#{|❂|} THE ONE BEYOND THE GATE

[gcldenchild]

heheeeee. it’s my birthday todayyyy

[lesbianpepsi]

is this love?

pairing: Vada Cavell x fem!reader

summary: reader goes on Vada's laptop and finds something very interesting on it

words: 2.204k

warnings: mentions of sex, light swearing, bad writing, let me know if there's anything else

authors note: this is my first time writing for Vada so if she seems OOC i'm sorry💀

vada (1:31am) wher r u? 

me (1:33am): at home...? 

vada (1:33am): cum over 2 watch a movie 🙃🙃

vada (1:33am): come* lol

vada (1:33am): cum 👉👌

me (1:34am): hilarious. why do you want me over vads?

vada (1:36am): bord and snakish 

me (1:36am): it's half one in the morning

vada (1:36am): pls:( not evn for ur wife???💔

me (1:38am): what snacks do you want me to bring?

vada (1:38am): :D

vada (1:38am): takis, that choalet u like, waterlemon siur patch kid 

me (1:39am): okay, i'll be over in a few 

vada (1:39am): tyty

me (1:39am): 🙄🖤

vada (1:40am): 🤭🤭

You shook your head in amusement as you shoved your foot into your vans, soon after shoving your phone into the baggy hoodie you owned. 

Of course only for Vada -your girlfriend- you'd sneak out in the middle of the night to bring snacks and to watch movies.

The chokehold that girl had on you was beyond tight.

Grabbing your headphones, backpack, wallet and phone you silently sneaked your way down the stairs, you took painfully slow steps to make sure you wouldn't make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity you had made it outside with the key to the garage, you quickly went to unlock it and retrieved your broken blue bike. It was barley rideable, but still good enough for you.

You locked the garage, keeping the keys in your pocket before you began biking away towards the closest 7/11. 

The headphones placed on your ears filled the silence of the night with the sweet melody of Lana Del Rey.

After a handful of songs and halfway through White Mustang you arrived at the small store, it being the only twenty four hour store that was closest to yours and Vada's house.

You hopped off your bike before you entered, you had already memorised what Vada wanted. It didn't take you long before you were at the counters paying for the snacks, trying not to laugh at the clearly high worker who tried to act sober.

"Thanks." The worker gave a lazy thumbs up as he cracked an even lazier smile, you chuckled as you shoved your purchases into your backpack.

You sat back down on your bike as you checked on your phone to see three unread messages by Vada.

vada (1:43am): pls ride save 🚲🚲🚲🥽🥽🛟

vada (1:57am): jez what's takis so long?

vada (1:57am): 🪚

me (1:59am): 1) i will, don't worry❤️ 2) i have to ride to the store then to yours, plus my bike is shit. 3) no we're not watching saw, last time you watched it you got nightmares

vada (1:59am): ur alive!!!🧟‍♀️🚫

vada (2:00am): hury up 

You laughed to yourself as you kept your phone back into its original position, peddling away before you took your hand out of your pocket.

Lana Del Rey's mystical voice sung a few more songs in your ears before you arrived outside of the Cavell residence. 

You swiftly got off of the bike before you walked it up the pathway to keep leaning it against the wall. 

Opening the gate you silently walked over to the back door to where Vada was already waiting for you, smiling brightly when she noticed your presence. 

"Y/n! Hi!" She whispered yelled as she grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a hug. You smiled down at her as you wrapped your arms around her.

"Hey, Vads." You replied with a warm smile as butterflies flew around in your stomach at the contact.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Vada gazed up at you and stole a kiss from you before she headed towards the cabinets.

You took the moment for freedom to take off your shoes, placing them neatly in the corner of the room. 

 Vada went on her tippy toes as she reached two glasses from a cabinet, dropping them a bit too carelessly making you wince.

"Wanna do me a favour?" Vada asked as she grinned at you, hopping over to the alcohol cabinet as she took out a bottle of vodka.

You raised your eyebrows as you leaned against the counter. "Depends what that is." 

"Go on my laptop and choose a movie for us to watch while I make us our drinks." She said as she shook the bottle of vodka daringly in her hands.

You laughed as you nodded your head, pushing yourself off the counter. "You already know what I'm going to put on." 

"We are not watching Spider-Man again. I beg you." 

"Fine." You decided with a roll of your eyes, somewhat not surprised Vada didn't want to watch Spider-Man for probably the fifth time this week. 

Without a noise you made your way up the stairs and towards Vada's dimly lit bedroom. You shrugged off your backpack as you dropped down on Vada's snuggliest bed.

Her laptop was already on her bed so you thankfully didn't have to get back up, stretching until you reached it and swiftly pulled the laptop onto your lap.

You opened the laptop and immediately winced at the brightness, of fucking course Vada would put her laptop at full brightness at night. 

You hurriedly lowered the brightness until you could actually look at it.

That's when you noticed the laptop was making a noise.

The Sims theme played lowly, an audio that was instantly recognisable. You smiled as you noticed Vada was still in her world.

Deciding there was no harm in it, you began looking around the beautifully decorated house Vada had built. 

It was a perfect house for the family Tara had made.

The first sim you noticed was a toddler, a boy with y/h/c coloured hair and a freckled face. 

You smiled at how cute the sim was as your eyes flickered down to the corner of the screen where a small row of sims' faces was at.

Finding the toddler's face you hover the mouse over it to get the name of the sim.

Tod Y/l/n-Cavell

You blinked, then blinked again at the name.

Y/l/n-Cavell

No fucking way. 

Without hesitation you swiftly moved the mouse to hover over the next sim, a teenage girl who had dark brown hair.

Delilah Y/l/n-Cavell

A smug smile had appeared on your lips as your eyes gazed over to the two final remain sims. Promptly you clicked onto the next sim this time, which teleported you  over to where the sim was.

Your eyes widened as you noticed the name and what the sim was doing.

Y/n L/n-Cavell was the name given to the sim that you couldn't see since it was woohooing the last sim.

You purse your lips as you stifle a laugh, much slower than before you moved to hover the mouse over the final sim which heavily resembled Vada's face.

Not to your surprise, the name 'Vada Yl/n-Cavell' appeared as the mouse hovered over the sim. 

Just as you read the name a frantic Vada flung the door open as she practically dived in your direction, slamming the laptop closed on your lap.

With Vada half on you, half not, your eyes travelled down to her face, where you couldn't see her beauty since she was hiding it on the mattress next to your thigh. 

"Please tell me you didn't see a thing." She begged through a muffled voice, you closed your eyes for a few seconds as you tried to not let out a laugh.

Swallowing any hint of laughter you said: "I didn't see anything," A small snort of laughter escaped as you muttered. "Mrs Y/l/n-Cavell." 

Vada groaned loudly as she hid her face further into the bed, throwing her hands over her head as she tried to hide herself even further.

"I think it's adorable!" You said as you managed to stifle most of the laughter, Vada violently shook her head. "You're just saying that."

"No I'm not." Vada lifted her head as she gave you an unamused expression. "You're laughing."

"I'm not." You told her with a serious expression, the corners of your lift kept lifting as you fought a smile. "I just didn't expect to see a sim version of myself fucking a sim version of you." You managed to get halfway through the sentence before you let out a deep laugh, instantly covering your mouth with your hand to try to hide it. 

Vada groaned as she slammed her head back down to hide in the duvet. "I'm never showing you my face ever again." Vada declared to you, you smiled as you positioned your hand on top of Vada's hand.

"And how exactly are you planning to never show your face to me again?" You taunted her with a grin. 

"I'll just wear a mask everywhere like that weird Minecraft streamer." Vada exaggerated through a muffled voice as you tried hiding your laughter.

You shook your head mostly to yourself to try to stop laughing as you looked down at Vada. 

"And deprive me of that pretty face of yours?" Vada nodded her head, her head still hid in the sheets. "Yes. You better start getting ready to bang me with a mask on for the rest of your life."

"Is it at least a ghostface mask?" 

Vada stayed silent for a few moments, as if the words you said had actually gotten to her, before she shook her head.

"No! Making me horny won't make me forget about this." 

You mentally reminded yourself to carry on that conversation another time with Vada.  

"Vada, I promise you, it's not that bad. It's actually cute as shit." You insisted with no laughter that time, Vada slowly picked up her head to look up at you.

Her eyes narrowed on yours as she leaned against your thigh. "You're not bullshitting me?"

You smiled as you nodded your head enthusiastically at your girlfriend. "I'd never lie to you."

"It's still embarrassing." Vada whined as she snuggled further into your clothed thigh. You laughed lowly as you removed the laptop off of your lap, placing it onto the empty space next to you.

"The most embarrassing thing about it is that you actually think I'd let you name our child Tod." You jested with a humorous grin. 

Honestly, you didn't know what was going through Vada's choosing the name Tod. You'd rather name your child Howard, a name you more than less hate.

Vada gave you a hurt look as she perched up on your thigh to be able to get a better look of you.

"Tod is a magnificent name. You'd probably name our child something nerdy like Peter." Your smile shifted to give Vada a dirty look at her words. Just because I love Spider-Man, you thought to yourself with a groan.

"There's nothing wrong with the name Peter, meanwhile there's everything wrong with the name Tod." You argued light-heartedly, the corners of Vada's lips twitched upwards, she was trying to fight her smile.

Pride withered in you at that, Vada was starting to feel less embarrassed at the whole situation.

Raising her eyebrows she gazed into your eyes. "Fine. We'll just have to name our child something absolutely ridiculous then." 

You smiled amusedly as you nodded your head as if heavily interested in the conversation. "Oh yeah? Like what?" 

Vada pursed her lips for a few moments as she glanced away from your eyes, deep in thought. As if she had figured out a top secret code, Vada returned her eyes to lock with yours, joy swirling around in her eyes.

"Donut." Vada assured with a nod of her head. You stifled a laugh as you cocked your head to the side like a husky. "Donut?" You repeated in a teasing tone.

She nodded her head confidently. "Donut; the second love of my life." Vada confirmed with a goofy grin on her face. 

You smirked, your free hand moving to rest on Vada's scalp as you played with her soft hair. "Who's your first love then?" 

"C'mon you already know the answer to that. It's obviously Bela Dimitrescu." Without hesitation you shoved Vada's head down with the hand that was on her head.

Vada laughed as she dodged your hand as she moved it so the side, landing her head back down on the top of your thigh. "Don't worry, baby. You'll always be my number one girl."

You narrowed your eyes. "Even over Bela?"

She nodded curtly against your thigh. "Even over Bela Dimitrescu."

"What about Lady Dimitrescu?" 

Vada hissed as she closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them. "That's a tough one." 

You sighed as you nodded your head in agreement. "Alright I'll give you that since she is so fine."

"So fucking fine." Vada whispered in agreement.

You smiled at Vada who beamed back at you with joy, a true sight for the sore eyes.

"How about instead of watching a movie we play sims?" Vada grinned as she sat up, grabbing the laptop as she sat by your side. 

