#I can watch a monster or animal fucking people up just fine

[puppy-the-mask]

Ok so i'm not usually one to watch horror movies right? I'm a pussy. Well my mom isn't and so has been on a MAJOR horror movie binge for the past couple months. I drift in and out of the livingroom while she watches and occasionally i'll sit and watch with her and damn, I think i'm starting to like horror movies. BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT BECAUSE THIS SONG IS A FUCKING BANGER AND IT WAS THE CREDITS OF THE MOST RECENT(?) SCREAM MOVIE

WHEN WE'RE YALL GONNA TELL ME HORROR MOVIES HAVE BOMB MUSIC?!?!?!

[babybluebex]

needs and wants | eric aqpdo x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in the direct aftermath of the apocalypse, you meet a man who's worse for wear in just about every regard. even though you can't do too much to heal his injuries, it's possible that you can heal his heart. wc 10.6k (she's a doozy) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eric (a quiet place: day one, 2024) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: SPOILERS FOR AQPDO, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THE FILM SPOILED!, mentions of death/general apocalypse things, panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions (if you know eric's backstory that ended up cut from the film, he talks ab it), far too much intimacy for what this is, smut (minors dni): p in v, tit sucking, condom use 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: umm... i have no excuse for this... other than i need eric on a carnal level lol. hope you enjoy!!

It was funny how your whole world could change in a single day. And it was supposed to be a good day too; you had racked up enough PTO to allow yourself a full day off of work, and you had plans. You were going to brunch with your girlies that you hadn’t seen since nursing school, you were going to rent a movie at home, watch rom-coms in your underwear— you looked forward to sleeping in, taking a bubble bath, going to sleep early. You only achieved one part of that: you hadn’t even received the mimosa pitcher you had ordered when you heard the noise outside, as loud as a rocket taking off on the street just outside the hip brunch place, and you had hardly turned to look out the window when your world fell apart. 

Silence became your norm. Fear overtook you at every turn, giving your hands a perpetual shake that you weren’t certain would ever wear off. You didn’t know too much psychological or neurological stuff— you were a trauma nurse, emergency room and ICU type stuff, you were more concerned with stopping the blood flow and stabilizing vitals than ever caring about the after-effects of shit— but you wondered if the shaking of your hands was forever part of you now. You were good under pressure, never scared, but whatever the fuck those creatures were out there had changed the makeup of your being in a single second. 

When the helicopters buzzed overhead, drawing the monsters toward them and away from the city, and they announced that boats were departing from a nearby dock, you knew you had to go. More than saving yourself, you knew some very hurt and very sick people would gather there. You were sure that FEMA people would be swarming the boats to take care of the sick and injured, but you didn’t know what else to do. Your brain went on a sort-of autopilot, and you did the only thing you could think to do: you followed the crowd out to the docks. 

You had never gone that long without talking. Your throat was so dry from debris and dust anyway that you weren’t even sure that you could talk. Your clothes were torn, various small injuries that weren’t anything some disinfectant and a Band-Aid couldn’t fix, along with a gash on your calf that you had determined would be fine for now but could definitely use some tending-to once on the boat, plus your shaky hands, but otherwise you were fine. When the windows shattered and the monsters invaded, your table had overturned from the force of the sonic blast, and your animal instincts kicked in, throwing yourself behind the table and barricading there. You were one of the lucky ones— you lived. Sure, glass cut up your knees and palms, and you couldn’t even breathe without worrying that your breaths would alert the monsters, but you had lived. That was more than some could say. 

You felt packed out like sardines on the boat. Standing room only, except for the few exceptions of the people who were hurt or passed out. You had meager belongings in your pockets, although you weren’t sure how helpful your dead cell phone or essentially-useless credit cards would be in a time like this, but at least you had your work badge in your purse when you went to brunch. You found someone who looked like they were in charge, dressed in all-grey, not a military uniform but not civilian clothes either, and you silently showed them your badge, declaring yourself as a trauma nurse at a hospital in Brooklyn, and you gestured around, trying to ask if there was anything you could do to help. The woman shook her head, but folded her hands in a sort of ‘thank-you’ gesture.

You managed to stand towards the back of the ship, against the railing, next to the ladder, and you flinched at the loud chug of the boat casting off from the dock. Surely the monsters heard that. Everybody around you seemed to hold a deep breath, anticipatory, awaiting the worst to come at your final moments of salvation, but thankfully the monsters weren’t concerned with you all— maybe you were too far out in the water and, if the announcements from the helicopters were to be believed, the monsters couldn’t swim, so they didn’t care too much about the boat. Or maybe, the sudden sound of glass shattering from the shore, followed by shrill car alarms, captured their attention better. 

You watched, horrified, as you spotted a woman racing down the street, hardly noticeable from the distance, but the sun glinted off of a silver metal pipe in her hand as she raised it in the air, and she smashed the window of the car next to her as she raced away. 

“Hell’s she doing…?” The man next to you mumbled, and you instinctively put your hand on his shoulder to silence him, even though there was no need. The world had changed in a day, habits had formed in 24 hours, and you wondered how long it would take to shake the new habits. You watched the woman flit between cars, trying to outpace the monsters as she smashed windows, but then something else caught your attention. On the dock, there was a man. Wearing a yellow sweater, carrying something that you couldn’t identify, running like his life depended on it towards the edge of the dock. And maybe it did; a few straggling monsters had started after him instead of the woman, and he had to have known as well as you did that the water was safe. 

Your heart rammed up into your throat as he ran, faster and faster, white sneakers hitting the metal dock, and he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the monster that was meters, feet, away from him, before he righted himself forward and hurtled himself off the edge of the dock. Everyone on the boat was watching now as he flew for a brief moment, suspended in the air as time stood still, and then plummeted into the water below. The monsters skidded to a halt at the edge of the dock, one curled claw extended out, a scrap of yellow cardigan stuck on its talon. 

By now, everyone had come to the same conclusion, and started to gather at the ladder onboarding right next to you— the man would need help coming aboard. You all watched anxiously as he surfaced from the water, frantically looking around and gulping air as he tried to keep his head above water and orient himself. Finally, he looked towards the boat, and you could have sworn that he looked at you instead of anybody else. He gained his senses quickly, starting to swim out towards the boat, and you caught sight of the little white whatever-it-was he was holding: a cat. The cat seemed safe and unharmed, definitely soggy but no worse for wear, and you crouched down, extending your arm down the ladder to meet him. 

You didn’t have the strength to help pull him aboard, but the man who had spoken next to you gently moved you, and he grasped the wet man’s arm and pulled him up the last few rungs of the ladder. He heaved breaths, his eyes all big and round as he took in his surroundings. Then, if you were unsure whether he was looking at you before or not, he extinguished any doubts you had this time around, because his eyeline landed on you. He was startled, hurt, traumatized— those wet eyes had seen some things, worse than you had seen. 

You helped him move away from the ladder and back towards a more secluded part of the boat, and the FEMA woman you had “talked” to before came to your side, a first aid kit in one hand and a heavy wool blanket in the other. 

“Sir?” you croaked. Jesus Christ, speaking really was a challenge. You cleared your throat, hoping that would improve things, and you said, “Sir, are you hurt?” 

He shook his head quickly, clutching the cat in his arms, and you spotted the gash on his shin. The leg of his pants was torn and shredded, and you could bet that the wound was pretty fresh. “You can speak,” you told him gently. “We’re safe here.” 

He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, and in a hushed voice, said, “How can you be so sure?” 

They said the boat ride would last through the day and you would arrive by nightfall, but FEMA assured you that the destination would be worth it. A little island, they said, off the northern coast of the state, that used to house a summer camp but was abandoned however long ago. The buildings there, houses, old camp cabins, would take some sprucing up, they told you, but it was safe, and it could turn into home. As night fell, factions were made, and people divided as best as possible— the vulnerable ones, the hurt ones, the kids, went to the inside part of the boat, and the healthy stayed outside, huddled under the wool blankets and trying to forget the cold November ocean air berating their faces. 

The yellow-cardiganed man was moved inside, and you moved through the small crowd in there, doing what you could to help. Passing out crackers and water bottles, winding gauze around bloody injuries, squeezing hands and offering small words of encouragement. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt good to help. 

Eventually, you couldn’t ignore your fatigue anymore, and you sat down on the floor against the back wall with a sigh. It was a low din inside there, so you felt relatively safe making a little bit of noise, and you sniffled and zipped open the inside pocket of your coat. The stuff you had stashed from your purse was in there, and you frowned down at your brick of a cell phone, the screen shattered. You cast it aside, then pulled out your wallet, rifling through it to see what went missing. Thankfully, your license was still there, so if anybody needed identification at any point, you had that covered; an old fast food gift card that you were sure still had money on it but was useless now; and an old paper movie ticket that you had saved with the intention of putting it in a scrapbook. Your heart panged with hurt, and you checked every other section of your wallet, but it was empty. 

Your house keys were certainly back on the floor of the restaurant, and you thought about the key to your mother’s house that lived on the ring. You hadn’t been able to contact her since the monsters came— the last thing you said to her was a text the morning of brunch, telling her to have a good day, and she had sent the classic mom :-) emoticon to you. Was she still alive? Had she managed to escape the monsters? Even though she didn’t live in the city, you wondered how far the monsters had traveled. Her neighbors were a family, with a high-school age son who played basketball and mowed your mother’s lawn; for your sanity, you chose to believe that they had taken her in (along with her prized African violets). 

