and piercing stare. She has a certain fondness for subway trains and graffitied places. Similarly, she likes to paint herself and let it dry to feel the paint crack against her skin. She only ever wears necklaces she can slip over her head and never ones with clasps. Azi has a panic disorder and suffers from panic attacks, leaving her in the state she hates most — vulnerable.

Dominique "Domi" Larieux Morais (he/they)

Domi was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where he was raised with his sister five years his senior. When they were nine, they moved to New Orleans, U.S.A. He left New Orleans to travel as a nomad when he was fifteen. Later, when they were nineteen, Domi met Art while he was separated from his siblings. Domi followed him until Art decided to just ask Domi if he wanted to travel with him. Domi agreed and the two traveled together for about a year and a half until Art found his siblings again. Domi isn’t necessarily social, but they do talk a lot when they’re alone by themself, to the point they’d started talking to themself constantly. When Art started traveling with him, he wouldn’t talk for hours, sometimes days on end. Eventually they loosened up and started talking to Art more. Domi is an artist, usually drawing natural items around him or random people that stick out to him in cities. They like the feeling of weight on their bones, so they wear large, chunky rings and baggy jackets with weights they have sewn into the collars. Domi carries a hollow metal pipe around with him as a form of protection (and almost broke Art’s ribs with it when he first met him). Domi also suffers from intrusive thoughts and occasionally SHs.

Naia Zorita (she/they)

Born and raised in Lima, Peru, Naia was raised by a group of women that owned a fightclub where they taught her Rumi Maki boxing. When she was twelve, she left the city to travel around South America. After traveling for about six years, Naia met Azi in Fortaleza, Brazil. After annoying her for several days, Azi finally relented and let Naia travel with them. She immediately got along with Arun, much to Azi’s displeasure. Despite her short stature, leading some to believe she isn’t a threat, Naia is a competitive, proud fighter with a knack for getting into situations Cy has to drag her out of. She likes to walk through the cities that haven’t been saved, the cities that were left to crumble into the ground, and examine all the old cars that are now ruined. Sometimes she sits in them and imagines what it would be like if she ever learned to drive. She adores old churches with stained glass windows, often breaking the windows with a dented metal baseball bat she carries around with her and stealing glass to keep in her pockets. Naia suffers from dissociation and struggles with depression.

——————————————————————

Worldbuilding

Cities

Cities only have one ruler, and positions of power are passed onto people through a series of games (with no official name, but most people call them the Election, even though no voting is taking place). that singler ruler works under the name King (regardless of gender) [insert first name] (ex. the ruler of Chennai would be King Tharahi/this isn’t true, it’s just an example). Of course, it varies by region, but rulers are often on the same economic level as civilians (as a way to deter people who would just participate to become richer) and are people that you have a chance of seeing in day-to-day life. Each ruler’s personality varies but they are always very involved in the happenings of their city.

Nomads

Large nomad groups (30-70 people) usually have a group of 2-4 people leading, with one main leader of that group. for ex. Art’s nomad group is led by Maja (she/they), Bazyli (he/him), and Ayda (they/them). Extra fact: in nomad groups, (adult) people w/ uteruses are highly respected as they are the only people who can reproduce and keep the group alive (including trans men/intersex/afab nonbinary people), which is why Art is an outcast, since his mother died in childbirth. Obviously no one is held to a higher status than others but the respect is still there. Extra extra fact: people are considered mature at 14, but only considered adults at 20.

Smaller nomad groups (5-20 people) don’t usually have set leaders, instead making decisions as a group. Extra fact: if only one family is traveling, no matter how big, they are not legally or culturally recognized as a nomad group, instead as just a traveling family.

Customs

While many nomadic groups have different customs, there are some customs used globally by nomads and city-folk alike. Following the apocalypse, many people started collecting shiny things as a beacon of hope for a brighter future. The tradition stuck, and collecting pretty items became a custom even long after major reconstruction. Nomads also started wearing more natural tones to blend in with the world around them. Traditional currency never resurfaced, leaving barter and trade the main form of buy-and-pay. Most forms of working appear as volunteering. Plants became one of the main destructors of cities not rebuilt, so, when religion resurfaced, lots of the deities were plant-oriented. Weather also became a prominent motif in religion post-2023. Dates were tracked in a new way, with a refresh on the years, making what was supposed to be 2024 now zero — (day, month), year (year number).

#wip intro #mooos #art o'cahan #arun nidhi #cy segal #daya da silva iglesias #azi tyali #domi larieux morais #naia zorita #writerblr #evvy is typing

[msfcatlover]

I am never not thinking about my personal AUs. Which will probably never see the light of day, unless you ask me about them or I boil over into a handful of concept/rant posts to huck into the void like so many frisbees.

Please, ask me about my AUs.

Current AU brainworms (almost all batfam):

The Reverse!Robins AU, featuring Duke as the eldest, Nightwing!Damian, Oracle!Tim, Steph as the Red Hood figure, Jason getting the Red Robin arc, and Dick as Batman!Cass’s sidekick.

The Magnus Archives universe fusion, where almost the entire family are Avatars. Focuses more on the fun slice-of-life silliness of being a bunch of eldritch fear-eating monsters than the Horrors(TM), but also body horror & nightmare fuel are fun.

Low-fantasy Urban Fantasy AU. Supernatural entities are exceptionally rare, and that is why almost nobody in the family is one. Gotham itself is semi-sentient, the Wayne bloodline has a Fisher King style cursed-bond to the city, Dick is highly magic-sensitive, Jason comes back as a Revenant, Tim is a changeling.

Monster Batkids AU, aka “Every monster can’t be your son.” Dick is a living doll, Jason’s a gargoyle grotesque, Tim is a ghost echo, Steph is a dullahan (zombie edition), Cass is a homunculus. Bruce, Alfred, & Babs are still exceptionally talented humans. Damian’s a genetically-tweaked clone, which means he’s kinda straddling the line between the two groups.

Changeling!Jason. Catherine Todd had a little boy with eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Bruce Wayne took in a homeless boy with eyes like soft grey river-stones. They have the same Name, but they are not the same child.

De-aged RH. Jason made it all the way back to Gotham, but never kicked off his big comeback plan. Dick Grayson opens his door to find a very irritable 13yr old version of his dead little brother telling Dick that he’s been cursed & doesn’t remember anything.