"I'm pretty sure my sim just impregnated yours so we can name our third child donut." Vada giggled as she opened the laptop back up.

You gave her a  puzzled look. Vada's sim impregnated yours?

Why the fuck aren't you the one who had a dick? 

"Why do I have to be the pregnant one?" You questioned as Vada began replaying the game. "I give off bigger dick energy than you."

You scoffed loudly at that, rolling your eyes. "Yeah right."

[mentallyisekaid]

「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3 ✦ 」

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 [Part 3] Part 3.5

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

A/N ~ hey there, if you're following this story but haven't yet seen my pinned post, you should go and read it since it's where I'll update general stuff regarding the fic~

---

Featured in this chapter, we have... a certain dubious duo?

Warnings: half-intentional ooc moments

Word count: 2.3k

---

A week or so had passed.

It's not that you were complaining about this endless 'trial period', per se. Still, just going through piles of boring documents, day after day - any immortal being would've lost their mind sooner or later.

Half a millennium dulled all shine there was to a mundane life, so seeking out a bit of excitement was crucial for maintaining sanity. But even making bets with Childe wasn't thrilling enough (though it did come close!)

Without a drastic change of pace soon, you might have just gone feral.

And your colleagues were quite aware of it~ In time, you better believe they would've even stolen the Moon from the sky for you if you only asked for it, but nevertheless, first, you needed to prove that they could trust you.

The Fatui took immense pride in loyalty - yet yours was very fickle, and they knew it. But rather than allegiance, what your Harbingers seeked for was sign of your devotion toward them, something that exceeded the boundaries of professionalism and demonstrated... a much deeper level of trust.

"Was revealing the secret of this stupid Vision a mistake, after all?" a thought that had plagued your mind.

Well, who could say... but apparently, it had been worth it!

No one could really fathom Pierro's decisions, but it seems that after hearing you'd confided a part of your past to some of them, the Director had thought you'd proved yourself enough. And maybe it was because he knew you just a bit too well, having been there all those centuries ago.

But did this mean that all of them now knew of your little conversation with Scaramouche, Columbina and Childe?

Well, such a thought hardly occupied you.

Because more importantly, you were finally about to get (*insert an ominous fanfare*)...

Your very first field mission!

Good riddance, eternal paperwork~

---

A sign of their trust, or... just another test?

You didn't care either way.

"Lady Harbinger," a Cicin Mage had bowed her head after entering your office. "The Jester has assigned you to an official errand with Lords Ninth and Second. You are to rendezvous with them at the gates. Effective immediately."

And girl, you couldn't have bolted out of that room faster! It made the poor Cicins squeak in alarm. The mage only sighed while shaking her head, not sure that you'd come out of this one with your sanity still intact.

So, your bored prayers had been heard. But by the gods, or a devil? A field assignment with this specific pair of Harbingers had the potential to turn out chaotic beyond belief...

and you were all for it!

It was daybreak in Snezhnaya.

The early morning air was even more frigid than usual, making your grip the coat on around you tighter as you waltzed through the snowy yard. From a distance, you could make out two shadowy figures next to the gates of Zapolyarny Palace, their menacing auras unmistakable.

When Regrator and Il Dottore were working together, anyone even remotely involved had better be on their guard...

Lest they wanted to end up in horrible debt.

Or as a part of human experiments.

But the shady banker and the heretic researcher had failed to intimidate you, and they found such fearlessness quite... captivating.

As you got closer, Pantalone offered you a warm smile.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Hello... and no, *yawn*... it's impossible to get decent rest with these working hours. But," a smile made its way onto your lips, "I'm pleased to finally get to work outside of the palace~"

And with the two of you, it might just be twice as fun, a totally weird thought that you didn't voice out, and instead sighed:

"Though, at the cost of skipping my yummy breakfast pancakes..."

You took a bite from the frostbitten, red fruit in your hand. This earned a chuckle from Dottore.

"No, no, you won't get sufficient vitamins from that. How about trying the special pills I gave you? You'd help me with my research while you're at it, too..."

"I'm afraid your experimental supplements might end up turning me into a slime."

An apple a day hardly kept this doctor away. But much to everyone's surprise, you seemed to know how to handle his eccentric personality and... the segments. Even Scaramouche was impressed by this.

"Don't you look rather young today, Zandik?" you questioned with a hint of playfulness; a habit you'd picked up from Damselette.

The Doctor only replied with a smile, gently sweeping away a few snowflakes from your hair as if admiring a most precious specimen (no objectifying here, Dottore's just being Dottore~)

This one seemed to be of the more reasonable segments, if such a concept even existed - though regardless of the form, you were really quite fond of their antics.

Pantalone, too, was a difficult person in his own way, knowing how to both frustrate you to no ends, and yet make you feel so endeared.

As usual, the banker seemed just a bit too amused by everything.

That, and he found you adorable.

"Hehe, I must admit that dealing with the two of you off-duty is always rather delightful~ but we ought to leave duly," he stepped forward and offered you his hand. "After all, we wouldn't want to be late on Y/N's first mission, now would we?"

Dottore mimicked his gesture. "Indeed, off we go."

These two....

But on that note?

"Dare I ask," you raised an eyebrow, "what the mission might be?"

They only smiled at you - Pantalone while adjusting his glasses, Dottore with his expression half hidden by that asymmetrical mask, and both in a suspiciously mellow way.

You frowned. Pierro had definitely been up to something when sending you on a nameless errand, and with this dubious duo, no less...

and you were quite enjoying the suspense!

---

Three Harbingers waltzing through the snowy streets, a dozen of Fatui agents following close behind, was a slightly unnerving sight; one could only wonder who had wronged the infamous organization this time, and pray the lot wouldn't fall on them.

Someone sure was out of their luck today.

You tried to ignore the not so subtle gazes the citizens threw you as you walked past them, though understanding their curiosity.

It was the first public appearance of the rumoured 12th Harbinger, after all.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you tried to distract yourself by focusing on the scenery. It had been over a month since you'd last set foot outside the palace grounds, but Snezhnaya's beauty never faltered...

At some point, you got a bit lost in thought.

Dottore's lazy comment, however, caught your attention.

"Now then, I've heard some interesting things about that Pyro Vision of yours…"

Pantalone smiled, as if oblivious.

You sighed. "Well, that's unsurprising. From Scaramouche, I reckon."

"Tsk, you have so little imagination." The Doctor clicked his tongue. "Then, allow me to ask you... How long do you think the oldest one of my segments has been around? Or, how efficiently all these clones are capable of gathering information? Or, how much more I can figure out just by knowing a few things about you?"

"Such roundabout hints, Doctor."

"What he's trying to say, of course," Pantalone chimed in, "is that the Second of the Harbingers has many... unconventional ways of finding out what his curiosity desires."

You sighed, "and he shares everything with you, because why not?"

Not very surprising.

It was granted that your secrets were never going to remain hidden from them forever, and frankly speaking, you didn't care. Pierro was already aware of every scandalous detail there was to your past anyway, so was there a reason for you to be so reticent about it?

Well, certainly not anymore...

but it was still a tad too early to completely let your guard down either!

A weird silence filled the air for a while, probably making the lower ranks behind you a bit uncomfortable.

But since Pantalone and Dottore didn't pursue on the topic, you thought, 'why should I either?'

Yet they obviously expected you to.

"Then," you sighed, giving in, "I assume you want to ask me about something? My Visions, no doubt."

Pantalone patted your head, "Only if our little Harbinger wouldn't deem it prying."

"I do, but go ahead."

Knowing them to be exceedingly shrewd characters, manipulating others so effortlessly, you realized these two could have easily lead you into a trap here. But somehow, this subtle controlling was always done gently enough not to hurt you.

And they never would, surely.

One way or another, though, they always found out what they wanted...

Pantalone gestured the Fatui agents to put some distance between them and the three of you - was it courtesy, or maybe... protectiveness? Either way, it would prevent bothersome rumours about your past from spreading any further, so you gave him an appreciative smile.

Dottore was walking leisurely with his hands behind his back, giving you sidelong glances.

"Then, tell me, Y/N - why do you think Celestia grants Visions so heedlessly? Why is it that even some of the strongest individuals never receive one?"

The vapor from your breath formed clouds in the cold air as you took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Well, I can only speak for myself. I've always been ambitionless and ran away from all my problems rather than facing them. So, thinking back, I never should've received a Vision in the first place, fake or not."

You sighed, "Rosalyne, on the other hand... I think she had every right to get a blessing from those crafty deities. She was assertive, gifted - a bit of a diva at times - but somewhere beneath lied a gentle soul."

And here you were again, talking about her; she haunted you when she was alive, and haunted you as dead.

Pantalone raised an eyebrow. "My, I've never heard anyone say such things about the Fair Lady?"

Dottore, too, seemed reluctant to accept these praises you directed at your sister, as he'd only seen her as a shallow, crude woman.

"Don't get me wrong, though," you commented, "she was no saint..."

"But?"

You shrugged, "...nor was I."

The two Harbingers had quietly moved closer to you, now walking on your both sides. You only noticed this when their arms slightly brushed against yours.

"After my father created this... thing and gave it to me, and how I greedily accepted it, I always wondered if we had angered the gods so thoroughly that they didn't grant my sister a Vision out of pure spite."

Pantalone brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Perhaps... you shouldn't be so merciless toward yourself."

"I'm not. Rosalyne and I were very similar, after all."

Dottore raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"We both wanted what we felt we deserved - power, attention... acceptance. I don't know whose yearning was greater, but neither one of us settled for any less. So, I tied a manmade Vision on my hips, and Rosalyne left to study the art of liquid fire in the Akademiya; the divine refused to acknowledge us, so we searched for our due elsewhere."

Pantalone stroked his chin, seemingly amused. "Well, what a pair of blasphemous sisters?"

"However," the Doctor chuckled, "what you did surely made those self-important gods grit their teeth in frustration. I find such heresy quite commendable. Bravo, truly~"

"And then you went and became a Fatui Harbinger," Pantalone sighed. "Poor Celestia, they couldn't shackle you..."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at their comments.

"Though, I am curious about one thing," Pantalone continued. "You said Celestia 'rejected' you, yet here you are, with a bona fide Cryo Vision? Isn't that a sign that the gods did, in fact, accept you?"

It was something you'd been wondering ever since that day as well...

And the lamentable conclusion was this:

"Perhaps Celestia just took pity on me. Or, perhaps the Vision was intended as a warning."

"A warning?" Pantalone smiled eerily. "For what reason exactly, my dear?"

To keep your mouth shut?

To not cross such lines ever again?

And yet... "That's a story for a later time," you told them as well, smiling.

Dottore and Pantalone were adept at concealing how they really thought and felt about things, so you couldn't quite decipher their reactions to your cryptic words.

Still, a fleeting sentiment had flashed across their faces - resentment, perhaps. Not toward you, though.

Suddenly, they both stopped walking.

