#(*dusts off these old ship tags*)

[randomshiptime]

credit to randomlifelog24 on X/Twitter, account deleted

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@kaizokugaris asked: Ikkaku & kid ! Send me a ship and I'll fill out this bingo card (Still Accepting!)

Hateship. Based off of my ships with Kids like @rubidusmagnet and @ephxmerall, Ikkaku and Kid would angrily fuck and possibly have a bit of respect for each other's skills but it's definitely hot hate sex and a toxic relationship at best. It's dub-con/CNC at worst. Which is a lot of fun to write but it's definitely not something that will work out long-term and barely even short-term, lol. So it's a guilty pleasure but definitely not a ship in the healthy sense.

[spotaus]

I wrote almost 15,000 words in a fic that will never see the light of day. Very Me of me.

[frestoniia]

Nathan coming out of the shadows to kiss his lil man, just kisses all over the face, cause he missed them too much. Muah! Muah!

(I know he aint on the list, but im adding him cause i need their love.)

@bcund

Craig can't help but laugh, in a mixture of both embarrassment and elation. The barrage of kisses is an unexpected surprise, but most certainly a welcome one! He's missed Nathan terribly.

" Ah! Stop it, that tickles! " he exclaims, a fit of flustered laughter erupting from his chest. Once he has an opening, he moves in to return the favor, planting an assortment of kisses across the other's face in retaliation.

" Haha, I've missed you, love. "

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Re:Birth | Re:Start [Part 1]

He's just a vulture, searching for scraps to survive, when he finds more than he could've ever thought of finding. This could turn his whole life around- but oh no...

Tags/Warnings: Post apocalypse AU, Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Adult Themes, mild Violence and Blood, mentions of death, sci-fi, romance

Wordcount: 5.7k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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“Everything that’s in it is yours.”

That was what he was told when he bought the pile of scrap, all of it junk from ages ago still valuable to someone like him. He trades this stuff after all- a member of the ‘Vultures’, a group of people who take on trash to pick out the most vaulable parts of it all. This time, Jungkook got his hands on something special- an old abandoned rescue ship back from when earth first fell to nuclear weapons. That was hundreds of years ago by now, planet completely abandoned and only inhabited by intergalactic clean-up troops trying their best to save whats left of it all.

Opening the once automated sliding doors in the back is tough, but Jungkook makes do with some of the equipment and knowledge from years of experience, eventually finding his way inside. It’s small for someone like him, but probably spacious enough for a good amount of humans, which this was made for after all. The lights don’t work, and he doesn’t really expect them to- but what does surprise him is the still glowing red emergency lights further in the distance, down a small hallway kind of way.

The moment he reaches a door that’s sealed heavily, he’s a bit stunned. It’s known that humans have made a certain type of energy preserving system to keep ships like these going for hundreds of years, but many if not most of them all either crashed, or opened early on other planets during their great escape from earth centuries ago. And with the rather short lifespan of humans, there’s as of now no record of a surviving full blood human on any of the planets of this solar system.

Aex 3 is Jungkook’s home planet- he never had to adjust to anything here. He was born here, and most likely, he’ll spend his dying years here too, whenever that happens.

As he tries to find a way into the large bunker-like room, he has to think of what he might find. Most likely corpses he will have to report to the government so they can be disposed of in a proper manner considering that research on humans is still going on, and its also not like he hasn’t seen a dead body before. He’s well aquainted with rotting flesh and decay, after all, that’s what he’s living off of in a way. But he can’t say that he likes it- not at all. He’d love to avoid the sight and smell, if possible.

When the doorlock hisses at the strength he uses to pry it open with a metal tool he keeps around for cases like this, he know he’s close to finally opening it. But what he’s met with once he’s finally in, squeezing through a rather tight opening since the door has rusted so badly to the floor that it just can’t open any further, leaves him stunned yet again.

It’s cold in here, and most of all dark, if not for a few pity lights still glowing, although some are flickering on their last breaths. He instantly puts on a facemask just in case there's anything dangerous in the air- just as a safety measure. Many of the to him familiar cryo-chambers are fogged, empty, leaking or partially opened- and the smell is familiar too, flesh of the poor souls who never made it out alive still faintly in the air. The humans once inside the pods died long ago, long enough to only leave mostly bone and clothing behind, but what Jungkook’s glowing eyes keep their attention to, is a single cryo-pod, small digital panel still active, though it’s covered in dust.

He’s walking closer, because if that think is still working, he might have a chance at recovering those energy cells humans used back in the day still intact. That would fetch him a fortune, for sure- there's rich collectors of these things on his planet, and on others close by.

Though, his hand stutters the moment he removes dust- because the information on the panel cannot possibly be correct.

It displays a name first, and then a year and a date. He assumes this must be your date of birth- which is so long ago he’s sure his own lineage wasn’t even created yet. He’s born a species of alien-human connection, after all; a species created from very early attempts at specially modifying human DNA to make them more capable of intergalactic travel. It was considered failed at first, but after generations, Jungkook’s species has become stronger, healthier, taller and most of all- exactly what they aimed for.

There is no planet he couldn’t survive on. His body is capable of adapting to the most unfriendly environments.

It simply took time- and humans are said to have been terribly impatient.

He slides his finger over the panel, sucessfully swiping to another set of information, most of it telling him that the system is still active, still running. But there’s also other info that causes his warm-blooded body to cool down signitatively.

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

“Wait, no no no no-” He panics, tapping away at the screen until he manages to somehow not have the whole thing unfreeze on him, leaving him breathless for a good moment or two. With an unsure hand, he wipes at the glass front, to uncover a soft, red light inside, and most of all-

A body. And it’s most certainly not dead-

It’s a full-blood human.

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It’s been two days.

Two days since he found you in there, still kept in your little pod, still completely unaware of what’s going on around you.

Do you dream? According to a friend of his who researches humans, you could be, but apparently the chances of that are very low due to your brain being kept at a stage of being not active. Jungkook faces a very bad situation here, because technically, he should absolutely report this to his local research office- but he’s also sitting on an amount of money that could change his life forever.

No more scrap metal. No more sleeping in his small apartment that’s falling apart. No more fighting on the streets over pitiful amounts of change.

He sighs as he sits down close to your pod, opening a bag of snacks for himself as he looks over at the clear top. Your eyes are closed, and you seem to be in a very good shape. If he was to calculate correctly, you were about his age when you left earth and got put into this thing- and yet, you look to be very small compared to modern day human-descendants and most species of humanoid beings. He himself is a little above average, sure- but that’s besides the point.

If you woke up now, you’d probably be traumatized.

Namjoon, his friend who studies humans, had told him once that humans can die from emotional trauma alone. Their own immune system can just one day riot against its own host and kill it from the insides. And DNA can mutate from nothing all of a sudden and create tumors that burden the body so much it cannot continue normal function.

Humans are so frail. Should he just.. Do you a favor?

Your family, your friends, everything you knew is gone after all. You’re alone, a sole survivor, and once the institute gets a whiff of your existence, you’ll probably be kept like a laboratory animal in a sterile environment for testing and research. It’s fucked up- but Jungkook isn’t a murderer.

The next day, when he’s back again, he watches you once more- taking you in for a moment, mesmerized by the simple fact that you are existing. The odds of this are so incredibly small that it fascinates him to no ends. He’s asked Namjoon about some stuff last night over drinks, and apparently, most humans who exited the hibernation protocol all lack any memories. They have basic knowledge of functions, they can speak and they know how to balance and have basic reflexes- but they all have to re-learn more complicated tasks like tying shoes, or even how to calculate and tell time. So maybe, if you were to wake up, the trauma wouldn’t be so bad?

Jungkook is conflicted. The price you’d fetch for him would be astronomical. He’d be set for life, and some. It’s just a call. Or even just a text to namjoon.

He’s killed a guy before. Shot him right in the chest for having attempted to sell his own kid on the streets, and Jungkook felt not a single drop of remorse. And yet, he can’t do this. He can’t just be the same as everyone else.

You don’t deserve this.

But do you deserve to live like this too?

You’ll never have a normal life, not at all. You’ll either have to be on the run forever, or set yourself into the laboratories- both options aren’t ideal. Jungkook scratches his head for a moment, before he sighs, and slides one of his hands over his face in agony. This issue isn’t letting him sleep for a second. What’s he supposed to do?

Can he trust namjoon enough to file him in on this?

Sudden light makes him snap his face towards where you’re still in hibernation however as the panel seems to malfunction for a good second or two, causing him distress. The light inside your pod are now off as well, putting you in complete darkness- and he doesn’t know what posesses him as he taps and swipes once more, frantically trying to find a single setting to activate. And then-

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

This time, he lets it happen, steps a bit aside just in case, even though he doesn’t know what might happen now. Maybe you’re dying in there, or maybe this is simply the course of nature in a way? He doesn’t know, as the pod hisses and clicks, something sounding as if it snaps apart or breaks, worrying him. After a good little while of this, there’s silence, lock on the clear top clicking, but never opening.

Should he take a look? It won’t hurt, right?

The small panel is now dark, and as the inside of the pod foggs up, Jungkook realizes that it might just be stuck- hands of his forcing the acrylic glass upwards until it finally opens with a painful cracking sound of the hinges protesting against his aggression.

It’s silent, again.

He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, if anything he hears even less noise than usual with the ventilation of the system and the flickering lights finally having given up by now. As he looks inside, he notices just how.. Clean everything is still where you’re laying, looking like you are simply asleep. But what concerns him is the fact that, while one touch offers him the knowledge of your body temperature rising and heart beating again, you’re yet to gain consciousness.

Jungkook knows next to nothing about human health. Why would he?

So, minutes later, he’s guarding the tight squeeze at the entrance to the room you’re in, Namjoon looking at him with suspicion and crossed arms. “You have to swear first.” Jungkook almost growls threateningly, holding out his hand.

“I swear I’ll report nothing.” His friend replies, before he hooks his ring finger around Jungkook’s, and pulls till there is a quiet crack- a way of proving that he means his ‘promise’.

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs deeply, panic still present in his bones as he lets his friend into the chamber.

“Wow. This is all incredibly preserved..” Namjoon says, already distracted by the remains of a human with mummified flesh still present, when Jungkook makes an almost growling sound to get his friend’s attention. “Right. What do you have there?” He asks, walking closer- before his eyes widen, and his steps become longer, quicker, like he can’t get closer fast enough. “That is..! Is she alive?!” He gasps, frantically looking around before he steps around the pod for a better angle to look at you.

“Yes? No?” Jungkook struggles. “I don’t know. The whole thing.. Made weird noises and I think the system gave up, so I made it exit the hibernation stuff-” Jungkook explains, while Namjoon puts his glasses on.

“She was still in hibernation when you found her?” He asks, and Jungkook nods. “That is.. So she just exited.. I- Jungkook, I would’ve brought more equipment if I had known-” He mumbles to himself as he seems to gently turn you a little in the cushioned bed you’re in, specifically designed to move and tilt to not cause any pressure on the body over time. “She’s a bit cold I believe.. And considering that no one has ever survived in these pods for so long, there might be damage to either internal organs or her brain..” He says, before he steps back. “Either way, she can’t stay here.”

“Oh wow I would’ve never guessed.” Jungkook sarcastically responds, rolling his eyes before he looks around. “How do we get her out of here without anyone noticing?” He asks, as he picks up a blanket. “Can we just.. Wrap her up and I don’t know.. Maybe say she’s a friend from Vinos? They’re pretty short people too..” He tries to come up, and Namjoon seems unconfident.

“I’m not sure what the dust might do to her skin, since she has been kept in isolation for so long, and she might not react well to the environment here..” He thinks, when Jungkook looks at him urgently. “..but you’re right. Yes, lets.. But be careful.”

“I’m always careful-” Jungkook complains almost childishly, though he hesitates a bit at approaching you with the blanket, a little worried now.

“Let me do it-” Namjoon tries, but Jungkook shakes his head, and carefully moves you into a sitting position, where your body leans heavily against his own, a form of physical contact he’s not quite used to, especially from the opposite sex. “Care-”

“I am careful.” He huffs, as he makes sure to wrap the blanket around you as best as he can, before he scoops you up to carry you. “Alright, lets get out of here then.”

Namjoon seems a bit hesitant at first, torn between staying and leaving-

But ultimately, he chooses the last option, and leaves behind Jungkook.

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“Alright I made sure it’s not connected to any of the servers anymore, so now I just have to-” Namjoon begins, as Jungkook jumps up to your defense at the sight of the needle. “-Jungkook, I have to take at least some blood to make some research as to her current state.” He reassures his friend, who only reluctantly sits down again. Somehow, with you being unable to really do anything, let alone consent, Jungkook feels incredibly protective.

He knows he wouldn’t like someone poking around on and inside him either while he was unconscious.

But Namjoon is right- there's no real other way to check up on you other than this- so he lets his friend continue, tests soon bringing in results as you’re hours later asleep on a mattress Jungkook usually sleeps on in his home. Namjoon had brought his equipment along with him, fearing that his own home that’s paid for by the research institute might be too dangerous for you to reside in.

While Namjoon is busy looking at the results in Jungkook’s little open kitchen a bit further away, Jungkook himself is busy thinking about what life will look like for you, if you survive. Somehow, you remind him of himself when he was born- tellings of his mother reminiscing about how he had been born underneath the open skies, with no place to call home, and no guarantee of survival. He ultimately did simply because she took him in as her own- but if it was any different, he wouldn’t exist today.

How will your life play out now?

In a way, he believes this might be the universe giving him a chance to pay back that second chance at life he’d been given so many years ago. Maybe now, he can be that person to pick you up and help you gain your footing in the world. He might not be the best person considering his job and own struggles- but he surely wants to try.

Because all other options just don’t sound right.

“It seems like she has an infection currently.. Her white blood cells are elevated.” Namjoon says as he walks closer with a digital tablet containing all the information from the tests he made. “Her kidneys don’t seem to work properly.”

“Does that mean she will die?” Jungkook worries, and Namjoon sighs.

“No, and if she does it won’t be from a mere kidney infection, at least not in the stage she’s in.” He explains. “Her temperature is a bit high and when she wakes up she will definitely feel uncomfortable, but nothing that can’t be treated with standard antibiotics.” He says.

“Antibiotics?” Jungkook cringes. “That’s.. Ancient medicine.” He says, and Namjoon nods.

“She’s technically ancient too, Jungkook.”

Right.

“So, when will she wake up?” Jungkook wonders, as Namjoon measures your heartrate with a small electronic device close by to keep him constantly updated.

“Probably in the next few hours. Her body is slowly adjusting to the change in her environment, that’ll take some time.” He says, and Jungkook is a bit reassured by the clear calm attitude his friend has while making sure to keep an eye on your vitals.

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asks, as his friend looks up at him. “I’m.. Glad you’re here.”

“Well, you should be.” Namjoon proudly smiles, happily accepting that praise when you suddenly squeeze close your eyes, the first sign of life you gave until now. Jungkook is instantly sitting up, standing somewhat over you as Namjoon pushes him back with a hand on his chest. “Give her space. We don’t know how she’ll react.” He says calmly, as Jungkook worriedly watches you slowly wake up.

It visibly takes you a while to open your eyes, but when you do, it’s like Jungkook is caught up in a moment of timelessness.

It’s tough to explain- the second your eyes meet, he’s caught off guard like an animal staring right at it’s biggest predator, unsure what is about to happen now. He’s not fearful of you, absolutely not- but he’s frozen in place, and it only takes a moment until he realizes what’s happening.

“Well, at least she won’t have issues finding someone to look after her.” Namjoon says, having noticed from the way Jungkook’s pupils dilated to the slight parting of his friend’s lips, that he’s clearly just imprinted on you. It’s common for his age and species after all- and it’s also not very surprising, considering that he has a good amount of human DNA in him that survived all those centuries.

“I- uh, wait, no..” Jungkook stumbles over his words, as he clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t have any funds to really feed another person, and neither can she live here-”

“We’ll take his step by step. For now, this is where she’ll stay.” Namjoon decides, before he walks closer to you. “Hm. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asks you, and you look at him for a moment, visibly turning a little unsure and even fearful of the situation.

You.. Kind of understand them. But it’s like they’re speaking with an incredibly strong accent that makes it tough to really pull apart the words and their meaning if they speak fast.

“We are friends.” Namjoon explains, as Jungkook walks closer. “This- that’s Jungkook. I’m Namjoon. And you?” He wonders, as you think for a good while, causing the older alien to worry that you might not understand common language.

After all, from what he knows, humans used to have many very much different languages in which they used to communicate in, before the interplanetary counsil decided on a single language to be spoken and taught to everyone. So maybe you weren’t taught universal language?

But then you meekly utter your name, and Namjoon sighs in relief.

“Good. Very good, thank you.” He says, as Jungkook adjusts your blanket when he notices you shivering. ���Can you sit up?” Namjoon wonders, and you do, slowly, with the help of Jungkook’s hand on your back- the researcher quickly moving to check you over a little more, just to be sure.

You just let it happen, instead looking around the rather dark and small apartment for a moment.

You have no idea where you came from- only having some faint memories of putting on a very standardized set of clothes and laying down in a very cold bed? You don’t quite remember what exactly it was, but you do know that you went to sleep in there- last sight that of someone with a facemask tapping on a digital panel, before you went to sleep. And then?

Darkness. There’s nothing else.

You don’t really feel frightened by those two people any longer as you take a proper look around and at them both, curiously watching the way Namjoon seems to lift your arms to test your reflexes and strength. Jungkook next to you keeps an eye on things, and for some reason, that makes you feel protected.

You lean into him a little while Namjoon seems to talk about something incredibly complicated, way too fast for you to really understand it- but Jungkook appears to understand, so you’re not worried about anything for the moment.

After all, you also don’t know that your life didn’t just begin again-

But that it just got a whole lot more complicated.

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“There. That should be more comfortable.” Jungkook offers, having finalized his task of putting another mattress down onto the floor next to where he usually sleeps.

You now have your own blankets, pillows and mattress- after just a few days, Jungkook has quite clearly decided to keep you around, and make your situation a permanent one. He’s learned a few things about humans and their health from Namjoon who had to go back to the institute in order to not have them get any suspicions.

Jungkook has, since then, begun to dig through the rest of the thing for valuables- wrecking the open pod as well just to make sure that the government officials won’t look too much into things once they pick up the other remains.

“Where do you.. Go?” You ask Jungkook, as he sits down on his own bed next to where you sit. He seems to have equally a bit of trouble understanding you properly, but he tries hard, and you appreciate that. “like, during the day. Where do you go?” You ask, and at that he seems to understand.

“I take apart things, and sell the most valuable parts.” he explains. “Uh.. Like..” He takes a box of screws and tools. “I take this, see?” He says, before he takes out the tools of the tiny metal box, putting them into their own spots. “And then I sell everything. This for ten, this for fifteen, and so on.” He attempts to explain, and you perk up at that, nodding.

“I see!” You say, making him smile almost shyly at seeing you happy. He carefully puts everything back into the box before putting it away, when he hears your stomach growling, causing him to look at you with wide eyes for a second before he realizes that you probably haven’t eaten anything today.

“Oh! I don’t.. Have anything here you can eat.” He mumbles a bit disappointed, before he looks around.

Should he do this? He probably shouldn’t, but he could always just pass you off as a someone born on Vinos. And to be fair, everyone would absolutely believe that considering that you do fit them mostly. Not quite, but mostly.

But oddities define the norm, as they say.

“To be fair, you do need clothes too.. You can’t keep wearing mine.” He says, before he gets up. “Come on, I’ll carry you since you don’t have shoes yet.” He offers, and you accept that, letting him carry you on his back with his hands steadying your legs at your thighs on his sides, while your arms are over his shoulders. It’s your first time outside, and Jungkook doesn’t really think about it for a good moment, until you seem to hide in the crook of his neck. “Oh- right, the sun must be really bright.. I forgot. Sorry.” He says, as he hurries to walk in the shadows of the buildings as to not have you burn into a crisp on his back.