A little noise came from in front of you, someone clearing their throat, and you looked up through your welling tears to see him. Damp yellow cardigan, wool blanket loose around his shoulders, curls wet and flat to his forehead. He stood still, watching you for a moment, before he spoke, a little louder than the first time but still a whisper. “Never caught your name,” he said. An accent. Not a native New Yorker. 

You told him with a shrug. Your eyes canvassed his frame, watching him shiver a little in what was probably an adrenaline rush, and your eyes landed on that nasty cut on his shin. It wasn’t actively bleeding, but still very red. It looked maybe a little inflamed, a tiny bit swollen, and you started to reach out for it, but stopped yourself. Your hands were filthy and, if infection was already setting in the way you suspected it was, whatever germs you had probably weren’t good for the wound. You withdrew your hand and settled in your lap, and you cleared your throat. “One of the FEMA people can help with that,” you told him, nodding towards his leg. “Bandages and anti-inflammatories and shit.” 

“Aren’t you a nurse?” the man asked, now his turn to nod at you. You had clipped your badge to the collar of your coat and, even though the plastic flower that had once surrounded the metal clip was shattered and long gone, the clip still served its purpose. 

“I am,” you said. “But I don’t have bandages.” You cracked a loose smile, and you winced at the bottle of water and pile of crackers next to you on the floor. “I’ve got crackers and water.” 

“I’m starving,” he told you, returning the small smile. “May I?” 

You nodded, and he worked himself down to the floor (he seemed to be favoring his left ankle a little, the same leg with the gash). He settled back against the wall, sighing heavily, and he took a pack of crackers into his hands and read the label for a moment. “‘Peanut butter’,” he read. “D’ya like these?” 

“They’re alright,” you said. “I used to buy the same ones, shove ‘em in my work bag to eat between patients. Kinda bland and gross, but they get the job done.” 

He nodded, and he tore the corner of the plastic sleeve and extracted a peanut butter cracker. “I used to like the ones with, erm, cream cheese and chives,” he said. “A quick snack at work. S’never what I wanted to eat, but sometimes I’d be at the office ‘til late, and at that point, take what you can get, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “What did you do?” 

“Lawyer,” he said, popping one of the crackers into his mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” you chuckled. “Yeah, you had some long nights… My sister’s husband is a paralegal, he used to tell me all about it.” 

“Cool,” he told you. “And you, Miss Nurse?”

“And me what?” you asked.

“What’s your husband do?” he asked. 

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “I’d have to have one of those for him to have a job,” you said. “No, being a nurse is very, like… If you’re not married by the time you leave nursing school, all hope is lost. You won’t ever have any free time to go on dates or even think about that sorta stuff.” 

“Same with law school,” he told you. “All my mates were engaged or married when we graduated, and everyone always told me, ‘Oh, Eric, you’ll find the right girl! She’s out there somewhere’, and it’s like… If she’s not in my office building or on the subway home at 2AM, I’m not meeting her.” 

“You went to school around here?” you asked, and he (you assumed his name was Eric, based on his anecdote) nodded, then shrugged. 

“Cornell,” he said. “Then got hired at a firm in the city, and just… Never left.” 

“Well, that’s cool,” you said lightly. “I’m assuming you’re not from around here?”

He shook his head. “Kent,” he said. “About an hour out from London.”

“Wow,” you said softly. “That change must’ve been… A lot.”

Eric shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “It was alright, I suppose. At that time, I was sorta fighting with my dad all the time, really wanting to leave and go somewhere but he didn’t want that…” He trailed off, letting the conclusion form by itself. “Haven’t seen ‘em in-person since then. I always said I was busy, or it was too expensive, or… I was supposed to go back home at Christmas… My sister had a baby and I was supposed to meet him then…” He trailed off, obviously at a loss for what else to say, and you sighed.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” you told him, even though you yourself doubted it. “I mean, maybe the monsters are only here. They don’t like water; if they came from here, they can’t get over there.”

Eric nodded slowly. His eyes scanned the room, looking and listening, and he reached his hand out in front of him, making a small noise with his tongue against his teeth. You followed his gaze and found his cat, all furry with white and black spots, being adored and pet by a little boy sitting on a cot close by, and Eric tutted at the cat again. The cat turned their big dark eyes to their owner, and dutifully trotted over, snuggling in-between Eric’s criss-cross-applesauce legs.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

“Frodo,” Eric said, stroking the cat between his ears. Frodo began to purr, his eyes closing blissfully, and Eric said, “He was my friend’s, but she… She told me to take care of him.”

Your mind brought back the image of the woman running, distracting the monsters away from Eric. “Was that the one who…?” you started, and Eric nodded.

“He was her service animal,” he said. “She had cancer, he sort-of alerted her whenever her pain medication was going out… Also kept her company in hospice. He’s quiet, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Well, none of us have to worry about that,” you said, and Eric took in a breath. “Not anymore. Not with the island.”

“Right,” Eric sighed. “Almost forgot.”

“I’m worried I’ll never go back to normal,” you admitted. “Even just two days of thinking like this… Trauma’s so fucking weird.”

Eric nodded in agreement. You caught him staring at your hands, shaking and shivering as they laid in your lap, and he started to unwind the blanket from around himself to settle over you, but you shook your head. “M’not cold,” you told him. “Just… Nervous. Y’know?”

Eric watched you for a moment, making sure that you weren’t bullshitting him (you were a little; your coat was wet through, and you definitely could do with a dry coat, but you would live), and he said, “I think you need to pet my cat.”

“Do I?” you asked with a chuckle.

“You sure do,” Eric nodded. “He doesn’t bite or scratch— he might nibble your fingers a little, but only ‘cause he’s curious.”

You reached out for Frodo, letting him sniff your hand a little before he shoved his solid little head under your fingers, squinting his eyes as you started to scratch behind his ears. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and you said, “He’s very sweet.”

“He’s smart too,” Eric said. “He can do maths. Look’it: Frodo, what’s one minus one?”

Frodo, of course, responded in silence, and Eric smiled, cocking his head. “I think that’s impressive,” he said, and you huffed out a laugh.

“Silly,” you mumbled under your breath, moving to scratch Frodo on his chin. “When’s the last time he’s eaten? I can try to find something for him.”

“Last night,” Eric said, his smile faltering. “Sam might’ve given him something earlier this morning, but I didn’t wake up until later.”

That’s how you greeted the island, petting Frodo and sharing light stories about your past lives. Nothing too heavy or sad or emotional, even though it felt like any story about your past life held an air of sadness and mourning. You could try to go back to normal, but normal was long gone. As everyone departed the boat under the dusky stars, there was a large team of FEMA workers to greet you with big, heavy bags and send you to an empty cabin for the night. You and Eric (and Frodo) stuck together, and you received your bags and moved down to a cabin. To your surprise, the lights worked, as did a small space heater in the corner, but you can tell it had been running for some time, because the inside was already warm. Several beds were set up and made with thin, government-issued bedsheets, but it was far better than nothing.

You went about unpacking the bag as Eric moved to the small bathroom and shut the door. There was a change of clothes, sweatshirt and pants and underwear and socks, basic toiletries like a toothbrush and shampoo and a small bar of soap, two bottles of water, a plastic packaged MRE (you had Menu 3, “chicken, egg noodles, and vegetables in sauce”), and some things like Band-Aids and small packages of Advil like what you kept stocked in the ER, along with a sanitary napkin, and, the piece de resistance (courtesy of the American government, you’re very welcome), a condom. You frowned at the last thing and slid it into your toiletries bag underneath the bar of soap to hide it; to be frank, sex was the last thing you wanted or needed. Your brain was still in survival mode, and you didn’t even feel like you could settle down enough to sleep, let alone to fuck. Could anybody here?

You heard the shower squeak on in the bathroom, and the pipes creaked as water rushed through. You stripped off your clothes, exchanging them for the warmer and drier and less dirty option, and you sniffled as your fingers began to warm up, becoming less stiff but considerably more sweaty. The bed creaked under you as you sat down, the springs screaming at you, and you rubbed the paper-thin blanket between your fingers. It reminded you of the quality of the hospital, where you might as well be using copy paper instead of fabric. If you had known that your last night in your bed, with your memory foam pillow and weighted blanket, would truly be your last, you would have savored the experience far more. Would you even be warm enough under those blankets?

You couldn’t ponder it any longer, because Frodo suddenly caught a bee in his bonnet, and he skittered from atop the second bed, where Eric had settled his things before he went to the shower. He careened to the closed bathroom door, and he got up on his hind legs, pawing at the door handle. Wordlessly, he craned his tiny head to look at you, and he made the first cat noise you heard him make, a sort of “mrrow” chirping groan. As you got up and went to grab him (“Eric’s just taking a shower, Fro, he’ll be right back”), Frodo turned back to the door and began to bat at the handle, like he was attempting to turn it.

And then you remembered. Frodo was a service cat. He had been trained to alert for certain things, and Eric had mentioned rising pain levels, but what else could Frodo alert for? Suddenly, your heart jumped into your throat, and you knocked on the door. “Eric? You okay?” you asked, but you received no answer. “Eric? Hey, man, Frodo’s freaking out, are you alright in there?”