You took a few steps more before noticing and stopping as well, glancing at them over your shoulder.

"Well, would you look that? Time flies so pleasantly with Y/N around." Pantalone checked his pocket watch. "It seems we're here a bit early."

...and where was 'here', exactly?

It looked like a small, secluded village, somewhat. There were no proper houses, just some dilapidated cottages and cabins, and only a few of them. The people outside, wearing clothes way too ragged and light for this type of weather, had quickly fled inside once seeing the Fatui had arrived.

You knew there was a lot of poverty in rural Snezhnaya, but this was... well, it reminded you of the times when you'd struggled to get by as well - memories you'd rather never have had brought up again.

Dottore mumbled something about "these ones" being "too malnourished for test subjects" as he walked past you.

Pantalone had also went ahead with his subordinates, discussing some questionable economics that apparently concerned this place.

But you lingered behind them for a moment, lost in thought.

The people here have surely lost enough, so why choose to bring themselves even more misfortune by getting involved with the Fatui? I understand the way humans think less and less with every decade that passes...

Just now noticing that you hadn't followed them, the two Harbingers strode back to your side.

You quickly hid any remnant of hesitance from your face, giving them a smile.

"Time to prove myself, no?"

Dottore chuckled, "You don't seem too anxious about your first field mission, my little Harbinger, even though you don't know what's waiting up ahead..."

"Well," you sighed. "For the Tsaritsa, and all that... you know? And I reckon I've faced worse anyway."

"I'll ask you to elaborate on that some other time~ On a similar note," Pantalone mused, playing with your hair softly, "we all saw something in you that day, at the funeral, and it seems... you really won't disappoint us?"

You shrugged, "We should hope so."

And with their arms loosely linked around yours, the two Harbingers started leading you toward a particular cabin...

(to be continued)

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Hello! Saw your request was opened! Can I please request Record of Ragnarok Hades with Kanae Kocho!fem!reader headcanons? Thank you!

warning: spoilers from the manga, ooc.

Here it is! Sorry it took me so long to respond! Enjoy! :)

Let it be known that Persephone is and always will be Hades’ first love. 

Eons ago, he adored the tiny goddess of spring, and she returned those feelings wholeheartedly. But not even this witty, charming woman was willingly to change her entire life for him. How could she? She told him. How could I do such a thing when Mother still needs me?

Demeter wanted to always be in control. Not just over the seasons in Midgard and Valhalla, but her daughter’s life as well. Persephone was too precious to the harvest goddess, and she would be damned to give her child’s hand in marriage to someone like himself. 

A monster. 

That is the truth behind the myth surrounding Hades and Persephone: a passionate, yet brief romance. When it was over, he had come to accept his fate; forever alone, watching over the underworld with an iron fist. 

Just as a king would do. 

His interest in women faded with time, preferring to exert his energy into making sure his domain would thrive and there wasn’t a single cog out of place in the palace. Everyone and everything has a role to play, and by doing so accordingly, things will fall into place. Never love. 

When the Bifrost fell, demons began pouring through the fractured gates and into Valhalla, causing chaos everywhere. This catastrophic event gave rise to a fallen organization that had once combated them in Midgard many years ago, eradicating its progenitor and allowing the humans to finally live in peace. The Demon Slayer Corps. 

With its resurrection came a proposal that Hades knew Kaguya Ubuyashiki would not refuse. His family had been overseeing the organization for over a thousand years, no one knew its works as intimately as he and his predecessors. There is no one else who fit for the job as the head of the Demon Slayer Corps….but Ubuyashiki would sooner disband the Hashiras than assemble them to work for someone who operated from behind the shadows. 

The Hashiras, the kakushi, the medics….they were all his children. No one would control them like puppets. Hades’ respect for mortals was raised ever so slightly in that very moment with Kaguya Ubuyashiki in the wisteria gardens of his estate. 

Once negotiations were established, the Demon Slayer Corps laid its foundation in Valhalla. To show a sign of goodwill towards their new ‘business partner’,  the Ubuyashiki household elected a former Hashira to be the middle-man. Someone who will send information between both parties and coordinate meetings if needed. 

That person is [First Name] Kocho, known by her companions as the Flower Hashira. Although she had been offered a place in the ranks, she sweetly declined and opted to help from the shadows than the front lines. She wanted to live a peaceful afterlife with her sisters, if that is possible. 

In the beginning, Hades did not think much of the Flower Hashira beyond her excellent work ethic. She was professional, polite, and empathetic. This behavior was not extended towards him only, as he had initially expected due to being the lord of the underworld. 

She respected his subordinates, greeting them with a beaming smile and wishing them to have a pleasant day or helping someone with their workload. She followed the orders given to her, though if she had any concerns, she did not hesitate to say something once she had given permission to speak instead of raising her voice in a meeting. 

To his embarrassment, he fell for the Flower Hashira hard and quickly. Though…could someone blame him? 

The question now is…how could even approach this lovely mortal woman when she is fiercely protected by her younger sisters and an army of highly-trained demon exterminators? More importantly, how to not let his damned brother Zeus find out about it. It’d be one thing if it was Poseidon because the tyrant of the oceans knew how to keep his mouth shut, but Valhalla’s supreme god? Not bloody likely, that damned gossipmonger.

[overtaken-stream]

Chrollo Lucilfer.. the devil himself

0bserve And C0nnect

Chrollo Lucilfer x F!Hunter!Reader

I'm truly sorry to the person who requested the plot because I've lost the original request, so I have been going off on this from my memory! I deeply apologize! Also it's been a long time since I have watched hxh so if this seems ooc I'm sorry for that too!

Summary: The man feels both familiar and unknown, as if he exists in the space between memories and the midnight, his effortless charm draws you in so that just a single word from him sends you spiraling into a chasm beyond madness, beyond reason—into a place where no words can truly capture what you feel.

Warnings: incorrect mechanical stuff, mild tempering of memories, untidiness.

The door makes a clicking sound as you jammed the key into the keyway, twisting it and opening the gate to the comfort of your own house. Your legs tremble as you step inside the abandoned apartment. Every breath you take is loud in the stillness of the room, like the melodies of bugs in the company of the midnight sky. The planks creak under your weight as you slowly make your way toward the bedroom, if one might call it that. You don't often see the familiar tears of dull wallpaper. Each room is devoid of a human presence. Your absence let the thin layer of dust cover each surface your eyes can see. It's not your main source of worry. The untidiness does not compare to your most shameful traits.

Quiet drips continue to fall on the metal sink, unbeknownst to your consciousness.

Nudging the door open, you're met with the sight of a mattress tossed on the ground, dented in a place where one might sit, the color worn away, just as you'd left it.

On top of it rests a closed piece of technology, a futile computer and you barely take in the sight of a tiny Ladybug USB tossed unconcernedly, the haze of liqour still in your system. The blanket is on the floor, soaking in the liquid leaking from a place only you could find it. Its clear base covering the wooden floor boards.

To anyone else it's a mess they couldn't find the beggining or the end of, to you it's a masterpiece that ever was.

Countless wires lead from it to a wall opposite the bed, and the quiet hum of hard disks and fans fills the air.

You move to sluggishly grab the USB and then take careful steps towards one of the two brains that the computer holds, remaining mindful of the wires you wouldn't want to pull. You've done this innumerable times, to the point that you can do it with your eyes closed. Perhaps a reason for this habit is the fact that ever since you built it you've never tried to move anything out of place.

No amount of intoxication can make you forget the layout of this room.

The soles of your shoes stick to the ground so everytime you take a step you can't help but grimace at the obnoxious and the disgusting sound of two different surfaces seperating.

Drip.

You get in an awkward crouching position next to the core, sticking the USB between the wall and the massive fan inside, your hands instinctively find the hidden opening.

The design of your masterpiece does not need eyes for the builder to use. The hidden crevices between metal and deadly operating systems are your playground, unlike someone who might try something.

Plugging in the USB, you sigh out the air you were withholding.

Drip.

You slugglishly make your way over to where the makeshift screen is, instructing and letting the information be sucked out and stored in the USB.

All it needs is a minute now.

Drip.

You've always known what led you to work in this profession, work in a field next to Hunters and the bottom of the barrel alike.

Every job has it's pros and cons. It just so happened that the upside to being an info-broken is the financial side, a river of money that never truly slows down and only continues forward, info-brokers such as you have to catch each banknote with a rod and a hook.

If you take a gamble you might even be able to pull out a cash strip if you're lucky.

For some, the risk of losing a livelihood is a horrifying thought, and they can't be blamed for disagreeing with the gray morality and equal exchange of this world. For you, though, the risk and money are different sides of the same golden coin.

So why don't people try their luck for once in their miserable lives?

You can't be intimidated by a couple of eyes that follow and observe your every movement, not now anyway. Years ago, you got used to them pretty quickly, made the uncomfortable gazes your turf. You won't be intimidated.

What you're doing now is just speeding up the job, wishing for it to end quickly before the case got too out of your hands.

Drip.

Many long for your sufforage, however they could never murder a valuable source of information such as you.

Including whoever was it that followed you in the bar an hour or so ago.

Drip.

You never seem ready during these situations.

A soft beep makes you snap out from the screen, making your way over to the side and unplugging the USB you let the red colored technology rest in your palm, your eyes squeezing shut as you tightly grip it's surface. You can only hope that the protection the insect symbolizes graces you and the machine you've built.

Listening to the quiet hum of the machine, mouthing along with its robotic voice as it bids you farewell.

"M. O.

N. S.

T. E.

R. at youur servii-ce."

Multi-brained Omnipresent Network System, your masterpiece.

You need a window for your next step.

(It's tough outpacing polished criminals in this day and age.)

Walking out of the room and into the kitchen, listening to the stomach-twisting noise comings from the sticky oil on your shoes, you grab at the handle, pulling back the glass and setting the tiny machine on the glass.

pressing one of the digits on a singular black dot on the USB, you watch as it snaps its wings out of hiding before softly flying to its destination.

It's only a harmless little Ladybug now.

The tap drips as you drag your feet to a wooden chair, the sound echoing in your mind. Now in an almost sober state, you sit down on it with a groan like that of an elderly man. A sigh leaves your lips as your head tilts back toward the ceiling, where the damp patches are still visible. How is it that the neighbor above still hasn't had their pipes fixed, despite it being the subject of complaints for almost a decade before your visits to this apartment became rare?

You'll have to move soon, judging from how much Jenny's one job can get you—maybe a comfortable three-bedroom apartment for you and all the extra projects you can't bring yourself to deem useless. It would be hell to reconnect MONSTER, or to rebuild it in a different house.

"Such a hassle..." Your eyes remain half-closed, the invisible mist of sleepiness overcomes your being.

(This ordeal is no joke. It would have elicited a reaction from you and left you agasp at the hands of those who watched you today, if only you weren't so drained and surrendered to laziness.)