He wonders what the weather was like on earth before it got poisoned. Was it nice? What was nature like? Or the cities?

What was your life like before all of this?

“Alright- in here you can walk, the floors are relatively clean. Let’s get you some shoes..” He mumbles, as he leads you around with a hand on your upper back right between your shoulders, as he looks for anything that might fit you.

You don't remember where you came from, and neither do you remember if you've always lived here. Everything looks foreign but also familiar to you, as if the world you're currently in has shifted just enough to be different, but not enough to become strange. You struggle to read most signs and labels, but you also realize that you don't have to be able to do so, as Jungkook walks around a corner with a pair of shoes for you to try on.

“They should technically fit? I don't really have a good eye for sizes..” he mumbles, as he watches you slip into the shoes that fit surprisingly well. There's a bit of room there for thicker socks if the weather gets colder, so you'll be able to wear these in any kind of weather.

Wait. Do the seasons even change here?

“You like them?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, because you genuinely do. When he walks to pay for them, you instantly put them on near the exit of the store while Jungkook pays for them at the counter, where a young lady with silver strands in her hair takes his money to count and then nod. When he walks towards you, you kind of feel like the canine creature outside the store tied to a lamppost by its owner just seconds ago, seeing your person again. There's a strange mix of relief and happiness when he takes your hand to walk through the town with you, the man looking around for what you think might be something to eat.

He finds it, after some walking. Though he hesitates to enter.

“Is it dangerous?” you ask, having to repeat your question as he leans down to hear you better over the sound of talking people, honking vehicles and construction work nearby. He shakes his head- though it doesn't convince you.

“its not dangerous, no. I just.. don't know if you can eat any of what they offer.” He explains, before he walks inside. “lets see.. you can surely eat something we get for children…” the tall man mumbles to himself, before he orders something. The hood of his sweater has been pulled over your head this entire time as if to hide you- and you can see some other people, shorter than you, wear clothes in a similar way. One of those people waves at you with an odd gesture that catches you off guard- but you try and repeat it the best you can, causing the small table to erupt into laughter of endearment.

Someone walks closer, stands next to jungkook. He instantly holds onto your hand.

“A fellow Vinoson. Didn't think you'd be that kind of guy, Jungkook.” The young man seems to joke, making Jungkook laugh as he squeezes your hand a little.

“ah, what can I say? I guess you were right when you said you can't resist their charm sometimes.” He says, and you’re not quite sure what he's hinting at. But you also trust him- so maybe this is simply for the best to play along, as you push yourself into Jungkook's side a little like you've seen another couple do earlier when you entered.

“ah, well she seems to be charmed by you just the same.” The man nods, before he nods to you. “Do you by chance have any cobalt-capsules in your stock?” he asks, and Jungkook agrees with a head-gesture.

“actually, I do. But i'll have to raise my usual prices a bit these days, since the quality is high for these, and you rarely get them in that state anymore.” Jungkook says while waiting for his order of food to arrive. “they're all between 70% and 85%. Got them checked at Yoongi's.” he proudly says, clearly confident in his tone.

“My, that sounds indeed like a rare gem you found there. How much for five?” the man asks, and Jungkook picks up his order of food in the silver lined paper bag, before he turns fully towards his apparent costumer.

“1.4 Kay. I gotta feed two mouths these days, hope you understand.” Jungkook appears to joke- though that glimmer in his eyes tells you that he's genuinely serious with the price, almost hopeful.

“you now what?” the man says, before he nods to you. "Alright.” The man agrees. “Though only for a chance to meet your child, once its there. I cannot imagine what a Vinoson and a Humanoid would create.” He jokes, making Jungkook cringe a little as he nods however.

“deal. Though, that might take a while.”

Back at home, now with the food in front of you, and the thick long sweater-poncho kind of situation off of your body, you take your first bites of food. “according to the notes left by Namjoon, local produce and oil should be fine for you to consume.” He offers as reassurance. “So this has no meat in it. I'll do some research later- or you can have a tiny bit of mine, and see how you do?” he asks, and you nod at that, causing him to laugh. “did you even understand me, or are you just agreeing to anything?” he jokes, but you shake your head.

“no, I understand.” You answer, almost a bit offended. “I just.. you talk fast sometimes. Then I struggle.” You explain to him, and he nods.

“i'll keep that in mind then.”

Later during the rest of the early day, he turns on the radio- while you still struggle to somewhat understand the fast speech especially with the occasional static cutting the announcer off, you listen to it.

“-have come to the conclusion that the remaining human bacteria in the cryo-pod found at Ainum-Square last week, have simply been remains that were well preserved due to the system's battery system still being intact. Researchers have also examined the other human remains at the site, and told ACS-Station that the passengers of that flight most likely died shortly after impact due to pressure changes and lack of oxygen.”

You listen to it still, when Jungkook walks up behind you, clearly curious, but also hesitant.

Do you remember those passengers? Or do you not?

“I'm human too, right?” you ask Jungkook, who nods. “And you're a.. humanoid?” you ask, making him nod, though he shrugs his shoulders.

“that's the broad term. In reality, there's different humanoid races. I was born here on Aex, so i'm technically an H3. The third Humanoid species to inhabit a planet.” He explains. “take it as.. every humanoid started from humans, right? And then they kind of.. began travelling. Some stayed on Cepheid, and became very resistent to the harsh climate and hot temperatures. They're H1. H2 are the ones that eventually populated Chronos 16, those are really sensitive to light, but they can endure freezing climates. Have a weirdly arrogant attitude though..” Jungkook mumbles. “and then, well, H3 are people like me, who were born here on Aex. We grow a bit taller, our bodies can adapt to changes in atmospheric pressure and we have more.. I guess, complex social behavior?” he wonders. “huh, but I'm rambling. You probably didn't understand half of it.” He sighs with a smile, though you shake your head.

“so.. where are the original humanoids then?” you ask.

“they're on earth, mostly. Helping in the cleanup efforts after the nuclear disaster of 2245.” He explains.

“and.. humans?”

Jungkook grows silent for a moment, before he turns a little to you, as if to invite you for something you're not sure of. “Most of them.. died during the disaster, or from the health effects of exposure. Many fled to neighboring planets, and eventually.. well, they got scared to be wiped out entirely, I guess? So they began to try and enhance their DNA to create stronger and more resistant generations. It.. took them too long though. They got impatient, and abandoned the project after not even a century.” He says.

“So, no humans are alive anymore?” you ask, making him laugh.

“they are. In my DNA, and many of the other Humanoids.” He offers kindly. “and, well, in you. A pure human, so to say.” He offers.

It takes you a moment to take all of it in, really think about it and process that information. What Jungkook is saying is that the project never failed- but simply took too long for any human to ever see the results it brought. You're the last of your kind, possibly.

“Why did you.. say I was from Vinos?” you ask, and he sighs.

“because.. a lot of human history got lost in the disaster. And a lot of it, no one can read.” He explains. “I’m.. worried. About what the research institute might do if they knew you existed.” He simply says.

“will you.. can I stay here?” you ask. “for now?”

And jungkook nods, with a kind smile.

“of course.” He says, putting a gentle hand onto your head.

“I’ll try my best to keep you safe.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[madamefeu]

Hi! Here’s what your favorite Hazbin Hotel ship says about you!

Radiodust: You're an old-timer who's been around since the pilot. One off-handed joke about Angel Dust wanting to suck Alastor's dick was all it took for you to start shipping them. You always ship the two most attractive male characters together in your fandoms, even if they have no real connection

Huskerdust: I’m not going to touch this one because I’ll probably get death threats if I don’t tell the Huskerdust fandom exactly what they want to hear

Radiorose: Hello, aro-ace community! You love this because they're the closet thing to a canon queerplatonic couple that currently exists in mainstream media, and as a fellow aro-ace, I’m in the exact same boat

Chaggie: You like the idea of forbidden love, but you're not interested in handling all of the social/political ramifications of it, and would prefer to conveniently gloss over both of those things just like in the show. This ship has the flavor profile of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips, and so does your personality

Lucifer/Lilith: You only want one thing in this life, and that is for a powerful woman to step on your neck. You are a bottom to end all bottoms

Radioapple: Daddy kink, but in a voyeuristic way. You like watching two dads doing each other, but there is no way you’d ever let them touch you, no, all you want is to watch them go at it

Rosiemilla: Mommy kink, but in a voyeuristic way

Radiohusk: Oh, you would let a man do unspeakable things to you if he was hot enough. You read dark romances and you want a dark romance to happen to you in real life

Cherrisnake: You are absolutely terrible at handling your feelings for everyone you've ever crushed on, and will try to convince yourself that you hate the object of your affections because you lack the courage needed to make a move on them. It would take a life or death situation for you to tell your crush how you really feel about them, and even then you'd be more afraid of telling them than of dying

Guitarspear: Hello, Adam simps! You binge-read workplace romances and you fantasise about dating your boss even though he's a dick 90% of the time. Strangely, the fact that he's a dick makes you even more attracted to him

Staticmoth: Your ideal ship is two horrible people who deserve each other. You want what they have, but at the same time you don't

Zestmilla: Your preferred aesthetic is old married couple core, and I respect that. You binge-read found family fics on AO3, and your favorite tag is hurt/comfort

Radiostatic: You love the idea of someone being obsessed with you when you have no interest in them. You like to laugh at their, quite frankly, pathetic attempts to get you to notice them, and you're waiting for the day when the penny will drop and they'll realise that they are nothing to you, and never will be

Arackpentious: You have never cared about canon, and you don't intend to start now. You probably simp for Sir Pentious and use Arackniss as a self-insert. We know barely any canon information about him, so it's easy for you to project yourself onto him so that you can get doubly-dicked down by the Victorian snake man

Charlastor: You're all about the aesthetic. You got into this ship because there's an abundance of gorgeous fanart for it, even if there's no chance of them being together in canon. You don't care about that, however, because they look beautiful together and that's all that matters to you

Radiomimzy: You wish that the old canon of Mimzy being Alastor's girlfriend was still canon

Royalhalo: You hate Vaggie and you think that Charlie deserves better than her, and who better than the sugary sweet angel who was the first to hear Charlie out and argue in her favor when she found out the truth about the exterminations?

Cherridust: You are aggressively heterosexual and you believe that it is impossible for a man and a woman to be friends without one or both secretly harboring feelings for the other. You binge-read friends to lovers fics on Wattpad, and if a man so much as says hi to a woman, you will ship them

Cherrimoth: You like enemies to lovers, but in a bitch eating crackers kind of way. You either have a crush on someone that you love to hate from afar, or you want to fall in love with someone who hates you from afar

[wantonlywindswept]

Definitely True Facts About Commander Vertex #2

He loves animals.

[forgotten Fox AU tag]

---

Dart wasn't afraid to admit it aloud: ever since the regime change, he had been utterly, out-of-his-mind bored.

His fellow pilots refused to agree publically lest they get assigned scutwork, but Dart would rather spend three hours chasing down Senator Whatshername's pet tooka than sit on his ass in the hangar. He could only spend so long pining at his ship, wishing his boots weren't touching the ground, before the inactivity drove him crazy.

There used to be plenty for off-assignment Guard pilots to do, back when old Wrinkly McSithface was around. Datawork needed filing, senators needed babying, the Coruscant Security Force needed their asses wiped and their jobs done for them. But with the signing of a ceasefire with the Separatists and Bail Organa officially sworn in as Chancellor, instead of their work increasing, the Guard actually had less to do and actual free time.

(It was mandatory. Breaks and downtime were official edicts and viciously enforced by the medics. Dart hated it, but when he'd expressed that opinion he'd been dogpiled by his fellow pilots and informed in no uncertain terms to shut the fuck up.)

So, to keep busy, Dart started volunteering to do a lot of the odd jobs most troopers didn't enjoy. Not datawork--he would rather die--but anything that kept him moving was fair game. Commander Stone started tossing him the low-priority assignments and Dart happily took them on, doing anything from delivering packages clear across the district to hunting down senators who kept 'forgetting' to put their signatures on important documents.

Unfortunately this sometimes led to such undignified situations as Dart tumbling out of an access shaft, his armor covered in dust and scratches, to land on his ass right at the feet of one Commander Vertex. 

Vertex, cup of caf in one hand and a datapad in the other, looked down at Dart and tilted his head slightly to the side.

Dart blinked owlishly back up at him.

The tooka in his arms yowled its displeasure.

Dart scrambled to his feet, keeping the murderous feline squished against his body with one arm as he offered a slightly-unsteady salute with the other.

"Commander Vertex, sir!"

"Dart," Vertex greeted. The Commander had been with the Guard for just under two months now and had proven himself a certifiable badass, and Dart was absolutely mortified getting caught looking like an idiot. "I see you've found Mr. Tinkles."

Dart stared at him. Then he stared down at the squirmy white tooka trying to dig its claws through his armor.

"The fuck kind of name is Mr. Tinkles?"

Vertex snorted, and while his expression didn't change, his eyes crinkled with laughter.

"You'd have to ask Senator Veph, though I believe she inherited him from her predecessor."

He reached out to stroke between Mr. Tinkles' ear cones, the almost-smile softening to a real one as the tooka happily accepted the petting--all nice and docile as if it hadn't just spent the last three hours trying to gnaw Dart's helmet off.

The gossip network that Dart definitely wasn't part of had mentioned seeing Commander Vertex feeding the stray tookas that skulked around the commissary, but he hadn't actually believed them.

"She'll be happy to see him back," Vertex continued. "She usually gives sweets to whoever returns him."

Dart perked up, abruptly much more interested in this assignment. He, like most clones, had a sweet tooth a parsec wide, but more importantly: candy meant bribery material.

Vertex's eyes glinted like he knew what Dart was thinking, but he didn't say anything; he just patted Dart on the shoulder before continuing past him.

"As you were, trooper."

So cool.

Later, when Dart was busy with his self-appointed duty delivering caf to the poor sods stuck doing datawork--and certainly not trading sweets for intel or collecting gossip at the same time--he spent a little more time finding the best mug for Commander Vertex. It was tucked in the back of one of the cabinets and he had to dust it off, but when Dart carried it into the commander's office, Vertex's eyes immediately zeroed in on it.

"Here, sir," Dart said proudly, setting the steaming cup on his desk. "You like animals, right?"

Vertex reached out slowly, wrapping his hands around the mug with a soft, wondering expression on his face. He pulled it toward him, looking down at the engraved motif cupped between his palms.

The mug looked like it belonged there.

"I suppose I do," Vertex said softly. "Thank you, Dart."

Dart beamed.

He made sure to keep bringing the Commander his caf in the red vulptex mug from then on.

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Homeward Bound

Author’s Note: Hello, lovely readers! I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Amanda, and I’ve been a long-time fan and lurker of every iteration of the Cavill tag. As a southern(ish) small town native myself, I have quite the soft spot in my heart for our sweet military Captain. I absolutely adore all of the works and worlds we’ve created around a character that doesn’t even have a first name. It’s been a long time coming that I finally dust off the old chromebook and give it a crack as well. I hope you enjoy my first take on ole Sy.

The only warnings I have for you this time are for explicit language and implied mentions of smut, so please do not interact if you are under the age of eighteen. All mistakes are my own, gif credit goes to the owner. Otherwise, please don’t hesitate to reach out, share your thoughts, or just fangirl along with me. Thanks for stopping by!

“Shut the fuck up! Cowboy’s got an old lady?! Who’d wanna fuck that ogre?” 

Liquor flowed like the newly established running water in that small, nameless village they’d been exiled in for far too long. Two more weeks in this shithole and they’d be on the first redeye outta here. Sy could almost smell the fresh texan air, feel the warm breeze blowing in through the open window of his old pickup. Crickets chirped behind his closed eyelids, fireflies danced in the treeline behind the house. The steady creaking of that old porch swing made his heart hurt as he thought about her bare feet urging it to rock back and forth, back and forth. For a moment, he could taste the sweet tea in his favorite mason jar, fresh brewed and ice cold as it clung to his mustache in sticky, damp droplets. He licked his dry lips and shook his head, chuckling softly under his breath as he eavesdropped on the conversation as it unfolded in the next room.

“Have you lost your mind, Private? Do you want him to put your ass on latrine duty for the rest of our stay? He catches wind of you talkin’ shit about his woman, and they’ll be shipping us all back in pine boxes.” Cole scoffed and shook his head. They’d spent nearly a year out here busting their asses to get the water flowing again and he wouldn’t let the actions of one drunk jackass get him in trouble with the boss. He took a heavy pull from the amber bottle in his hands and sighed. “For the record…even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.” His comment sent the rest of the platoon howling with laughter. Sy simply smirked. He got that one from me. 

Cracking open the old metal tin with his name spray painted across the top, Syverson took out the stack of letters he’d accumulated over the last several months he’d spent away from home. “One last time, darlin’” he promised her. “Then I’m all yers. Ye’ll be sick’a me. Beg me ta’ get outta yer hair.”  

In truth, the thought of returning to civilian life scared him a bit. He enlisted the moment he could on the day he turned eighteen. Signed his life away, threw himself to the wolves, and got married to the job. Two decades later, he wasn’t sure he’d be any good at keeping a normal schedule. Johnny at the sawmill promised he’d hold a place for him when he got back, but spitting sawdust day in and day out somehow seemed worse than dodging bullets. His last tour was shorter than this one was. He’d barely been home long enough to shit, shower, and shave before word came down the line that he’d be shipping out again. The look on her face when he sat her down for dinner that night to break the news…he’ll never forget it.

Sy brushed a thumb over the stack of neatly folded letters in his hand. He’d read and reread them a million times while he waited for a new one to come in. Phone calls weren’t guaranteed out here. Even the satellite phone struggled to hold a connection. Conversations over noisy interference were brief. “How ya doin’, baby? How’s yer mom an’ them?” “Has the screen door been given’ ya fits again? It’s first on my list” “Alright, darlin’, I best be goin’. Keep sayin’ yer prayers fer us. Good girl. I love ya, sugar.” Nervous energy churned in his gut as he thought about laying eyes on her again. He wondered how long her hair had gotten. She knew he liked it long. Long enough to wrap around his fist and pull her back into him as he… Fuck. He couldn’t think about that right now. Two more weeks. Two more weeks and he’d be home. Home for good.

—

Life bustled around him as heavy, dusty boots thudded dully across the floor of the Houston airport. Men in suits talked into cell phones and toted briefcases as they brushed past him to get their luggage. Kids headed off to their fall semesters embraced their parents one last time before heading to the gate. Sy moved with a smooth, calculated accuracy to dodge the crowd as his eyes scanned faces for a familiar one. His heart thudded hard in his chest, the rush of his pulse flooding his ears over the sound of muffled last calls over the loudspeaker above.

Syverson wasn’t one to worry too much, but when he couldn’t find her right away, a voice in his head scolded him. “Ya must’a told her the wrong day, ya dumb motherfucker. Now what’re ya gonna do? Ain’t got no cash ta pay for a cab. Hitchhike? Flash a tit for a ride back ta’ town?” But then, he heard it. Clear as day, loud enough to rid the thoughts from his mind and send goosebumps skittering up and down his tanned forearms.

“Clayton.” 

Sy stopped suddenly, nearly bumped into the couple who walked behind him, and turned on his heels. He mumbled a half-assed apology to the disgruntled folks he plowed into as he brushed by them. The man was on a mission. Ditching the old green duffel bag at his feet, he threw open his arms as she met him half way and threw herself against his chest. 