De-aged Robins. Dick, Tim, Steph, & Cass went to bust a villain operation a few days ago before going completely dark. Jason kicks the door down, clears out the place, and finds four very fighty 10yr olds in need of rescue.

“If Worst Comes to Worst,” aka the time-travel AU. Robin lived long enough to see the entire family fall. Robin lived long enough to see the world, for all intents & purposes, end. Robin held the line for as long as possible, and when that line reached its end, Robin faced it on their own terms. Robin woke up again on the day Jason Todd was supposed to meet Bruce Wayne, and swore to fix everything that went wrong. The problem? There are 5 different Robins, from 5 very different apocalypses, with 5 very different sets of trauma responses, and 5 very different plans to save the world.

“Perchance to Dream (2, Batbros Boogaloo),” aka “Hey, what if that one episode, but Jason’s the one in the machine & Dick gets halfway stuck in there too while trying to rescue him, basically ending up an intangible, invisible specter in Jason’s dream?”

Talon!Jason. Shiela Haywood did not sell her son out to the Joker. The Court wasn’t happy to find themselves with the wrong Robin, but they made do. Five years later…

Talon!Dick. In which I say, “Hey, you know what there’s not enough of? Fics where Talon!Dick meets Street-kid!Jason, and they both go, ‘Oh, this loser definitely won’t survive on his own! Guess I have to adopt him now.’”

Platonic!ABO. Which is to say, a setting with the usual social & biological rules expected of A/B/O stories, but without any sex or romance. Because I have discovered that the found family hits extra hard, the sick fics are basically therapeutic for me, and I wanted to play with the family dynamics I kept seeing in other Platonic!ABO Batfam fics.

NTT coping. Please, ask me about all the brotherly bonding Dick & Jason could’ve had back in the 80s. I have many thoughts.

_______________________________________________________________

The Magnus Archives:

Archivist!Tim. Yes, seriously. Sick of this only showing up in crackfics, give Tim the respect (trauma) he deserves (desperately doesn’t)! (please, I have like 4 seasons outlined, please)

De-aged Archivist. Late s3, Jon gets turned back to his childhood self in both body & mind. It seems like it’ll likely wear off on its own, but in the meantime there is a child in the archives and nobody really knows what to do about that. 

#my life #mine #my writing #// #Fuck it #I’ve decided to give this whole ‘’pinning a post’’ thing a go because I need this to be an open invitation. #Even when I’ve working on other things my AUs are right there with me. #Validate me #and maybe someday I’ll actually FINISH something (no promises)

[dftreed]

The Silence of It

MASTERLIST

(Chapter 1)

Summary:

Y/N has been with the group since the start of the apocalypse yet can’t help but feel like she doesn’t fit in anywhere. When they arrive at Alexandria, she should feel relieved. Instead she’s left feeling confused and stuck in her head. A certain someone helps her out of it.

It felt like there wasn’t anything simple about the apocalypse. If you had been told years ago that the world would end one day, you would’ve first laughed in their face, and then you would’ve tried to picture it.

You would have thought it would be loud, thunderous even. Disaster around every corner, fire and screams haunting your every moment.

It’s surprisingly still.

That’s what you’re thinking now listening to the creak of the large gate in front of you open. You’re looking at your group from the sides of your eyes, still smelling and feeling the dampness on each others clothes from the long sweat filled night you’d had.

Even when you hear voices and footsteps, an arrow shot from your right, it still feels all very still.

Surreal.

You’re on autopilot but your head is whipping around to take it all in around you. You sway slightly, shoulders bumping Rosita next to you.

She offers you an eyebrow raise, a question, wondering if you’re okay. You part your lips slightly in a half breath half attempt to speak but settle for a firm nod.

You’re okay.

You’ve been with the group since before the farm and you are okay behind these walls only because you’re holding the knowledge they’re safe for the time being. You’ll have to deal with how suffocating it feels.

Almost on cue you hear a gurgle from your left and look over to see Carl and Judith, the former resting his head against the babies soft plump cheek. You tilt your head with internal affection and do a sweep at the rest of the group as you stand and listen to… someone talk. You must’ve missed his introduction.

Suddenly Rick is leaving the group, turning back hesitantly to look at the rest of you. You catch each other eyes and you imagine yours must be wide with confusion and alarm. He gives you a nod and a slight squint of his eyes, more silent reassurance. You must look like a mess.

You realize that whatever you missed while zoned out must’ve entailed Rick’s reason for going considering no one else, not even Michonne, seems as tense as you feel.

You lean into the person next to you, opposite side of Rosita, and feel the body go stiff and hard. Daryl.

You wonder how he must be feeling now. You wouldn’t say you’re close with Daryl, but Daryl isn’t necessarily close to anyone so you can’t take offense.

Rick and some others like to joke about how you and Daryl must be the same brain split into two and considering you both stared through half slanted glares at them in response, maybe they were onto something.

You look up at him through your hair, shoulder pressed into the middle of his arm, and he takes a swift glance down towards you before looking quickly to his left.

You clear your throat

“Daryl,” You start, voice hoarse and tangled. You feel him jump a little, not expecting you to speak, or anyone at that matter.

Without Rick the group seems a bit lost on what to do, all standing in a semi circle, just trying to make out their surroundings. You mentally note that some of you instinctively formed your classic fighting stance.

Daryl’s hum pulls you out of your head again, you take it knowing it’s the clearest response you’ll get from him.

“What do you make of it?”

You’re whispering and you can’t help but wonder why considering Aaron and the other men aren’t paying you much mind now, talking to each other next to Carol who is, uncharacteristically, holding a half smile with bright eyes. She must feel your skeptical gaze because she looks over and gives you a short glare before returning back to her previous expression. You smirk a little at the fast paced swapping of character.

You feel Daryl take a breath, suddenly conscious of how close you are to him, but before he can speak and answer your question you hear your name called.

Daryl and you tense simultaneously and like a little kid called on at school, your foot falls forward before you even register it. You feel a hand wrap around your arm, right above your elbow, and freeze.

You know who it is before you check but you turn your head back and give Daryl a small smile over your shoulder.

He watches you for a beat and then gives a nod, slowly trailing his hand off your arm. You start walking forward again and you notice Rick returning now, a weight lifts off you knowing you aren’t heading somewhere you won’t return from.

You are completely out of your element now. In the middle of a room, similar to nothing you’ve been inside before, even before the world ended.