That is, if your goddess of luck blesses you with another day to live after this encounter... Your choice to bring a double aged sword to a gun fight is a miscalculation that makes you regret ever trying the Hunters exam in the first place.

Drip.

Perhaps this is the worst decision you've made, no this is definitely the worst decision you've made. Letting in an unknown man in your house who claims to be called by your neighbor to check out the broken pipes and practically dig your own grave has never felt this stretched out nor this mentally draining.

(Build Yourself A House Out Of Straw)

You're left to watch his back as he meddles with the pipes under the tap. He's built for agility and strength, muscles showing for moments as he moves his arms and therefore flexes his shoulder. He is no pipefitter.

And you are no fool.

Leaning against the entrance with your arms crossed, you answer any questions he may have, keeping your responses brief and tight-lipped under his hidden sidelong glance. The way he talks is interesting, his expressions are unshackled as he touches on the topic of your neighbor.

"How long has this been going on? The leak is quite bad."

"For a while." You haven't been living here, and there's not a single timeline in this universe where your lazy neighbor actually called someone to fix his pipes, and what are the chances that you happened to be in your house when the plumber knocked on the door. The coincidences aren't believable.

He is natural, a professional at his job. Any unsuspecting prey may fall into his trap without even knowing it was there in the first place. He is ordinary to the point of suspicion. He is unnatural.

Thieves aren't known for their patience; you're dealing with someone worse. There's a chance you've already interacted with him, though your gut tells you that you might not have been on the same side.

Your hooded eyes watch as he stands to his feet, turns toward you, and lets you get a good look at his face. The black eyes and dark hair would do him well to blend in with the shadows. The clothes seem ordinary and well-maintained, the kind that no one truly likes to wear. His facial features are as sharp as his jaw, captivating for maidens such as you.

"Would you mind if I take a look at the bathroom?" You squint at the thick wraps around his forehead. Familiar, very familiar. Attractive too.

"Sure." Was any effort put in a disguise?

You're not sure of the reason he'd want to see your bathroom, but what do you have to lose? That room ain't anything special.

You hear his footsteps following as you turn and lead the way. His lack of reaction to the untidiness is another suspicious behavior.

"Have you not been in the house, miss?" You stop in the hallway, lightly turning your head until his face is visible. The man who gave you the probably-false name remains unbothered, unjudgemental despite his question. He seems to be thinking, eyes pointing downwards as he silently follows.

"No, I haven't." You continue to trudge along the familiar walls. He is as quiet as a cat, his footsteps making no noise, similar to the paws of a calculating feline, his eyes ghost over and soak in everything in view. He remains behind you, out of sight.

The man lowers his gaze to a single door that you didn’t bat an eye at, passing by it without breaking your stride. The smell of oily odor is stronger now that he is closer to the source. It’s incredible how you don’t seem to be in hiding. He quickly returns his gaze to your back, he no longer needs to arouse any more suspicion, so he keeps up with you.

The smell is nostalgic, reminding him of the unpleasantness that clings to him and that place from the past. It seems that you are used to the metallic odor, no doubt, spending time with such technology does that to a person, numbing their valuable senses so these meager details. If you knew him, truly had him memorized, prioritized, you would not have opened the door. You would have slipped through the window and ended up in his hands all the same.

The troupe left no way for you to evade him.

There's only one word to describe a man such as him: beautiful. Beautiful in a way one might consider a dark, chilling forest, or a black-feathered crow that brings a bad omen with the flap of its wings. Similar to a redback spider, his beauty is poisonous. His bite is worse than his bark, his venom makes you sweat at the red wound and spill your pain along with your sanity. He possesses all the charm and resources needed to ensnare his victims, leaving them helpless in his web of deceit.

(Let It Be Blown Away By A Wolf)

His beauty is alluring, much like elements of nature that can captivate yet harm. It makes you salvate, the itch that his unassuming clothes leave is impossible to ignore. On the surface, he is naught but a simple worker, one who wishes to get paid quickly as he twist the pipes and steps away from the source of his curiosity hidden behind a washed down door. You're sure he must have his assumptions, however the man doesn't act on it. It's the only fact that gives you some security under his observing gaze.

He's good at hiding in plain sight.

It's exhausting just waiting for him to come out.

You've never been a good host to the guests anyway.

Thieves can only uphold a half-assed disguise for so long before curiosity will get the best of them.

It's unclear even to you whether you expected to be locked in the bathroom. You know that a thief's fingers are nimble and light, it wouldn't take much for him to lock the door handle behind you and disappear into the smoke. They would buy time for whatever crime they're planning to commit. Besides, it's not like you own anything luxurious, except MONSTER. But even then, its system doesn't have gold and emeralds embedded inside, not to mention that you programmed the network to be understood only by you. Whatever information he might be after won't be found because, first, you haven't gathered it, and second, the network isn't designed to retain any digital information for this exact reason.

(And Watch It Be Burned)

If he's not after any information, well, MONSTER is made of junk from that horrid place. You had to rebuild and redesign any purchased parts to avoid raising suspicion. Overall, MONSTER doesn't cost much (technically, it shouldn't cost any money), but if the man decides to destroy it for whatever reason, you wouldn't be too affected. Its messy blueprints are safe and sound somewhere far from this apartment, the heartache would only come from the time you spent building your masterpiece.

But no, he doesn't make his move yet, only staring and meddling with the pipes present, forcing the stillness and anxious mood onto you.

You try not to look too intensely at his face, half hidden by the hair and the bandages on his forehead. It's quite a ridiculous detail that makes him stand out, it makes you think that maybe you are still somewhat drunk, otherwise why would you want to speak more to this beast in here's den?

"Those bandages." He hums in acknowledgement and you can't hold back your smirk, so instead your hand comes up to hide it away.

"You slipped and hit your head or something?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." His tone was... Unnaturally lighthearted.

Perhaps you were the one who slipped and hit your head, because this is no place for jokes.

Your eyes glance at the forgotten place, swiftly moving to the mirror before the man moves to stand.

You have to give him credit, because in the aftermath that lasted for only a second, the weak shield you've put up shatters as if it never existed.

He holds the door open before lightly bowing.

"Ladies first." And you turn your back to him, there's no going back now.

There's a sense of dread as you wake, your mind immediately going haywire, searching for the last moments as if the memories have slipped through your fingers as you tried to grasp them. An itch crawls beneath your skin, and the goosebumps make it uncomfortable for you to stand on the thick oil coating the floor.

(Into Ashes)

"Are you aware that the neighbors below have been complaining about a mysterious liquid leaking from this room for quite some time?"

No. No, you are not aware, because you haven't been living here.

The man in front of you has his back turned, staring at your masterpiece, captivated by its brilliance. Yet, despite this, his commanding presence holds your attention, stealing the answers from your mind.

"Such work you've put into this. Neither my abilities nor Shalnark have been able to figure it out."

You can’t see clearly through the numb feeling settling in your gut. You can’t tell if he's caressing the screen or even looking at it—his presence in this room is too confusing, almost as if he doesn't belong.

"Tell me how did you do it?" You try not to get hang up on his tone.

You can't help but feel pride at his fascination. After all this time, you finally have the satisfaction of someone else complimenting your life's work. It brings a feeling beyond euphoria—a sensation like standing in the sunset, letting its warmth wash over you before the sunshine disappears for hours. It's the peace of sitting on a balcony after a long day of research, gazing at the hanging constellations in the dark blue sky.

You search for an answer, your tongue swiping across the inside of your cheek. Yet, as his torso turns toward you, your mind fixates on one thing, or maybe a couple of things, the slick dark hair, the orb earrings framing his long face, and the tattoo of a cross—an unusual detail you wouldn’t find on the average person. His sense of fashion isn't impressive, but his captivating physique makes up for it. Lastly, your eyes linger on his mouth, the corners tilted upward in a quiet smile as he waits for your answer. His smile, you'd say, is beautiful.

"How did I do it?" you repeat, but he doesn't confirm.

"... Why don't I..." Your tongue tastes iron as you swallow nervously, flustering you further. Your heartbeat quickens as you open your mouth again.

He seems like the kind of man who would enjoy a cup of tea.

"Inform you of that... on a date?" You can tell he wasn’t expecting it. No normal person would expect such a question at this moment, though he shows no visible surprise.

"I'll tell you everything about it."

You eyes gloss over a crushed red bug held between his middle finger and his thumb.

Covering your red cheeks becomes the priority.

[wolfish-trickster]

Unknown, Uni, Us

University AU

Choso x female!reader

1/?

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: After entering university and taking down your rose tinted glasses you saw how ugly your highschool friends' personalities really were. You even start to think you'll spend the rest of your university life all alone. Little did you know you caught the eye of a quiet goth guy with a reputation. Will your heart be ever able to trust someone, anyone, again?

Warnings: typos, angst, fluff, slowburn, slow beginings, slightly ooc

Taglist: no one yet

'Aminoacid,' was your first thought of the day. You'd be surprised if it wasn't to be honest. You wasted an entire sunny weekend studying organic chemistry. Not that you had any test or anything. You just knew that sooner or later you would've have to sit down and study it. And since you didn't have any plans you decided to hit the books now.

As usual, you woke up slightly before your alarm clock. You stretched for your phone and turned it off before it can wake anyone up. You were one of the lucky people that were born in the same city as their dream university so you decided to save time and energy and stayed with your parents. Not that you had any other place to stay, really.

After couple of minutes in the bathroom and packing your lunch you had made last night into your bag you put on a warm coat, plugged your ears with earphones and left the house. Streets were dark and mostly lonely. It was december. 5.50 am. You cursed whoever came up with having a class this early. Especially when the sun wasn't even up yet. Even though you would've done anything to be back in your warm bed you still appreciated the atmosphere. Leafless trees with their branches curled and twisted like claws ready to snatch you, slight fog hovering above the empty road, yellow streetlamps softly illuminating everything around dressing the whole scenery into an orange coat.

It wasn't long till you reached the tram taking you straight to the school. As always, it was empty. Meaning you could sit wherever you wanted with no disturbances whatsoever. In fear of sleeping through your stop you blasted the music into full maximum and forced your eyes to look out the window. Everything was so quiet and still. Only this one week and then you have holidays when you can study for your finals all you want. If only it snowed tho.

After mere 30 minutes the tram announced your stop. You hopped off and walked upstairs, along a pavement, more stairs and finally through the main gate. The inside of the school mirrored the outside. Nobody there. Just you.

The entire school consisted of four interconnected buldings with the entrance being in the second one. Your class was in the third one on the third floor. A long way to go in these morning hours. You still had around 8 minutes so you were fine.

However after making it to the correct room the door was locked. Weird, it's usually opened with the professor already waiting and taking attendance. You looked around the hall but it didn't look like anyone else was comming. You checked your phone. The class should start- THREE MINUTES AGO?

You were confused beyond belief. This was your first year here but you knew your professors enough already to know they are never late. Not this one at least. There must be an explanation.