He was an impenetrable wall, the force nearly knocking the wind from her lungs as she crashed into him. Tears brimmed in her eyes, wide and wild, the color of sea glass, gleaming in the fluorescent lights above as she searched his face. The lines at the corner of his eyes were deeper, a new scar graced his left temple and was already a soft shade of pink as it faded. A soft, satisfied smile spread across her freckled cheeks as she smoothed a hand over the center of his chest, letting it fall to rest over his heart. The steady thump of each beat against her palm gave her a sense of peace. He was whole; he was home.

“You’re late,” she chuckled, fisting his clean, pressed t-shirt and tugging him down for a quick kiss. Sy grasped her tightly, a rough hand coming up to hold the back of her head to keep her still. His eyes were alight with a silent warning as he held her close. Nuh uh, lil girl. Yer not goin’ anywhere.

“Nah, baby,” he breathed out, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he brought them down to meet hers once more. “I’m right on time.”

—

“What’s this I hear about us getting a dog?” Sy had his arm slung over her shoulder as they walked out of the sliding double doors. He toted the duffel higher, up over his other shoulder as they paused at the curb and let traffic pass by. 

“She’s in quarantine right now. Once she’s cleared, we can pick ‘er up in a couple of weeks. Ye’ll love her, scout’s honor.”

Her laugh was music to his ears, as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Of course. You just can’t quit picking up strays, can you, big guy?” They crossed the path and headed out to the parking lot to find the beat up old Chevy that awaited them. The thought of her having to scoot the bench seat all the way up to peer over the steering wheel made him grin. 

“Hey, I picked you up. Look at us now.” That earned him a swat across the chest as she broke away to unlock the driver’s side door. Boy, was she a sight for sore eyes. This. The whitty back and forth. This is what he missed the most.

“Oh, shut up, asshole. You were drunk. I had to drive us back to your place, remember?” Sy stopped her before she could get the door open. He dumped his bag into the bed of the truck and backed her up against the side of it, reaching out to brush her hair over her shoulder. 

“Let’s make a pitstop on the way home, alright? It’ll be quick.” 

Her face burned bright red, and she giggled nervously as her eyes darted around them, worried that they might catch the attention of some nosy onlookers if she’d heard him right. “Clay…we haven’t even made it out of the parking lot yet. Let’s just go home and–” He let out an amused snort as he shook his head. Devil woman.

“Nah, baby…not like that.” He slipped his hand into the back pocket of her jeans to draw her in close as he met her gaze. His voice was soft and sure. His mama was right. She’d been waiting on him long enough. 

“I was thinkin’ somethin’ a little more…clerical. We’ve got some business ta’ attend to. At the courthouse.” Sy squeezed a handful of her backside, just enough to earn a little yip of surprise from her parted lips. “Gotta change yer last name.”

[nekomacheercaptain]

Here is the very first contribution of mine for me and @hawkix dilf event collaboration!

Corazon discovers your potty mouth when he has to use ‘silence’ on you around some kids and when you’re alone he innocently tells you what a filthy mouth you have. You go somewhere private to show him just how dirty that mouth of yours can be…

Pairing: Corazon x fem! Reader

Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW

Word count: 1,9K

Content: cursing, makeout session, blowjob, dirty talk, praise kink

Tagging those who wanted to be notified for our dilf event: @standfucker @zoros-sheath @mamaalpha @unsuretater-simp

The nerve of your stupid captain. Forcing you to go on a mission overseas to seduce some pathetic nobles for his stupid business plans. Alone.

And his poor brother was stuck with you ranting as you walked around the city together, luckily the island you were visiting offered a rather pretty view and sweet inhabitants. Speaking of sweet inhabitants, Rosinante noticed your path lead to a park filled with innocent children playing in sand, on swings and climbing in trees. And with your increasingly building frustration and nasty words, he couldn’t help but sweat as you got closer, the children’s laughter and voices growing louder with each step.

“Your brother is nothing but an egotistical fuck of a man, you know that?”

Oh shit. His eyes widened at your language, trying to shush you, but trying to silence a woman’s rage about her boss exploiting her body? Good luck.

“Literally forcing me out on a new mission just so that some disgusting men can stare at my tits! What the FU-“

And you were too close to the children for Rosinante’s comfort, who now had armpit-stains from sweating out his feelings, quickly snapping his finger while desperately whispering a little ‘silent’. And for once his luck didn’t stab him in the back, listening to you continue your rant, shocked at everything coming out of your mouth.

“Stupid idiot motherfucking Doflamingo god damn fool ugly looking ass booze drinking old bastard shithead idiot avatar of the whore biggest clown in the circus laughed out of town city boy motherfucking Doflamingo-”

After all the time he had known you, a potty mouth was not an adjective he would have used to describe you. At least that’s what he had thought until his brother brought out this new side.

Listening intently with profound humor and slight shock, the two of you continued your tour around the city before you found yourselves completely alone at the inn he insisted on renting for the night. And you couldn’t really protest as you were sick of sharing a room with multiple other people on the ship. And his heavy shoulders fell and became light as he could finally allow himself to relax. Well, not before hitting his face in the doorframe when he walked into the room, falling in the hallway. 

And you couldn’t help but laugh at his fall, not able to stop until he had plastered himself next to you on the bed, sure he wouldn’t fall (again). While brushing off dust from his coat, you were blessed to hear his deep baritone finally without any interruption.

“You have a filthy mouth, you know?” and sweet, poor Rosinante hadn’t thought of anything inappropriate with his comment. Because it was true. You did have a filthy mouth. And his brows knitted ever so slightly together in confusion when you gave him a small smirk, a playful spark illuminating your eyes.

“You have no idea, babe”

And oh how fun was it to see him crumble, blush rising to color his cheeks a bright pink as his eyes widened at you. It got even worse when you leaned in closer, placing a hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch as you smiled up at him. Not even a trace of anything goofy on your face. Just pure adoration as you seeked his flickering eyes not knowing where to look; your beautiful smile, your sparkling eyes, your small hand on his leg-

“Want me to show you just how filthy it can get?”

And that was enough for his eyes to meet yours, the blush radiating off his ears at your question. He gulped loudly, shifting nervously on the bed. You couldn’t possibly have said that?

“What?”

Your hands reached for the ends of his hood to pull his face down to yours, a small gasp leaving him before the familiar taste of smoke and lipstick were on your lips. It didn’t take long before his massive hands carefully placed themselves on your back, pushing you closer to him, making you giggle against his mouth. And between heavy breaths, you managed to utter words against his increasingly eager lips, his slick tongue swiping curiously over your bottom lip.

You don’t mind?

“Fuck,” he groaned against you in response, hissing when one of your hands palmed him through his pants, “Oh god no!”.

Pulling away from him left you a beautiful sight; Rosinante’s flushed face confused at the sudden coldness meeting his lips, a small string of saliva the only trace of connection between the two of you.

“So you’re sure, Rosi?” and you pushed harder against his growing cock, biting your lip when he opened his eyes to look at you in disbelief, “You want me to show just how filthy I can get?”.

His eyes flickered from your eyes to the hand palming him over his pants, chest heaving as he made his choice. And he gulped before answering you, his cock twitching beneath your grasp.

“Yes, please,” and it didn’t take you long before you placed yourself on your knees before him on the floor, your hands eagerly unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock from its restraints. And he would never grow tired of your cute gasp each time you saw his size, like it was the very first time all over again.

“I always forget just how big you are,” your voice held a tinge of amazement that had him sink deeper into the bed, spreading his legs wider for you as his hands were already busy covering his face in embarrassment, “and how you always leave me with my legs shaking when we’re done”.

Your gentle giant could only groan as sparks were ignited where your hands went to caress the exposed skin of his abdomen, before his heavy cock was in your grasp. With a small smirk you teased the head of his cock with your tongue, eagerly awaiting for the delicious sounds he always made. Who needed music when he orchestrated an entire symphony of joy on his own?

And there it was - a loud groan reverberated in the room as you licked over his sensitive head, minimal pressure was all it needed for him to sing for you.

“Oh you’re always so sensitive, baby,” you giggled up at him, one of your hands starting a shallow rhythm barely moving from his base with a strong grip. Just as he liked it, “You’ve missed my mouth, hm? That’s why you rented this room, isn’t it, Rosi?”.

The smile you gave him was vicious, and he could barely hold himself together at the view between his fingers - his cock covering most of your face, your tongue worshiping his glans, while your hand barely fit any of his girth. Rosinante elicited the most beautiful whimper, making you almost moan at the sudden heat rushing to your core.

“I’ve missed it, too, you know,” your voice became low, and you placed kisses along his length, “your dick is so pretty, and fuck it’s so big”.

Your kisses turned into licks, until your face was turned and your rubbed him with your lips, feeling the salty taste of his cock on your tongue as you groaned against his girth in appreciation, your hand falling to play with his sack.

“Oh god!”

He could feel your smile against him at his reaction as his arms suddenly fell behind him in support, his entire face suddenly on display for you. His beautiful, bashful face looked down at you like you were the most divine creature to ever roam this earth. As if you could be anything but.

You went back to licking up and down his length, before placing your mouth on his tip, letting saliva drip onto him.

“I love you, Rosi,” you smiled up at him, his brows knitted in both focus and of pleasure, mouth gaping open to catch his breath.

“I-I love you too,” and he was so sweet. And sounded divine when your wet lips enveloped his tip in a warm embrace, stretching around his massive girth. He hissed at the sensation, knuckles turning white when he clutched the sheets in his fists.

“Y/n!” your name fell from his lips in a desperate whimper, like a prayer he was afraid wouldn’t get through to the higher powers.

With all your might you took him in further before bobbing your head, spit escaping past your lips to make it easier for you. One of your hands played eagerly with his testicles while the other pumped the rest of his length which could only dream of feeling the hot cavity of your mouth.

The gentle giant could only watch in admiration and keen you on with his sounds as he saw a glaze cover your eyes the more of him you fit. And you looked so incredibly pretty with his cock stuffed into your mouth and your small hand trying to grasp around him in a pathetic attempt.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he moaned down at you, his deep baritone making your cunt grow a heartbeat, feeling yourself get uncomfortably hot, “such a -ngh- good girl!”.

He knew you were a sucker for praise - just as he was. Moans vibrated through his length from you, forcing him to take a sharp inhale as you started a quick rhythm up and down his cock, giving him no time to recover. Ignoring all the drool that ran down your chin, you only used it as lube for your hands, abandoning his sack as you decided two hands working his massive size was a wiser choice. And oh what an amazing decision.

Rosinante couldn’t help but buck his hips subconsciously into your heat, chasing the release he was coming closer to with each of your precious movements. His heart pounded in his chest as tears welled up in your eyes and small sounds of your gags, chokes and cries reached his ears. You took him so well, your fingers and palms gripping his cock as hard as they could to grant him the friction he needed.

“Oh fuck, baby, god, s’good!” he was an earnest and shy man when he was close, uttering only small sentences, sometimes only words. And other times words that were pure gibberish, proof of how well your mouth knew him. How well you knew him, and how you guided and helped him to the euphoria only you could.

And with a few more thrusts into your mouth and pumps of your hands, Rosinante shut his eyes closed and threw his head back with a guttural moan. Hot spurts of his seed shot down your throat, and the excess mixing in with the drool already hanging from your chin. You pulled off of him when it all became too much, gasping for air while trying to swallow all he had to give you, while Rosinante came down from the glorious high you had provided him.

While the both of you were catching your breaths, you rested your head against his knee and his hand soothed over your hair while he wore a lazy smile. 

God he loved you so much. And glad he rented this room, planning on returning the favor as soon as you were ready to continue.

Yes there is a Magnus Archives quote used lmao it was too funny not to include

Tagging: @hawkix @wurm-food @owlight @icy-spicy @benkeibear

If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here!

[myosotisa]

Old Heart - Part 3 - Bend

‖ chapter summary: The fall of the Memphis Quarantine Zone. Eddie, Max, and you have to fight your way out.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: graphic violence. I cannot stress this enough. blood, dismembering, people eating people, death, burning alive, gun violence, melee violence. it's gruesome, in line with the content from the game and the show, so please tread carefully.

‖ word count: 8.5k

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10pm on Wednesday, August 17th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

The alarm rings out 3 times before you get the feeling it wasn’t a mistake. You rush for the window on the right, Eddie rushing for the left, as you both push the blinds out of the way to look out.

All the lights in the zone seem to have shut off at once. There are a few scattered bulbs still on the wall, probably emergency backups, and the only other thing you can see is the flickering glow of the huge bonfire a few blocks away. The alarm continues to blare in the silence of the night – your eyes scanning what little you can see in the dark to see if there is anything amiss.

“Has this happened before? Like some kind of drill?” You glance over at Eddie who is still looking intently out the window, jaw set tight.

“Not in the 5 years I’ve lived here.” His hand lifts, fingers feeling along the window frame in front of him in a soft skate until he reaches something. Fingers curl in and the side of his fist taps twice against the spot before he forces the window open an inch or two.

The alarm is much louder in the open air. A harsh clanging that drills into your skull over and over and over. Both of you stand frozen before your own windows, spines straight and on edge as you wait.

Neither of you know exactly what you’re waiting for.

An unrecognizable reverberation rises from the south – a metallic groaning sound, like the hull of a ship stretching and shrinking in the ocean waves. It goes on for 45 seconds or so beneath the alarm before it cuts off with a harsh grinding noise. Another minute of silence, just your own heavy breathing and the underlying blare that starts to fade into background noise the longer it goes on.

An explosion sounds to the north. It echoes out across the concrete walls and sends the whole building shuttering on its foundations. The windows rattle in their frames while a glass in the kitchen falls and shatters – as if there was an earthquake. When you look out the window again, a cloud of dust and smoke begins to slither its way up the north wall, the orange dance of flames coloring the dark gray smoke toward the bottom before it dips behind the buildings and out of view.

The sound of gunfire comes next, vibrating back and forth along the city blocks and making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. “Fuck, Eddie…” Your head whips toward him but he doesn’t react, eyes wide and unbelieving as they continue to scan for signs of what the hell is going on. “Eddie, what do we do?”

The door behind you rockets open, the handle embedding itself in the drywall with a crack. Max stands on the other side, one foot forward from where she’d kicked the door open, her chest heaving. “Munson,” she pants, crossing the room as she begins to pull her hair back into a high ponytail, “we have to get out of here.”

“What the fuck is going on down there, Red?” His voice is raised in distress, still not moving as Max passes him toward her room. It’s the most emotion you’ve heard out of him so far.

“No one knows,” she calls behind her as she lifts her hoodie over her head and throws it, going digging in dresser drawers for different clothes. “It’s fucking chaos out there. Everyone just started running when the alarm went off. I heard someone say they saw Infected.”

“Infected?” A chill of fear shoots down your spine, cold leaking out into your ribs as they begin to feel tight. “Inside the walls?”

“No, they were talking about across the river,” she snarks, slamming sounds increasing as she disappears further into the room. “Yes, inside the walls.”

“Did they say how many?” Eddie finally starts to move, jogging into his room with you directly behind as you both go diving for your own packs.

“It doesn’t matter,” you can feel Eddie’s glare on the top of your head as you keep your focus on shoving your things back into your bag as you talk. “It’ll just keep increasing exponentially, even one is too many.”

“Since when are you a fuckin’ expert--”

Eddie’s sneer is cut off by Max walking in. “Bambi’s right, Munson.” Your annoyed look shifts from Eddie to her at the nickname, but one blink in your direction has you turning back to your things. “Even if only one Infected bit one person and no one knew, it’s already too late in a city this size with this much panic.” She lays a machete down on the bed in front of you. “You know how to use one of these?”

Her blue eyes are bright even in the low light, a certain fire to them that can’t be extinguished even by the darkest nights. She’s decked out in battle gear, protective clothes built for moving and hiding, her knives in place, her ginger hair slicked back to her head. She doesn’t look scared or nervous – if anything she looks more at ease now than she did by the bonfire. More determined. Like this is what she was made for. You look between her and the machete once before giving a stiff nod and clipping the sheath to your pants. Eddie swings his pack onto his shoulders, going for the twin pistols on the bookshelf. “Saw an explosion northside along the wall, do you know what that noise was southside?”

She shakes her head, disappearing behind you again. “I told you, it’s a mess on the ground, no way to tell anything. We gotta get out of the city.”

Eddie swears under his breath, leaning both of his palms on the edge of the bookshelf as he hangs his head and takes a deep breath. “St. Peter’s was clear when we went through yesterday,” he calls out without lifting his head, eyes pinched shut as he continues to take measured breaths.

“We’ll try there first. Seems like most of the commotion was towards the west so hopefully we’ll have a clear shot.”

The wood groans under Eddie’s hands as he digs in, pushing off of it forcefully enough to send it rocking back against the wall. He turns on you, face stern and with a frightening calm to how he’s holding himself. “Grab whatever you can, don’t plan on coming back.”

He pushes past you back out into the rest of the apartment where you can hear Max rooting around in the kitchen. You shove the last of your stuff back in your pack, zipping it quickly before releasing the mag to check ammo on your pistol. It gets tucked into your holster and your pack gets thrown onto your back. One last quick scan of the room – the one that was Eddie’s home, that smells like him, that has his books, that he lives with Max in. Something catches your eye, sitting in its spot on top of the bookshelf just as it had when you first walked in. You grab for it and shove it deep into your pack before you turn back toward the other two.

A plastic bag gets thrown your direction without warning, slapping against your chest and falling into your arms. “Put that in your bag,” Eddie commands, shoving a similar looking bag into his own. You want to bite back at his order, at his authority, but a twin set of explosions sounds outside, smaller but also closer than the ones before, interrupting you enough to just do as he says. “Were the stairs clear when you came up, Red?”

She nods, shoving a canteen into her bag and then pressing off toward her abandoned rifle where it still rests by the couch. “Might not be now though, if people were running in like us to try to grab what they can.”

“Okay, I go first, Red covers us in the back.” He looks you over for a minute before adding, “Bambi,” a pause, as if feeling out how the newly assigned nickname fits in his mouth, before continuing, “stay close to us, but if anyone gets separated, head for St. Peter’s. You remember where that is?”

“One block north, 3 west, big cathedral,” you answer, which seems to impress him for a moment before he turns to dig something out from behind the couch. His arm reemerges with a baseball bat in hand – the black paint along the wood peeling in places and long nails hammered straight through the top. He tucks the handle under his arm as he double checks the magazine of ammo on both of his pistols. His bandana is tied around his head, keeping his bangs off his forehead and helping the rest of his hair stay back. Beneath the glazed over calm, you can see a subtle shake to his fingers as he clicks the mags back into place, a certain jerkiness to his movements as he prepares to leave.

Easy to imagine that it’s because he knows he might never come back.

“Everybody ready to roll out?” Max asks, as he loops the strap of her rifle over her shoulder.

“Ready,” you confirm, tightening the straps of your pack and undoing the latch of your new machete so it’s easier to slip out if needed.

Eddie nods and takes another deep breath, straightening his spine on the inhale. “Then let’s go.”

The three of you press out into the hallway, now pitch black without the stuttering lights above. Eddie navigates it easily, years of muscle memory taking him directly to where the sharp corner bends to the rest of the hall toward the stairs. You follow close behind, eyes struggle to adjust in the dark as you keep your fingertips outstretched so they brush along Eddie’s backpack to guide you. None of your footsteps make a sound on the stamped down carpet, hiding both yourselves and any possible assailants from being found so easily. Luckily, the three of you push into the stairwell without incident.

Emergency lights cast an eerie green across the concrete walls as you begin to descend, not hearing any foot steps other than the 3 of you. They echo out across the walls, ricocheting higher and higher above your heads. None of you speak, trying to listen for anything that might be out of place. The closer you get to the ground, the louder the cacophony outside grows. Gunfire, yelling, the odd explosion ringing out more and more distinctly as Eddie checks back behind the stairwell, just as you had yesterday, before pushing out and into the lobby.