It was hard to hear too much over the sound of the running shower, but you heard the unmistakable shaking breath of a gasping sob, and, maybe against your better judgement, you turned the door handle. The door wasn’t locked, and the hinges squeaked as you opened the door. Eric had shed his blanket and cardigan and loosened his tie, but he was backed into the far corner of the bathroom, staring at the porcelain bathtub with eyes as big as dinner plates. The faucet was running, the tub filling up, but Eric was frozen. Quickly, you turned the tap and shut off the water, and you gave him his space as you asked “What’s wrong? Can you tell me what happened?”

Eric shook his head, his mouth contorting into an ugly sob, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked out, and he just kept shaking his head over and over. “No, no,” he mumbled. “No!”

“Hey, easy,” you told him gently. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

“Th-The water,” Eric gasped. “I—I—” His knees gave out, and he slumped against the wall with a sob. He began to claw at his shirt, at the topmost button; even though it was undone, he still seemed to want it looser.

You rushed to his aid, pushing his hands aside and starting at his shirt buttons. His eyes were still shut tight, but you needed to see his pupils— if he was in shock, or if something else was happening, the dilation of his pupils could help tell you. “Eric,” you said softly. “Open your eyes, please. Please? I need to see your eyes.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and you saw his pupils so big and dark, they almost overtook the brown of his iris. His face was pale, his chest heaving as you undid his buttons, and you pressed your fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. Fast, hard, heavy. You had been by his side all night, he hadn’t taken any medication that he could be having a reaction to, and he had been eating the same crackers and water that you had. There weren’t many other conclusions to come to— a panic attack. But at what?

Eric sank down to the floor, sobbing and shaking, and you followed him, putting a gentle but controlling grip on his wrists. You didn’t think he would, but you needed to control him if he started to get violent. “Eric, take a breath,” you told him. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? Everything is alright.”

Eric sucked in a breath and doubled over on himself, and you kept your hands on his wrists as you shifted away— if he got sick, you didn’t want it on your clothes. Although, you were sure you could get different ones somehow. But he didn’t get sick, he just kept crying. You felt awful and tasted bitter in your mouth. Typically, at this point, you would be paging the mental health wing to come by and evaluate him, and you’d move on to the next person waiting in the ER. You didn’t know how to talk someone down from a panic attack. You didn’t even know how to do that for yourself, let alone for Eric.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, it’s okay. What happened? Did something happen?”

Eric’s eyes glazed over you and settled behind your shoulder, and you looked back to see the bathtub. It was hardly half-full, but everything clicked into place. “The water,” you said. “You’re afraid of the water. Is that it?”

Eric sniffled and nodded weakly, and you blinked away tears. “That’s okay,” you whispered. “That’s totally okay. I mean, you had to jump into the water to get away from the monsters, I don’t blame you for being afraid—”

“I was down in the subway,” Eric blurted out. “When the monsters came. I was there, and I couldn’t stop thinking, I just kept thinking, and I… I didn’t have the guts to do it. I wanted to do it, I wanted to! But I was too scared that it would hurt. Was scared I’d looked too fucked up and they wouldn’t be able to tell who I was, and my-my mum, thinking about my mum being told, it would kill her, and I was just thinking… And the water came rushing in. Filled everything up, there was no air… I had to swim, and I can’t swim, I never learned really, but I was swimming and I just thought ‘I don’t actually want to die’. But I started feeling spotty, all lightheaded and fairy, and I think I was starting to drown, but I saw the light and came up…”

You were at a loss for words. If you were understanding him, he had been trying to kill himself before the monsters. It sounded like he was moments away from stepping in front of a train. His saving grace was the flood in the tunnels. You had trouble swallowing as your throat went thick, and you lowered your eyes for a minute before you loosened your grip on his wrists. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be alright. Do you want to take a shower instead?”

Eric shook his head. “Doesn’t work,” he mumbled. “Only the tub does.”

You sighed heavily. “Do you want me to stay?” you asked. “Or I can wait outside the door?”

Eric seemed edging into a catatonic state, just shivering and blinking, and you frowned. You finished your abandoned job of undoing his shirt buttons, and you loosened his tie until it came off completely, and you gently pushed off his stained and ragged buttoned shirt. His undershirt wasn’t in much better shape, the underarms and neck stained with sweat, and you started to take it off, but paused. “Is this okay?” you asked. He didn’t react to your question, just staring at your neck, and you carefully angled his head up to look you in the face. “Eric. Is it okay if I undress you and put you in the bath? I’ll be right here the whole time, I won’t leave you alone.”

Eric weakly nodded, shifting his arms a little to better help you pull his undershirt over his head, and his hands went down to his pants to finish the job. You quickly considered what the next steps were as Eric fished his belt from his pants loops, and you pushed the sleeves of your sweatshirt up to your elbows to free up your hands. Eric, now only in his boxers, gave you a pathetic look, and you took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. You figured that he had forgone removing his boxers for a reason, so you didn’t push it, and you held him stable as he lifted a shaking foot over the edge of the bathtub. He was silent, but you watched tears run down his cheeks as he settled both feet in the water, his grip on your hand so tight that it almost hurt.

Slowly, he sat down in the tub, and the water splashed your hand. It was warm but not hot enough to hurt, and you sat by the edge of the bathtub, watching Eric as he sniffled. He certainly was dirty after two days in an apocalyptic city, and you were sure that you weren’t any better off, and you started to get up to retrieve the toiletry bag that he had brought in with him, settled by the sink, but his tight grip only became more vice-like as you tried to depart. “Don’t—” he choked out, and you shushed him gently.

“I’m not leaving,” you told him. “Just getting the shampoo and stuff, just by the sink.”

“Can you get in?” Eric asked softly, almost at a whisper. “When you come back?”

“I-In?” you repeated. “Like, in the bath?”

Eric nodded. He was watching you with his big, intense eyes, and a shiver ran down your back.

“Okay,” you told him. “Umm… I don’t know if I can. I don’t have any other clothes, and I can’t get these wet.”

“Please?” Eric whimpered. “Need… Just need help.”

Maybe it was because you felt bad for him, or maybe you were feeling something that you didn’t want to consider yet, but regardless of the reason, you nodded. You got up from the floor and retrieved the bag from the sink counter, and you came back to the tub. The sides of the tub were curved, not allowing for you to settle the stuff on the edge, and you quickly handed the shampoo and soap to him. He held them gingerly, and he averted his eyes down to the water as you put the bag down and started to pull off the sweatshirt. “Eric,” you said softly. “You can look. You’re gonna see everything in the next few minutes anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Slowly, Eric raised his eyes up, but he still didn’t look staright at you. At least now it wasn’t obvious that he was avoiding looking at you like before, where it felt like he would be burned alive if he looked. You carefully pulled the sweatshirt over your head and set it by your feet, then you pulled down the sweatpants and stepped out of them. Your heart was beating quickly as you lowered yourself into the bathtub, sitting with your back to Eric, and he nudged his legs a little wider to allow you to sit comfortably. The water felt good on your aching muscles, especially your back, and you sighed lightly. You sat for a moment, trying to drum up enough courage to turn to him and start to help, but he beat you to it.

Eric’s hands were warm, his palm a little rough, as he touched your shoulder, sliding his hand down a little to reach your back. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and he lowered his hand back to the water. He cupped his palm and let water flow in, then he brought it up to you and wet your hair. Was this his definition of help? To help himself, he had to help others? It made sense, but it still took you a little by surprise. You don’t think anybody had ever washed your hair for you, not since you were a kid. But this was different, in just about every way possible. It was intimate in a way that made your breath catch in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as Eric lifted a hand and tilted your head back to lightly pour water over the front of your hair. He was careful in his work, making sure not to get it on your face or in your ears, and you listened to his breathing even out as he diligently did his task.

The shampoo was some cheap, basic crap, didn’t smell like anything and was only good for getting the oil out of your hair, but the way that Eric worked it into your hair made it seem like it was made by the gods. You felt relaxed, the first time in a long time, and your eyes slipped close as his fingertips worked into your scalp. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that good, especially by someone else’s hands— maybe years, it was hard to say. You knew that, no matter how good it felt, you couldn’t sink too hard into the feeling of it. Eric just needed to help you, and this was his help; nothing more, nothing less.

He gently poured water from his palms over your hair, rinsing it out as best as possible, and you felt that hot streak shoot up your nose. You wanted to cry. You hadn’t cried in… You had no idea. It certainly had been a long time, and you frowned and gulped as you held down the tears. Unluckily for you (or maybe luckily; it was nice to know Eric was so attentive), he noticed your catched breathing, and his hands gently settled on your shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Are you?” you answered, almost a knee-jerk reaction. Don’t worry about yourself, worry about your patient, your friend, anybody else. You came last in your mind, everybody else was more important than you.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Eric said firmly. “Are you okay?”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to worry about you, you were tough, you could handle yourself. You watched as water filtered through your own fingers, pooling in your palm but escaping out of every little break and crevice possible, and you pursed your lips as you slowly rubbed your face, trying to wash away to grime and dirt. You shook your head lightly, trying to come up with any words to express yourself, and you wiped off your cheeks as you sniffled. “I don’t know.” You couldn’t come up with any better explanation; you just didn’t know if you were okay or not. Your hands slid down your face and flattened up against your neck, and you sighed. “Are you okay?” you tried again.