You turned on your phone data and went to check your mail. Sure enough, the professor sent a mail last night saying the class is off. And not only for your group but all groups. You knew of at least two more groups who had this class at the same time as yours, just in a different room.

"Seriously man?" you groaned and slowly made your way downstairs. Going back home would be a waste of time. Staying here and taking a nap on some couch is the only option for right now.

Your only luck was that you will have the so called "chill zone" all to yourself. You took your sweet time walking into the second building again and dropping yourself onto the biggest couch like a sack of potatoes. The sun just started to rise and it already cleaned out some of the morning fog.

You stretched and took off your coat. Now only to figure out what to do in the meantime. Sleeping is out of the question. So is playing on the phone. You can't let your battery die half way through the day again.

The only option currently on your mind is to sketch. You pulled out your chemistry notebook, found an empty page and as you were about to pull oit your beloved mechanical pen you heard footsteps. You froze but then relaxed. What if it's just a professor going to his own class? Or a cleaner doing her job? You have to stop being this paranoid.

However it wasn't a professor or a cleaner. From right around the corner a messy bedhead of a hair along with its owner showed up and sat not too far from you on the couch. Your heartbeat picked up on speed. You knew this guy. Not personally, you've seen him on bunch of your classes since he was a fellow freshman. Rumor was going around that he murdered his own brother. Some say it was an accident, some claim it was intentionally.

Either way, he looked scary enough for you to slowly shuffle to the very corner of the couch. Why was he here? Did he not see the mail as well?

He turned his head to you and you quickly looked away.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," you greeted back.

Silence. An awkward long silence.

You decided to break it. "You didn't see the email either, did you?"

He shook his head.

"Yeah, me neither."

Another silence. Why did he greet you if he didn't have any intentions of talking with you in the first place. Anyways, you took few deep breaths and decided to not let him bother you. You pulled out your trusty mechanical pencil and started sketching whatever came to your mind.

You were so concentrated on your work you almost didn't hear him.

"Sorry?"

"I asked what are you studying," he repeated.

"Oh, um," tell him the truth or lie? You chose truth. "Actually I'm not studying," i turn around my notebook to show him some doodles among the notes you took during class, "just killing time."

He looked at them and hummed. "They're not so bad."

"Thanks," you answer timidly and continue on. However another of his comment stops you.

"Do you draw often?"

"Not really, just when I'm bored."

You would've loved to continue the conversation but you just didn't know how. Ask him what he does when he's bored? Yeah, that sounds good.

"Do you-"

"Why are-" he said at the same time.

"Oh sorry I-"

"No, it's fine, you can go on. What were you saying?"

"Well," you took a breath in, "I was about to ask you if you have anything you like to do when you're bored."

"Oh," he said and stayed silent for a while. You started to panic. Did you say something wrong?

After a while he replied. "I like to listen to music mainly. But that's about it."

Now this can be turned into a conversation. "Really? What genre? Do you have a favourite band?"

He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you can guess both of them," he pointed at his hoodie. There was a logo all across the front. BTH. Is that?

"YOU LISTEN TO BRING ME THE HORIZON?" you said louder than intended and quickly covered your mouth. "Sorry," you squeeled a little to high and cringed at yourself.

He waved his hand. "It's fine, no one's here anyways. I'm surprised you know them. No offense but you don't really look like the type to listen to it."

"Yeah, I hear that a lot."

And once again an unwanted awkward silence came back. Thankfully it didn't last long.

"Are you a freshman here as well? I noticed your chemistry notes."

You glanced at your still opened notebook. "Yeah, I am. And so are you."

"Yeah. My name's Choso by the way," he said and extended his hand for you to shake.

You smiled and took it. "Y/N."

His hand was bigger than yours, warmer than yours and he had rough palms. You're not so sure if you wanted to know from what though. Either way, it has been so long since you've experience any kind of touch or intimacy that this skin to skin contact sent shivers down your spine.

To your silent disappointment he let your hand go.

"How did your organic chemistry midterms go?" He asked oit of the blue.

"Uhm, first one 80% and second 69%. Why?"

He nodded. "You're smart then. I barely scored above the minimum required," he chuckled an rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you have any lifehacks to srudying or any advice to help me pass finals?"

"Well," you thought for a while. "Nothing really. Just keep writing the sequences over and over and over again. Learn the patterns. Otherwise it's just memorizing. I won't be much of a help, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. At least I asked," he lened back on the couch and you felt like the conversation was over. Was it? You don't want it over. Wait, you don't? This is the guy who had murder rumour going around about him. Ah, screw it.

"Wait," you said and flipped through the notebook while Choso turned his torso towards you again, "here. I wrote down all patterns. It's basically a summary of all classes we took up until now. If you want you can take a picture. Maybe it will help you study."

Choso's mouth turned upwards slightly. "Thanks."

He took the notebook from you and took some pictures. It felt nice. As if you two were friends.

Jnfortunately you two didn't talk more. But you felt like neither of you minded. You weren't the one to talk too much anyways, and he didn't look like the chatty type either.

Time passed, the sun got higher and the space around you got more and more crowded.

You checked the clock on your phone. "Well, i better get going. My next class is in a different building," you collected your things and stood up.

As did he. "Yeah, mine too. Mind if i tag along?"

"Nope, not at all."

As expected the journey to the front of the auditorium was quiet. You didn't mind anymore. The main thing was that he was nice to you. You chuckled to yourself. How low did you go to be grateful for people to be polite to you.

"What's made yoj laugh?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just irony of life."

"Care to share?" He asked again with a kind of a flirtatious smile.

You waved your hand. "Maybe later."

He nodded.

You smiled at him. Is this a new friendship you see? Your almost happy mood got suddenly ruined by a familiar figure already waiting infront of your destination. Once she saw you her eyes lit up and walked towards you. "Heeey, long time no see."

You put on a smile. "Yeah, hi. How have you been?"

"Oh just awful, you remember that bitch from class 3C back jn highschool, well she-"

"I don't."

"Well doesn't matter, point is she unfollowed all of us on instagram!"

You stared at her. "So?"

"So? What do you mean so?"

"What i mean is none of us ever talked to her anymore so makes sense she would unfollow."

Your friend folded her arms. "She's still a bitch for that. And if you only saw what kind of tiktoks she's posting. A total NPC behaviour."

Choso cleared his throat. "I guess I'll be going then."

You mentally cursed her for ruining your new blossoming friendship. "No, it's okay. You usually sit alone right? You can sit with me today, if you want. Stella over here usually sits with her group."

"Hey, don't try to get rid of me. All of us can sit together! By the way I'm Stella."

Choso nodded. "Choso."

The professor showed up earlier than usual and unlocked auditorium. Every student started to jam themselves into the front, as if all the seats will get taken. You didn't mind. You took your time and waited till the chaos in the front calmed down. Choso stood beside you.

Suddenly you felt his breath brush your ear. "Who's that Stella girl?"

So he's taken an interest in her now? Stella isn't exactly ugly, a little plump with long dark wavy hair and just enough makeup to enhance her features. If only he knew what kind of a snake she can be.

"She's my highschool classmate."

"Nothing more than that? No friend or anything?"

"Why are you asking?"

Choso shrugged. "You tensed up when she spoke to us."

You quickly turned to look at him, surprise in your eyes.

He put his index finger to his lips. "I won't tell her. She seems like she conciders you a good friend."

You gulped. "Well I wished she didn't," you looked away. You shook your head and hugged yourself as a comfort. "It's a long story."

He didn't say anything. Just put his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you with him towards the entrance door to the auditorium. The class was starting.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

911 Season 7 Critique

This is a long post. If you don’t make it to the end, I totally understand.

I know we all have lots of feelings about this season and most of what I’ve read from others in the fandom here on tumblr has been overwhelmingly positive, but I have serious and persistent concerns. Here me out, if you’re willing and able.

This entire season something about 911 has felt off for me in a big way. I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what the problem was until recently. All I knew was that season 7 was weird out the gate. Now I finally think I have something coherent to say about this season now that it’s over. The whole season’s main plot(s) have been overblown and overworked. All season long, the characters have felt bodysnatched by extraterrestrials being just similar enough to our beloved characters to not raise total alarm - at least initially - but different enough to snatch some epic side-eye outta me. Then ep 4 happened and the whole time I was a mix of elated and confused. Anybody who’s been paying attention for the last 7 years knows that Buck is queer so that wasn’t the shocker. For me, it was the way everything went down in ep 4 with the characters that felt heavy-handed and untrue to who they are. The weird strange bizarreness through the season just kept on coming like a freight train with no breaks or relief. By the finale I was scratching my head and kinda irritated because the tiny bit of actual character work that we saw over the course of the season was odd as hell and now it’s over and I’m not really excited about much of anything that’s supposed to be coming in s8. The characters feel too ooc and the plots feel too uncharacteristic of 911. Like for a bit there I thought I was watching Days of Our Lives meets Miami Vice meets The Walking Dead, and that’s not what I signed up for with 911.

Season 7 left me earnestly wondering: Where are the family feels, the tight bonds, the heartfelt connections, the vulnerable conversations, the healing community that is the 118, the fucking togetherness? Everyone feels like they are adrift and alone without the found family support that they enjoyed in previous seasons. This season has been a trauma fest with little to no emotional payoff. Drama for its own sake. Problems resurrected, rehashed, blown way out of proportion, repackaged, and sold as authentic current issues. This season I felt like I was watching a completely different show.

Yes we are on a new network. Yes Tim is back. Yes a bit of shake up can be good. But this doesn’t feel like a good shake up. I feel like I’m being jerked around for sport. Like past BS is being thrown in my face instead of laid on the table and worked through by the characters that I know and love. Season 7 was mostly just trauma porn and I did not enjoy it.

Yes we could argue that Tim is trying to grab the attention of new viewers on a new network. But honestly that kind of feels like a cop-out explanation given what he delivered. If I were new to this show, I would not feel like I have any idea who these characters are beyond the wild crap that happens to them. I feel like I know more about how to sink a cruise ship or how to traverse the desert than I do about how the characters relate and connect with one another.

As someone who’s watched 911 from the very beginning live and in real time, the plotting, pacing, and character choices in season 7 feel like Tim is putting on a show instead of telling stories. Shows are a wacky wild ride with little cohesion and/or progress; characters take a backseat to whatever the ptb can cook up for the weekly plot. Stories center characters and what’s happening to them is processed by them and moves their arcs along in mostly coherent ways. A show is ‘shit happens’. A story is ‘shit happens TO ME AND I DEAL WITH IT in ways that show the audience who I am and what matters to me’’.

Maybe season 8 will feel more like a story since it won’t be a truncated season, and season 7 has reintroduced people to - aka dredged up long-past but somehow present again - character issues. I don’t know. I hope season 8 is more coherent, character-focused, and progress/healing-oriented like previous seasons have been. Honestly the show has been running too long to act like rehashing the past over and over again is enough to carry it for 7 more seasons.

Anyway, my specific concerns with season 7 are below the cut.