There’s furniture overturned, a fresh trail of bright red blood leading off and toward the elevator, but the space is otherwise empty. As the three of you approach the glass doors, you see silhouettes of people running past, all headed west. When Eddie breaks the seal of the enclosed room, that’s when you start to hear the screaming.

It’s everywhere – gunfire and people crying out coming from every direction as your eyes adjust to the night air. A few more people run past, paying no attention to you as they head toward the river. “Okay, eyes up,” Eddie adjusts his hands on the grip of his bat and sets into a jog toward the east. 

Staying in a line, him in front and Max behind, you keep a hand on the handle of your machete as you press on toward the cathedral. You jog past a couple, a woman supporting her husband as he limps along with a hand pressed to a steadily bleeding wound in his side. Taking out your flashlight with your free hand, you click it on as you travel away from the burning fires and deeper into the shadows. The light coasts over empty sidewalks, reflects back off of store windows, and catches on disturbed dust from the road beneath your feet. Eddie holds out a hand for you both to stop and points out ahead and to the right, your flashlight immediately angling that way.

Two bodies lay in the street unmoving. As you approach, you see they are definitely not breathing, torsos littered with bullet holes, as if gunned down by an assault weapon at a distance. After confirming those people definitely aren’t getting back up, you all press on, a bit slower than before as you watch out for signs of further struggle.

Your flashlight catches on the dry, dead grass of the small park across the street from the cathedral. Scanning slowly across it with the bright light, your breath catches in your throat when you see a hunched over form toward the center. The person is on their knees, bent over with their head angled down. Another few steps and you can see they’re bent over a person in FEDRA armor, the body on the floor twitching as the kneeling figure presses their face into the other’s neck. A shift in your position has the light reflecting off a piece of metal on the body.

The Runner immediately throws it’s head up, it’s shoulders twitching once before it whips toward the three of you. Trails of blood pour down from it’s mouth as the lips part, letting out an inhuman roar as soon as it makes eye contact. It leaves behind it’s meal to stumble to it’s feet and make a break in your direction. Eddie takes a few quick steps toward it, bat clutched in both hands, and he reels back. The Infected lunges. The nailed end of the bat makes contact with it’s skull, the right side of it’s head caving in with a sickening crunch as the force of his swing sends it off to the left before it hits the dirt.

“Come on,” he walks toward the doors of the church as Max jogs up from behind you and toward the FEDRA officer on the ground. One of her knives strikes through his eye and into the skull, effectively ending any chance the fungus had of reanimating him. Eddie climbs the small set of steps to the cathedral two at a time and presses in against the door. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, and again, before turning toward you. “Hold this for a sec.”

You take your hand off of the handle of your machete to take the bat from him, trying not to look at the fresh blood shining on the nails as he turns back for the doors and tries again.

“What’s up?” Max asks as she comes up behind you, pausing on the steps.

“Doors jammed,” Eddie explains through a groan, pressing his entire body against the doors. He steps back, backing you up along with him, as he lifts his foot and brings it down next to the broad handles. After 3 more firemen’s kicks, the door still doesn’t move an inch. “It’s barred from the other side,” he explains, breathing heavily with exertion. “Who the fuck would’ve even…?”

“Is there another way in?” You ask, holding his bat back toward him, fingers brushing as he takes it in his right hand.

“There’s another door in the back, but the path to get there is blocked,” Eddie turns back toward you both, like he’s about to discuss next steps, when you hear a pained scream to your right.

A group of Infected have taken down two people a block east, their backs all curved down as they crowd around the struggling humans. “No time, we gotta go,” Max ushers you along, directing you back toward the west as Eddie catches up to her. “We go for transit by the convention center, if that’s shot we go southwest exit.”

“You got a death wish, Red? Southwest is barely holding as is,” Eddie asks, jogging forward to walk in line with you as you scan the streets ahead with your flashlight.

“Barely holding means no Infected,” she replies, her voice fading out as she turns around to see if the group behind are following. “Plus you’re already heading west, we’ll be able to take a straight shot down to Harahan and get across the river.”

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh beside you, his head tilting left and right along his shoulders in a stretch. “Fine, but we’re still going for convention center first.”

The three of you set into a brisk walk back the way you came, seeing even less panic than you had before. You catch the backs of people ducking into store fronts and crossing the streets ahead, but it’s mostly just shadows moving in the dark. As long as no one turns on you, you pay them no mind as your group moves forward in a steady sweep of the path ahead.

The screaming gets louder the further west you get. Though still hard to tell with the way sounds bounce off the tall buildings downtown, it seems as though most of the commotion is coming from the direction of the bonfire. Another chill of cold fear slides down your spine thinking of the huge gathering of people, half well on their way to intoxication, in the midst of whatever this is. You find yourself wondering where Maggie and Libby are, where Sadie is. If they’re safe or not.

“Let’s cut north after City Hall,” Eddie says, voice loud enough for you and Max to hear him but low enough to hopefully not attract any unwanted attention. You’re about to get back to the intersection of The Claridge House when an explosion echoes out from the right and a crowd of people runs through the intersection, heading south toward the bonfire. They are pushing each other out of the way, feet locking together and sending others down into the dust. The people tripped barely have time to hit the ground before they’re scrambling up again to keep running. Running like their lives depend on it.

Eddie is scanning through the running crowd as you clear the corner, looking out across the tracks to see what they’re running from.

There are more hunched over figures, feasting on prone bodies, stragglers from the escaping group being tackled to the ground right in front of you. There are at least 15 Infected littered across the tracks, each with their own soon to be companion bleeding out on the bricks. Their bodies jerk unnaturally as they press down, light from a nearby trash can fire flickering across their arched backs. “Holy shit,” you murmur, backing up a few steps and running directly into Max.

Her hands grip your biceps and push you lightly toward where Eddie is already pressing forward again. You jog to catch up, listening as Max follows close behind. You’re barely halfway down the next block when a FEDRA vehicle comes careening from the north. It veers directly into your path, speed only increasing as it barrels down the street toward you. It jerks left and right, screeching tires rolling across tarmac as you try to guess which way to run to get out of it’s way.

Whoever is behind the wheel must have lost whatever battle they were fighting, because the vehicle suddenly takes a hard right and goes smashing into the parking garage beside it. The crash is deafening – metal scraping metal and dragging on concrete as the hood smashes into an accordion fold against the concrete structure. It was going so fast the back kicks up off the ground before slamming back down with a bounce of the tires. Eddie holds out his arm to stop you as your ears ring from the force of the crash.

The front cab catches fire, the flames quickly doubling in size as Eddie backs up. “We gotta go, we gotta go! This way,” he directs you and Max down the alleyway beside you, drawing your own group closer to the bonfire spot.

“We’re getting herded like animals out here,” Max yells as you run beside her, your pack slapping against your back as you move. “We have to get out of the choke, everyone is getting pressed to the center of the zone.”

You’re about to reply when the vehicle behind explodes, the force and heat of the blast sending you to your knees. Your hands make contact with the ground, your flashlight flying out of reach as you try to keep yourself from falling on your face. Dust kicks up into your eyes, nose, down your throat as you gasp from the shock. It sends you into coughs, your eyes watering forcefully enough to blind you. The world spins beneath your hands as you try to recover your bearings after being sent to the ground. Your ears are ringing even more, not having recovered from the first impact, and your eyes are too blurred to see anything in the dark. Your throat screams in protest as you try to haul in breaths between your hacking coughs, only succeeding in inhaling more dust.

An arm loops around your waist, hauling you to your feet and using that grasp to get you moving again as you continue to cough and try to blink the dust out of your eyes. “Everyone okay?” Max calls out from the dust cloud, her voice rough as if she too was caught up in coughs.

“Good,” you manage to reply in a rasp before another coughing fit hits you, keeping your feet moving in the direction the arm around your waist directs you. The dust cloud clears out when you’ve crossed the threshold, giving you clear air to breathe as you spit out dirt onto the pavement and wipe at your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“Come on, we gotta keep moving,” Eddie’s voice comes from right beside you, the arm releasing as he lets out a few coughs of his own and waves you to follow. You ignore the sudden chill that sinks through you as his warmth pulls away.

The three of you keep trying to head southeast, getting blocked off in various ways, sending you towards where the light of the bonfire continues to grow in the distance. People are running this way and that across the streets like no one knows which direction to go in order to escape the panic. The flicker of the fire stretches out across the path before you, shadows stretching and growing in the distance like spectres with wills of their own. The closer you get to the celebration, the more bodies line the streets. Some bloody as if torn into by claws, others with their throats slit, some with their skin burned.

Around the corner, the market is on fire. The tarps above each stall waving in the wind as they burn, the entire open air gathering point caught up in flames. Eddie’s steps hesitate for a moment as a figure runs out from between the market stalls, their clothes and hair burning as they scream bloody murder. Another figure emerges, also engulfed in flames, and tackles them to the ground, both bodies rolling away from you as they struggle.

Turning away from the sight as your stomach twists, you mistakenly angle yourself toward the original bonfire location. There are even more bodies here, some shot, some looking like they were torn apart. Piled on top of each other in places. Bile rises in your throat, the sharp smell of blood suddenly invading your nose as you scan of the carnage that once was the celebration. It covers the ground, crimson seeping into the soil from all that was shed across it. 

You see the woman who played the fiddle on the ground, a bite mark on her arm and a bullet wound through the back of her skull. The man who handed you your cup of piss whiskey is laying on his side, blood trickling out of his mouth and a cut across his throat. There’s a person half sticking out of the flames: long blonde hair, a yellow floral dress, and alabaster skin slowly being consumed by fire. You almost fall backwards onto your ass as you stumble away from the sight.

“Come on, you gotta keep going,” Max catches you, gripping your biceps for support again as she helps you past the rapidly spreading bonfire and beyond the stench of blood and the bodies, known and unknown.

Eddie jogs through 2 alleyways and around a corner, looking back every few seconds to make sure you’re both still behind him. He emerges into an intersection, looks left and then–

A figure tackles him, sending him to the ground ass first as they descend. “Fuck!”

Max takes three steps forward and kicks the Runner off of him like it weighs nothing. Eddie scrambles backwards as she pins the person to the ground with her boot and shoots it twice in the forehead. It falls limp when she kicks it again for good measure before wiping her boot off on the pavement like she’d squashed a bug. Your eyes find Eddie, wide and searching for wounds.

“I’m good,” he says when he catches your eyes on him, “Just busted my ass, I’m fine.”

“Maybe clear your corners before walking past them next time, Munson.” Max’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, barely showing any concern for him as she holsters her pistol again and looks out over the new space.

You step over and offer your hand to Eddie, still on the ground. He’s glaring at Max’s back but the look softens when he sees you reaching for him. He braces his hand on your elbow and you do the same before leaning back, helping him pull himself to his feet. There’s a bit of blood on his palms from how quickly he pulled himself away and it stains your skin before he wipes it off on his pants.

Another FEDRA vehicle goes careening past the intersection you’re looking at, this one in control as it heads to an unknown destination to the south. “All the trucks are headed south, might be a way out,” you note, looking between Max and Eddie.

Neither move nor speak for a few moments and it hits you with a startling realization – they probably knew a majority of those bodies littered across the park. They’ve lived here for years, are known members of the community. Max was helping you past the corpses of people she knew while you tried not to lose it just from seeing bodies you barely recognized.

This is their home. And it’s burning to the ground around them.

“We stick close to the buildings down Riverside. Head for the southeast exit point.” Eddie is solemn, eyes downcast as he starts walking again. “Hopefully we won’t run into whatever FEDRA is going for.”

As if that wasn’t a jinx in and of itself.

A few more blocks south, you catch sight of a huge blockade. FEDRA trucks in a V formation blocking a road. A few yards back from the open point of the V, FEDRA officers kneel and stand with assault rifles going off almost non-stop, empty shells littering the ground around their feet. Bodies cover the intersection between the V and the officers, to the point of piling on top of each other. Infected run for the gunfire and get funneled into the FEDRA trap, falling as more bodies hit the piles. Some climb over the vehicles and try to lunge for them but there are enough officers that they quickly meet the same fate.

The three of you press tight to the building beside you, hidden in shadows as Max steps up a bit closer to speak lowly. “We’ve gotta get past them but if they see anything move they won’t hesitate, doesn’t matter if you’re bit right now or not.”

Eddie looks on, his teeth pressed tight together. “They’ll have the area behind them blocked off, or even if they don’t, they’ll take it as a threat and attack on sight.” The two make eye contact in front of you, Max’s eyebrows raising as she tilts her head. Eddie exhales harshly through his nose before giving her a stiff nod. “Come on, with me,” she murmurs to you, signaling you to follow her back the way you came. You glance back to make sure Eddie is also following, catching him throwing two middle fingers at the FEDRA blockade before trailing after you.

Max leads you west, away from your supposed destination and also toward the direction all those infected were pouring out from. While you want to question, you decide against it as she sneaks around corners and towards the southwest like she has a plan. The screaming steadily rises in volume, gunfire and the sounds of fighting growing beside you. The three of you emerge into a huge intersection filled with people.

Infected press in, clashing with civilians across the open area. Knives and bats and hatchets and axes slice through the air as the people of Memphis fight back against the Infected that try to bring them down. Cutting down former neighbors, slaughtering what used to be friends, sending loved ones to the ground and executing them. You spot Gus out in the chaos, a bloody butcher’s knife in hand as he hacks at the neck of an Infected, sending it to the ground and it’s head rolling off to the side. Max passes you, pulling a hatchet out of the bag behind her and entering the fray. “Max, what are you –”

You drag Eddie out of the way as an Infected flies past, moving too quickly to course correct when you shift it’s intended target, and tumbles over a corpse beyond. “Shit,” you gasp, as another Runner darts toward you both. Eddie’s bat rears back, once again cracking across the skull with a whack. “Where are we going?!”

“Through!” Is Eddie’s only reply, arm coming behind you and dragging you with him toward the fighting.

You duck to dodge an elbow, side step around a struggle, get to a spot where it’s clear enough that you can take off into a run. Max is a few feet ahead of you, hacking and slashing into anyone who comes at her like a fucking angel of death. A whirlwind of fire cutting people down and leaving butchered corpses in her wake. An Infected approaches from behind her, well beyond her field of vision, and you act on instinct.

Your machete is in your hand and you use your running momentum to strike it down into it’s neck, blade sinking into skin and muscle before connecting with bone as it falls forward. You release the handle, letting your machete go down with it as you pull out another blade. Denim covered knees hit the ground, blade sinking into the space below it’s skull with a professional hand, rendering it immobile and hopefully dead.

Knife returning to your pocket as you stand, you brace your foot on their back as you grip your machete again and try to pull it out. Try being the key word. It’s lodged tight, even as you press down with your boot and attempt to yank it free with both hands. In your moment of distraction, there’s a flash of movement to your left and then you’re hitting the ground.

Arm braced to keep the snapping, snarling jaws away from you, you struggle with your other hand between assisting your braced arm in keeping the monster away from you (a losing battle) or trying to reach for a weapon (a losing battle). The weight of the Infected presses down along your whole body, blood running cold as you try one last time to push it off of you.

The weight flies off along with the sound of bone crushing under weight. You gasp out air, trying to scramble to your feet when a hand appears in front of you.

Eddie’s chest is heaving, a smear of blood across his cheek, red soaked bat in one hand and the other stretched toward you. “We’re even,” he says as he pulls you to your feet, a small smile on his face. You go to try to dislodge the machete again but Eddie waves it off. “It’s a piece of shit, come on.”

You both set into a jog toward the swing of Max’s long, red ponytail. She’s shooting into the face of a clicker, 4 rounds directly to the nose before it falls at her feet. Another sacrifice as she burns forward, cutting through the crowd like a force of nature as she fights toward Gus. Her boots are slick with spilled blood, pants stained red, with one of her sleeves torn at the elbow. But when you manage to catch a glimpse of her profile – she’s smiling. She’s grinning like a kid at Christmas as her torment continues.

You’re close enough now to see the sweat and blood that covers Gus as he fights back to back with four others. Max is pushing toward them, almost close enough to call out, when the wall beside them explodes outward. Two of them are immediately crushed by debris, bodies flattening in horrifying squelches beneath the stone, Gus and the other two barely managing to avoid the same fate.

An Infected emerges from the dust, larger than any you have seen before. Fungus covers large portions of it’s body, somewhere near 8 feet tall, and fucking huge. You stand frozen in place as it takes two hulking steps toward the small group, who doesn’t have enough time to scatter, and grabs Gus like he weighs nothing. It lets out a roar that vibrates the bones beneath your skin directly into his face as he struggles, eyes the size of saucers in fear. In mere moments that feel like an hour, the monstrous creature grips his skull and rips his head clean off his body before throwing both pieces away like they’re made of tissue paper.

A scream tears from your throat as Eddie’s hands grip you, dragging you away from the creature as it lunges for it’s next victim. “Run, fucking go!” He’s yelling, sounding more scared than you thought was possible for him, as he directs you back toward the blockade.

“What about Max?!”

“Just GO!”

Adrenaline pumps hard through your blood, muscles pulling tighter, vision tunneling, and nerves numbing as you press into a full sprint away from the screaming that continues behind you. You don’t look back to see if Eddie or Max is with you. You don’t worry about FEDRA shooting you ahead. You don’t wonder if another Infected will intercept you as you go. You do what Eddie asked of you wholeheartedly and without question.

You fucking run.

Bullets fly past you in the opposite direction as you press in tighter to the buildings on your left. FEDRA filters in through the chokehold they made, assault rifles at the ready as they direct their fire toward the horrifying creature behind you. Molten metal whizzes past you, too close for comfort, and your shoulder rocks back to dodge it. Your sprint barely falters as a pressure against your back sends you into an alley. Wait, you can't dodge… A bullet?

Fire erupts across your bicep, searing into your blood and bones as you make contact with the brick wall. Another scream escapes you as hands grab for your shoulders, your own scrambling for purchase on the wall as your left arm feels as though it's being torn off. Your right fist flies, unseeing as you turn on your attacker. Run, fight, lunge, survive.

A hand grips your wrist before it can make contact and pins it back against the wall. Good arm pinned by the wrist, bad arm hanging uselessly at your side, a body presses you into the brick wall. The pressure and the brick digging into your back grounds you for the moment as you blink back into yourself.

Eddie comes into focus, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his eyes rapidly flicking between your wrist, your hand, and your limp arm. “Hey, hey, it’s me,” he tries to soothe, posture relaxing as your own tense muscles loosen slightly once you actually make eye contact. “Just me.” He pulls back slightly and your knees buckle under you – you barely fall a few inches before he rushes forward again to support you. “Hey, you good?”

Your vision swims, senses assaulting you from all angles as it feels like the cavity of your skull fills with water. “Dizzy,” you murmur, good hand coming down on his shoulder and gripping tight as the world shifts around you.

“Fucking hell, Bambi,” Max’s voice appears from nowhere, your head attempting to shift toward the noise. “Taking a bullet while running from a horde is pretty metal but we’ve gotta move.”

“Just…” Your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, dry and heavy as you try to reply. “Just need a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute. Sorry, Bambi.” Eddie yanks your good arm around his shoulders and braces his own across your back. The pain of the movement sends you reeling, a shattered cry breaking out of you as he drags you forward. Max, faster and unburdened, presses ahead to make sure the way is clear as Eddie borderline carries you down darkened paths you aren’t coherent enough to identify.

Your eyes blur and your surroundings blend together as you focus in on yourself, coming to the realization you can still adjust and feel your arm, but moving it feels like a fate worse than death. There’s blood dripping down your hand and onto the floor behind you as you hang off of Eddie and follow Max deeper into the shadows.

Thursday, August 18th, 2016 – West Memphis, Arkansas

Reds, yellows, and whites swirl around behind your eyelids as you come back to yourself. It’s a step by step process of returning to consciousness.