“Feel free to sit Y/N,” The woman on the couch across from you is the one speaking, you glare slightly at her before standing behind the chair across from her, leaning against the back. “This is being recorded. Is that alright with you?”

At first the word feels foreign until you follow her gaze to the small camcorder in front of her. You nod swiftly and she smiles at you, almost too warm.

She introduces herself and asks you questions as you feel yourself slip back into autopilot, answering her with short sentences or simple hums. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been standing there when she stands and claps her hands together softly, she smiles and gestures towards the door, leading you with her towards the entryway you came in from.

You aren’t too sure what happened during your talk and can’t help but feel insecure and fearful you said the wrong thing or didn’t assert your usefulness to this community. Then you wonder why you care so much if she finds you good enough to stay here.

You walk back to your group quickly, eyes swelling slightly at the sight of them, even against the unfamiliar background.

You nearly trip with your haste back to them, placing yourself right back where you were next to Daryl. He turns his eyes down at you, raising an eyebrow and you give him a curt nod in response.

Rosita is called next and you watch as she leaves and Rick takes her place next to you. He leans in slightly towards you.

“What did she ask you?” He mumbles and you note Daryl listening in too. “I don’t know how to feel about this place, it feels…”

“Too exact.” You finish for him, nodding as you talk. “Like they somehow took every dream and goal we had and made it into a place with walls.”

He scoffs slightly and nods, a dragged out yeah falling from his lips.

“You and Daryl keep your eyes open for me okay? Until we figure out what this is.” He looks between the both of you and you furrow your brows and nod. “Off of each other for a bit.” He smiles slightly nudging your shoulder and you give him a push.

He chuckles and turns on his heel walking back over to the head of the shape your group formed.

You glance up at Daryl, eyes shifting back and forth awkwardly. He’s avoiding your gaze and seemingly the whole entire side of the world you’re standing on. You watch him chew on his lip and look down at your feet.

Sleep has never come easy to you, even before the world ended. You can remember staying up until the sun would rise and then dragging yourself to the bus stop to work. You think that’s where your habit of floating off into your head began.

You’re grateful now however considering how useful staying up long nights has proved in this new world. And even in the spaces that feel like the old world, like tonight.

You’re perched on a window sill, hugging both your knees close to you. Daryl sits opposite of you, picking at something in his crossbow you don’t understand. You watched him tighten and loosen and clean the weapon with half closed eyes.

The knock on the door causes all of your heads, the whole group together in one room, towards the entryway. The sound is foreign and jarring and even Rick standing slowly and turning the knob doesn’t do much to settle your nerves.

The woman from earlier, Deanna according to Carl who slightly scolded you for not listening, is behind the door. You watch as she attempts a joke or two with Rick before her gaze falls on the rest of you.

You expect to see her eyes tighten, angered you don’t trust her or maybe even that you aren’t separate and easier prey. But she simply smiles and her eyes fill with something you think might be adoration.

“Staying together,” She remarks, you note Michonne turning her head up slightly at her words, almost waiting for the same thing you are. However Deanna surprises you again, “Smart.”

“No one said we couldn’t.” Rick casually offers.

She leans closer to him now. “You said you’re a family. That’s what you said.”

You let out a bust of air at that, struck at the words. You knew you all felt it but to hear Rick remark it made you feel more at ease in this uncomfortable spot.

You feel Daryl’s foot knock into yours and you look to him quickly expecting something urgent. However he just looks at you through his bangs and you turn your head slightly wondering what he needs. He shakes his head and looks back towards the door.

“Everybody said you gave them jobs.” Rick seems to question. You focus in on what they’re saying now, remembering the others talking about theirs earlier and wondering why you hadn’t been given one.

“I’m closing in on something for Sasha.” She smiles and you turn to the referred direction. You frown slightly noticing how guarded and isolated Sasha looks, you make a note to talk to her later. “And I’m just trying to figure those two out, but I will.“

She sounds certain and you look around, curious who she’s referring to that would be considered a pair. You look at Abraham, who laughs, already looking in your direction.

You realize everyone seems to be looking in your direction and you redden, not looking at the man across from you.

You deafen your surroundings just in time to hear the door close.

You stayed awake most of the first night, drifting off only for an hour when the sky turned blue with morning sunrise. Rick fidgeting and moving room to room did nothing to help your restlessness.

When you realized you had dozed off you sat up with a jolt, looking around frantically and luckily seeing Sasha and Eugene still there.

“Are you alright Ms. Y/L/N.” The latter questioned, just barely filtering through your ears past your sharp breaths.

You nod at Eugene, eyes softening when you look in his direction, he seems startled at the fact you aren’t glaring but you can’t help the relief of a familiar face.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You push out, panic only slightly simmering down. You hear Sasha scoff from the other side of the room.

“No use for watch duty anymore Y/N.” Her voice is harsh but teasing and you mark that mental note of talking to her more important.

A new voice from the kitchen starts up and now you can’t help but smile. “Is that why you didn’t sleep at all?” Michonne affectionately scolds.

You stand now, brushing your pants off and pulling them down from where they’d ridden up your calves. “And how would you know that if you had been sleeping Chonne?” You mumbled, drifting past her to grab an apple.

She laughs and you give her a swift side hug before making your way to the porch where you see more silhouettes.

You hear Rick’s low drawl and you open the door and follow his gaze to see who’s receiving his story. You freeze a bit seeing it’s Daryl, remembering Deanna’s awkward remark from last night.

He’s sitting against the wooden railing on the floor and despite your slight uncomfortableness you know it would draw more attention if you didn’t sit near him so you take the spot diagonal, biting into your apple as you sit.

“Sleep alright Y/N?” Rick asked with his lip turned up slightly. You rolled your eyes at him playfully, knowing he slept just as well as you.

You took notice of other group members filtering out into the streets and frowned slightly, gaze shooting to Rick who gave you a knowing look. “They said explore.” He reasoned. “Let’s explore.”

You shook your head tightly as Daryl also offered his decline. Rick sighed softly but nodded, giving you a look that meant to stay alert and a nod to Daryl to be alert of him too.

Daryl scoffed at this, turning to you once Rick stepped off the stairs. “I don’t need no babysitter.” He mumbled, picking at his fingers.

“Not a babysitter,” You smiled at him, voice loose and teasing, “just an excuse for me not to have to go.”

He started to chew on his lip again and you stretched your legs out kicking his boot and offering him your apple once his gaze fell on you.