The main plots have just been hilariously bad. Soap opera levels of wtaf.

The cruise ship disaster had pirates, cheaters, and poorly-developed conflicts between lovers all of which (mostly) came out of the thin blue sea air and/or were handled in incredibly ooc ways. MIssing groom because of viral encephalitis. Hospital wedding like its a good thing and preferable to the warm fuzzies that Madney deserved. Long-dead wife put on such a high pedestal by Eddie that she walks the earth once more. Bobby chasing a random man from his past into the desert to say/do what exactly? All while mixing it up with a literal Mexican cartel. A desert crossing complete with traumatic flashbacks, a car crash, and a makeshift stretcher. (Bobby should have left Amir where he was after the crash and just walked the mile to the road without him in tow. But instead he slowed himself down and risked sunstroke in the process. That was a drama choice made by the writers, not a paramedic/firefighter choice made by the character.) Post-house fire Bobby’s heart stops for 14 whole ass minutes and he wakes up fine and perky as meringue. Athena Grant choosing cold-blooded vengeance over holding vigil for her allegedly dying husband. Racist and misogynistic Gerard returning for absolutely no narrative or character-related reason at all, at least not for one that couldn’t be more effectively accomplished by some/any other means.

The women have been side-lined in their own stories, and/or their characters altered in problematic ways.

Hen dismissed the councilwoman’s son in the season’s opening arc and ignored his potential injuries because he was being an asshole. A lesser paramedic would do that, but NOT our Hen. Also that plot point was unrealistic af because if someone is not in their right mind to make a life-saving decision for themselves, like in the case of intoxication, medical personnel can ethically treat them anyway. It was such a weird plot/character choice to Hen use that guy’s intoxication as a reason NOT to treat him when it’s actually a great reason to go ahead and check him out. She should have and would have worked the problem (poised and professional) instead of storming off in a huff (emotion-driven and unethical) because that guy was being a dick. Hen is not easily unsettled, nor is she unprofessional!

Hen and Karen were oddly clueless about Mara’s trauma and the fact that it was actively relevant to her behavior when they took her in, despite the fact that they have fostered several children at this point in the story. They considered “returning her” before they considered the trauma factor. Unreal. Our Hen and Karen were not born yesterday, are no strangers to hard times with foster kids, and have hearts the size of the 7 seas. This writing choice made no sense to me and made Hen and Karen feel like extraterrestrials to me. Ignorant ones at that. In the finale, Hen didn’t tell Karen she was going to see Mara. Like. Why? They talk about everything. Hen claimed it’s because Karen would have tried to stop her but we all know that would have been a half-hearted comment while she put her shoes on and grabbed her purse. No. Hen and Karen are partners and they act like it. The one woman show era between them has been over for a while. Especially when it comes to their family.

Athena and Bobby had a conversation at the end of season 4 about cutting each other out and leaving each other emotionally stranded and since then have been actively committed to communicating and staying a team. So what the hell was that vibe between them on the cruise. Athena was evasive and weird the whole time and in the most banal gender stereotyped way possible. In addition, Tim seems obsessed with women as damsels in distress this season which is not and has never been Athena’s vibe. Even with the Jeffrey arc in season 5 while she coped with the trauma of that encounter, she displayed agency. So I’ll never understand her indirect approach to dealing with Bobby running off to ‘Step 9’ Amir or her decision to turn right around and talk to Amir about Bobby instead of talking to Bobby directly. Athena is a direct person, especially about her family. She cuts to the quick and gets to the heart of things. The drama I needed was Bathena working through Athena’s fears for Bobby and Bobby working through his trauma/recovery with Athena…not a Mexican cartel and shenanigans in the desert. Then there was the way Harry talked to Athena when she discovered that he ran away from Miami. Athena’s response to Harry would have been understanding but corrective. She wouldn’t have stood there and let him disrespect her. Not in a million lifetimes. She also wouldn’t have left her allegedly dying husband at the hospital to reenact a revenge plot from some B movie. Plus what was up with her blaming herself for Amir supposedly burning the house down, and her doing no police work to puzzle out what happened? She just went on an emotion-fueled rampage. That’s not how Athena operates. Remember her namesake, goddess of WISDOM and warfare. Come on bffr.

Maddie. Oh where do I even start. From ep 1 she was treated like a means to an end instead of the first responder former nurse badass that she is. This whole season, she comes across as ‘just another dispatcher’ instead of the focused problem-solver and active agent that we know her to be. Prior to season 7 Maddie would have had her thinking cap fully on right along with Hen in the first episodes as they worked out a way to get in touch with the cruise ship. Calling Tommy could have even been Maddie’s idea since Chim and Tommy are still in touch but Hen and Tommy don’t seem to be. Then there was the whole Maddie hearing what she expected to hear with the abuse victim on that one call. Like. What?! This is not Maddie’s first rodeo, she is not easily unsettled, and she’s a damn professional. She would have done what she had to do to emotionally regulate and help the woman in danger before she let herself ‘hear what she expected to hear’. Admittedly she would have cried the whole time because that’s JLH’s jam and she’s good at it but Maddie wouldn’t have fallen down so hard on the job (especially not after what happened in season 3 with Tara and Vincent). And the wedding stuff! Maddie was just watching and waiting instead of using what she knew about her partner in life Chim to deduce where he might go or what he might do. Instead of collecting information about their previous calls and how they might be playing into Chim’s disappearance, she was busy being insecure about whether Chim actually wanted to marry her. Mind you, Maddie was the one who was originally reticent about marrying again AND she’s the one who proposed to Chim. After all the drama with the ring, there is no world in which Maddie would have imagined Chim was running from her. She would have known something bad was up and that it had nothing to do with their love for one another. In the finale Maddie calls Chim to talk about Athena’s suss behavior but Maddie has more connections and professional wherewithal than just ‘call my husband he’ll know what to do’. She would have called the precinct and asked about 727-L-30 in a discreet way and put most of the pieces together herself and then actually sent Chim and Hen to stop her. And she would have been ready at a moment’s notice to call the cops on the rogue cop. The way that scene actually played out felt more like gossip on the high school bleachers than Maddie doing her actual job.

The relationships seem plain odd/ooc, distant, and/or superficial. Very few vulnerable emotional conversations happened and when they did they felt generic, shallow, and/or incomplete.

Bobby and Athena on the cruise. Athena just didn’t feel like herself because she refused to talk to Bobby. When they did finally talk it was when they were about to drown and it was more of a mini-therapy session for Bobby. After Amir was introduced, Bobby pulled away again and Athena let him. Then Athena chose to approach the traumatized stranger rather than have a talk with her own damn husband. When they finally confronted each other about that situation, she walked away from Bobby almost like she was punishing him for walking away first instead of them both leaning into the conversation as partners. Really? Bffr.

Buck and Eddie having a bro convo about womanizing in the early episodes of the season. The ‘hey pal please talk to my kid bro because you have experience with these issues’ rather than the all important ‘there’s no one in this world I trust with my son more than you’ vibes of it all. Eddie making limited eye contact with Buck and ignoring him in ep 4. Eddie’s physical demeanor in ep 4 being bro-ed up and distant. Yeah I know we can argue that was all from Buck’s perspective in the moment but that explanation seems insufficient to me because it was so extreme, and was kind of maintained in some ways throughout the season. The ‘i’m gonna maim my best friend’ energy of the bucktommy origin story despite the fact that buck is not violent at all and definitely not towards loved ones. (Tim seems determined to ruin everybody just enough to generate unnecessary and ooc drama.) Buck’s weird dudebro conversation with Eddie while on his date with Tommy as if the foundation of buck and eddie’s relationship has ever been conversations about women solely to assert their heterosexuality * facepalm emoji * The super textbook sterile coming out scene in ep 5 like these guys aren’t besties and don’t actually know each other deeply. I wanted that coming out scene to have 504 patio conversation energy, not whatever it was we got in 704. Like that coming out conversation could have played out the exact same with one of the no-name background firefighters at the 118 or with Connor or some other rando. It felt so impersonal to who they are and to their particular brand of vulnerable courageous conversations. Honestly even the hug in 704 was weird. I was happy to have it but it was still weird. The kitchen conversation in ep 9 at Eddie’s place felt odd and incomplete for buddie. We get queer sexual innuendo (‘skulking around my back door’), basic mutual acknowledgment of worry about the dead wife doppelganger, and that’s a wrap? Okay I guess * eyeroll emoji * Then we had the finale where Eddie is obviously losing his mind and Buck is just sitting on the arm of the couch like ‘i dunno what to tell you man’. Like they’ve never had a (chris) conversation before in their life. Like buck wouldn’t have been the one to VOLUNTEER to go talk to chris without eddie spelling it out. Like buck wasn’t the person who stayed with chris talked to him and took care of him when eddie got shot and when eddie lost his damn mind in 513. The buck in the finale was not the buck who did all those things. He was so bodysnatched it’s not even funny. Also, in what world would buck have snarked that chris can’t keep eddie out of his room??? Buck, my good sir, if eddie wanted to break down chris’ door he wouldn’t have called you over bc he can do that on his own without a consult. That scene felt ooc af plus the dialogue was just plain dumb.

Hen and Chim have barely had a meaningful friend moment this season. It’s mostly Hen razzing Chim, a polite smile, or nada. Let’s not even talk about the ‘betrayal’ in the beginning with the councilwoman’s son and then the deeply meaningless drama that ensued after. So much so that they commented on it in a joking way on the helicopter. That’s not how Hen and Chim roll. They give each other clear and unapologetic honesty at all times. Not the cold shoulder for sport which is what it felt like when Hen finally said she wasn’t actually mad. The gender and racial implications of how that played out are not lost on me. It felt like a 180 from how these characters normally interact in serious circumstances. Complete waste of time and invented drama for drama’s sake. I don’t blame Hen and Chim for that, like everything else I’ve mentioned in this critique of the season, it’s pure writing room weirdness.

Bobby’s locker room conversation with Buck in ep 9 was more like mentor-mentee than father-son. We’ve stated that as their dynamic several times but that’s not what we got in that locker room. They were standing several feet apart, Bobby and Buck smiled politely, no hug, no shoulder pat. Just textbook sterile ‘you’re okay kid’. Bobby could have given that speech to no-name firefighter number 12 and it would have felt the same.

You mean to tell me in the finale that Bobby was just gonna stroll back into work in uniform after quitting like nothing happened? Like he’s still employed. My good sir, you didn’t even call headquarters before showing up to be like ‘just kidding i want my job back’. You mean to tell me Buck and Ravi were at work, in uniform and clocked in, but didn’t already know Gerard was there? You mean to tell me Bobby was supposedly that allergic to having a real emotional/vulnerable conversation with literally anybody that he strolled into work WHEN HE NO LONGER WORKS THERE like he was gonna get to actually work??? I just can’t -

Anyway, this post is long af so if you made it to the end, thank you. Honestly, I'm still processing this season but as of now, in the words of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, “I take no leave of you, [Tim Minear]. I send no compliments to your [season 7 showrunner decisions]! You deserve no such attention! I am seriously displeased!”