“I’ll be okay,” Eric told you. His hands smoothed down your shoulders to your arms, and he squeezed your upper arm for a moment before he went for the soap, starting up a lather between his palms.

“Well, sure, we’ll all be okay eventually,” you replied. “But are you okay right now?”

Eric waited until he was washing your back to answer. His sudsy hands slipped over your skin easily, but he dug his fingertips into your muscles, offering relief. “I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I don’t know what I am right now, to be honest. Head’s just full of… I don’t know. A whole lot of noise, but not any one thing. It’s all quiet out here, but in there, it’s just…” He sighed, and his hands halted at your sides. He obviously had been on track to move to your front, doing his job on autopilot, and he only thought about what he was doing as he was about to do it.

Silently, you shifted your weight back just a hint, closer to him, trying to tell him that it was alright without saying the words. He quickly caught on to what you were telling him, and his hands slid around your body to your front. To your relief, he avoided where you had expected his hands to go, instead wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hugging himself to you, setting his chin on your shoulder. “You make it quiet up there,” Eric whispered, barely above a breath, like he was afraid of saying it out loud. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why… But you start talking, and it’s like everything else fades away.”

That was your breaking point. Tears started to fall from your eyes, and you sniffled as your hands reached up to your neck and clutched his wrists, looking for anything tangible to hold on to while you cried. And cried you did, your face contorted as you sobbed, your shoulders shaking and chest heaving, and you squeezed Eric’s wrists. He was quick to move impossibly closer, molding his front to your back, and his arms slipped down to your middle, squeezing you tightly as he buried his face in your neck and began to cry as well. He was much quieter than you, not having nearly as much that he held back and needed to get rid of, but it felt good to have someone commiserate with you.

You weren’t sure who moved first— maybe there wasn’t a first to move, maybe you both moved at the same time— but somehow your foreheads came to touch, and your crying pettered down to a sniffle and watery eyes. Your hand came up to touch his cheek, scruffy with a few days’ old beard trying to grow in, and your thumb stroked his cheekbone. He keened into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. His big brown eyes, so full of every emotion, hidden just so but easy to see if you knew where to look, locked on yours, and your lips fell open in anticipation of his mouth on yours.

Instantly, though, you shifted away and lightly cleared your throat. This wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t know if there would ever be a time for that again. Quietly, you splashed water on your face, and stood up, carefully getting out of the bathtub and going after the towel that sat on the countertop. You scooped your clothes up off the floor as well, and you escaped from the bathroom without a word. You were sure he was confused, maybe even wounded, but you didn’t care. On some level, you did want that— you wanted to feel wanted, to feel adored, cared about, and Eric was a great guy for that, but you didn’t want just that. You wanted a life, you wanted a partner, you wanted love— not just some trauma-borne fuck that you forgot about as soon as it happened.

You dried your body and slipped into your full outfit, pants and sweatshirt and underwear and socks, and you sat on your bed as you dried your hair. You listened as, inside the bathroom, the water sloshed against the side of the tub while Eric moved around, and you watched as Frodo calmly stalked the perimeter of the room, seeming to check every nook and cranny. You put your damp towel to the side and tutted out at the cat, and Frodo looked up at you for a moment before he scampered over to you, hopping up onto the bed and settling himself in your lap. “You’re a good boy, Fro,” you whispered, stroking his back. “Such a good boy.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Eric’s voice floated to you, and you turned to him. He was now all clean as well, his hair soggy and his face free of grime, wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt. His hair was pushed away from his face, and you could see, even in the dim light, freckles dotting his forehead.

You sighed. “No,” you replied. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Did you not want me to…?” Eric began.

“No, no, it’s not that,” you told him quickly. “Not that at all, I did want you to, I just… I don’t know if I can do all that.”

“All what?” Eric asked. “What did you think was going to happen if I kissed you?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I don’t know, I assumed more would come of it. And I just don’t know if I’m ready for more. Even before the world came crashing down, I wasn’t ready for more. That’s why I didn’t have anyone; not because I didn’t have time, although that was true. I’m just… Scared.”

Eric quietly moved towards you, bypassing his bed and settling at the extreme edge of yours, as far away as possible while still occupying the same space. Frodo looked at him with thin eyes and he slowly blinked at Eric, and his tail flopped in an indignant half-wag. “Scared of what?” Eric asked.

You sighed. “That I won’t be right for anyone,” you said. “Even back when I was on the market, people always… I don’t know. Wanted more, and for whatever reason, I could never give more to them. I was always so afraid of what would happen when I finally gave all of myself to someone that I never did, and by the time I figured out that someone did want all of me, it was too late and I’d already lost them. I can never win— I’m always never enough or I’m too much. I’m never just right.”

Eric thought on your words for a few moments, and he moved closer to you, just an inch. “Yeah,” he said. “But that was back then. Everything has changed. Everything is different now. You don’t need to be afraid of being what’s right, because what used to be right is just… All sorts of fucked up now. Nobody knows anything anymore. I certainly don’t. But I know what I want, more than I ever have before.”

“And let me guess,” you said. “You want me?”

You hoped that calling him out on his cheesy cliché would have him back down. You liked that he wanted you, and you wanted him too, you wanted him so badly that it hurt, but you didn’t want him to mistake wanting you for wanting a connection with someone.

“I want to be okay again,” Eric told you. “But I need you.”

That was the most magical word of all. Need. It punched a hole in your heart and took your breath away, and you watched him as he watched you, just seeing who would dare to break first. Frodo seemed to know something you didn’t, because he jumped up out of your lap and skittered across the room with an uncharacteristic yowl, and you frowned as he sped away, but your frown was quickly wiped off your face as Eric bridged the gap and kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He held your face as his lips moulded to yours, a perfect fit as you kissed back, and you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt good to kiss someone, to hold someone and be held by someone. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of another person, and you melted into his body as he claimed your hips in his strong hands. His knuckles were scuffed up, but he held you so gently, and you easily fell back onto the bed. He followed you, settling over you like he had done it a thousand times before, but the way his hands slowly slid up the sides of your shirt to touch your bare skin showed you how much it meant to him. Slow and gentle and sweet, he was everything you had wanted from a partner and a lover for as long as you could remember.

But you could tell, even though he was being sweet, how badly he wanted to have you. His kiss was greedy, shifting away from your mouth to kiss your chin and jaw and neck, almost feral with his need for you, but you welcomed it. Strong emotions like that were flattering, especially here and now, and you didn’t waste much time before sliding your hand past the elastic waistband of the sweatpants nestled around his hips. Your palm found his cock instantly, and you held in your gasp of surprise at his size— he definitely had something to be proud of. His skin was warm through the layer of his underwear, and you paused and widened your eyes at him, a quiet question of how far he wanted you to go.

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Eric whispered. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You shivered underneath him at the sweet name he had bestowed on you, and you quietly asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“God, yes,” he moaned. “Haven’t done this in so long…”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile as you slipped under his briefs, and your fingers wrapped around his thick length. His skin was hot to the touch, his cock rock-hard, and he moaned softly into your neck at the contact. Whether he meant to or not, his hips rolled forward, pushing himself further into your grip, and he quickly whispered, “M’sorry, fuck—”

“Don’t apologize,” you told him. Your free hand went to cradle his cheek, and you shifted his face so that you could kiss his plush lips again. “It’s hot.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eric asked. “It’s hot how…” He paused to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip with his front teeth, and he continued. “How desperate I am?”

“I am too,” you told him. “I just hide it better.”

Almost as if he was checking if you were lying, his hand skated down from your side and into your pants, letting his fingers mold to your cunt, and he chuckled lightly. “God, you’re wet,” he smiled. “That makes me feel better.”

“Were you worried I wasn’t?” you asked.

“Just a little,” Eric whispered, wrinkling his nose. “But I figured you’d tell me if something wasn’t working for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you told him. You chased him into another kiss, and his tongue invaded your mouth. It had been so long since you had someone make you feel like that, and you whined softly into his mouth. “Eric, please.”

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“Anything,” you whimpered. Your legs shifted, coming up to anchor around his waist, and you slowly started to stroke his cock, teasing his soft head, just to see his reaction.

Thankfully, his cheeks went red, and that pretty pink mouth of his opened in a moan, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he mumbled, “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m already too close for you to be doing that.”

“Already?” you asked. You sounded a little more surprised than you meant to, and you quickly added, “That’s really attractive, Eric, I hope you know that.”

“What is?” he chuckled. “That I’ve got a short fuse?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged sheepishly. “I think it is, anyway. How can I help you?”

“Umm,” Eric said, then swallowed thickly. “Can I… Tits?”

You smiled at him, and you laid a gentle kiss on his lips before he shifted away, letting you pull up your sweatshirt. Your little survival packs hadn’t provided you with a bra of any kind, and you watched Eric’s already-wide eyes flare out at the sight of your chest. He didn’t say a word before he moved down your body and started to kiss everywhere he could reach, taking time and care on your tits. Your hand fell out of his pants at the angle shift, and you settled your fingers to twist in his damp curls as his own hand replaced yours, jerking himself off as he gently licked at your hardening nipple.