He took it and took a bite, turning away from you again. “You ain’t curious?” He questioned, a wondering tone in his own voice. You felt a bit sad for him knowing he obviously wanted to go, just didn’t feel safe enough to.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You joked, scrunching your nose in his direction. “Besides the best company around is here.” You felt awkward saying nice things to anyone, especially Daryl, but you wanted to lighten the mood.

He snorted a laugh and tossed you back your fruit.

This is chapter one of something from my AO3 but I was curious how it would be received over here! It’s my first time writing something like this and I’d really appreciate any feedbacks! And feel free to leave suggestions I might just put your idea into the story.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #rick grimes #twd fanfiction #twd

[musings-of-a-midnight-melody]

Zombie apocalypse SBI

Cw for zombie apocalypse stuff, and this is a word/thought spew so no proper grammar/paragraph breaks.

Disarmer: this is based on characters, not the actual cc’s themselves. I do not support Wilbur.

Tommy who's been surviving on his own for so long, only barely getting by on scraps and escaping the jaws of the undead. he's tired, stressed, and paranoid. His only weapon is a metal bat he just barely managed to grab when the chaos happened, separated from his family and friends. He doesn't even know who's alive, or if there is anyone alive. He hasn't seen another living person since the initial outbreak. He’s slowly losing hope, and one night as he's setting up camp, there's a noise. Gripping his bat firmly in both hands, he creeps up behind a figure lurking about in some nearby bush, and whacks them in the back of the head with his eyes closed. He expects to see a corpse of a zombie when he opens his eyes, but instead sees.. a person. A living, breathing, person. And Tommy's just possibly killed him. Cursing, he looks around before putting down his bat, and dragging the person back to his camp. he jogs back to where he left his bat, and brings it back. He props the person against the wall of the building he's in, and gets a better look at them. It’s a man that seems to be in his mid 20's, with brown curly hair and.. glasses. How the fuck does someone have glass- oh, there's no lens. Must be aesthetic reasons, then. Well, as aesthetic you can get in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Tommy, begrudgingly, falls asleep and hopes this stranger won't wake up and kill him. He wakes the next morning, to his mild surprise, with the stranger warming himself with the fire Tommy had made. As they lock eyes, they both start to talk "you little shit-" "I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO KNOCK YOU OUT". After a while of Tommy apologising and the man tearing into him, he introduces himself as Wilbur. Tommy's eyes light up as Wilbur tells his story, which is quite similar to Tommy's, but deflates a little as Wilbur confirms what Tommy feared; no signs of other survivors. then Wilbur smiles slightly "but hey, I found you, man! We have a chance of surviving this together. If you'll stick with me?" Tommy probably agreed to it a little too fast, but he's been without human contact for so long. While he hates to admit it, he's lonely. He always thought the zombie apocalypse would be full of cool, zombie killing action, but it's not. It’s sleepless nights and having to go without food. It’s having a panic attack after barely escaping from a horde and feeling so exhausted that you'd do anything for a warm, soft bed. Wilbur likely offered to pair with this kid too quickly, but he could see they both needed someone else to survive with, otherwise they wouldn't last much longer. Plus, Tommy's a kid, probably scared and unprepared. Not that Wilbur was prepared, but no 17 year old would survive on their own for long. But, Tommy has. And although he knocked Wilbur out, Wilbur could see how worried this kid was that Wilbur would hate him, after doing something that Wilbur probably would've done as well. They’re interrupted by the distant sound of approaching zombies, and the pair head out. While it's difficult adjusting to life with another person again, so much pressure is lifted from both of their shoulders. No need to worry about a particularly quiet zombie sneaking up on you when your guard's down, knowing that someone has your back when you rest. And, the pair start to regain something they both thought they'd lost long ago. Hope.

It’s one night where it's Tommy's turn to watch while Wilbur rests, snoring slightly. He can hear growling, quiet and distant, but it sounds like a horde. Shaking Wilbur awake, Tommy grabs the semi-working binoculars (you can only see out of one lens) to get a better look. There is a horde, but it's not coming in their direction. Wilbur mumbles groggily about what Tommy woke him up for, Tommy merely hands him the binoculars and points in the direction of the horde. Wilbur looks, and turns his gaze to Tommy, slightly annoyed. They’re not even heading towards the pair, why the hell did Tommy wake him? "No, look" Tommy insists. Wilbur, looks again, slightly rolling his eyes, and takes note that the horde is heading towards a source of light. Something you don't see often unless you forgot to put out a fire you made. There must be more people. And there's a horde headed right towards them. Wilbur, while wanting to meet with other survivors, doesn't want to risk his and Tommy's safety by going into a group of undead. They don't even know if those other survivors are friendly or still alive, but before Wilbur can get a word out, Tommy's started taking off with his backpack on and bat in hand. "Come on, Wil. We’ve got to help them, they're in trouble!" Wilbur manages to grab Tommy's arm before he leaves properly, pulling him back. "Tom, we don't know if there's actual survivors or not. There could've been some faulty wiring that's started a fire. Plus, if there are survivors, we don't know if they're hostile. I don't want you getting hurt." Tommy has that look on his face, though - a look that Wilbur's come to recognise over these past few months with Tommy. It’s a look that says "I'm doing what I want, and you can't stop me." Sighing, Wilbur grabs his machete and backpack, and tries hard not to smile when he sees how Tommy's face brightens when he sees Wil grabbing his stuff.