First, you recognize the bright light beyond your closed eyes is probably the sun. You can feel it beating down on your denim covered shins – which feel as though they’ve been cooking in an oven. The sun must be pretty high in the sky and your calves must have been in the sun for the entirety of the morning based on the uncomfortable heat crawling beneath the fabric. The rest of your body is less heated and potentially under shade, which you’re grateful for.

Second, you come to the realization you’re laying on your back. There’s something beneath you that isn’t ground and isn’t your backpack. It has a bit of give but isn’t necessarily comfortable. Your legs are dangling off the end of whatever it is, the heels of your boots resting on the ground. Your right arm is laying out beside you and your left arm is bound to your chest. You can shift your fingers on both hands, wiggle your toes in your boots. All limbs mobile and accounted for.

Third, your head and your upper left arm are killing you. The sun is too bright even behind your closed eyes. It feels like someone is driving an ice pick right through your temples and pounding into your skull. It echoes around the cavity housing your brain and bleeds down into a sharp tension in your neck. Meanwhile, your arm feels like it weighs 100 pounds against your ribs. It’s wrapped so tight you can feel your heartbeat beneath the bandages along with the sore muscles and throbbing wound. The wrapping comes up over your sternum and over your other shoulder, a makeshift sling keeping your arm in place.

When you finally decide to blink your eyes open, all you see is bright blue sky. There are no clouds to be seen and the sun must be coming in from a different angle because your eyes adjust to the light with a certain ease you hadn’t expected given the pounding in your head. Glancing a bit higher up, you catch sight of a white umbrella above, the saving grace keeping you from roasting alive beneath the sun’s rays. Between the shade of the umbrella and the breeze across you, it actually feels comfortable. Almost calming.

In an attempt to sit up, you draw your good elbow under to prop up your upper body. A groan of effort tumbles out against your will and you hear a snort of amusement off to your left. “Take it easy, Bambi,” Max’s voice sounds tired, lacking emotion. “Lost a lot of blood. Gonna be shaky for a while.”

You ignore her and continue to slowly push yourself up, your entire body protesting, before you are able to take in your surroundings.

The rooftop patio is bathed in late morning sunlight; the faded, white plastic furniture looking at odds with the three of you laid out across them. Max is sitting on top of a table to your left with one of her boots propped up on a chair. Her ponytail is a mess but still standing, the torn sleeve completely ripped off to show her forearm, the blood staining her clothing dried under the heat of the day. She’s leaning back on her palms as she looks out into the distance. Eddie is off to your right, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped between his thighs. The smear of blood across his cheek has been cleaned off but he still looks like a total mess. The bandana has been removed and it looks like he re-tied his hair back into a bun on the back of his head. His pack is still on his back and the now-crusty baseball bat lays on the patio lounger beside him. His head is up, looking out in the same direction as Max. Casting your attention outward, you find out what they’re staring at.

The sun has risen on a Memphis in flames. Large plumes of dark smoke filter up into the blue sky above from multiple different spots in the city. One of the fires is so large you can see the orange filtering up into the funnel even over the tall concrete walls. If you listen close enough, you swear you can still hear gunshots going off and echoing across the valley between you. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. A part of you hoping there are still some people in Memphis left fighting for their home. That not all was lost.

Max and Eddie do not seem like they have that same hope. They are both still as stone and silent as they look out over the home they left behind. It’s a solemn and heavy silence weighed down by grief. Mourning in silence. But they do not cry. They’ve lost too much to shed tears over something like this. You can imagine it feels almost like an inevitability.

It was always going to end up like this eventually – it was only a matter of when.

You tear your eyes away from the burning graveyard beyond and focus back in on yourself. Your upper arm is wrapped tight in white gauze, the sleeves of both of your shirts torn off at the shoulder above it. The fabric of your sleeves has been tied to something else and fashioned into a sling that has your forearm pressed tight to the area just below your chest. Shifting your shoulder in an attempt to test the movement of your arm has tears immediately jumping to your eyes, channeling your desire to yelp into a hiss between your teeth. You still have feeling, you still can move it, but it'll be a little while until you’re able to do so without pain. Probably a lucky break all things considered.

“Was…” Your voice is roasted when it croaks out of you, attempting to clear your throat barely helps. “Was I the only one hurt? Are you both okay?”

“Munson’s got a bruised tailbone and I managed to break my pinky again, but we’re fine.”

A sigh of relief leaves you at the news. Ease confirmed, and now extremely aware of just how dehydrated you are, you start looking around for your bag.

A water bottle rolls across the ground and knocks against your boot, coming to a stop within arms reach. When you look up, Eddie is back to looking out over Memphis, as if he hadn’t moved at all. You grip the bottle in your bound hand and use your good arm to twist off the top, downing half the bottle all at once.

Silence rings out for a while longer. You’re not sure how long you all sit on this rooftop and watch the city turn to ruins before your eyes. The sun might crawl along the sky but you’re not aware of it. All you can do is breathe in clean air that lets you know you’re alive and watch as the happy community of Memphis, Tennessee turns to ash, rock, and bone. Knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it or fix it.

“Now what?”

Eddie’s head falls, hanging down between his shoulders as he looks down at the ground. “We keep going. Head to Three Corners.”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Your home just burned to the ground, there has to be something more important for you to do than keep escorting me.”

“I signed up for this gig – made a promise to a friend – so I’m going to get you where you need to go,” his tone is clipped, his hands clenching so tightly together his knuckles turn white. “Besides, there’s nothing we can do to help them now.”

The defeat in his words sobers you. You want to argue there are plenty of things that could be done to try to help anyone who might still be alive down there, your heart still bleeding hot for those left behind, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear it. You glance over to Max, to see if she has any reaction to his words, but she looks on as if she isn’t even listening to you.

“It might be slow moving while you recover,” he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, “but with the three of us, we should still be able to make it by end of day Sunday. Especially if we’re able to find a car worth half a shit.”

“I’m not coming with you.”

Eddie straightens at Max’s confession, confusion coloring his expression as he glares at her. “What do you mean you’re not coming with us?”

“I mean, I’m not going with you,” she spits back, rolling her head over her shoulder to look over at him.

“What are you planning to do instead?” He asks, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounds hurt.

She sits up then, pressing a palm into her knee. “Got some business to finish down there,” she angles her head toward the flaming city. “After that…” She pauses, a harsh swallow pushing down her throat. “I think it’s about time I paid Dustin and Will a visit.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Her head whips toward him at his dismissive tone, eyes narrowing into a glare. “Contrary to your own belief, I don’t need you looking after me.”

Eddie pushes himself to his feet, facing her head on. “I promised him I would.”

The declaration seems to hit Max like a slap across the face. She reels back instinctively, muscles tensing like she’s gearing up for a fight. The tension quickly rises to a boiling beneath the heat of the sun and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to stop them if it comes to blows.

Then Max exhales hot air, the tension pouring out of her along with it. The fight that seems so eager to come to the surface ducks back below the water to wait for its next chance to break free. “I know, Eddie.” Her hands come up to rub roughly at her face for a few moments. “But Bambi needs to get to Jeff. She needs you more than I do.” He steps one foot closer like he wants to argue but she holds up a hand to stop him. “I’ll be careful,” her voice lowers, softening into a sincere promise. “I’ll make it out to the other side and I’ll –” Her voice catches, emotions betraying her as she tries to shake it off. “I’ll go clean out the garage.” Eddie softens at that, his eyes pinching up in sadness. “I’ll pack up the truck and go to the ranch. See the boys. Maybe take it easy for a while.” The idea of it makes her laugh softly, some of the sorrow fading as her eyes unfocus, like she’s going off into a daydream of what that might look like.

“You’ll radio when you’re there?” He asks softly, as if he’s afraid to ask for anything at all.

“‘Course I will,” her tone still bleeds sincerity, more feeling showing from her now that you thought she was capable of based on your previous interactions with her. A gentle smile tilts her lips as she keeps eye contact with him, warmth seeping out of her. “I probably won’t get there before you get to Jeff’s but if you hang around for a few days, we can check in?”

Eddie nods, tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes as he turns away from you both. Looking back out over the wreckage and crossing his arms over his chest. Max hops off her table, stretching her arms skyward with a moan of release. “You’ll keep him on track, won’t you Bambi?” She flashes you a smile, the corner of her mouth sharp as she gives you a wink. The confident and deadly human weapon falling back into place. Walls sliding up and clicking into place.

You nod, trying to bury your own tumultuous emotions at the idea of continuing on without her. “I will.”

“Good,” she answers simply, hooking her own bag back over her shoulder. “Well, then. This is a see you later.”

Eddie tilts his head back, studying Max like this is the last time he’ll ever see her. “See you soon, Red.”

“Later, Munson.” She gives you a 2 fingered wave as she passes you. “Nice meeting you, Bambi. Good luck.”

You turn to watch as she crosses the roof and yanks open the door, disappearing into the dark without looking back once.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Eddie lets out a sigh, his shoulders collapsing forward slightly. He turns on his heel toward you, immediately moving to pick up your backpack and move it within your reach. “Come on, Bambi. We’re burning daylight.”

He looks tired again. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. The kind of exhausted that comes from deep within you.

You wonder if he’ll ever find the peace of life Memphis gave him again.

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thanks for reading and for giving so much love on previous parts!! if you liked this part, please give it a reblog and leave a comment if you can :)

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown ; Part 5

Part 1 ⚜️ Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Read on Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Injury (including burns, broken bones and scars), child injury, alcohol consumption and baudy yet shanty tunes.

Chapter Summary:

It was over, but there was a trail of tragedies written in the dust on the road to get there. Everyday Tav wondered if her and her friends were going to join them.

Tav’s powers had sometimes been unpredictable in her childhood.

A zap on accident when someone touched her in passing, the boom of thunder knocking things off walls when she lost her temper or sometimes a rain cloud that soaked her and her little sister’s shared bedroom in a fit of teenage angst. Other than the occasional embarrassing magical slip up, she lived a pretty average life.

 Her family’s pub and inn lay at the edge of the coast, right on the dock of a small village that only grew when wayward adventurers with nowhere else to go sought out a peaceful retirement. Tav’s mother was one of them. She fell in love with Tav’s father, grew tired of the constant trek and risking of her life. She settled down and ran an inn for weary travelers with him, relieving any wanderlust through the stories of her patrons. 

If a story was good enough, Tatianna Caradine would provide a round of drinks on the house. 

Her father was less of a wanderer, preferring the simplicity of his life and his work. He had watched his own father set off on too many adventures for months at a time, seen him come back with too many new scars and a haunted look in his eye. He built the inn for people like his father, who needed a safe place to lay their head on the road. 

Tav loved the stories told at the pub. She would listen with stars in her eyes as sailors recounted the wonders at sea, and rangers gush about the mysticism in the wilds. Her and Lottie would act out their mother’s adventures for patrons and when her grandfather was still alive she’d sit on his lap as he regaled tale after tale to the gathered crowds. 

When a ship of sailing adventurers docked at their humble town, they made it no further than the inn. The youngest recruit, encouraged by the wide eyed gaze of the innkeeper’s daughter,  puffed out his chest over a mug of ale and a braggadocious claim that he and his crew bested a kraken. Tav had not understood the teasing of his crew mates, or the sarcastic rolls of their eyes. She was smitten, and naive. Tav was only fourteen, and while the sailor was very young, he was still old enough to drink and set off on his own. 

Her father had insisted she was too young for him but Tav hardly cared. She fancied herself in love; he never looked at her like the innkeeper’s little daughter, he told her she would make a great adventurer — complimented her on her abilities instead of warning her to keep them in check.  

They made a plan: he would sneak her onto the ship, she could hide as a stowaway until they were too far out to bring her back and she would be with him on his adventures. 

Her mother caught her sneaking out of her shared room with Lottie after everyone went to sleep. Tatianna had let her climb out of the window, shuffle awkwardly down the side of the building and take a few steps before she revealed herself. Tav had been a maelstrom of emotions. She loved her jolly sailor and he loved her and they were going to see the world together  — she was certain of it. Her mother simply stood by calmly, letting her child thrash and rage while she stood steadfast in her decision. Tav was too young to be setting off alone, let alone running away with some boy who she had known all of two days. 

In a fit of hormonal rage, Tav’s powers slipped out of control. With little to no warning, lightning struck the inn and a fire broke out. Her mother had rushed in, screaming to wake up the patrons as she ran through the small hallways. At some point her father had woken, helping clear the building. And Tav just watched.

People ran out, coughing and hacking as the fire spread and smoke billowed out of the open windows and doors. At some point, a crowd had gathered from the village as well, people attempting to help and heal. More and more people filed out until there was a long stretch where no one else exited the building to safety. But neither her mother, father or her little sister had come out yet.

Tav was convinced she was dreaming. Any moment she would wake up, and be able to move her limbs again instead of standing frozen to the spot in shock and confusion. The heat from the burning wood made her sweat and the light of it blazing against the night sky hurt her eyes to look at, and the smoke that rose up into the air filled up her senses. Do something, anything, she told herself. Yet she couldn’t move. 

Finally, her mother had stumbled out of the building with Lottie in her arms. She laid the little girl down and immediately ran back into the building, a few people following after her with warning screams that the building would not last much longer. Lottie looked like she was asleep, except she was covered in soot and her skin was charred and bubbled in spots. Her tiny leg was bent wrong, bright white bone showing through broken skin. 

It took two people to carry her father out. Her mothers arms were red and angry, her father’s entire body was so badly burned that Tav felt sick at the smell of charred flesh that filled her nose when he was placed on the remains of the dock. He was unrecognizable.

Tatianna was permanently scarred, her forearms and hands taking the brunt of it but her neck had a sprawling mark where the flames had caught her clothes.  She had destroyed the skin when lifting a burning beam of wood that had fallen on Lottie. It broke the little girl’s leg badly enough that it had to be amputated, and she would live the rest of her life with scars on the lower half of her body. Tav’s father succumbed to his wounds a few days after the fire. 

The woman at the bottom of the stairs certainly looked a bit like Tav, and the teenager next to her could have easily passed for a younger version of his hero. As the older woman impatiently read a small letter in her hand, the young girl’s eyes seemed to take in the store with quiet wonder. Rolan made his way down, cautious and ready to send them away but somehow nervous. Historically, Rolan knew he wasn’t very good at first impressions and if this was Tav’s mother he didn’t want her to think he was an ass. 

With his shoulders back, his chin up high, he greeted the two newcomers. 

“I’m the master of this tower,” he said evenly, “I’m told you are looking for one of the ‘Saviors of the Gate.’”

“Tav,” the woman nodded her head once, “she goes by Tav. I’m her mother, I have proof.”

She handed him a letter. Addressed to Tatianna Caradine from one Tav C. The woman’s name matched the letter Tav had written just a day ago, now on its way to an empty home. 

“I sent off a letter to you on Tav’s behalf just yesterday, Mrs. Caradine,” Rolan smiled a little. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“So she is here?” Tatianna asked urgently, grabbing his arm. “She’s alright?”

“Yes,” Rolan replied, not entirely sure what to do with the contact. “I saw her just yesterday, she’s fine.”

Tatianna looked close to tears. “Thank the Gods,” she breathed. 

“Mama,” the young girl touched her shoulder, but the woman was trying to regain her composure. 

“You must be Tav’s sister,” Rolan commented, trying to give Tatianna a moment. 

“Yeah, I’m Lottie,” she said with a little smile. 

“Rolan.”

“Are you really the master of this place?”

“I am,” he said. 

“You’re younger than I thought an archmage would be,” Lottie tilted her head a little. 

“Am I?” It was a dumb response, but it seemed better than admitting he was not quite qualified to be the owner of the tower. 

“Unless you use magic to look younger,” she raised her eyebrows. 

“I assure you I don’t,” he replied 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Lottie, stop,” Tatianna waved her hand. “Where is she?”

“She should be out with her party working on rebuilding efforts,” he said. “They’re staying at the Elfsong Tavern. I could escort you there?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Please.” 

The walk would have been awkward in its silence, but Tatianna had a steadfast focus on her task that made it less so. Lottie had a slight limp in her gait, which her mother seemed to naturally accommodate in her speed but Rolan had to adjust his long strided pace for. 

“How did you get into the city?” Rolan finally asked. The gate had still been closed, only opening for supply deliveries and for refugees to leave if they wished. 

“I have an old acquaintance here in the city,” Tatianna said cryptically. “They got us in.”

“They snuck us in. They were a Harper or something,” Lottie added. 

“Lotaryne,” Tatianna scolded, the use of the girl’s full name making her clamp her mouth shut. 

Rolan stifled a smile. “I'm sure there’s no harm done. The head of the Harper’s is one of Tav’s traveling companions.”

“Jaheira? The Jaheira?” Tatianna asked in disbelief. 

“The very same.” 

“So it’s true, what they’re saying?” Lottie asked him. “About mind flayers taking over?”

“Yes,” Rolan replied, “I’m sure the stories are wildly embezzled, but I saw it myself.” 

There was a pause before Lottie said, “our Tav? saved the whole city?”

“The world, really,” Rolan corrected. “An Elderbrain with an army of that size would not have stopped with Baldur’s Gate.” 

“So when do I get to go on an adventure to save the world ,” Lottie asked her mother. 

“Never. I’m locking you in the pub until you die.” Tatianna said grouchily. “My nerves can’t take any more heroes for daughters, I’ve aged twenty years since I got your sister’s letter.”

“Rolan can you teach you a spell to hide your gray hairs,” Lottie joked.

Rolan snorted. 

“Don’t laugh, wizard,” Tatianna snapped. 

“Apologies, ma’am.”

By the time they made it to the Elfsong, most people in the city were either done with their work for the day or taking a break for a hot meal. As one of the few bars still standing, it was crowded, people spilling out into the streets with their food and drinks. Inside, he looked around to find the group. Their usual spot was in a mostly secluded corner at the end of the room, close enough for Lakrissa to join them and listen to Alfira’s performances. He heard Minsc’s voice over the din of the crowd, and spotted Halsin’s broad frame sitting next to — 

“Tavryna!” Tatianna shouted, breaking off into the crowd with Lottie not far behind. 

At first Rolan was a bit shocked. He had just learned Tav’s last name a day or so ago when he sent off her letter. It never occurred to him that ‘Tav’ was short for anything. But he brought up the rear, as Tatianna made her way through the crowd. Another loud yell of Tav’s full name had her looking up in bewilderment. 

“Mama?”

After her father’s funeral, the pub had been rebuilt and Lottie had been fitted for a fine prosthetic leg that cost nearly everything they had left. Tatianna never outright said she was scared of Tav’s magic, but she made it very clear that it needed to be controlled. Wizards, sorcerers and any magically inclined patron was offered a free stay for a passing lesson or word of advice when it came to wielding magic like hers. There was talk of sending her to an academy in Silvrymoon that specifically taught sorcerers, but tuition and travel would have been more than they could ever afford. 

So Tav took what meager advice and one time lessons she could get. She learned how it felt when her magic was clawing at the surface, how to live in the eye of the storm that raged inside of her instead of being swept away by it. She was never perfect at it, but above everything else she never wanted to hurt anyone with her powers again unless she meant to. That was enough drive for her to keep it under control until it was a second nature to her, until her magic was an extension of herself and not a constant force chewing at her insides to be let out. 

Her mother never blamed her, which only made Tav more inclined to do whatever she could to make up for the fact she'd made her a widow. She couldn’t be her father but she could step in to help raise Lottie, and keep the pub running.  Her life in the village was one of piteous stares and a constant need to show that she was helpful and not a threat, but that wasn’t what mattered. Her mother and sister were all that mattered:  if it meant the rest of her life would be dedicated to atonement, then so be it. 