“S’that okay?” he whispered, casting his doe eyes up at you, and you nodded quickly. “’Cause if it’s not, I can stop—”

“I promise it’s okay,” you whispered. “I swear.”

Eric smiled. “She swears,” he whispered under his breath, and you giggled. “She swears she likes when I suck her tits. Aren’t I a lucky guy?”

You could hardly ignore the hot pressure between your legs, and you snaked your hand in-between your bodies and started to push down your sweatpants, but Eric noticed what you were up to, and he tugged his hand out of his own pants to capture the waistband of your sweatpants in his grasp. “Please,” he said. “Allow me.” You could tell that he intended to be funny, but his flushed face and fucked-out pupils made it seem a lot more pathetic than you’re sure he meant to be, but that just made a rush of heat strike your core, and your head fell back in bliss as you felt your hot skin slowly exposed to the air.

When you lifted your head back up to look at him, you watched as he shed his own clothes, finally matching you, and you bit your lip as his heavy cock rose to lay against his tummy. He had the thinnest trail of hair coming from down his belly button, smatterings of hair on his chest, a nicely-groomed bush of hair at the base of his cock; he clearly cared about the way he looked, and you loved that. You wondered if the Eric you knew was anything like the Eric before the monsters came, and you watched as he leaned back and began to gently place kisses down the length of your body. He was soft and gentle with you, although you were nearly certain he wanted to take you then and there, and you wiggled a little under his lips. “Can we…” you started. “Do that later?”

“Do what?” Eric asked.

“The whole ‘sweet and kissy’ thing,” you said. “Not to sound, like, sex-starved or anything, but I am, and I think my heart’s gonna explode if you’re not inside me soon.”

Eric chuckled, obviously not expecting that level of honesty out of you, and he pushed his damp curls off of his forehead. “Whatever you’d like, sweetheart,” he told you. “As long as you promise to let me eat your cunt eventually. I can only go so long seeing you like this and be expected to not put my mouth on you.”

“Sure,” you replied, secretly excited that he was expecting a second time.

Eric swiped a quick kiss on your mouth, and then he furrowed his eyebrows. “Umm…” he began. “I— Do you… Are you on any birth control or anything?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you sighed. “I was, but all that’s back in my apartment in Brooklyn. Haven’t taken my pill since, like, three nights ago, so I’m basically fucked for the whole month.”

“Fuck,” Eric whispered, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I guess, are you alright with this, then? We can figure something else out—”

“There’s, umm,” you winced. “A condom, in the bag with the shampoo and everything. There’s one in mine, and I bet there’s a second one in yours too.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Eric laughed. “That’s… That’s pretty funny.”

“Apparently, FEMA knows what people do in times of crisis,” you smiled.

“So, what I’m hearing,” Eric started, moving himself off the bed and going to your toiletries bag on the floor. His back turned to you, and you felt your eyes widen in shock at the state of his ass. Jesus Christ, this guy had a great ass, smooth and plump and perfectly rounded; you almost wanted to reach out and bite it. “Is that we can fuck twice, and then we’ll need to figure something else out.”

“Is that so?” you asked, and Eric came back to the bed, deftly tearing open the condom wrapper. You leaned up on your elbows to watch as he got back up on his knees, caging you between his thick thighs, and he made quick work of rolling the condom down his thick length, making a quiet grunt as he got it situated the way he wanted. “What makes you think there’ll be a third time? Or a second, for that matter?”

“Won’t there?” Eric asked. “You seem pretty into it right now. Or least your cunt is; look at how wet she is for me.”

“Well, yeah, now,” you teased him, biting the tip of your tongue, trying to will your thundering heart to go back to normal. “But what if, when everything is said and done, you’re actually a terrible fuck and I don’t want anything else to do with you?”

He laughed deep in his chest, and he took your thighs in his strong hands and opened your legs, smoothly settling himself so he could rub his hard cock against your weeping cunt. You felt blood thrumming under your skin, making every inch of you pulse and surge, and you whined high in your throat when the head of his cock caught at your hole, threatening to slip in with ease. “I doubt that, sweetheart,” he told you. “I’ve been told I’m a fantastic fuck.”

“Are you sure they weren’t trying to keep your ego intact?” you asked, and Eric tilted his head curiously at you.

“Well, they weren’t telling me much of anything,” he said. “Usually, by the end, they’re so fucked-out and brainless that they can hardly string a sentence together.”

Then, without a word of warning, he gripped your hips and slid himself inside of you, and you gasped. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten what sex felt like, but this was something entirely new and different. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock, even through the condom, and he gave a delicious throb as you tightened your thighs around his hips. “Fuck!” you yelped, and a shade of worry passed over his face for just a moment. “I-I’m okay,” you told him quickly. “Just… Fuck, Eric, you’re so big.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckled. Slowly, he began to rock his hips into you, moving shallowly at first, just letting you get used to his size, and his dull fingernails buried into the flesh of your hip. You couldn’t help all the little noises he caused you to make— you could feel every inch of him, burying deep within you, stretching you and filling you like he was made for you, and he leaned down and ghosted against your lips with his. “Feel good?” he whispered, and you nodded quickly.

“Do I?” you asked softly. Your arms went around him, holding him close to you, and you pressed your fingers into his shoulders. He felt like a lifeline, his warm skin keeping you grounded, and you didn’t even care if you sounded pathetic or insecure. He made you feel good and safe, and that’s all that you cared about.

“Fuck, so good,” he grunted out. He was picking up speed, gaining a good rhythm that made you wonder how prolific he had been before his career got in the way, and you listened to the bed squeak under you as he mumbled, “So warm… So wet… You feel like a dream… Remember that short fuse I talked about?”

“Really?” you smiled. “Already?”

“Listen, woman,” Eric started, and you dragged him into a messy kiss. You loved him talking like that, and it made you realize just how close you were as well. He tugged away from the kiss to take a deep breath, and he went in to kiss you again, hungry and wanting you. He was going fast now, pumping in and out of you, leaving pleasure and sparks in his wake, and your legs twitched and tightened as the knot in your belly twisted closer and closer to its end. “I haven’t had sex in years,” Eric continued, finally tearing himself away from your lips. “And my right hand can only do so much after a while. So excuse me for being a little quick to the draw tonight.”

“How many years?” you asked.

Eric sighed. “I dunno,” he said. “At least since I graduated law school, so… Five years, maybe?”

“God,” you chuckled. “That’s… A while.”

“No, wait,” Eric said. “Three years. My birthday a few years ago, my mates took me out to a bar, and I met a girl, I spent the night at her place… And she never answered my texts after that.”

“Ouch,” you hissed. “That must’ve hurt that ego of yours.”

“Not gonna lie, it did,” Eric laughed. “But it’s for the best. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend anyway, I would’ve been an awful boyfriend to her. Or to anyone, not just her… What about you?”

“Umm…” you started. “Sex… Yes, I know what that is. Definitely a thing I’ve had before now.”

“Don’t play with me like that,” Eric started, jokingly wide-eyed and startled, and you laughed.

“About the same, I guess,” you said. “Three-ish years… It was back a few years ago, I was feeling bad about getting older and having a career but no partner, so I… I went on a dating app, found a guy, and we talked for a little bit and hooked up, but I got a bad vibe from him, so I broke it off.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Did you like him?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “And he wasn’t even that great in bed.”

“So, I’ve got him beat in every category, right?” Eric asked.

You kissed him again, cupping your hand across the back of his neck, and he smoothed his hands up your body lovingly. “You’ve got everyone beat, baby,” you told him.

“I think you’re an angel, actually,” Eric told you, and you shyly shook your head. “No, no, I think so. I don’t care if you don’t agree, that’s what I think.”

“Whatever you say,” you told him. “Can you, umm… Maybe a little faster?”

Eric obliged, pistoning his hips quicker to fuck you to your liking, and his hand floated to your pussy, his thumb gently rubbing at your throbbing little clit. You whined and scratched at his back, tightening your legs and digging your heel into that ass he had, and the electric shocks that ran up your toes and into the rest of your body started to become too good, too much. “Eric!” you gasped. “Eric, fuck!”

“I’ve got you, angel,” Eric whispered in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let me see that pretty face when you cum, yeah? Wanna feel your cunt squeeze me, fuck, I need it.”

You looked down at yourself, watching as his hard cock plunged in and out of your hole, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, and your whining and whimpering almost had the wet squelch of your bodies together beat. Then, almost against your will, your whole body relaxed, every muscle feeling like it went slack, and you sobbed out your final moan, your head falling back as your nails went hard into his freckled shoulders. You felt your wet cover your inner thighs, and you panted as Eric chased his own end. You didn’t have to wait too long before you heard him choke back a moan, and he spilled himself inside the condom. You felt the warmth of his spend inside you, and he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss at the sensation on his sensitive, softening cock.

He was quick to take care of the condom, and he came back to the bed and settled in the small, empty space beside you. His red chest was heaving, his cheeks flooded with pink color, and he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you close to him. You melted into his warmth, mashing your cheek against his hard chest, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t eaten real food all day or what, but I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” you giggled. “I think you were just that good.”