They quietly make their way over, and Wilbur notices something strange. "Tommy, weren't there more zombies when we looked? Where have they gone?" looking around, Tommy frowns. "Where the fuck did those ugly bastards go?" Before Wilbur can reply, the pair hear the sound of a gun clicking behind them. "WE'RE ALIVE DON'T SHOOT US" Tommy screams, and a hand is harshly slapped over his mouth. "Are you nuts?! Loud noises are gonna attract more of those things, what are you thinkin?!" Wilbur has his hands up in attempt to not look threatening, and Tommy decides he doesn't like being silenced. He licks the hand currently covering his mouth. The person removes their hand in disgust, while a light wheezing is heard from their companion. They’re trying not to laugh while the first person voices their disgust. "Who’s the loud one now, bitch?" "Tommy!" "Heh?" Unable to hold it in, the companion bursts out laughing at Tommy’s comment. “Phil. Phil please. Now is not the time to be laughing at my misery.” “Mate you should’ve seen your face!” Wilbur and Tommy can’t help their laughter too, now. The unnamed guy just looks distraught as he’s laughed at by Phil, Tommy and Wilbur. Clattering nearby alerts the small group, and they can hear the sound of the groaning undead. “We need to get the hell out of here” Tommy remarks as he grabs onto the sleeve of Wilbur’s coat. Wilbur looks back at him “you don’t say! We have a camp not far from here, come with us.” The guy supposedly named Phil, starts to follow as unnamed just looks bewildered. “We’re just trusting complete strangers are we now, Phil?” He questions his partner, following behind begrudgingly. “It’s better than another horde of those fuckin things!” Once the group reach the camp, Phil formally introduces himself to Tommy and Wilbur. “Sorry for pointing a gun at you earlier, we didn’t know if you guys were zombies or not” Wilbur smiles as he slings an arm around Tommy’s shoulder, pulling him closer “don’t worry, it’s basically what Tommy did when he first came across me. Except he knocked me out with his bat” Tommy groans as he shoves Wilbur away “Wil! I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again. Ugh, anyway, who’s the bitch?” Tommy asked as he pointed towards Phil’s partner, who currently stood leaning against the wall, prompting a small “heh?” from him. Phil chuckled “oh that’s Techno, don’t mind him. He’s goofy once you get to know him” Techno just grumbled as he crossed his arms, with Wilbur taking note of a mostly-healed bite wound on one. Tensing up, he grabbed his machete as he put his free arm in front on Tommy. “Is he infected?” Phil frowns as he looks at Wilbur before turning around towards Techno, realising what Wilbur was referring to. “Oh! Uh, probably not” Wilbur squinted, trying to push Tommy behind him. “Probably not?” while Phil seemed friendly and Techno cautious, Wilbur didn’t like the idea of someone being infected travelling with him and Tommy, he couldn’t take the risk of him turning and attacking them. “Well, it’s been quite a while since he got bit, and nothing’s really changed. We think he’s immune.” “I’m sorry but I can’t trust the chance of him turning, Tom-“ “oh come on Wil, quit being such a tight ass. Look at how far along that bite has healed, and he’s normal. Give them a chance.” Wilbur lets out a deep sigh. “Fine. But if he shows any signs of being a flesh muncher, we’re bailing.” Phil just laughs whilst Tommy breaks into a big smile, immediately bombarding the two with questions.

It’s a rough first weeks of the group travelling together, with both parties once again having to adjust to new company. Tommy’s a gremlin, Wilbur doesn’t trust Techno, Techno is tired of Wil’s mistrust, and Phil is losing his head trying to keep them all alive. Phil sends Wilbur and Techno out on a supply run together while he and Tommy explore an empty building that they plan to make into a base, in hopes that Wilbur and Techno will stop looking like they’re going to strangle the other. They’re raiding an abandoned supermarket, and Wilbur keeps glancing at Techno every so often, squinting at his arm. Techno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y’know, if I was going to turn into a zombie I would’ve turned ages ago? I’m not going to just start eating your brains out of the blue” Wilbur huffs, shoving some cans into his backpack before turning towards Techno. “And how are you so sure of that? For all we know, you could just be resistant and it takes a while for you to turn!” Exasperated, Techno snaps back “I have been travelling with Phil for months! I’ve had this bite for nearly a year! I am NOT infected!” “Well excuse me for being concerned about the safety of Tommy and I! I trust Tommy with my life, and I’m not about to risk his!” Wilbur’s raised his voice now, the repressed tension between him and Techno causing them to forget one of the most important rules; be quiet as to not alert the undead. “If you’re so concerned about your safety, why don’t you just go and leave then! Phil and I were doing just fine on our own!” “Fine!” “Fine!” Groan. ”Shit”. The pair’s arguing had caused some unwanted attention, and quite a lot of it too. Techno pulls the shotgun from his back and aims for the first few zombies that have entered from the front. “Get the rest of the food and head to the emergency exit! I’ll hold them off, now go!” Wilbur wastes no time shakily knocking the remaining cans into the backpack, dashing for the exit. Techno fires a few more shots, and as Wilbur reaches the exit, he hears Techno curse before running towards Wilbur. Wilbur shoves the door, only for it to be blocked on the other side. Shit shit shit! Frantically trying to get the door open, Wilbur fails to notice a zombie creeping up on him. “Wilbur, look out!” Just as Wilbur turns, he sees the open jaws of a zombie, ready to take a chunk out of Wilbur. Wilbur covers his face with his arms. I’m sorry Tommy. Instead of a painful bite like he was expecting, Wilbur hears the pained gasp of Techno. The zombie bit Techno’s shoulder, who proceeds to punch the zombie off of him, knocking it to the ground before stomping its’ head in. Techno turns to Wilbur “we shove together on three. Ready?” Wilbur nods. “One, two, three!” The door gives way, and the duo run back to camp, Techno clutching his shoulder. When the two get back, they’re greeted by a grinning Phil, whose grin quickly fades as he sees Techno. “Techno got bit!” Phil rushes to get medical equipment, as Tommy comes out, a distraught look on his face at hearing Wilbur’s comment. Phil takes Techno into a room to work on the wound, while Wilbur and Tommy wait anxiously. Tommy looks like he’s about to cry, which prompts Wilbur to pull him into a hug. “Techno’s going to be fine Tom, you know how stubborn he is.” Wilbur can feel how Tommy’s shaking, and he can’t deny that he feels himself shaking a little, too. Phil comes out a little while later, saying that Techno is fine, but he’ll be out of commission for a bit and will need to rest. Tommy rushes to see him, pulling him into a teary hug. “Techno! You’re okay!” Techno laughs a little, patting Tommy’s head. “Of course I am, you think I’m gonna let one wimpy, twig of a zombie take me down?” When Tommy doesn’t respond, and merely hugs Techno harder, Techno returns the hug. “I’m fine, Theseus. I promise.” Wilbur walks in soon after, watching the two hugs. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but uh- can- can I have a word with you, Techno?” Techno nods as Tommy pulls away and makes his way outside. Wilbur stands there for a bit, shuffling awkwardly.