Once she was sure of her ability to control her magic and old enough to feel comfortable on her own, Tav left their village at the behest of her mother. To see what was out there before  she settled down to live and die in the same place she was born. Tav had been away for two months when she got kidnapped in Baldur’s Gate by mind flayers. By the time she saved the city it had been nearly a year since she saw her mother and sister. 

—

Tav was almost sure it was a trick. Maybe the tadpole wasn’t gone, and the Emperor was hiding in the corners of her mind and wanted revenge. But her mother was there in front of her, coming around the table and pulling her out of her seat. 

“I could throttle you,” Tatianna said fiercely. “A note and some gold coins? ‘If I don’t make it home, please know I love you both’ — what kind of message is that! 

“I wanted to —“ Tav was cut off by seeing her sister come up, followed by Rolan. Lottie was at least an inch taller than when she left home. 

She was overcome with emotion. The last thing she expected was her mother to follow her to Baldur’s Gate. Tav wrapped her arms around her, and Tatianna kissed her hair before holding her like she thought Tav may slip away forever. The only time she broke away was to grab her little sister and hug her as well, nearly knocking her off balance. She looked to Rolan quizzically over their shoulders.

“They showed up on my doorstep asking for the Savior of the Gate,” he smiled. 

“Oh gods, you know about that?” 

“I don’t know nearly enough,” Tatianna hissed. “Explain. Now.”

Tav took the time to introduce her friends to her family, and with their help explained the last handful of months. Her mother looked horrified the entire time, and Lottie was on the edge of her seat. By the end of it, Tatianna had requested someone grab her a large glass of whiskey. 

“Tav was leading you this entire time?” Lottie piped up disbelieving. “How are you all not dead?”

“Excuse you,” Tav balked. “You are so rude!”

“It’s an honest question!”

“You’ve been here for five minutes! It only took you five minutes to be a little shit!” Tav said. “I literally saved the world, you know, you could be nicer to me.” 

“It’s been way longer than five minutes, first of all,” Lottie said, “and second, I still don’t understand how the world didn’t end.” 

“You’re such a —,” Tav retorted. 

“Girls! Please!” Tatianna broke it up immediately. 

Despite the flash of irritation, it was such a mundane interaction that Tav realized how much she had missed them. There was never any time to linger on it, if she did she probably would have crumbled under the weight of it. It was the only way to survive, putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to wonder if their shared hug when she left to go on a small tour of Faerûn was going to be the last time she ever saw them. But they were there now, and for the first time Tav saw her mother starstruck when she introduced her to Jaheira and Minsc. 

At the end of the night, after most of her friends had gone up to the suite and the tieflings all left for the night, the Elfsong was quiet. Even Alan was in the back with his remaining crew to clean up and prepare for the next day. Lottie had fallen asleep, face pressed into her folded arms on the table as Tav rubbed her back absently while she talked to her mother. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t write earlier,” Tav said. “I had no idea where we were, all the towns in every direction were razed to the ground. The moment we made it to Rivington I headed to the post.”

“One of your wizard friends needs to teach you Sending,” Tatianna said. “It was invaluable in my adventures.”

“I’ll ask one of them,” she smiled. 

There was a quiet moment, filled only by dishes being moved and cleaned in the other room. It was strangely nostalgic. There were countless nights they had all three done the same back home after all the patrons left or went to their rooms. It was the same and yet she was so far from her home. 

“Darling,“ Tatianna touched the side of her face. “I am so proud of you. 

Tav shrugged, looking to the back of Lottie’s head to avoid eye contact. “All of this — there was no choice. I had to do it.”

“There was a choice,” Tatianna gently turned her head to meet her eyes. “There were hundreds of choices on the road to where you are now. And you did it. Nothing I taught you could have prepared you for this.”

Tav suddenly felt her emotions bubble up to the surface. What praise was she deserving of? She had taken more lives than she could count at that point, met new people and watched them die within weeks, and she had failed to make good on her promises to so many others. To top it all off, every step of this journey had been a struggle. The entire time she was certain she would fail at any moment.

“Mama,” she choked. “I was so scared.”

In the Shadowcursed Lands she felt like a little girl hiding from monsters under her bed. In the Bhaalist Temple, seeing Yenna suspended over an altar of blood, for a moment she had felt like the same teenager who stood frozen in shock while her little sister lay broken on the ground. The burnt bodies on the beach when she emerged from the nautiloid, finding Arabella’s parents dead in the House of Healing, the caravan of tieflings leaving a trail of bodies to the Last Light Inn, Karlach and Wyll jumping through a portal to the hells –

It was over, but there was a trail of tragedies written in the dust on the road to get there. Everyday Tav wondered if her and her friends were going to join them.

Tatianna’s eyes welled up and all she did was pull Tav into her chest, kissing the top of her head. Tav cried, clawing at the worn cloth of her mother’s traveling coat in one hand. Her hand steady on her little sister’s back with the other. It didn’t matter if the setting of an empty pub at night with her family was familiar. It didn’t even matter if Tav went back home or not, she was never going to be the same person she was when she left. 

She’s never had a moment to mourn her.

Tatianna and Lottie stayed for a while. Alan needed the help at the Elfsong with so many new patrons and hungry displaced families to feed. The two easily managed to fall into step with the hectic pace. In fact, Tatianna’s sharp smiles and ability to bully even the most belligerent patrons into submission was an entertainment Rolan hardly expected. Alan would not allow someone as young as Lottie to serve drinks regardless  if that was what they allowed back at their own establishment but she was more than happy to pester Chef Roveer in the back and run out  food orders. 

Very slowly, Baldur’s Gate was beginning to be a city again. Commerce was slow to start, but it was happening, and Rolan could start running Sorcerer’s Sundries as a shop rather than a triage center. There was still a lot to be done, sometimes he felt the work would never cease, but at the very least they had a small bit of time for their own personal lives again. 

As usual, Rolan got no chance to speak to Tav alone. He had even invited Lottie and Tatianna to come have a tour of the tower, in an attempt to get even a minute with her. At some point, Cal’s excitement to show their new home encouraged Lottie and the two ran off to see the tower’s defense mechanisms. Tav followed after them, not fully convinced the two wouldn’t set the cannon off. 

It left Rolan alone with Tatianna. 

“My brother is… excitable,” Rolan said in an apology. 

“Lottie’s never seen anywhere but the village she grew up in,” Tatianna said with a fond smile. “I know she’ll appreciate getting to see some wonders.” After a moment, she looked at him, “be a good host and offer me some tea.”

“Apologies, I’m still — “ he started an explanation. He’d never had the means to be a host to anyone. He was still getting used to it. “Would you like some tea, Mrs. Caradine?”

“Yes,” she said gratefully. “But you don’t have to call me Mrs. Caradine. Tatianna is more than fine.”

They made their way to the kitchen, and Rolan prepared them both tea. Tatianna was good at making conversation, so even Rolan’s awkwardness did not put her off. To his surprise, it was never forced or uncomfortable, and despite his nerves each conversation went better than he could have hoped for. She asked questions if it ever got too quiet, mostly about the tower, the progress in rebuilding the city. At the mention of Jaheira and the newly elected Duchess Florrick, Tatianna scoffed. 

“Florrick is the one we met just yesterday? The one who invited us to a coronation ball?”

“Yes,” Rolan nodded. “She’ll do well, I think. Duke Ravenguard was a staple in the city, but his kidnapping by the cultists has the people doubting his strength. Florrick has been involved in stamping it out since the beginning and has been investing in the lower city. Not to mention her close relationship to the ‘Saviors of the Gate’,” he rolled his eyes fondly, “if anyone could take his place, it’ll be her.”

“I have little interest in politics, so I'll take your word for it,” she scrunched up her nose. “I'm just wrapping my head around my girl being invited to coronation balls, and hanging around with archmages.” She shook her head, “I watch her and she’s … well, she’s very good at all of this.”

“Infuriatingly good, in fact,” Rolan smiled a little.

“She says you weren’t her biggest fan at first,” Tatianna smiled behind a cup of tea. “What about my daughter did you find wanting?”

Shit. “Erm - nothing,” he swallowed down some tea for time to think. “Quite the opposite, she was seemingly perfect in every way imaginable.” 

“How annoying of her,” Tatianna quipped.

“You have no idea,” Rolan chuckled. “She convinced my siblings and I to stay and fight with our caravan from Elturel when we were faced with Goblin hordes. Cal and Lia got into some trouble on the road and I… didn’t handle it well, blamed Tav even – but,” he cleared his throat roughly, “I would have neither them nor this tower if it weren’t for her. She is… a very dear friend to me.”  

Tatianna narrowed her eyes at him, and he dreaded what she was thinking. He had to be even redder, and his whole body tensed up. He wondered if Tav had told her mother about all of their encounters: the selfish cowardly instinct to leave the caravan behind, the drunken raging at her expense in the Last Light Inn or the way he had so rudely stood her up when she asked him to join her for a drink the first time. Tav was a special kind of genuinely kind to have seen past all of that herself, there was no way he would be lucky enough to overcome that bad of an impression on her mother.

“Were you an archmage in Elturel?”

“No, I was self-taught. The former master of this tower took me on as an apprentice.”

“And he retired?”

“Not willingly,” Rolan shifted uncomfortably. “He was after one of Tav’s friends. An aasimar. He was trying to capture her to siphon off her immortality. Tav and her friends stepped in.”

Tatianna blinked at him a couple times. “Well,” she said with eyebrows raised, “congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you.” After a long silence stretched out and Rolan began to feel restless, he asked, “how far is your village from here?”

“It takes about three weeks to get back and forth on the road,” she informed him. 

Rolan felt his stomach drop. “When Tav is ready to go back I’m sure we can arrange a portal for you all.” 

“What makes you think she wants to go back?” Tatianna questioned. 

“She’s said as much,” Rolan told her. She was drunk. She was beside herself. But she has said that was where she was meant to be.

“My Tavryna?” 

“The very same.”

Tatianna took a sip of tea. “She doesn’t want to go back.”

Rolan had no response to it. Tatianna was , as he was learning, somehow more willful than Tav. 

“I convinced her to go see the world a little, it’s what she always wanted. And I know this isn’t what I had in mind,” she laughed, “but it’s not hard to see that she wanted an out.”

“Perhaps being on the road has changed her mind.”

“No,” Tatianna shook her head. “It hasn’t. Any commitment she had for our home was only out of obligation. When her father died, she felt responsible. Tav has lived her entire life like she owes us something.”

Rolan rolled that over in his mind. It explained a lot about Tav. Her instinct to jump up and offer services for little to nothing in return, the pressure she put on herself to stretch as far as possible to accommodate and save people. Like everything he felt for Lia and Cal but exacerbated to the point of insanity, extending to everyone she met. 

“I can understand the impulse,” he said. “Everything I’ve done has been for my family.”

“It’s more than that,” Tatianna seemed to be working something out, piecing things together. “It’s not just about loyalty and family. It’s about atonement.”

“What could she have to atone for to her family?”

Tatianna seemed unsure if she should speak. “Tav’s powers were sometimes… wild. It’s my fault really. I came in contact with a very old, very tricky elemental during one of my adventures. I went from no magical abilities besides very shotty summoning of familiars to having it at my fingertips, not very strongly, mind you. But it was there.” She shook her head, “after Tav was born it was just gone. And then one day little rain clouds used to form over her bassinet when she would cry. If a doorknob was too high for her to reach she’d pound on the door and it would feel like thunder was shaking the whole building —“ she broke off into a half laugh. “But as she grew older… well, it grew more powerful. There was an accident, and her father didn’t make it.”

Rolan felt the frown forming on his face. 

“All of this is to say,” She fixed him with a stern look, “I don’t know what’s between you two, she won’t say what it is. But I need someone besides me to tell her that if she wants to stay here, she can, and we will be fine if she does.”

Rolan was clinging to the spark of hope that Tav may have wanted to stay until her family showed up. The last time she spoke of them she seemed so desperate to get back home, but now her own mother was looking him in the eye and giving him something to hold onto. She may just want to stay. 

“I see where she gets her meddlesome tendencies,” he said. 

“I run a pub,” she smirked, “everyone’s business is my business.”

Cal and Lottie were getting along so well, Tav found herself hard pressed to end the tour of the tower. She knew Alan would need Lottie and her mother’s help for the night shift, but the excitement on her little sister’s face was hard to deny. Cal kept pointing out the few highlights of the city that were still standing, sharing what little tidbits of Baldur’s Gate he had discovered. 

Finally Rolan and her mother appeared. The sun was coming down and it was time for the dinner rush at the Elfsong. It was routine now for everyone to gather there, and Rolan needed help shutting down the tower for the night before they joined them. 

Tav had been feeling a familiar sense of guilt and uncertainty. Each day the city was in better shape, at some point the recovery efforts would no longer need her. It was strange, being the city’s hero, but a part of her felt like the new beginning of the city could also be her own. However, Halsin started planning the trek towards Reithwin with Shadowheart, Gale was coming closer to find the Netherese Crown to return to Mystra so he and Astarion could head back to Waterdeep — Tav was beginning to realize that she had a choice to make. 

She could stay. She could even go with any of them if she wanted. She had enough friends now to start a life wherever. But her mother and sister working at the Elfsong to help out Alan was a reminder of what she took from them. Suddenly she felt like she needed some air. 

Excusing herself, she made her way out of the bar, ready to take a stroll just around the block so she wouldn’t be missed. Just enough to clear her head so she wasn’t bad company. As she left the door, Cal, Lia and Rolan were arriving for the night. 

“Where are you off to?” Lia asked. 

“Need some air,” Tav said. “It's as loud as ever tonight.”

“I’ll join you,” Rolan offered quickly. 

“Okay,” Tav breathed. She had wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but she found herself very amenable to his company. 

“Lottie’s meat pies go quick, I’m not missing out today, I’m starving,” Cal went past them. 

“I have to make sure he doesn’t eat away our new fortune,” Lia smiled, but it was a little too mischievous for Tav to feel like she was telling the whole truth. “Enjoy your moonlit stroll!” 

“Are you alright?” Rolan asked as they began their slow walk. 

“Fine,” Tav said. “Just thinking too much.”

It was companionable, the quiet between them. The streets were still riddled with potholes made by nautiloid blasts in some places, rubble still pushed aside to be repurposed, but the bones of the city were still there. Kids played in the streets after their meal, anyone not at a pub could be seen gathered in front of broken homes. Despite all the carnage, people were getting along, helping each other out and nourishing what was left of their communities.

“Cal and Lottie have become quick friends,” Rolan said, a playful smile on his lips. 

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Tav smiled back. “They nearly set off the defense canons today.”

“We should maybe hire a nanny.”

“Even with the tower’s impressive coffers, I doubt we could pay someone enough for that job.”

Rolan laughed. “As if you’re one to talk, I recall you and Astarion breaking into a highly dangerous vault in the tower.”

“Ugh, my hair smelt for weeks after that one.”

They stopped at a spot Tav had found. Mostly secluded between the graveyard and a set of stone steps going towards another block of currently abandoned shops. At the landing was a stone bench, and from that spot you could see the docks, full of ships with supplies for the rebuilding efforts. 

After a while, Rolan pulled out his spellbook. 

“Am I that boring? You’re going to study?”

“Boring is far from the word,” he snorted. He fiddled with the book for a moment and then held out his hand. 

Her necklace was nestled safely there. 

It’s not as if she had forgotten it. Many times her fingers would come to her chest, seeking its familiar presence as a comfort. She had been actively avoiding asking for it back; saving it as an excuse to drop by the tower, or to get any moment with him. Even after the fall of the Absolute she had been so busy, and he had been around so often she was keeping it in his possession as a last resort. 

“You kept it with your spellbook?”

Tav was no wizard, but she saw the way Gale protected his own spellbook. He didn’t need it very often, but he always had it tucked away safely. Even Minsc had mentioned the importance of Grimoire’s to wychlarans. 

“Safest place I could think of,” he said bashfully, avoiding her gaze. “Except maybe the vaults but it seemed better to have it where I could see it.”

“Thank you.” She reached out to take it, but bit her lip in reconsideration and asked, “help me put it on?”

Rolan’s eyes met hers, and he licked his lips. “Must I do everything for you?” He teased slightly. 

“I know. I ask so much of you,” she smiled back.

“Turn around,” he rolled his eyes. 

Stifling a giddy little giggle that was not becoming of a battle tested hero, Tav turned. She felt his warmth at her back before she saw his hands come around to wrap the chain around her neck. His fingers were deft, the practiced hands of spellwork, so it didn’t take long but she felt him trace a finger down the nape of her neck, nails scratching gently leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“There, happy now?”

“I am,” she turned abruptly. “Thank you for keeping it safe. I don’t think I would have been able to dive for it in the Chionthar. Mama will be happy to know it’s safe.”

“Your mother had mentioned his passing,” Rolan said gently. “I understand its significance to you now. Almost enough to justify your diving into undead infested waters to find it.”

He was teasing but her stomach turned over uncomfortably. “What did she tell you about it?” She asked quickly, “why would she even mention that?”

Rolan seemed a little taken aback by the shift. “She mentioned an accident. Tav?”

Tav had turned away from him. She felt herself closing off. The only other person in her new life that had known was Gale. He had been thrown on accident by a thunder wave spell, and after making a not unwarranted comment about her aim when she was fussing over him the tadpole connection had spilled her secret. To her surprise, Gale had been incredibly understanding, and when she unintentionally started to cry at his kindness, had offered to help her hone her power — from that moment on he had been one of her closest friends in decades. 

But they had the tadpoles, he wasn’t just told of her life’s greatest mistake, he had experienced it as if it was his own. The same way she had experienced his folly with the Netherese Weave in order to appease Mystra. It was different than just telling someone and expecting them to still see her as more than a stupid girl who couldn’t control her own magic. A girl whose stupidity had been dangerous and fatal. 

“I was young and stupid,” she explained shortly. “I lost control.” She bit the inside of her cheek, letting the pain anchor her, “lightning struck the inn and a fire started, Mama was scarred for life, Lottie almost didn’t make it — lost her leg — and my papa.” She shook her head, “she’s never forgiven me. I know it. Why else would she tell you about —“ 

Tav huffed a breath. Her chest felt too tight, her mind reeled as to why her mother would expose her to this kind of judgment. Especially to him, who Tav so fondly spoke about and admitted her feelings for. If she couldn’t tell her mother about them, who could she tell? 

“I won’t pretend to know your mother well,” he said thoughtfully, “but nothing about what she said felt like blame, Tav. It was an accident.”

All anger seemed to rush out of her. It was complicated, as always. Tav was never sure whether her mother’s resentment was real or imagined. Sometimes she thought it was a projection of her own shame, a lack of understanding why her mother didn’t blame her for it. By all accounts, Tav deserved it. Someone had to hold her accountable for what she’d done, even if it was just herself. 

“It’s not how I wanted you to find out,” Tav said simply, playing with the necklace. “I can save the world but I can’t take that moment back.”

Rolan was quiet for a while. Tav thought bitterly that she could have seen this coming. Everyone’s hero had their failings, had a reality to them that made them disappointing somehow. She thought the night on the roof of the Elfsong would have been hers, at least for him. Yet he never treated her any differently. This revelation might just have been the last straw. 

She felt his warmth at her shoulder almost touching but not quite, he was facing the view in front of them. Only risking looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar pull of his face into a deep frown. 

“My father hit my mother,” Rolan spoke evenly, almost thoughtfully. “More often than not, it was because she took the blame for something I did.”

“Rolan, you don’t have to —“ she started. 

“After she died, he turned his anger on to me,” Rolan continued on. “I was never strong enough to fight back, not until I used magic. One day I walked out, showed up on Cal and Lia’s doorstep and just never left. Their mum — our mum was everything to me. When she passed I promised I’d take care of them, it was the least I could do, after all she’d done for me.”

Tav swallowed past a lump in her throat. “And you have. You’ve done so well – .”