“Once again, angel,” Eric whispered, settling a soft kiss on your head. “You flatter me.”

You fell into a comfortable silence then, listening to each other’s breathing even out, and Eric cleared his throat after a while. “Typically, at this point,” he started. “I’d be smoking a cigarette.”

“Oh my God, Eric, no,” you groaned. “Don’t you know how unhealthy that is?”

“Oh, right,” Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Miss Nurse. So concerned for my health.”

“Right,” you told him. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to have breathing complications or worse early in life from smoking.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Eric told you. “I think I need another shower after that, though.”

“You do sorta stink,” you giggled, and Eric rolled his eyes. “If you shower, I can be making food.”

“Food?” Eric asked. “There’s food?”

“Yeah, an MRE,” you told him, and you grunted as you got out of bed, going in search of the plastic-packaged meal. “Chicken and noodles. I didn’t see what yours was.”

“Fuck,” he laughed. “I’ve got a sexy woman making dinner for me? I might keep you around after all.”

“You have to keep me around,” you told him. “Who else is supposed to help you raise your cat?”

Frodo seemed to know his cue, because he revealed himself from behind a bookshelf, batting a bit of cobweb on his nose, and Eric smiled. “I suppose you’re right,” Eric said. “Just don’t feed him too much; he’ll get fat. He’ll also try to attack your hand if you pet his belly, so don’t do that either.”

“Noted,” you told him. “Go shower, handsome, this should be done by then.”

Eric took a moment to wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to your temple, and he softly said, “I wish we could have met any other way. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you told him, turning in his arms to give him a real, genuine kiss. “I’m so glad you found me.”

[hollowtones]

ayy monhun fan! what are you thinkin of what we've seen of wilds so far?

The initial trailer they dropped months ago was pretty cool. "World" is my least favourite game that I've played (even thought I liked it a lot!!), and 90% of why I felt that way was "this is the first time they're making a game of this scale / scope / direction", so it's exciting to see them make a successor to it now that they're not also learning how to make a game like it from the bottom-up & not also building the tech side of it from scratch.

Big desert environments have me excited!!!! I love the way these games do deserts. I'm always dreaming of Val Habar. I love the colour palette they're using for this area. Big fan of Yoshi being a new mechanic. In general I'm noticing a lot of things in "Wilds" that feel like a really cool mix of ideas from "World" and "Rise" in a way that feels a little more grounded. It's cool that they're bringing back a buddy you can ride around on & control. I wonder if they'll let Yoshi fight with you. I don't remember if they showed that off already. Getting to hotswap between 2 weapons without having to run back to base camp feels like a big deal that I haven't really wrapped my head around yet.

The focus mode thing seems fine. More granular control over aiming sometimes seems neat, & the footage we've seen makes it feel like positioning & animation commitment are still a part of it, which I like. Expanding part-breaking into "opening wounds that take more damage & enable special attacks" seems cool! (There was a similar-ish tenderizing mechanic with the Clutch Claw in "Iceborne", and I fuckin hated using it. Loved the idea of it at first. Having to do this whole separate action that interrupted the flow of the fight in a weird way to enable more damage felt awful after a while!! And they designed all the fights around the fact that you have it & use it! So I'm glad they're seemingly taking what I liked about it & chucking out the rest, haha.) I remember there was some hubbub about focus existing at all when news was first dropping. Some people were mad about it? I feel like this happens every time they announce a new Monster Hunter. They reveal a new feature, and a couple guys crawl out of the woodwork to go "THEY HAVE MADE THE VIDEO GAME PITIFUL AND EASIER - THIS IS THE DEATH OF THE FRANCHISE!" The franchise has died every game since the first one, by my count. (They end up buying the game anyway, of course.) I hope they put out a demo soon, though. I wanna get my hands on it & see how it works in the middle of a fight to see how I actually feel about it.

Weapon & armour design so far has been great. Happy about that. The bits of NPC designs we've seen have been cool. I don't really like the smith's look very much. Which makes me sad because I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be Little Miss Forge. LOL

When they first showed the game off I remember thinking "yeah, that's cool, I'm looking forward to this, but it's coming out Next Year & we're not even halfway done with 2024." Well now we're almost two thirds of the way through the year. And they keep dropping gameplay trailers. And they look hype as fuck!! And now I'm feeling more impatient!!! I wanna try this shit out soon!!! I wonder if they'll drop a public demo after Gamescom or something. I wonder if my computer could even run it...

I liked the way Hunting Horn played in "Rise" but it's cool to see the more traditional recitals back. (But faster!! And with new combo paths!!) I think I've spent a cumulative hour or two watching that horn trailer over and over again for little details. The funny bubble reminds me of bead of resonance but it seems like it might also be some kind of AoE team buff? It could also just be extra damage like bead was. But I loved bead. So I'll take it. Being a Hunting Horn fan is accepting that you'll be playing an entirely different weapon in every subsequent game, so I suppose I fuss less about whether or not it plays like any one specific game. But mannnnnn it looks cool as hell this time around.

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows. 

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel. 

Just take a deep breath. 

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again. 

It was nothing more than a dream. 

Stop making up monsters. 

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal. 

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie. 

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

You aren’t really. 

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother. 

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs. 

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens. 

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you. 

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you. 

He makes it too easy to forget your fears. 

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt. 

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass. 

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up. 

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter. 

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours. 

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns. 

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug. 

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly. 

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens. 

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.” 

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey. 

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates. 

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face. 

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast. 

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck. 

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

��Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go. 

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to. 

You decide to throw her a bone. 

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face. 

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response. 

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air. 

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside. 

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs. 

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup. 

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window. 

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot. 

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove. 

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music. 

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot. 

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you. 

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle. 

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices. 

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula. 

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook. 

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here. 

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from. 

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say. 

“It’s good.” 

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it. 

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.” 

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question. 

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.  

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.” 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning. 

“That’s nice.” 

You’re glad he thinks so. 

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests. 

Your palms are getting clammy. 

This is, by his count, your third date. 

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex? 

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance. 

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours. 

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio. 

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face. 

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you. 

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now. 

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans. 

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down. 

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night. 

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely. 

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs. 

How sharp are his teeth? 

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job. 

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you. 

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more. 

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs. 

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely. 

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in. 

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out. 

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.  

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand.  You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat. 

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes. 

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out. 

Did he just lick up a tear? 

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him. 

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more. 

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark. 

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.  

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips. 

Fucking salted caramel. 

Sweet and sticky on your tongue. 

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift. 

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be. 

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror. 

You’re bleeding. 

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood. 

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.  

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite. 

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him. 

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms. 

And you aren’t haunted by dreams. 

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off.  [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise. 

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking. 

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more. 

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all. 

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it. 

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?” 

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.” 

“She worked from home?” 

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop. 

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop. 

But that’s not what interests you the most right now. 

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one. 

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it. 

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?” 

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?” 

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place. 

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you. 

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable. 

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up. 

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down. 

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago. 

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember. 

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck. 

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. 

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him. 

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone. 

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit. 

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint. 

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement. 

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back. 

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life. 

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you. 

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline. 

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right. 

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ] 

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing. 

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door. 

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation. 

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news. 

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality. 

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod. 

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy. 

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table. 

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day. 

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down. 

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ] 

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage. 

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds. 

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise. 

How didn’t you realize this before? 

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you. 

There’s no blood. 

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack. 

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained. 

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table. 

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise. 

So you do just that. 

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum. 

Nothing. 

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry. 

He’s been completely drained of his blood. 

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home. 

Joel doesn’t text you back. 

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again. 

You feel like you’re gonna be sick. 

An image flashes through your mind. 

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl. 

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier. 

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses. 

It’s a coincidence. 

Or it isn’t. 

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong. 

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day. 

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds. 

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her. 

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties. 

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw. 

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense. 

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. 

Joel doesn’t answer your calls. 

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts. 

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake. 

You’re completely alone on this. 

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening. 

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest. 

Something is out there. 

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster. 

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you. 

You have a plan. 

Well sort of. 

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out. 

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town. 

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it. 

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop. 

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel. 

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses. 

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort. 

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence. 

You don’t have any other options. 

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points. 

“Back left corner, dear.” 

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop. 

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying. 

People in search of ghosts and myths. 

Are you any better than them? 

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up. 

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover. 

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters 

You aren’t going to find a better place to start. 

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime 

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover. 

Ellie might like that. 

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father. 

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket. 

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table. 

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit. 

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing. 

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters. 

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar. 

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize. 

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off. 

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely. 

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo. 

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you. 

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted. 

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time. 

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did. 

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust. 

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood. 

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal. 

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you. 

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense. 

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it. 

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Maybe it’ll make you feel better. 

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream. 

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far. 

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll 

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye. 

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today. 

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer. 

How comforting. 

Fuck it. 

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ] 

Monsters aren’t real. 

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet. 

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it. 

It’s a coincidence. 

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death. 

So you take the bus home in silence. 

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork. 

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning. 

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.” 

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity. 

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs. 

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms. 

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs. 

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.” 

Six massacred corpses in six days. 

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten. 

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now. 

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms. 

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.” 