“Wilb-“ “Thank you, Techno. For saving my ass back there. I’ve barely trusted you yet you took that hit for me. And I’m sorry that I’ve been such an ass to you since we met.” Techno looks taken aback, before he sighs softly. “I haven’t been the best person to you, either, so you’re not entirely to blame. Also, you’re welcome. If I let you die then there would be no one to keep Tommy in check.” Wilbur laughed at that, before Techno started talking again. “But seriously, I couldn’t let you die. The kid needs you.” Wilbur softened a little at that. “And we need you, too. So maybe think about that before you throw yourself in front of a zombie for me?” Techno smirked. “Alright, fine. Guess I’ll let you be zombie chow next time.” The two shared a laugh before Wilbur walked up to Techno. “I hope you can forgive me and that we can be friends.” Wilbur reached out a hand to Techno, who took it and gave it a shake. “Maybe acquaintances at best.” He joked. Phil and Tommy then walked in, and the group started to relax. It was going to be a bitch to survive, but this group knew as long as they had each other, they would be okay.

#dream smp fanfiction #dream smp #dsmp #sleepy bois inc #sbi au #SBI zombie apocalypse au #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza #dsmp fanfic

[lazy-charlie]

YOU SHOULD draw your favorite oc! Or if you can't pick, draw one whose design you had the most fun coming up with!

ngl i had to think about this for a bit lol

i couldn't pick just one so I doodled a few very quick here's a ramble about them

Rob: (my oldest oc actually): a broken robot built for manual labor which takes care of a human child as best he can after a sorta post-apocalypse while trying to keep himself in working condition

Jack: a ghost (maybe) who lost all his memories and now is going on a journey to figure out how he died while avoiding the dangers of limbo

Ronald: chatter phone object head, whos a cannibal clown who lives in a semi-truck with his best friend

Jack-o: a mechanical clown (who lives in a place called the clown corner) a jack in a box who got a few screws loose, the strongest of any of the cast so he doubles as a guard dog

doll: (also in the clown corner) a soft-spoken wind-up porcelain doll, who due to recent "staffing shortages" has picked up playing both tragedy and comedy. now having a half and half theme.

honestly, i still wanna make comics and cartoons if i can

#doodle #ramble #ocs #clown corner #clown oc #robot oc #sorry for talking your ears off lmao

[cryptidclaw]

This has also been a problem for me with limiting humans.

You could have kittypets live in like abandoned petstores and houses and be kinda farm like making it seem like a hippie/soft lifestyle to the orders.

Could do a kingdom thing if you want as well.

Maybe they live with other animals as well since they’re seen as soft and not order material.

Generally: Simple cats who live in an environment that’s lush and doesn’t require the ‘hardcore’ lifestyle the orders have when it it could actually be just as difficult if they looked past their own noses.

this is gonna be a semi long post with all the screenshots im adding soooo

ok Im defo gonna make RoC take place in a post apocalypse! Im going to write up a full summary/description of the apocalypse lore and post that later buuut!

for the silly name debacle, I really like the idea of cats naming themselves after labels and signs found in ruins! Also Im going to still have some cats live with humans in their small towns/groups and these cats can be named by the humans so they still get silly names too!

alsooo I really like the idea of the apocalypse being due to a disease! I think that the disease being something that animals, such as cats, can carry and pass to humans, but not be effected by is also really good, bec that explains how there are so many surviving animals compared to humans!

I have the idea that it is less safe for humans on the lake territory side of the mountains, hence why there are so few humans there... so maybe animals in that area still often carry the disease and will easily pass it onto any humans who cross into that area. The Lake territory is basically a kitty paradise bec no humans, but it is a danger zone for humans bec they are likely to die from contact with the wildlife!

Maybe on the forest territory side the disease has become less common, and cats and other animals can still live with humans. Like how there are "kittypets" in the human town by the Order's territories. But maybe humans are still fearful of feral cats because they are more likely to carry the disease so they stay way from them for the most part. This could also explain why the humans who came to take over the forest in TNP wanted to get rid of/ fight off the cat population, bec they could be disease carriers!

I also had the idea that the ancient founding cats of the Orders (and the Mountain Colony) were the cats that existed when the disease started, and they had to learn how to survive on their own!

Jayfeather/wing's time travel plotline could actually be so much more interesting if it took place during this time bec we could get a glimpse into what it was like during the apocalypse when the story takes place post apocalypse!

#cryptid answers #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #warriors au

[daoofgay-fanfics]

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid

Relationship:

Max Jägerman/Original Male Character

Characters:

Max Jägerman, Richie Lipschitz, Wiggly | Wiggog Y'rath, Blinky | Bliklotep, Tinky | T'noy Karaxis, Pokey | Pokotho, Webby (Black Friday), Nibbly | Nibblenephim, Original Male Character(s), Lords in Black Ensemble (Hatchetfield), Peter Spankoffski | Hot Chocolate Boy, Stephanie Lauter, Solomon Lauter, Lucian Adrian Flictio (OC), Ruth Fleming

Additional Tags:

Time Travel, Time Loop, Psychological Torture, Torture, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Body Worship, Physical Disability, Disability, Max Jägerman Needs a Hug, Max Jägerman Redemption, Bad Parent Max Jägerman's Father, Dyslexic Max Jägerman, Gay, Gay Male Character, Major Original Character(s), End of the World, Apocalypse, Dark Magic, Magic, The Black Book (Hatchetfield), The Black and White (Black Friday), Insanity, Mental Instability Self-Insert, Kinda, Temporary Character Death, Gray Morality, Dubious Morality, Comic Book Science, Magic and Science, Bisexual Max Jägerman, Psychometry, Psychic Abilities, References to Frankenstein, Musical: Nerdy Prudes Must Die, Touch Starved Max Jägerman, Fuck Clivesdale (Hatchetfield), Hatchetfield Universe, Hatchetfield High (Hatchetfield), Lovecraftian Monster(s), Mad Science

Language:

English

Out of the Depths, Into the Gray

DaoOfGay

Chapter 2

"Pulling this..." Lucian grumbled softly, his finger twisting over in three different places. They clicked and cracked, breaking in places before they got back in place: "Still feels as weird as ever." It was a weird sensation to break his own fingers to train their flexibility and dexterity, flexibility and dexterity that he would need in the future to truly use his machines at the maximum of their capabilities because of their rather complicated ways of using. With a last click, he flexed his fingers as they snapped back in place: "There we go." With a sigh, he stretched his arms out in the air above his head as he looked around his room- Many of these mechanical parts were spread all around the ground, there were some semi-completed machines that looked to have some sort of interesting use. One of the mechanical parts had these small buttons and little lights that would click together and make soft whining sounds.