[preservationofnormalcy]

OOC, are your characters okay to adapt write? (for my purposes it'd be a crossover fic)

Hey there! Those are really excellent questions that we’ve been talking about internally for a while.

Our official position is that we’re touched that y’all love this series enough to create fan works; it makes us super happy that this little thing we do has resonated with y’all. You can create any kinds of fanworks your heart desires! Cosplay, write fanfic, make fanart!

That being said, for legal reasons, we are not able to engage with certain things that overlap with areas of creativity within the main project; namely, fan posters (as that’s our main source of income with the OPN; we don’t want to either accidentally steal an idea or have an interesting poster design space gated off from us because a fan created one got there first) and fanfic, for much the same reason that, say, Neil Gaimen doesn’t read fanfic of his work. It’s just a whole lot less of a headache ethically and legally to have a policy in place.

So, tl;dr: you’re totally cool to create fanworks, but we at the OPN will not be engaging with or looking at fanworks beyond cosplay and fanart.

One more note, because we’ve gotten a few asks about this; you can also feel free to create your own OCs and RP within the space amongst yourselves, but we will not be canonizing OCs, and ask that you do not publicly RP as established characters like Jenny or Norm. Writing them is fine, but don't make blogs pretending to be them.

[bleachbrainrotbro]

Meet the Mun! (and the muses!)

Helloooo! My name is Astral, but you can call me Astro or Ashe! Even Astra works too :D

Names / Nicknames :

Astral / Astro / Astra / Ashe / Asty / Asta / Astro Boy Pronouns :

He / They / It / Xe / star / him / them / xem / star / his / theirs / xyrs / stars’ / himself / themself / itself / starself

Titles :

The unknown one / the darkest star / star’s shining moon / his body in space / they who venture beyond earth / they who float in deep galaxies / the astral adventurer / he who ventures among the stars / The Ruler of the Stars / The One Who Resides In Space

I rp as several muses, some of which include the following! They're listed by Fandom.

BLEACH

Byakuya Kuchiki - CANON

Shunsui Kyoraku - CANON

Yachiru Kusajishi - CANON

Senbonzakura - ANIME ONLY

FAIRY TAIL

Freed Justine - CANON

SK8 THE INFINITY

Kaoru Sakurayashiki - CANON

VIDEO GAMES

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Dr. Veritas Ratio - CANON

Luocha - CANON

Welt Yang - CANON

Dan Heng / Dan Feng - CANON

Blade / Yingxing - CANON

Aventurine - CANON

GENSHIN IMPACT

Neuvillette - CANON

Ayato Kamisato - CANON

Kaeya Alberich - CANON

Zhongli - CANON

BALDUR'S GATE 3

Astarion Ancunin - CANON

LEAGUE OF LEGENDS

Yone - CANON

OCS

Icarus(m)

Zane(m)

Theo(m)

Sunshine(m)

Roman(m)

Vincent (m)

Damon(m)

Mara(m)

Akane(f)

Ayaka(f)

Yukiko(f)

Celeste (m)

Kaoru(m)

Basic rules for interacting with muses! 1. Please, please *please* specify which muse you want to interact with. 2. Please tell me beforehand if you have any triggers/topics you wish to avoid when interacting. 3. Try to establish a basic plot OOC with me if you don't already have an idea you wish to tell me. TAGS LIST #

//I'm going to edit this heavily later, but this is a basic pinned post im scrapping together. THANK YOU!!!

layout made by @/strawberrymedicine

Replycons made by @/lumieron @/justanotherkinrequest @/p1nk-sugar @/kohan-droppopcandy @/eepyrinrin @/happy-nua-edits @/canineabomination @/m-maiden @/oddsel @/darlingtyphoon @/asiandra-dash @/ghostflora-s @/fated-edits @/walkingcorpz @/yoshizaki-kokoa @/rookmeo @/supportclassedits @/hanainou @/reveuseseraph @/ luctus-flos

[undiscovered-horizon]

oh you write for harry potter :^00 i feel it would be cute Ron having a crush on a slytherin, something like rivals to lovers omg, ((they spend their time teasing each other but nothing serious, even they enjoy it but none admit)) Ron tries to ask her out yule ball but he's so clumsy!! and all his attempts end with him saying some dumb comment (in the end she rudely asks him out and they end up confessing that same night lmao this is so cliché but I love your writing) srry if my english is bad! < 3

oh goodness gracious I haven't written for HP in so long?? this might have come out a little OOC but we doin' our best over here at Undiscovered Horizon🌺

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

"A boost over the heaven's gate" - Ron Weasly x Slytherin!Reader

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1k (short & sweet)

[TW: explicit language]

You didn't really know how your love-hate relationship with Ron started. Maybe that one time you called him "goldfish brain" in potions for forgetting the instructions immediately? Or when he said you look like the cartoon owl from the cereal box? In any event, the unclear relationship you had with Ron Weasly carried on through the years. During holidays, you even found yourself missing that bickering. But that notion was ridiculous - the red-haired Gryffindor was nothing beyond an annoyance, a daily obstacle.

Speaking of annoyances, the winter was right around the corner and as befits those cold months of darkness and snow - there must be a Yule celebration. Theoretically, it should be festivities meant to bring back the light and warmth but traditions were a fickle thing and the once sacred celebrations were now more of a midterm party or a Christmas ball.

The most important part of any school dance was not the outfit (although it wasn't exactly unimportant either) or the makeup - it was who you show up with. Well, to be exact, the important part was being invited by someone. Kids who come on their own are treated akin to pariahs and no one wants to be an outcast, right? Being asked to the school ball was a sign of a certain much-desired status: popularity, beauty, likeability.

The Yule Ball was happening next week and you were still partner-less. Whether it was because the other kids thought you'd for sure have someone by now or none of them wanted to show up with you, it didn't quite matter as much as the current state of affairs: no one asked to the school dance. And with time running out, you were growing all the more certain you were going to be this year's outcast. It went without saying that you'd rather not go at all - it would be really humiliating.

Your thoughts of disaster and social degradation were interrupted by someone yelling out your name. Turning around to find the disturber of your day, you noticed a head full of red hair on the horizon - as if the world wasn't trying your patience enough on that one winter day.

"Weasly," you greeted him without an ounce of warmth. He chose the worst moment possible to cultivate his tradition of annoying you.

"Are you going with someone to the Yule Ball?" he asked. Ron was panting and you could only imagine he'd run half of the school grounds just to catch you and ask you that one little question. Truthfully, it sounded improbable but there weren't many other explanations left.

"What's that to you, goldfish?"

If Ron Weasly learned that you hadn't been asked to the dance yet, he's going to have very severe firepower at least until the end of the year.

"No reason, just asking," he answered quickly. "Because if no one's asked you yet, which is probably why you're so snarky lately, then-"

"The hell do you mean 'probably'? Do you honestly think that you're the only person in this entire school that knows about my existence?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just-"

"Either come to the Yule ball with me or fuck off, Ron."

For a moment he looked at you with a completely blank, dumbfounded expression. His eyes, opened wide now, remained vacant as he stared at your face. It was clear that your pragmatic cut to the chase wasn't exactly what he expected.

Seeing as he wasn't going to say anything else, you were about to turn around and march away to continue the most frustrating day of your life, when Ron remembered human speech once again:

"Wait, I-"

"What?" you spat out at him. If you weren't angry, you would have been crying at the fairly obvious implication that no one wanted to go the dance with you. The hypothetical jealousy of your friends, who had already declared that they were attending with some pretty fantastic people, was already gnawing at your sulking heart. it felt like you were the only person in the entire school who'd have to go on their own.

Weirdly enough, Ron wasn't ready to answer with a mean remark. He looked, frankly, terrified. His skin was pasty white as if that ginger boy could get even paler. Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times like he had something important to say but decided to abort the mission right when those fateful words were going to leave his mouth.

"Blimey, I can't," he whispered to himself. Ron let out a sigh and looked you straight in the eye. His expression remained as terrified as it was before but now there was something else; something stern about the way he looked at you. Determination perhaps? "It's incredibly annoying when you call me 'goldfish' or 'goldfish brain' but it's you so I like it. Because I like you. And I want you to go to the Yule Ball with me."

In an exciting turn of events, you were the one rendered speechless after his unforeseen confession. Although, was it really that surprising? In that short moment that felt like ages, you recalled all the nudges and snarky comments you exchanged with Ron every day and only then did you realize the warm feeling in your face and chest erupting each time you saw him wasn't annoyance - not entirely.

"Yeah, I'll go to the Yule Ball with you," you answered in a careless voice. Maybe this little bit of suave attitude could save the scraps of your pride you had torn up just a few minutes ago. "I'm wearing dark green, so keep that in mind. Couples should match."

Not knowing what to do, you gave him a smile and run off in the direction of your next class, leaving dumbfounded Ron in the middle of a busy corridor. It was going to take him a moment to realize that you, actually, gave him an enthusiastic 'yes'.

Who would have thought? An owl and a goldfish...

[gcldenchild]

okay im not writing more than that today. important stuff up to the start of the alenthaal arc is now on goldie's about page. really only the yock island part and the gluttony stomach part are focused on with minor emphasis on briggs, but it works. please go read it for now bc alenthaal is mostly timeskip shenanigans anyways .

promised day will be...... a lot, but this sets the groundwork for any threads with other canon characters. there are some minor important events not included but i really dont wanna clog up the page lol

[frenziedslashers]

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

[arayamahidol]

when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?

i hadn't rped since 2017 and during the pandemic around dec 2020/jan 2021 i was sooooo bored since all my work turned remote so i went through the "royal rp" tag and hshq was the only rp other than like one other in the tag at the time. i don't remember any specific plotlines, i just remember being thrown into the nye event on the yacht or something? and that's when hijacking was first introduced iirc. and now i'm trying to buy a house and that makes me want to vomit!

which characters have you written over the years ?

haera, san, io, araya, meixu, okeyo and inna

what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?

i think meixu's life in general. i thought she would have found someone and gotten the family she wanted and the happy ending ( w a few struggles ofc ) but she ended up alone and more jaded about life! something more comedic would probably be when araya and ireti got tattoos during the monaco event and she thought her tattoo said ja rule instead of jaurel. and def lawnchair gate.

what about other people's plotlines ?

when matilde pushed arnauld into the pool. the english plotline was supes fun to watch unfold.

who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?

meixu because she's the most different from me personally. she deserved the most and the best, but always ate shit asjfhsadkf araya was the easiest to write. she had some good one liners. going to miss my flat assed baddie ♡

if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?

lawn chair or the lunch thread with the solets. evy, kit and i were in shambles about it. we still bring it up every now and then and idk why it's still just as funny to us as it was back then.

is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?

i don't think so

what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?

probably meixu, she feels the most incomplete. i wish i could have wrote more on how jianguo's death affected her and how that changed her relationships. the other one would be auraya since i honestly did not think they'd last, but here they are, still sharing a single brain cell ♡ if the africa plot actually took off, that would have been fun.

what is your favourite ooc memory ?

when e and i were writing lawnchair gate, giggling nonstop beside each other. we tasked ourselves to a challenge where if i wrote a two word reply, she'd have to write a three word reply, and then my next reply would have to be four words ( you get the idea ). we would count how many words the other person wrote because we'd lose track and then mess up and have to count again. whenever there would be a red carpet event like the oscars or during fashion week, j and i would always play this game of who in hshq would wear it. it was fun. when kit and i spent an entire night trying to pronounce all the characters names and we'd attempt it at first and play the actual pronunciation after and die about how inaccurate we were. and ofc, throwing tomatoes at jo in the disc chat ♡

where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?

discord, but i'll probably not be that responsive sdfhsdf i'm not that great with keeping in touch with people 😭

what else would you like to say ?

i know i joined a bit later and haven't made as big of an impact as others, but i honestly thought i would last two weeks and end up becoming inactive because established groups are intimidating! i'm glad i gave it a chance, i met some really good friends on here that are beyond just "rp friends"! this feels like a high school graduation since this will be the last time we all see each other on the dash like this and it's very bittersweet! hshq was a great distraction for me during the pandemic and i feel honoured to have wrote alongside you all and i'm happy i was able to make so many gifs of so many different faceclaims. loved seeing you all use them.