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods. 

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.” 

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment. 

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen. 

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere. 

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing. 

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her. 

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered. 

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers. 

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees. 

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious. 

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings. 

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point. 

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on. 

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at. 

A monster. 

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster. 

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page. 

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options. 

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown. 

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head. 

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset. 

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak. 

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.” 

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag. 

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover. 

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited. 

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky 

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt. 

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life. 

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight. 

A camera. 

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film. 

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right. 

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel. 

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight. 

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out. 

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer? 

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home. 

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.  

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point. 

The tearing sound rips through the air. 

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it. 

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise. 

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps. 

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight. 

You almost didn’t catch it. 

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure. 

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it. 

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with. 

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating. 

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore. 

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped. 

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter. 

Fuck. 

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it. 

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head. 

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers,  you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out. 

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place. 

Recognition. 

Like it knows you. 

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature. 

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you. 

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it. 

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead. 

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost. 

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it. 

This is it. 

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it. 

He smells like cinnamon. 

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore. 

You scream. 

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath. 

He’s a few feet away now. 

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it. 

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.” 

It speaks. 

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous. 

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer. 

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click. 

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up. 

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice. 

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that. 

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore. 

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead. 

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement. 

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you. 

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness. 

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper. 

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy. 

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots. 

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

He’s lying. 

Why would he lie? 

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera. 

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.” 

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons. 

Except you can’t. 

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is. 

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.  

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated. 

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was. 

Every bit of this confuses you. 

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing. 

And he knows something about it. 

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows. 

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind. 

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights. 

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him. 

How presumptuous. 

Correct, but presumptuous. 

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight. 

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off. 

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened. 

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches. 

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages. 

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face. 

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth. 

Your blood.

He tasted your blood. 

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down. 

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head. 

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.” 

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you. 

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic. 

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side. 

“Are you sure?” 

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you. 

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him. 

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home. 

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way. 

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him. 

This is more than just attraction. 

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap. 

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.” 

He looks at you like you’re something to eat. 

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.  

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties. 

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds. 

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours. 

You do. 

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his. 

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate. 

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do. 

He’s purposefully showing restraint. 

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you. 

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.   

He’s holding back. 

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist. 

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl. 

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago. 

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back. 

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out. 

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that. 

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him. 

He makes it look effortless. 

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already. 

Not good, just better. 

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms. 

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.  

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

 “You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him. 

It’s better if you know where he is. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest. 

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you. 

You know that growl. 

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you. 

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to. 

But tonight is different. 

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement. 

This can’t be happening. 

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body. 

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously. 

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move. 

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on. 

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to. 

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces. 

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut. 

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic. 

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.  

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away. 

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel. 

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality. 

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.  

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry. 

And then you wake up. 

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face. 

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal. 

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.  

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” 

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.  

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey do you guys remember how I said that I was going to use patreon to write up content that would be WILDLY too long for tumblr? yeah. this is uuuuuh a little less than 6000 words about a bad Animal Planet series from 2008 that no one watched but me and my sister.

and here's part of the introduction under the cut for freebies, in case you want a little sample:

If you weren’t a painfully introverted animal fact kid in the early 2000s it’s almost impossible to explain the degree of sway that Animal Planet and its shows held over me as a child. Meerkat Manor, Animal Cops, The Most Extreme, The Little Zoo That Could, Prehistoric Planet, River Monsters, all of Steve Irwin’s work, and truly any and all non-serialized programming about any animal imaginable. I ate it all up, even the terribly boring half-hour programs like Backyard Habitat and Petfinder that they only played in the weird wee hours of the morning. 

Crucially, this programming is mostly of a nonfiction bent. Prehistoric Planet uses a framing device involving the use of time travel to bring extinct animals into the present to live in a zoo, but ultimately they’re trying to teach you some facts about some beasts, and while Meerkat Manor was definitely anthropomorphizing and editorializing the drama those meerkats experienced, it was at least rooted in the very real Kalahari Meerkat Project, which has been intensively documenting the behavior of meerkat mobs for many meerkat generations.

But then we get into the oddballs. In 2004 Animal Planet aired Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real, a British “docufiction” produced for Channel Four that sought to contextualize the nearly-global mythology of dragons in real history and biology, complete with CGI recreations of dragons in their “natural habitats.” That’s all fine and good; there’s nothing wrong with using a fake thing to teach people about real animals’ evolution and anatomy. The Loch Ness Monster episode of River Monsters is excellent for this, as you can tell that host Jeremy Wade (angler, freshwater detective, and criminally fuckable old man) doesn’t expect to find a monster literally at all and is just taking the opportunity to introduce his audience to animals they might not otherwise know about, including the noble Greenland shark. He pulls the same trick again in a later episode where he’s sent to discover the “truth” behind sea serpents and winds up diving in search of the elusive oarfish.

Dragons is… not doing that. Instead it offers up a framing device following a completely fictional paleontologists who “suggests the theory that a carbonized Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton on display was killed by a prehistoric dragon” (thanks, Wikipedia) and then has to go on a quest to save his career by proving that dragons totally existed and he’s not crazy. And he’s not! The piece ends with him discovering straight up for-real dragon bones in the Carpathian Mountains. If you were, say, an impressionably soft-brained 8 year old watching this, well holy shit. Congrats! It turns out dragons are real and nobody knows but you. 

Why did Animal Planet air this? God only knows, but it wouldn’t be the last time they dabbled in this shit. 2012 saw another piece by the same creator, Charlie Foley, called Mermaids: The Body Found which posited that various governments are holding merpeople captive and also relied on the infamously eugenicist aquatic ape theory to justify how merpeople could exist. The CGI on that one creeped me the fuck out, although I was at least old enough by then to recognize it wasn’t real.

Between those two docufictional farces, Animal Planet got a little freaky and rolled out some fake factual content of their own: three season of the TV show Lost Tapes (2008-2010, RIP), which purportedly showed “found footage” from incidents of humans having terrifying encounters with cryptids and fighting to escape with their lives. Interspersed with the fully fictional stories were segments of experts talking about folkloric history and speculating as to how creatures like Sasquatch and sea serpents could be real, which was an admirable effort to make it educational but often fell pretty short. There’s a werewolf episode where their expert weakly offers up that there are tons of transformations in nature, like caterpillars turning into butterflies. Notably that has absolutely nothing in common with a human turning rapidly into a wolfbeast and then shifting back, but they tried! They stopped trying as hard by season three, by which point they were throwing any and every beastie they could think of at the wall: there are episodes dedicated to zombies, a poltergeist, two different types of vampires, and the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl. 

Also straining belief was the dedication that some POV characters had to keeping their cameras rolling. I don’t blame the writers for that; it’s hard coming up with a fresh gimmick for “found footage” in every episode. Some of them, like characters wearing body cameras, are pretty smart; others, like a teenage girl continuing to film on her phone while being hunted by the Jersey devil, are not. They’re very much running on horror movie rules; the characters are as dumb as they need to be to make the plot go. To the show’s credit the dumdums are frequently punished, and it’s not uncommon for every single named character to end up dead at the hands (or claws, fangs, whatever) of the monster of the week. 

Needless to say, as a 12 year old I thought this was extremely edgy and cool. I was old enough to recognize that the so-called found footage was fake and that the acting was mostly very bad, but I liked cryptids and some of the show’s better episodes could still creep me right out. I think geeky 12 year olds who like to get a little freaked out on purpose are probably the ideal target demographic for this show, followed by nostalgic 20-somethings who have seen every episode several times.

(Hi, editor’s note: having completed this list it turns out there are WAY more episodes than I thought and I fully Do Not Recall some of them, so egg on my face.)

[splishsplashyouropinionistrash]

hello hello my loves, it's been a while since I've done a fic rec list and I'm feeling *inspired*

my qualifications are that i'm a loser and have read over a thousand fics so far in 2023

Was Sorta Hopin' That You'd Stay by jaydreamz (8/8)

Minyard Josten rivalry but they actually hate each other. They have a prank war. It's beautiful.

Eighteen Wheels And Three Beating Hearts by Autumnalpalmetto, IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos (21/21)

Small town AU, Neil is a trucker with a son and Andrew runs a diner. So many found family feels, was giggling like a child the whole time. Connor owns my heart.

Die Free Or Die A Failure by Mickey_99 (54/54)

This one. This one!!! It's so good. Like, so good. It's a Raven!Neil fic, where Neil escapes the Nest and joins Kevin at PSU. It's super dark at times, but so lovely? The found family in this one is just *chefs kiss*

I Guess This Is Where I Say Goodbye by Artificiosus (2/2)

Listen y'all. I bawled like a baby reading this one. Full on ugly sobbing. It was amazing. It's MCD, so be careful. Neil gets in a car crash and calls Andrew, but Andrew doesn't pick up. The whole fic is Neil's voicemail and Andrew's reaction. It's so beautiful and so so sad.

Here And Where You Are by pentagrammed (1/1)

This one!!! It's almost sort-of MCD? But not actually. Read it, I'm begging. There's not much I can say about it without spoilers, so just... read it.