"The 'O.O.O.' is coming along well..." O.O.O stands for Orbital Originating Organizator, a small machine that is placed inside a small crystalline orb. In a weird and honestly kinda scary combination of magic, mechanical parts, and his own Gift Powers to quickly and easily organize things. With a softly touch of his hand on the crystal sphere, he channeled through his mind the energy that he had within his soul, and immediately all the scattered items on the ground started to float towards the shelves, organizing themselves. "This makes the life of a disabled teenager boy so much fucking easier." Seriously, you don't know how many things you lose until you start to use a magical technology ou created to organize your shit. He has found a few pens, pencils, lost drawings, and even a few porn drawings that were maybe intentionally thrown away. "Seriously, Lucian really had talent for drawing... Sadly it took him literally almost dying, losing his legs, and being isolated for him to find out about that." He quickly started to sketch a few little parts of a much bigger machine that he wanted to make- He'll have to go to the junkyard to gather parts for his new inventions.

The problem is- he can't drive.

Also, his grandmother was a sweet old lady that did not have the time for his shenanigans. She was a hardworking woman that did not need him to make her waste her time with him- Maybe that's the residual thoughts Lucian had of hee before his sudden death when the new Lucian started to inhabit his body, but that's at least something new Lucian can agree on: The old lady had no business helping him, mostly because he doesn't want her to get neither hurt helping him nor suspicious helping him. "Shit, I really need a lot of shit... Maybe I should get some underlings to help."

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And that's exactly what he did.

"Lift it with your back. I'm the one dragging the cart here, with my wheelchair." Lucian had recently improved his wheelchair to be an electrical wheelchair. The battery that he was using was the same one that one would use in a car, with the flipping directional lever being hand made to have an extra acceleration button! The tracking force of the wheelchair was enough to drag about a 600 pounds boat on land, so of course he could carry these three cart behind him full of scraps, boxes, and broken parts of machinery. "Spankofski, careful not to step on that fucking nail- And you almost did it. Congrats, I guess- Lipschitz, please don't rip the papers apart. I know how to recycle it, please... Also, Maketh, don't try to make to with the ground anymore... I'm pretty sure Gaea is incredibly furious with your sexual assaults." The dark skinned skinny guy struggled to get back up from the ground, shaking his head a little and adjusting his glasses that were just a little bit cracked.

"Flictio, c-can we take a break?" Spankofski, Peter Spankofski panted heavily. His forehead was covered in sweat and his eyes were wide, his glasses making him look way nerdier than the stupid suspenders do, somehow. "My back's killing me!" He dropped another box filled with scraps, small pieces of metal, corks, nails, screws, and a few long thin metal piercing needles that looked that came from the arm of a junkie or something like that! Peter made sure not to directly touch it, just in case he gets an STD or something like that before even having sex. That would be extremely pathetic! "And my legs. And my arms. And my abdominal muscles-"

"-and I'm very sweaty too." Richie Lipschitz groaned from the sideline, his eyes a little glossy as he lifted his arms. It was like a cloud of stink was released from his body, everyone there- except for Lucian, he has smelled worst things -winced and turned away from him, clear disgust and even a little bit of pity and fear in the eyes of those who were able to smell it. "What? I ate onions, worked like a criminal, and I have overactive sweat glands-"

"-okay, that's enough for me today!" Maketh, Jonathan Maketh to be more specific, groaned. His glasses were a little cracked and he was cleaning them up, a look of distress and despair in his eyes as he groaned: "Shit... My mom's gonna kill me! This is the second lenses I break this month." He could only pale in fear at what his mother would do- She would probably beat his ass, break something of his, or banish him to the Shadow Realm with the sheer force of her glare! "I am so fucking fucked-"

"You're making a storm inside a cup of water, give me that." Lucian extended his hand forward- Maketh hesitated for a little bit before he gave his thick bottle bottom glasses to him, he touched them and covered them with a cloth, pretending like he was cleaning them, but he easily applied a bit of energy with his Gift of Reconstruction, a special gift that he liked to use to heal and repair broken things and people sometimes. The only down side is that whenever used in people, it would take energy from them to heal them, while machines and objects would simply be repaired! "There." With a roll of his eyes, he presented the newly repaired glasses to the one and only crybaby nerd before him before he started to look at his treasure trove. He managed to convince these three nerds here to help him in a rather cool little way- He promised making them something they wanted. Lipschitz wanted this Gundam, Spankofski wanted a cool new electrical microscope, and Maketh wanted something that would help him survive high-school, so Lucian decided to make him a small ringing radar that would release this almost imperceptible ringing sound that imitated a click so Maketh could, subconsciously, develop the skill called echolocation. With echolocation, it might help him become more aware of his surroundings, and therefore be able to avoid danger better. "Here, don't break it again..."

"How do you even do that? Applying pressure on the cracks doesn't make sense, we would still be able to see the cracks, and broke glass can't be easily repaired." Peter Spankofski hummed, and Lucian had to stop his wince at the large yellow eye that suddenly appeared above the guy's head- Tinky was here, apparently. "Unless you're doing some sort of magic trick or something." Lucian was pretty much aware of the presence of the Time Bastard, he could feel the strain of his mind whenever he thought of that damn yellow box, and then snapped back out of it soon because he was bored. That's what the Lords in Black do: They get bored. 'Probably went to see Ted Spankofski... I still don't know how or why Tinky is so obsessed with the Spankofskis, but that's not my problem.' He shuttered, a sliver of anxiety flowing through his mind, making him groan a little: "Well, thank you very much, you three helped me a lot... I'll make your things for you, just wait for a little while and then you'll have your things." Lucian shrugged for a moment, moving his shoulders. He pondered for a moment why the Lords in Black haven't started their whole shitty things- Maybe they have? 'I need to make a nuke bunker, anti-radiation jackets, and a fucking rocket!' Thanks to the "rules" that are imposed upon them by reality itself, they can't physically enter the world without breaking it apart, unless they get an "invitation" and a form to stay within this world.

And thanks to these rules, he can more or less tell whenever the Lords in Black start to turn things into shit. Until now, he doesn't feel anything wrong with this reality yet, so he feels that he has some time, at least.