“Sometimes when I lash out,” he started quickly, “like I did back at Last Light, I feel like I’m no better than him. I look at myself in the mirror and sometimes I see him.”

“You aren’t him,” she insisted, “you aren’t, Rolan.”

“Even now you offer me comfort, despite having laid bare your worst shame,” Rolan took a deep breath. “I’m only telling you this because you saw the worst possible version of me in that moment and thought me worth saving, worth helping.” Cautiously, he met her eye, unwavering in the truthfulness of his gaze. “There is nothing that would change how I see you. Not the Savior of the Gate. You.”

There was nothing for her to say to that. The lump in her throat threatened to crack any sound she tried to make. She had spent so much time crying in the wake of the battle, she felt spent of tears, despite how moved she was. Too much heaviness in the air, she felt the usual need to break the tension. 

She bumped him with her shoulder, but didn’t move to recreate the distance that kept them from touching. “You’re maddeningly sweet sometimes, you know that?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” his smile was evident in his voice, “I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

When she looked at him, he was smiling at her. This was it. She could feel it. The electric tension that always stood between them could crest at any moment. Not like her magic, but its own special spark that she only ever seemed to feel with him. He was leaning down, tilting his head, and she could just lift her face up and meet him. He whispered her name, and she swallowed hard, her mouth dry and her whole body thrumming with heat. 

“The wind won’t move, without the Bitch Queen’s will!” 

The sound of drunken singing snapped them out of the moment. Both of their bodies turned toward the sound, jumping and readying for an attack. Coming up the steps was a pair of people, a tall half-orc and a human, arm in arm as they staggered up the steps, singing in unison. 

“We’ll wait gladly, years and days, til the Bitch Queen brings the waves!”

“Hey! Ho! She told us so!” The human sang.

“Hey!” The half-orc yelled, catching sight of the two of them. “Didn’t know our spot had been found out!”

“Oops,” the human hiccuped. 

Rolan let out a scoff, and Tav sighed at the realization that they were not being ambushed. There was no threat but she felt the adrenaline dump take hold. 

“Wait,” the half-orc wobbled closer, “I know you,” he pointed at Tav. “They drew you taller in the Gazette.”

“Ah,” Tav shifted awkwardly, “did they?”

The Human peered with barely open eyes, as if seeing them for the first time, “you’re the Savior of the Gate!” He gestured widely, “and you’re that new wizard what lives up in the tower.” 

“Indeed,” Rolan said stiffly. 

“We bow to your greatness,” the half-orc laughed, nearly falling over in an exaggerated bow. 

Tav couldn’t help but laugh with him, “no bowing necessary. Please, take your spot, we were just leaving.” She pushed at Rolan, “and keep singing! It's one of my favorites!”

“Hey! Ho! She told us so!” The pair of drunks screamed, rather than sang as she ushered Rolan away. 

Half-giddy due to the adrenaline and amusement she felt at their collective jumpiness, Tav was laughing the entire way back to the Elfsong, singing the Bitch Queen’s shanty the entire way. The moment had passed, but she had  grabbed his hand in hers to hold on the walk back. Eventually she made Rolan begrudgingly laugh by intensifying the drama in her performance of the song, swinging his arm widely back and forth. 

“You enjoyed that attention entirely too much.”

“No,” she grinned, “I enjoyed the shade of scarlet you turned when you thought we had been caught.”

“I do not turn scarlet, I am scarlet,” he protested. 

“You're more a crimson,” Tav said, “you turn scarlet when you blush.” 

“I think I know the shade of red of my own skin, thank you. And the Master of Ramazith’s Tower does not blush.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Master Rolan.”

If possible he turned even more scarlet than before.

Thank you for reading!

Next Chapter

[skaruresonic]

why is Gordon x Alyx even controversial? both of them are fully grown adults. What could possibly be the issue here?

The pithy answer is "antis," but the more honest answer is that an influx of fandom tourists came in and gentrified Half-Life, twisting a canon ship into the most bad-faith interpretation possible.

Strap in, because this is a batshit story.

In 2020, wayneradiotv released HLVRAI, also known as "Half-Life but the AI is Self-Aware."

HLVRAI is to Half-Life what the Snapcube dubs are to the Sonic games: a haha funny meme series that is set in its own canon and only superficially resembles the original series. This would not have been a problem had HLVRAI not been conflated with Half-Life; for the longest time, the two fandoms were considered conjoined, and it was because of the ship wars that OG Half-Life fans had to beg AO3 to separate the tags over the course of three years. HLVRAI introduced an influx of young fans to Half-Life, but a certain subsect of new fans kicked up a ruckus because they found Half-Life's canon to be, in short, "problematic." Specifically, HLVRAI is set in a canon where Gordon Freeman has a child based on a throwaway line about an Easter egg of a baby photo in his locker. In reality, Gordon is stated in the PS2 manual to be "unmarried without dependents" and the Easter egg simply depicts a developer's child; this is worth noting in order to better understand how the fandom tourists thought about Half-Life canon.

Fans of HLVRAI shipped HLVRAI!Gordon with the character Benrey, who is an extremely spurious interpretation of Barney Calhoun, Gordon's buddy in HL2.

Benrey and Barney have nothing in common aside from sharing a face, yet fandom tourists who knew nothing about the games saw Freehoun (Gordon/Barney) as, like, a sort of "vessel" for Gordon/Benrey. As such, they started looking for reasons to justify it as The Ultimate Ship.

Being a Valhoun (Alyx Vance/Barney Calhoun) shipper myself, I was only on the fringes when the shitshow happened. At the time, the most prominent ships in the fandom were Freemance and, to a lesser extent, Freehoun. I remember Freemancers had just produced a Freemance zine before HL fandom all went to shit; however, after the dust settled, nothing like that happened again.

The fandom tourists, I kid you not, started calling Freemance pedophilia on the grounds that, and I quote: --- 1.) Gordon is "chronologically 47" in HL2, despite Eli heavily implying that Gordon hasn't aged during stasis and is still mentally and physically 27.

--- 2.) The games heavily push Freemance, which can, according to these geniuses, be taken as a problematic age gap ship at best. Freemance is also predatory because Gordon is preying on a vulnerable Alyx, according to them. In addition to ignoring how it's Alyx who makes the moves on Gordon, HLVRAI fans have repeatedly revealed their ignorance of her age. They think she's a teenager in HL2, despite her age being easily deduced from information offered in HLA's opening scene:

19 + 5 = 24. Alyx is 24 in HL2, only three years younger than Gordon. This tidbit was routinely ignored in favor of portraying her as a younger vulnerable party to a "much" older man (who in reality hadn't aged during his time in stasis). --- 3.) Upon first meeting Gordon in HL2, Alyx off-handedly remarks that Gordon likely "[doesn't] remember" her from Black Mesa. HLVRAI fans took that to mean Gordon definitely knew her when she was a child, or even babysat her, despite her words implying the opposite.

Don't ask me how that works. I don't know.

--- 4.) As an icky 47-year-old whom the game "ships" with a "possible teenager" (who despite living in a world subjugated by alien fascists must be "protected" from older white guys, apparently), Gordon Freeman thinks of the full-grown Alyx who flirts with him as the four-year-old he most definitely babysat back at Black Mesa.

--- Hmm, said the fandom tourists, isn't it sus how Valve keep trying to push Freemance in our faces? Maybe Valve are a bunch of pedos in disguise...? 🤔 If by now you're thinking these are some Olympic-tier mental gymnastics, you'd be right. The situation really was that absurd, to the point where antis straight-up lied about canon in order to justify shipping Freehoun. Which, to rub salt in the wound, wasn't even real Freehoun grounded in Half-Life canon, but some proxy for another ship. Fandom's response to this extreme contortionist act, understandably, was "Jesse what the fuck are you talking about."

And then, being the creatures of reason and intellect that they are, the fandom tourists started doxxing people over this shit. A mutual of mine had an anon report her to the authorities for merely writing Freemance fic. The situation got so bad that most of the old guard packed up and went elsewhere, mostly Disco Elysium.

To this day folks are still tentative about even posting what used to be fandom's most common OTP because that side of fandom is just so rabid.

[happilylovingchaos]

Fic Recs Thursday (or Friday):

Okay, let me just say this: finding old/ underrated fanfics that focused on Mateo and Nancy as individual characters was hard. Harder than finding ones on disasters. But, here I go back down the AO3 rabbit hole @lonestar-s5countdown.

Canon Codas:

Keep running by ourfreewill: Mateo’s view on the events of 2x02– god this is sad. This makes so much sense as another headcanon to how Tim got so close to being part of the 126 family.

Such strange uncharted territory by @marjansmarwani: The 2x10 intervention that features soft Tarlos, and the 126 learning about Mateo’s living sitch.

I can’t carry this anymore… by @alidravana: There’s a small typo in the fic’s tag— it should be 2x14, but otherwise this was a nice look into Carlos’ THOUGHTS about hearing what happened with Mateo and his 129 captain. CW: discussed hazing/ homophobia.

A question of capability by rakketyrivertam: Owen’s conspiracy theorist side strikes an ethnicity-related nerve with Mateo after the mistaken alien call in 3x06.

Don’t lose sight of what I want by @alidravana: Mateo and Paul help TK through physiotherapy after the events of 1x08 and 1x09. It’s a painful day still, but one with a little hope sprinkled in.

Nights like these by Azphobic (orphan_account): After the traffic pileup turned shooting in 3x14, Mateo is one of the firefighters who nearly loses sleep over what happened.

Even dust was made to settle by tiniestmite: Takes place during 2x10, just before TK and the 126 stage their intervention for Owen. Mateo might be a bad secret-keeper, but he’s hell of a lifesaver.

Edamame and empathy by @blueink3: A 3x14 coda where Nancy seeks comfort from Tarlos and receives.

Some risks are worth it by RamblingDisaster73: This speculation fic should have panned out in 3x17. Heightism might be a thing, Julian and Brianna did solid jobs with what they were given, but their conflict just felt off to me.

Burnt CDs and moving forward by maplehobi: Another 3x14 coda covering the Nanteo “coffee date”, where Mateo and Nancy befriend each other after the shooting. Because I think this is a headcanon starting point— start as friends (bonus points if there’s a shared traumatic incident), see if there’s something more. -v-

Laughing gas by shes_an_oddbird: A light-hearted extension of the post-ANFO scene in 4x06, right after Owen and the firefighters avert the terror attack. Because if anything was done well in that arc imo, it was that scene.

Deep dive for Disasters (ooh, alliteration again! Includes an AU or two):

A storm to weather by @marjansmarwani: A 3x01 spec-turned-AU where TK is still on the wrong end of a rescue gone awry and still suffers hypothermia but it’s not as life-threatening. Slightly.

Not only to believe in ourselves, but in each other by MyCupOfTea and singerofsimplesongs: What if 9-1-1: Lone Star took place in the world of Pacific Rim? Tarlos-centric, with Paul and Mateo and Marjan making up the Crimson Typhoon equivalent.

I’d burn here if that’s what it takes by @blaineandsamevanderson and Skaboom: Another serial arsonist story, with much more direct consequences to Tarlos.

Fun and games (and friendly discussions) by @fallout-mars: An exception to the “disasters” rule, where the Catan crew have thoughts on the near-disastrous sinking of the new ship that is Nanteo in 3x17.

Heat wave by AliceSchuyler: During a particularly scorching day, Mateo gets bad heat stroke. It’s not a fun time, but good thing his firefighter family’s looking out for him just as much as he did them.

Family’s comfort by Gucci_Chainsaw: When the 126 report to an apartment fire, Mateo gets injured and trapped in its basement.

Put others oxygen masks on first by lorarawr: A 2x12 AU-coda where Mateo visits Tarlos at their hotel after they lose their home, and drops off more than just supplies from Owen’s house.

Mateo (not as underrated as I thought):

The company we keep by cosmiceverafter: Marjan, Paul and Mateo attend the Austin State Fair on their shift off, and bond over Moana.

On your side by @marjansmarwani: Mateo gains two protective brothers as the new 126 members meet and bond with each other.

These three works by fan_gworl should also be a series! Some Mateo whump included.

Cake, slang, and misunderstandings by Joanna_Kay: Hilarity, some heartbreak, and heartwarmth ensues after Mateo tries out some lingo in conversation with the 126.

Making the man by Joanna_Kay: A two-part series that, even if lot of it is retconned (like how his parents or at least his father still live in Mexico while he stayed with extended fam), explores how difficult Mateo’s childhood would have been as a disabled Hispanic kid.

In the meantime by @morganaspendragonss: In this 2x10 AU, Marjan offers Mateo her place to live in before Owen does. It’s another sweet big sister move. ^^

mateo begins by @lire-casander: How Mateo is just as much a mama’s boy as the father-figure magnet he later becomes. CW: discussion of disability struggles and bullying.

Jurassic Park & coffee cups by InkpotGod97: Mateo gets Marjan a thoughtful gift!

Allergies/asthma by @stardustviolet: TK owes Mateo an apology for blowing off his allergy to cat dander.

I know you can’t see it by myemergence: After Mateo gets his heart broken, Marjan assures him that he will always be enough. This was such a sweet sister-brother moment!

Cutting it close by tiniestmite: Carlos and Mateo have another friendship moment, but not without a little kitchen accident b/c it wouldn’t be 9-1-1 without a little lighthearted severity.

Officer Mateo at your service by mionejaina1011: Mateo meets Carlos earlier than in canon as a police officer.

Come deliver me back home by @morganaspendragonss: Mateo, TK and Carlos reckon with the arson attack one late night after Mateo has a long day.

(Des)esperanza, Leaving pieces of me behind by TearsThisSideOfHeaven: Two instances where Mateo and Carlos struggle in living not just as first responders, but as two Latino men in a red state that hasn’t completely accepted them.

Scent is the strongest sense by barelyprolific: How Mateo possibly develops a crush on Nancy after the dust storm. How come we didn’t get to see this in the show?

Speak my language by LynnOver: Where Mateo steps in as translator for TK when he encounters a Spanish family who doesn’t speak English.

Deja vu by HeartAngel1796: Mateo’s sitcom dream from 4x11 starts to blend into his reality, WandaVision style. Even imagining it feels trippy o_O.

Nancy (okay I was wrong— she gets way less personal stories than Paul):

Nancy Gillian brainrot by douglasdavenportslut: An abandoned series of ideas about Nancy’s character.

My armor falls apart by @marjansmarwani: Nancy, much like Carlos, grapples with the fear of losing TK in this 3x02 coda.

Finally standing on the inside by RamblingDisaster73: The events of 3x07 to 3x08 from Nancy’s POV (minus the inventory scene).

We’ll be just fine, On the outside always looking in by @morganaspendragonss: Two great character studies of Nancy as she meets TK and is accepted into the 126 family.

You’ll never walk alone, rejoice your truth @doublel27: The first story covers a convo between Nancy and Mateo about the events of 3x12, the second story a queer bonding moment when Nancy and TK man a medical tent at the Austin Pride Festival.

I always knew you’d find your way by @fallout-mars: Nancy has her own POV about TK and Carlos’ breakup, and the time after.

Soulmates aren’t just lovers by @nancys-braids: A series of “Nancy Begins” stories that start from her college years and continues into the present canon. Supporting characters include Carlos, Mateo and Marjan!

It’s not so weird after all by shes_an_oddbird: An ongoing series of codas about how Nancy and Mateo became Nanteo, because I’m pretty sure the show writers speed-built this ship by the seat of their pants and gave it a false start. Thank you for making this!

Tagging next, and this should still be open: @lutavero @reyesstrand @toomanycupsoftea @fitzherbertssmolder @marjansmarwani

[starrywooyo]

treasure: one

synopsis: when y/n gets whooshed into an alternate universe, an adventure: one with pirates and monsters and much, much more

pairing: ot8! pirate ateez x fem! reader

genre: pirate au!!

!!warnings(per chapter)!! - descriptions of death, blood, wounds, abuse and assault [bellow cut!]

notes: I got this idea from a couple of my favourite movies: pirates of the Caribbean and the chronicles of Narnia

word count: 3.4k

main masterlist

| next chapter

Boring. 

That is the way you'd describe the day you're having. 

stuck in the old ‘ancient’ mansion of a house in the countryside that your grandparents own. and the worst of all: no internet. How are you gonna listen to your favourite music group and keep up with them? plus you've got your transfer student opportunity coming up

what are you supposed to do for the entirety of the time you're staying with them whilst your parents are away on their ‘business trip’ again. it's always no sooner that they are back, that they leave again.

Now don't get it wrong. you love your grandparents but it would be much better if your parents left you back at home where you have your friends and internet actual Wi-Fi so you can do things. but no. you're stuck here with your younger and older siblings.

...

So here you are sitting in the library reading some random book you picked, sprawled along the couch with your older brother sitting at the opposite side of the room at a table trying to read but being pestered by your younger brother and sisters. 

‘The ship swayed side to side, waves splashing over the deck.

bodies littered the deck from the opposing crew.

blood everywhere.

the injured pirate captain stands. blood oozing from his wounds,

he picks up his sword and then…’

you're pulled from your book with your younger brother's whines and you sigh again watching the argument.

“Come on James, play with us. we're bored by ourselves..” your younger brother pushed for what seemed to be the 100th time.

James sighed 

“Please Callum go bother Y/n or someone else... I'm trying to study,” James explained.

And so with that your siblings turned to you with hopeful eyes, just before you could say anything your Grandma popped her head in the door.

“oh come on now dears, you both have been in here all day nearly, would it hurt to spend some time with each other? tell you what. why don't you all play a game hmm? Maybe outside like tag or ball if not that then this is a very big house with lots of places to hide” she looks at each of you with her hinting.

“you know your parents used to love playing hide and seek here, Y/n. James, you did too so why don't you play with your siblings  and give them the fun of exploring the house too?” your grandma said.

you look at your siblings and James pipes up.

“I'll join only if Y/n does”

you sighed bookmarking your book, you stand keeping it with you. 

“fine.”

James nods “okay then, you all can hide and I will count” 

...

wandering the halls, the voice of James counting to 100 gets more distant. you walk by old paintings and other weird artefacts your grandparents keep.

you come to a stop at a random door, quite far from James and hopefully your younger siblings. opening the door you find most of the furniture still covered with dust sheets, you figure this room was long forgotten due to the old paint cans still laying around. oh well. at least you've got some quiet to read your book for a while.

peeling back the sheet on the lounge couch you brush off any dust that could be there and make yourself comfortable and reopen your book getting lost in the pages..

you don't know how long you've been in this room but you find yourself still to be hidden or either forgot about. closing your book you finally decide to take a look around the room.

It's a huge, spacious room with all its furniture covered. the walls a simple cream colour and wooden floorboards with a large bay and stained glass window and a writing desk placed where the light shines. all in all not much to the room. it was probably going to be a private study for someone..

What catches your interest though is the large painting on the wall, it's a beautiful painting of the ocean, a ship adorning the waves on the canvas. you find yourself drawn to the painting. 

it almost looks as though the waves are actually moving, but that would be crazy.... right? 

water suddenly starts pouring out from the painting.

you laugh. you're most definitely seeing things. this isn't real. it wasn't till the water level started rising you began to panic. you yank the door handle to open the door. it stays shut. since when was the door locked!!? 

the water now just below your chest: the window! The Height of the room was only the second floor. You could jump from this height, no problem! the window doesn't open.

the room seemingly seems to get smaller, is that ship getting closer in the painting? 

The water level still rising, you take a deep breath as the water covers you.

the wooden furniture starts to float around you. 

you begin to swim up to get the last bit of air before it disappears. this was it. you were going to drown.

reaching the surface. you find the blue sky above your head and you in the ocean.

you quickly swim to the writing table to hold onto to keep you afloat. The water is freezing.

looking around you see the large ship coming your way.