[crusherthedoctor]

🍬 🧩

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Sage is still an overrated void of a character on her own who I struggle to take seriously for all her build up (NANANANAAAA), which would be unfortunate enough, but it's made a lot worse by how she affects Eggman's character for the decisively not-better. The latter is why ignoring her presence is not an option for me: I can't do that when they and everyone else keeps shoving the dynamic in my face.

"It won't make him softer! Wait and see!" Guess what, chum: I've been waiting and seeing, and so far I've not been swayed, since whenever they reference Sage (MoStH, Twitter Takeovers), it's to prop up how special she is to Eggman. That most of these post-Frontiers examples aren't fully canon doesn't change the impact they have on the fandom, nor does it change the fact that they're knowingly pandering to the Eggdad crowd. And on top of all that, fans like to sidestep the core issue that regardless of whether Eggman would be a good dad or a bad dad (spoiler: he'd be a bad one), him being a dad at all doesn't line up with the kind of person and villain he is.

Just because something works for Bowser, or some other villain, doesn't mean it works for Eggman. You can't just place square kegs in round holes and expect the same results, you gotta treat the character as them.

Also, "it won't make him softer" rings hollow when it comes from fans who sing up and down that Sage fleshes Eggman out, who make fics and fanart portraying him as a good father to her, who criticise Dream Team because Sage isn't on every wall and ceiling in Eggman's dreams. How am I supposed to be reassured when they loudly advocate for what they're telling me won't happen?

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Predictably, whatever I consider a detriment to Eggman's handling. Whether that be Eggdad, Sonegg, Mr. Tinker being passed off as Eggman's true self, muh Sonic X standards, getting killed off by Shadow Recolour #504, etc.

Beyond that, most fics that don't appeal to me have the courtesy to advertise themselves as such right out the gate, like high school fics, or adaptations of games that have already been tackled a thousand times (read: SA2). So at least with them, I know to just not bother with them and be on my merry way. For me to be actively reading a fic only to then be slapped in the face mid-read, it would usually require something seriously OoC or degrading, especially if it's a character I love. Like Rouge being made an outright villain because "that's what she was in SA2 (not really)". Or Tails being useless or small-time compared to "real" heroes like Shadow and Silver. A lot of fics also tend to flanderize Sonic's snarky side to the point of making him an unbearable arsehole, or go down the "marry me SONIKKUUUU or I'll kill you/myself/other lady" route with Amy.

For a pettier example, I tend to immediately peace out if I see any signs of the author fellating themselves over how superior and mature their writing is over SEGA/Sonic Team's. This was common even back in the 00's, and for obvious reasons, it's became twice as frequent over time. Coincidentally, many of these fics tend to have Archie/SatAM elements and influences.

[admirableadmiranda]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "ladypfenix "?

I don't mind at all! Thank you for waiting quite a long while though, life has been.... hectic recently, to say the least.

I'll answer the story question here, then list the fics below since there's a lot.

It's a pretty simple story, when my sister and I were 14 and 16, we had a dream of starting a youtube channel as siblings, and we were going to use noble titles. I picked LadyPfenix for mine and opened my tumblr account with that in mind, but the idea never materialized beyond usernames and it has long since outlasted that dream. At this point I've had it too long to bother changing it, even though I'm using Admiranda most other places I go. Some things just stick.

I don't know that I have a top ten fave fics ever, it's hard for me to quantify on that level, but I'll definitely lay out the ones I keep going back to years on down the line even long after I've left the fandom. There's definitely something special about them that I will always enjoy.

The Professor's Wife by foolish_mortal (archive locked)

The students all said that Professor Doumeki had a wife who made him lunches and impeccably pressed his shirts. Watanuki found this hilarious. For the wtfholic fest prompt: "The only people who can see Watanuki are customers with wishes."

Eir's Tomorrow by jukeboxhound

Cloud is the Planet's greatest weapon, and if he can't fix old wrongs and battles then he may end up being the means by which it all ends (again).

A Little Bit To The Left by miixz

[A System error during execution bound you to Shi Yuan’s account instead of the intended Shen Qingqiu. We sincerely apologize.

You will be given the chance to climb from your current position of canon fodder as the story progresses and plot points become available to you. As Shi Yuan does not have an established character the OOC function is automatically unlocked, please accept this bonus as your compensation for the mistaken role.

Please ensure that no score falls below zero, or the System will automatically administer punishment.]

Intended role of Shen Qingqiu?! The fuck, were you trying to kill me? Why would anyone think transmigrating into that scum of all people would be helpful? Alright, alright. Shi Yuan takes a deep breath. He can deal with this. So he’d transmigrated into the shitty novel he’d just finished, but at least he’d somehow avoided becoming the villain. Or: Shen Yuan transmigrates into Proud Immortal Demon Way as a Bai Zhan Peak disciple.

The Way Home by Traincat

“This is an inane discussion,” Soren said. “I’m coming with you, and that’s final.” He took a step forward and swayed. If Ike reached out and shoved with one finger, he was sure he could topple Soren right over. He kept his arms folded so he wouldn’t be tempted to try and make a point. “I’m still your commander, aren’t I?” Ike asked, raising his eyebrows. “You still trust me to make decisions?” “Yes, but, Ike –” he said. “Then you’ll do as I say, for the good of the company,” Ike said. “I won’t risk you. You’re too important.” He stepped close, adjusting the hood of Soren’s cloak. He lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard by Shinon and Gatrie, waiting up by the gate. “Go back to bed,” he said, his voice gentler. “I’ll be home soon.” -- Post-Path of Radiance, Ike and Soren share a promise, a first kiss, and a bed. Not in that order.

A Pretty Good Year by arboretum

Giving up, moving in, living life.

Ikesoren Academia AU by leonidskies

Falling to the Rhythm by Selenay

"So it's a bet?" Jiang Cheng said. "Dance the showcase if you get him, fancy coffee machine if you don't?" Wei Wuxian considered the machine. "Fine. You're on. I want it in red." "Don't start planning your caffeine overdose yet." "It's in the bag," Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. "There's no way they'll match me with someone like Lan Wangji."   Teaching Lan Wangji to dance in front of the nation for twelve weeks, how hard can that be? Wei Wuxian is about to find out.

Series

this world (what I make of it) by glitteringmoonlight

The war had consequences. Once, a fully realized Avatar referred to one who had mastered all the elements and could go into the Avatar State. Now, that has changed. No one could master fire when there was no one to teach it, and people feared the abilities of a firebender too much to allow anyone, even the Avatar, to learn too much of it. Now, an Avatar was simply said to be fully realized when their instructors decided they had learnt enough.   In which Lan Sizhui is the Avatar, but he cannot firebend, nor can he waterbend very well. That changes when his travels take him to Yiling.

Preparing the Soil by Rynne

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to spend the first winter after their marriage in the Cloud Recesses, Wangji is forced to grapple with his uncle's resistance to accepting his new husband fully into the clan. At the heart of this conflict is Lan Qiren's rule forbidding talking to Wei Wuxian. How can Wangji make the Cloud Recesses a more welcoming place for his husband when what he fights now is his uncle's stubbornness?

[swordshq]

with the moon shining in the sky and the festivities of a joyous wedding over, the guests of king's landing settle down for the evening. all is well within the realm ... until a servant's piercing scream echoes into the night.

ic information :

several hours prior to the sun's rise, a servant changing bedsheets in a lord's apartments discovers the lifeless body of ruling lord melvan arryn, the hand of the king. they sprint down the hall screaming for help, but when they return with assistance, they realize there's nothing they can do. the room is in disarray and there's a pool of blood around the lord, slumped against the foot of his bed with visible stab wounds. not sure what to make of the mess, the staff leave the room with kingsguard blocking the door until news can reach the king. news within the capital has always had a habit of spreading like wildfire and it takes less than an hour for king orys baratheon to demand his guests in their entirety to the great hall and have them face his announcement. orys wastes no time telling the crowd of the ruling lord arryn's murder and as gasps erupt from the audience, he snarls the rest of his thoughts - whoever has committed this crime will face the most extreme of consequences when they are caught. there is a promise of that, especially with his commanding of an extension of his guest's stay. no one is to leave beyond the king's landing gates and if so, they will be seen as conspiring with the murder and face the same fate. ravens are sent to every region with the king's wax seal, informing those left in charge of the extension of their duties and fees / discounted fees are given at inns and taverns. ruling lord melvan arryn is laid to rest with a small funeral while a viewing for mourners is set up in the great sept of baelor. tensions are high within the capital and the kingsguard is in full force, guards lurking around every corner. if anyone in king's landing has yet to see the temper that orys baratheon displays, they have now. guests will be staying indefinitely until whoever has murdered melvan arryn and any accommodations they may need ( though not guaranteed ) can be requested by staff assigned to specific corridors. may the ruling lord arryn rest in peace.

ooc information :

and with that drop, our event is now over ! we hope you're all ready for some angst and drama, back to regular ol' business w a twist !

all brand new posts should be from this point on ! you can either drop event posts or keep certain ones, entirely up to you !

there will be an upcoming task within the next day or two with an interrogation format you can fill out ! it's optional, but we're definitely going to be eyeing them for future ideas, so think of what your muse could potentially be capable of doing !

if you have any questions or wanna suggest some stuff you'd like to see in the future ( we'll be having a more official anonymous survey sometime soon ), we'd love to hear them !

happy one month anniversary by the way ! thank you all for being here with us and we hope you'll stick around so we can keep the fun going !