Hours later on his way back home dragging three carts behind him, Lucian decided to go to a drive-thru to get some trash food, and that was when he saw a rather familiar face. Maxwell Jägerman, also known as Max or "The Monster" by the many people of the high-school that were constantly harassed and mocked by him. Interestingly, Max was holding the "Turn-It-Off" Remote with his left hand while grinning at the wall of the drive-thru while clicking the red button of the remote, chuckling as the menu of the drive-thru was shutting off and on as the people on line were flipping out. Lucian hummed as he thought: 'Well, at least he's having fun with it, right?' He was about to go to another fast-food restaurant when Max cursed, his finger flinching from the remote as it let out a few sparks. "Shit Max, your toy's breakin!" One of his jock friends, Jason or whatever, winced as Max threw the remote away with pain in his eyes. "Fuck, did I fucking break it?"

"It seems you've been using it a lot. I can fix that for you, if you want." Approaching him and dragging with him his carts behind him, Lucian announced himself with a few words, getting Max's attention again- He and his two jock friends turned to look at him and he could see the confusion in their faces, mostly about what the fuck he was doing with carts full of trash, but he didn't really care about that. "Want me to take a look at that?" He pointed back at the remote that had finished sparking, he didn't really care about the little remote that could turn off electrical things- He had four of them by now, mostly because he was bored and ended up making three extra in case the first one was irreparably broken -but he did care about his social life... Or the lack of it. You see, Maxwell Jägerman was considered a monster by many, but Lucian saw him as just a stereotypical bully who never had real familial love, and by he way he acted when receiving the remote, he must've never had gotten a gift before. Lucian was not one of really manipulating people unless he wants something from them, but to survive the followimg apocalypse? He will need time, and he can't have peace and time if he's getting constantly bullied!

So, you gotta befriend the bullies to make them leave you alone.

"Huh? What the fuck you doin' here, cree-" Max stopped for a moment- It would be kinda rude to call someone a freak or a creep after they give you something, right? "-urgh, what was your fucking name?" Maxwell Jägerman, the guy who everyone knows only calls others by their surname or a mocking nickname, was asking this weird legless guy about his name? That was new. "...sure, if you think you can fix this shit- I mean, you made it, so I guess you can fix it..." This was news for Jason and Kyle, the two jocks who were his "best" friends. Like the "god" that Jägerman was, he didn't really care about the name of many people- Seriously, he only cared about the popular bunch, going after after anyone who even spoke to the nerds in the school, and yet here he is, talking to a random wheelchair guy. Picking up the remote, Max place it right into the guy's hand as he smiled up at him: "I can surely fix it, and maybe upgrade it for you if you want... But it will cost ya... How about you help me with these things? The name's Lucian, by the way."

Now that he motioned to the carts, Max took a better look at the shit he had on them- Boxes and boxes of trash. Scrap metal, wires, broken glass, weird electronic parts, more wires, a few broken tools, a few pipes, rubber, and even a fucking car battery! "...what's all this crap anyway?" He poked a piece of paper, frowning as the paper didn't bend at all, but instead stood completely defiant of his finger. "Is this even paper?" Seriously, he has never seen paper this thin but this hard before!

"Oh, that's colored glass-"

Oh.

"-and I'm just gonna use that for some projects of mine... C'mon, if you help me bring them all upstairs in my home, I'll give you something." Throwing the bait for the jock with daddy issues for another little gift, Lucian started to driving away. He did not need to look backwards to feel that the three jocks just looked at each other before shrugging and following him along. Since his speed wasn't that great- because he traded speed for strength and weight carrying capabilites for his wheelchair -they were able to easily follow him on foot to where his home was, on the way he answered the few of their question about his own little contraptions and inventions. Of course he didn't expose everything about the things he has made, but he gave them a few ideas about the things he has made.

"So, you have a fuckin' gun that makes people piss and shit themselves?" Max was honestly fucking hyped- Imagine all the shit could do with that thing!? He'd make that bitch Professor Maylen fucking shit herself so she can stop being a bitch and stop calling him incompetent just because words are fucking hard to read- It's not his fault that they dance, okay!? "Hmm? I mean, technically it can be used for that, yeah-" Lucian stopped once he saw his home. He drove his wheelchair up the ramp and easily got inside his home- his grandmother wasn't home, so he guided everyone to his living room: "Can you please help me take these things upstairs? Don't worry, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'll give you one of my little inventions if you help- Yeah, Max, I'll give you the Pee Pee Poo Poo Gun... Even though it isn't called that."

Well, Max always wanted a gun that makes people shit themselves anyway.

It took them a while to get everything upstairs. It was honestly a surprise for the jock trio that his room wasn't... nerdy. Sure, he had a lot of blueprints of various weird things that were glued to the wall, and he had shelves with various weird apparatuses and shenanigans, like this weird claw thing that could pick up shit from 15 feet away with unusual precision! Or this weird flashlight that had a green coloration that would, presumably, show the presence of "ghosts" ot whatever... Then there was this weird pen that had a button that could make it explode, spraying ink everywhere! "Actually, you can take this one as a bonus- if you have a test you're not ready for, you can just press the button and be free from it." Lucian did not care about the curiosity of the jocks- no matter nerdy, prudy, or popular... All men love weird shit! "Here's your Poo Poo Pee Pee Gun or whatever you wanna call it. You aim at the person and press the button, I've permanently removed and disabled the 'Lethal' mode, so you don't have to worry about making people shit themselves to death." The design of the "gun" was actually this weird antenna thing with a few buttons, but the majority were completely removed or disabled.

"Here, you two can have these things-" For the other two jocks, Lucian gave them the same pen he had given Max as well as two Turn-It-Off Remotes. "-thank you for your help today, if it breaks, you can just bring back and I'll fix it." He turned to Max- the only one in the school who, somehow, has a lot of power in school -and said: "Especially you, Max, you can come up to me whenever you need help with anything."

While Max was a little bit (a lot) moved by his proposition, little did Lucian know, that it would end up with him taking the boy's corpse out of the Waylon's old place and fixing it by turning him into his own cyborg Frankenstein's monster...

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"Wait, you mean I can... costumize my new body?" Max's spirit floated right beside him, his sunken eyes still in that everlasting expression of horror, pain, and despair. "Like, my-"

"-dick size? Yes. So, which size you want? You want it to shoot lasers? Become a knife? You want it to become this mechanical tentacle able to pierce through rock? I can do a lot of things, but to keep you going, Imma need to make you alive again... And that'll take more than just lightning like that old Mary Shelley story."

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