“Man overboard!” and someone jumps in the water and swims towards you.

you get dropped onto the deck, the water dripping from you. 

you're surrounded by a group of men. 

“Now, now. what do we have 'er” a man walked through the group. a large hat on his head.

ah. pirates.

He puts his sword under your chin and lifts your head. and hums 

“a woman? now what shall we do with you eh..” he says. 

 a crew member pipes up.

“Captain, all do respect but we can't 'ave a woman onboard the ship. it's dangerous and a bad omen too might i add” he says.

Bad omen? who does this ass think he is.

the captain nods his head.

“hmm you're right. We are headed to land. suppose we could sell 'er and get some shillings for her. throw er in the brig” the captain says with a smirk on his face.

a song of ‘aye aye's’ follow and you are grabbed by 2 muscular men and dragged down the steps of the ship.

you struggle and yell your demands to be let go, which go unheard, as you're thrown into the wet damp cell under the ship. It stinks. the leaked water sloshes as the ship moves on the water, slowly you feel yourself become seasick. you clearly don't have sea legs yet.

...

the ship coming to a rough stop jolts you awake, the cell door flung open. you're grabbed up to your feet by the captain and your hands are tied.

“Sorry 'bout this missy. you'll forgive me right?” he smirks showing his disgusting teeth.

you're then dragged off the deck, to the dock and dragged through whatever place you're in now.

you tug on your restraints but to no avail and get yanked back.

you're then pulled into some shop by the captain and he talks to the man at the desk.

“Ahhh how can I help ya captain, here to buy?” the man with glasses asks

the captain laughs

“no, not this time, i'm actually here to sell” he gestures to you “her”

the man leans over the desk to get a better look at you.

“ooh she's a beauty she is. sell for a fine price she will captain. But what's with her clothes eyy?” the glasses man asked. 

the captain scans over you. 

“d'know found her like that in the water, must've been shipwrecked or sumthin” he said

The glasses man nods his head.

“very well captain. sale is in 2 days if yer staying, she'll definitely sell, then you'll get yer money don't worry.”

the captain nods back, handing over the rope to the men standing at the door and you get pulled into a different room.

the rope on your wrist gets untied, maybe you could escape you thought. but that idea was soon out the moment a gun got pressed to you and told if you ran you'd get shot.

one of the men shove a small pile of clothes in your hand. 

“go behind there. get dressed. no funny business”

and so, not wanting to lose your life you do as told.

standing behind the sheet you strip yourself of your ‘modern’ clothes, putting on the ripped, tattered skirt you were given and white shirt tucked in. you exit from behind the sheet and then dragged into another room. one full of other women. some sleeping, some awake and others crying and scared. you're forced to sit down and chains are put around your ankles and your wrists and the men then leave the room.

you look around the room scanning the other woman: some are older than you, some far far younger. and you look over the woman you see that some are bruised and marked up with hickeys and all sorts. 

...

your eyes open and you sit up. a sharp pain shoots through your neck and back. as it would be sleeping on a hard floor for a few days.

The glasses man walks through the door and starts picking women at random, some screaming shouts of disagreement and the others complying willingly.

he stops in front of you. “her too” and yet again you're getting dragged out of the room. you're then sat in a chair and a woman comes and puts some make-up on your face and does your hair. The finishing touch was the corset that was put on your waist and tightened up so much. but now you see why they did it. your chest was pushed together and appeared to be much bigger than it was.. clearly to get attention of woman hungry men.

the chains were placed back on your feet and hands. and you were put to follow the other woman outside to the square in the middle of the town. already a crowd of men standing waiting to see whom or what they can buy. 

you're forced onto your knees and one by one the man goes down the line and starts to show off and sell the others. and then it was you.

you were dragged to the front and put to your knees again.

“Now, now. isn't this one a beauty?” the man asked the crowd and cheers of agreement erupted.

you zone out as the man starts listing ‘features’ about you trying to entice the buy.

this was it. I'm actually going to get sold off as a slave you thought. you zoned back in to what was happening.

“now d'we have any takers? she'll make a lovely slave and play thing if you'd like” the man asked finally going to sell you off. 

“we'll take her for 10,000 pieces of gold!” someone in the crowd yells out

the man smirks 'sold'  and with that you're dragged away. 

...  [ ??? pov ]

Here we are again on this forsaken horrible island, walking through these empty streets.

there's a crowd just at the square from what i can see..

so i dragged my crewmate along with me to see what all the commotion was about. peeking through the taller men we can see it's a sale, not just any sale. they're selling people. I expected nothing less from this place.

as we watch them go through more and more woman and people...

“now d'we have any takers? she'll make a lovely slave and play thing if you'd like” the salesman asked. That's when I snapped.

my hand shoots in the air “we'll take her for 10,000 pieces of gold!” Then the sales man shouted: sold!.

my hand is then snatched from the air and I'm dragged a bit away.

“Are you crazy? 10,000 gold. Captain’s really gonna kill you this time” 

“well i'd like to see him try either way-” I'm cut off by the man bringing the girl over to us.

“Here you are, gentleman. one slave” my jaw clenches as he says that ‘slave’ I hate that word. “and the gold?” he asks on top of that.

“You'll get your gold, we have to take her to our captain first” I tell him.

the man looks between the two of us “no, no, no. You must think I'm stupid. gold first then the girl is yours.” 

my crewmate then laughs and takes his turn to speak. 

“don't you know who our captain is?” he laughs and he points to our ship's flag. the man's eyes light up in fear and he starts to shake a bit.

“a-ah ah, y'know what. you can give us the gold l-later. tell yer captain there's no r-rush” and the man shoves the girl and proceeds to hurry away.

the girl stumbles from the push and I catch her in my arms. She's quick to try and get away though. She shoves me away and tries to run. only to stumble over the chains still around her ankles.

“Wow, hey hey hey. it's okay we're not gonna hurt you” i tell her. I take my jacket off and wrap it around her shoulders to cover her from the peeping eyes of the men walking by due to her skimpy clothing the slave house has put her in.

“you're okay. you'll be safe with us. don't worry” I try to reassure her again.

My crewmate tugs at my shirt. “hey we need to get her back to the ship now. get those chains off and I need to treat those wounds” he points to them.

my attention was brought back to her. and i start to notice the bruises on her legs and ankles and the numerous cuts that litter her body as well as the blood that's now dripping from her knees from the fall. I wince. I kneel down at her level and she still tries to get away.

“hey, you're gonna need to come with us okay? we need to get you back to our ship and treat your wounds. Would it be okay for me to carry you?” I asked her.

she seems to go into deep thought and then seems to clutch my jacket around her slightly and nods her head. and so I scoop her up into my arms and then begin to walk back to the ship. as I walk the chains around her legs clink together.

it's quiet, so i decide to ask her name.

“I'm Wooyoung by the way. and my crewmate here is San. he's our medic so he'll treat your wounds once we get to the ship. Can I know your name?” I smile at her. The smile slightly falls as she stays quiet. and so the walk continues for a while.

“Y/n..” a quiet voice whispers. I hum in confusion wondering if she even spoke at all.

“my name.. its Y/n..” she says.

y/n.. what a pretty name

...  [ y/n pov ]

Once the man called out sold, I'm grabbed to my feet and pulled towards two men. one tall man with broad shoulders and black hair, the other more slim and smaller too with blonde hair. both wearing similar clothes and hats adorning their heads.

ah more pirates. great...

they both seemed to be deep in conversation before noticing us. the man yanks me closer causing more pain to my bare feet as they scuff the hard stony ground. I can't help the fear that shoots through me at that moment.

What do these men want with me? What will happen to me? Will I ever get home at this rate?   

“Here you are, gentleman. one slave” the man gestures to me. you feel small under the two men's gaze. you see the blonde man's jaw visibly clench. making him appear slightly scary. 

“and the gold?” he adds, holding out his hand to receive his gold?  

“You'll get your gold, we have to take her to our captain first” the blonde man says.

the salesman chuckles and pulls me closer to him “no, no, no. You must think I'm stupid. gold first then the girl is yours.”

the black haired man laughs

“don't you know who our captain is?” he points to a ship's flag in the distance. the salesman's eyes light up in fear and he starts to tremble a bit.

“a-ah ah, y'know what. you can give us the gold l-later. tell yer captain there's no r-rush” the man said and shoves me away as he himself runs away. I fall into the arms of the blonde guy and he wraps his arms around me.

is their captain really that scary for people to run away I really don't wanna meet this guy

and so I push the blonde's arms away and attempt to run, forgetting my chains around my ankles soon falling to the hard ground as my legs get caught up in the chains. I hiss as the ground rips the skin from my knees. Still on my knees I begin to feel small again under the gazes of the men passing by looking at me. I'm practically wearing next to nothing. 

“Wow, hey hey hey. it's okay we're not gonna hurt you” the blonde man says as he takes his jacket off and slightly bends as he drapes it over my shoulders. 

“you're okay. you'll be safe with us. don't worry” the blonde says again.

will I though..?

I stayed quiet and noticed the black haired man tugging at the blondes shirt sleeve.

“Hey, we need to get her back to the ship now. get those chains off and I need to treat those wounds” he tells him and points to me and at the wounds on my body. 

the blonde man looks back at me and scans me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he lets out a wince. he then kneels to my level

“hey, you're gonna need to come with us okay? we need to get you back to our ship and treat your wounds. would it be okay for me to carry you?” he asked me.

Will it really be safe to go with these men?

Can I trust them?

they don't really seem bad in my opinion compared to the pirates and men I've already encountered...

only time will tell and besides its more so the captain i'm afraid to meet from the salesman reaction.

What will this guy be like? 

it would still be better than here i hope. I found myself clutching his jacket slightly tighter. He did put it around me to cover me.. so I nod at the blonde.

He then scoops me up in his arms and holds me close as my own arms go around his neck. and The two men start to walk in what I assume is the direction to said ship.

it's too quiet 

All I can hear is the stones crunching under the pairs feet and the blondes breathing. until the blonde pipes up.

“I'm Wooyoung by the way. and my crewmate here is San. he's our medic so he'll treat your wounds once we get to the ship. can i know your name?” he asked and gives you a smile that slightly falters as I stay quiet.

you slightly glance at the black haired man 

hmm San..? San a medic I didn't think he'd be a doctor.. he looks so scary.

i then look to the blonde man

woo...young? wooyoung hmm nice...

As the walk continues you find your tense body slightly relaxed in Wooyoung's hold. his scent calming you.

“y/n…” I quietly let out.

he looks down at me and hums slightly confused

“my name... its y/n…” I say again but a tad bit louder.

he smiles again and nods his head a bit 

The walk shortly comes to an end not long after.

“well 'ere we are” he says and a grand ship comes into view. It's a dark wooden boat and upon the main mast in the wind a black flag with the words "ateez" in white lettering. 

from here it looks like a beautiful ship, well kept. not much damage from what you'd expect on a pirates ship.

and written on the backside of the stern of the ship

‘illusion’ 

previous | next chapter

a/n: so!! i hope you all like the start of this little series i'll be doing, feel free to reblog and or just leave your thoughts! till next chapter, byeee!!

[carry-the-sky]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by my one and only brainpipe bestie @ninzied ♡

How many works do you have on ao3?

43!

What's your total ao3 word count?

163,202

What fandoms do you write for?

mostly good omens at the moment, but i am also tinkering with an old kanthony fic. i have so. many. hellcheer wips collecting dust in my google drive. and of course kastle my og, my beloved.

Top five fics by kudos:

say my name (and every color illuminates) - kanthony

the wonderful part of the mess that we made - stranger things trio

warm, solid things - hellcheer

every bit of beating heart - kastle

my head is filled with ruins (most of them, i built with you) - kastle

Do you respond to comments?

always! if i don't, i probably didn't see it.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

definitely any of my older kastle fics 🙈

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably the one lucky dog series? i based the proposal scene (spoilers for a fic that's five years old lol) off of my own, which made me happy, at least!!

Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no!

Do you write smut?

i have, but it's a struggle. the stage management of it all!! it's definitely something i'd like to work on and improve though

Craziest crossover:

probably my good place au. i was hmm shall we say overly ambitious with that idea, but it was a fun covid project!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i haven't!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

in theory i would love to, in practice i think it would stress me out immenselyyyyy

All time favorite ship?

i like nina's answer for this one. i love and appreciate them all for different reasons!! kastle will stick with me forever obviously. truly the fandom to rule them all. ♡

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

the hellcheer detention fic i started for @majicmarker under threat of being pushed into a pool if i didn't finish, oop. wrote about 5k and just lost the plot completely. tale as old as tiiiime

What are your writing strengths?

capturing a vibe. dialogue. exploring smaller moments.

What are your writing weaknesses?

plotting?? i don't know her. also finishing chaptered fics. i probably overuse semicolons and em dashes.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i've done this before with very simple words/phrases. anything more in depth should probably be looked over by someone who speaks the language?

First fandom you wrote in?

kastle!!

Favorite fic you've written?

probably warm, solid things. it's the longest one-shot i've ever posted, and it's personal to me in many ways. i'm happy it seemed to resonate with people!

honorable mention to my most recent good omens fic, which took years off my life to write, but i'm quite proud of the end result; also this kastle ficlet which sort of just fell out of my brain fully-written?? what sorcery????

tagging! (no pressure!): @majicmarker, @redbelles, @heartonfirewrites, @imashybear, @evilbunnyking

@onebatch2batch, @ejunkiet, @malachitegrey, @andromeda4004 and anyone else who sees this and wants to play :)

[poisonedspider]

poisonedspider: INDIE roleplay blog for ANGEL DUST (ANTHONY) from HAZBIN HOTEL. Incredibly NSFW muse. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Spoilers present. Canon divergent. Semi-selective. Medium activity. Multipara/Novella literate writer for 20+ years. Multiverse and multi-ship. Mostly head canon based representation of (one) famous porn star. Mature and triggering content present, must be 21+ to interact. Blog will explore extreme trauma, abandonment, s*xual assault, physical violence, death, etc. Mutuals only, please! Authored by Strode, he/him, 30+. Re-established April 2024 (originally wrote in July 2019). Please read rules under the cut on this post.

Stand-alone blog, not strictly affiliated with the Hazbin/Helluvaverse and community (and certainly not in support of Vivzie). Open to any and all characters and interactions. Let it be known I am NOT AN ASK BLOG. Personals are allowed to follow, but will not be followed back and will be BLOCKED if they keep interacting with my stuff. Do not reblog this post.

Angie's main bitches: @featheredbarkeep, @sirserpentine, @veelentino, @hazbinned, @mothvalentino, @widdlestwucifer, @doublejango, @grimowled, @voxxisms and @hzbinsouled.

Don’t be an asshole. Literally my number one rule, and basically my only rule. This is a hobby. We are nerds writing as fictional characters. I’m too old to feel in high school again. If you don’t like what I write, the block button is a function. Block me, and move along. Forget I exist. I do not participate in call out culture, and will not be forced to choose sides.

Memes are definitely the best way to interact with me. I personally will turn all memes into threads, as I feel that’s the point of them. You don’t have to necessarily continue them, but I’d appreciate if you did because I put a lot of thought and energy into my replies.

Never feel the need to match my length (I write a lot), but also know that I reserve the right to delete a thread if I don’t feel like what you wrote gives me enough information to write a well thought out reply. Also always feel free to delete threads I send to you that you no longer have muse for. This is for fun, it isn’t a homework assignment. You don’t need to explain yourself on your own blog!

I don’t work full-time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not constantly busy. I’m traveling almost every other weekend, and I’m trying to put my energy into being off Tumblr if I can help it. I may not always have the spoons to talk or do replies, even if you see me online. Just please be patient with me!

There will be a LOT of R-rated material on this blog. Almost everything will be NSFW - look at the show content, and especially this character. I do my best to tag all triggers, but please let me know if something specifically triggers you and I’ll edit it to be tagged right away so you can blacklist it. I’m still going to keep writing it, though. This is my blog. It is not my duty to make sure that you have a safe space, and if you don’t feel safe, I will not be remotely offended if you unfollow to keep your dash what you want it to be. It’s kind of impossible to write Angel and Angel’s story without some triggers coming up (Episode 4? Yeaaaah.)

Personals, do NOT reblog things. It already happened from the hour I made this blog, and it will become an automatic block. This is a roleplay blog. Period. I am also not an Ask Roleplay Blog, so while I may respond to some of those things in jest, it isn’t the purpose of this blog. Hazbin fan blogs and whatnot, leave my stuff out of it. If you continue to do this, I will report your blog. 

Angel Dust is gay. He will not be having romantic relationships with any females in the show. The only way he would ever be with a female, is if for whatever reason Valentino decided that he needed to sleep with a woman for his porn. Which I can’t see happening but….yeah. 

Speaking of Valentino, the way I play Angel is him still definitely within the confines of the contract. He might do things he is ashamed/embarassed of and doesn’t want to actually do because of the contract. Dubcon will probably be explored on here to some degree because he struggles saying no to Val. That doesn’t stop him from fighting back, but he’s going to do some gross things because his soul is owned. Also, my Angel does have love for Val. That doesn't mean I ship them AT ALL. It means that I have no shame as a therapist in exploring the cycle of abuse and toxic relationships, and that this is incredibly important to my Angel's story.

This being said, dubcon would be the only thing I'd put under a Read More because I know other people hate it. I don't really intend to write it out, but people could argue that Valentino using his 'poison' is considered dubious consent, and yeah, I'm going to write that and flesh it out a bit. As for other read mores, I'm lazy and it ain't gonna happen. You followed a character who is a sex worker. There's going to be smut. Murder. Cussing. That's the content of the show. I have no shame putting it out in the open. As mentioned, you can check the trigger warnings on my posts before reading something.

I’m a multipara/novella roleplayer. I’ll do some one liners and crack stuff, but it won’t be as common. I want to have elaborate threads. I want to flesh out this character. I’m going to come up with things about him that Vivzie doesn’t and make him a little bit my own. And that comes from writing, writing, writing. If I don't reply to you, it's probably because I can't work with one liners and I am stumped.

All the graphics and whatnot on this blog were either created or commissioned specifically by/for me. (I know I’m not a fabulous photoshop graphic maker but hey I tried). Do not steal from me. If I find out that you have, I will report your blog for theft. Majority of the graphic work on here is done by both @cerberuscommissions and @17webs.

DO NOT GODMODE. I will literally scream, cry, and throw up (okay, not literally). This is my blog, and I want to control Angel in my way. Please and thank.

I don't necessarily need people to reblog from the source, but if my activity is blowing up with the same person reblogging and reblogging, I'll kindly ask you to stop. If you continue, that will lead to a block because I already have hundreds of drafts and don't have time to swim through activity.

Sorry fam, I don't do Discord. I've had a few people ask, and while yes I do have it, I have it with a burning fiery passion. All roleplaying will be done here and here alone, because I like to have a Tumblr blog as a sort of 'archive.'

As for the mains (listed above), to not be discouraged just because I have mains. I was avoiding choosing them for a bit because I hate how it can feel like favoritism, but the fact of the matter is that there are unfortunately people on here that Angel has much more muse for, and that I talk to ooc almost every day. Those people get first priority. Let it be known that does NOT mean they are exclusives. As mentioned, I will be writing with every single character, no limitations. Nor are there any rules specifically associated with my mains. Mostly just means they get priority on things.

I don't have any triggers. Period. I appreciate people asking me if such and such is okay in a thread before we do it, but really, just do whatever your character feels they would do. I'm a therapist. And sure, therapists have their triggers too. But I've been exposed to so much shit that nothing really phases me anymore.

I do not own the character Angel Dust or any content from Hazbin Hotel. I am not associated with Vivziepop and am in fact an Anti-Viv blog (please don't associate me with her). Shocker, I know. But gotta put that on here. 

Tldr; Be chill, have fun, don’t follow if don’t like hypersexuality, severe trauma, or sassy gay men.