Dating & Other Disasters by lolainslackss, moonix (12/12)

Okok but this one. It's fake dating, the Foxes all go to a fine arts school. Neil is an actor and Andrew is a writer. It's so good !!! Andrew's poem lives rent-free in my head.

Murder Boyfriends by justadreamfox (3/3)

Heathers AU!!! It's beautiful, I'm in love with it. Go forth and read.

Better Than A Night Light by Ominous (1/1)

Literally 7k of fluff. Neil watches one of those alien horror movies and gets scared by it (but Drew is there to help, ofc)

Small Angry Gardeners by SensationalSunburst (8 part series)

Neil and Andrew's adventures in homeowning, gardening, meeting neighbors, owning animals, and other domestic bullshit. So fluffy, so sweet, so fun. Simply adore.

Heimkehr Means Homecoming by This_Witch_Writes (2 part series)

Cass is good! Andrew gets a mom! Family !!!! Literally so good, I cried a lot.

What Does 'Viral' Mean? by darkbluebox (1/1)

Kevin is a sports commentator after retirement, and Neil joins him for a game. So much bickering. Fucking hilarious

In Reel And Rout by maydaykevin (10/10)

Fantasy pirates AU. Vaguely Pirates of the Caribbean? So good though, oh my god. Andrew has water powers and shit. Neil is a pirate captain. I'm in love.

The Exy Team Is Nuts: A Survival Guide For The Uninitiated by Cute Negativity Cloud (Ofelia) (1/1)

The Foxes from the perspective of the other sports team. They have a whiteboard with rules for how to deal with them without being murdered/beaten up/insulted to death. It's fucking hilarious

Kill My Mind (Raise My Body Back To Life) by r3mus (1/1)

Ghostface!Andriel. They're murder boyfriends who kill bad people. It was such a fun read tbh

Queer Eye For The Demi Guy by neilwrites (13/13)

Neil goes on Queer Eye. The Monsters + Allison are the fab 5. it's wonderful, I love it.

Baby I'll Bleed You Dry by priorwalter (2 part series)

The Twilight AU this fandom desperately needed. In which Andrew is Edward, Neil is Bella, and many jokes are made. I spend a solid half an hour cackling

The Gaslights Burn Brightly by This_Witch_Writes (8/8)

Okok so Andrew and Neil were childhood friends, but Neil disappears one day and everyone convinces Andrew that he never existed at all. Eight years later, they meet again at PSU. It was so. Amazing. I love this author sm

A Dad By Any Other Name by SensationalSunburst (2/2)

Coach Wymack being a dad for 5k. That's it. That's the fic. (5+1 Wymack being a dad)

Called It Home by jingerhead (1/1)

Neil is spiderman. Spoilers for No Way Home. Guys it's so good !!

What We Ask by constellationqueen (40/40)

Neil gets hurt. Andrew helps him. SUUUUPER dark guys, like. Super dark. MCD too, so watch out. Really sad but so so beautiful, I sobbed so violently my sibling thought someone had died

The Suit Universe by marie_pothos (17 part series)

Ohhhhhh my god THIS ONE!!! My all time fave series. It's a popstar AU, but Neil is basically Taylor Swift. It's all based off of Taylor Swift songs. Absolute must read, even if you don't like TS that much. It's so beautiful, and funny, and so so sweet, and just- I could go on forever about this one.

Shake My Tomb by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) (10/10)

Butcher!Neil (sorta). kevin goes to Neil for protection from Riko, so neil goes to PSU. So beautifully written, I just re-read it today. It's so good guys.

Take To The Wing by iceEckos12 (20/20)

Neil signs the contract during his Christmas at Evermore. Surprisingly fluffy for a Nest fic, and there are some absolutely wonderful OCs. I would die for Joshua.

Something In Return by reaching_my_summit (10/10)

Neil and Andrew go to Disney World. That's the whole fic. Tooth-rotting fluff, it's amazing

Funky Happenings With The Fox Family by dobbypussypopper (27/27)

THE Fox group chat fic. It's fucking hilarious, I laughed so hard I started crying.

The Marks We Make by Fortheloveofexy (11/11)

Soulmate AU. Guys, this fic. It's one of my favorites. I reread it all the time. It's so good, and so sweet, and just UGH. I adore it so much.

Falling. by Idnis (16/16)

Art School AU where Andrew is a photographer and Neil is a painter. It's so poetic and beautiful, I'm begging you to read it.

Too Gay To Function by gluupor (1/1)

Mean Girls fusion. Andrew is Regina George. Enough said.

And there you go! This is a very very small fraction of the fics I've read this year, so obviously I have more if anyone's interested.

Go forth and read !

[swampstew]

Trafalgar Law, B-6 ~ Master/Servant

Summary: Part 3 to Trafalgar Law as a Fylgja: A supernatural being associated with fate, usually an omen of one’s impending doom, who can shapeshift - his favorite form is a Snow Leopard. You're his new little pet and this a little treat on how your life with Law would be.

Part 1 | Part 2 Author's note: This needs to the final part for Fylgja Law, I'm exorcising him from my brain space and back into the friendzone where he belongs (for me, Raven, personally.)

Warnings: Spicy, pet play kink, master/servant relationship, Monster Law, hybrid Law/leopard form. Adding dead dove in case people take issue with monster fucking/hybrid fucking or whatever. Word Count: 643

Law is quick to bring you into his home. He doesn’t mind you keeping the apartment if you want, but he wants you around at all times when he has the time to be home. Being a Fylgja and moonlighting as a surgeon means he seldom has down time. Any time he does, he wants to spend it with you.

When he’s gone, you do whatever you want to entertain yourself in his absence. You won’t need to work because his pay is phenomenal, but if you do its fine by him – so long as you wear a token of his ownership on you. A stunning golden choker with a dangling crystal heart charm. Never take it off unless you want to be in the doghouse.

You take care of his place when you’re under that roof, not because he expects you to but you do it anyways, and you always wear your cat ears – that’s the only rule. Your real catsuit only comes out whenever its play time. He loves shopping for you too, absolutely adores seeing you wear the outfits he buys.

He always starts by having you change into your ‘house’ outfit, the same outfit he gifted you that first day he made you his pet. He washes your hands and feet, drying them with a soft towel before slipping your gloves and socks on. He slips on your panties and bra and you admire the way he restrains himself when his eyes eat you up with a predatory gaze. If you give him a teasing look he’ll flick your cat ear and give your ass a slap. Law looks ravenous by the time he clips on your collar. Before he can indulge – can’t forget your tail plug.

Law will make you purr, hiss, mewl, and downright yowl with what he knows about the human body. He wasn’t an expert at first but when he figured out your cues he was on them like a hound. Loves taking care of his Kitten, in every single way. He saved you and now you’re all his so he wants to spoil and protect you.

He’ll fuck you however you want. Human form, hybrid form – he’s game for anything, he’ll make sure to never hurt you and heavily enforces safe words and check-ins to make sure you’re not lying to him or yourself about being in situations you may not enjoy. Enjoys watching you in the mirror, alone, with him, him making you pleasure yourself, he just loves watching you and watching himself fuck into you. It releases a deep growling that normally doesn’t come out during any other times you are together.

If you’ve ever in your life thought – I wish I could quit everything and become someone’s pet, Law’s the guy you want to be adopted by.

Also: the King of Aftercare. He knows that he’s rough sometimes, especially when he’s shapeshifted (oh yeah, he’ll appeal to your appetite if you want a different breed of cat. Or marine animal), so he performs medical care under the guise of aftercare but honestly you don’t mind it much. He disguises his prodding for discomfort as massaging your muscles, ‘stretching you for the next round’ to make sure nothing is broken or sprained, applies several kisses to remedy any scratches or bite, and teases you with playful snatching of comfort items to check for concussions or brain damage. He’s a natural worrier.

But then – the snacks he brings, taking charge of clean up, the vibe he sets to just hang out with you in post-sex comfort, making you laugh and feel cherished as he feeds you little bites and just talks with you. He might treat you like a plaything, a pet, but make no mistake, you’re his little house cat. He’s in it for life. Well, the rest of your life anyway.

13 tiles to go, 37 calls made so far.

[autumnmobile12]

Something I wish had been addressed in My Hero Academia...

Pros and Villains alike underestimating the sheer determination of a Quirkless person with a weapon.

You have Geten monologuing on how only people with a strong Quirk have a place in the world. My dude...I can think of a few people who can absolutely challenge that philosophy.

Crossover insight.

Castlevania: In a world with magic, monsters and spellcasters, Trevor Belmont had no magical abilities, but he didn't let that stop him. Oh, the whips were magic? Support item!

Besides, he didn't use their magic elements most of the time. He puts out someone's eye in Season One and he straight up strangles a guy in Season Four.

Arcane: Ekko. No magic. Just a gravity-defying board, a metal pipe, and a well-time strike. Granted, he wasn't up against a magic user in this scene, but she did have a gun and explosives.

Avatar: And then we have Ty Lee not even hesitating to annihilate an entire group of Earthbenders with nothing more than her chi blocking fists. ATLA had a whole cast of non-benders who were holding their own against the ones with 'powers.'

Sokka

Suki

Asami

Jet

Mai

Moral of the story: Do not mess with the 'Quirkless' people.

...

It really goes to show how heavily the world in My Hero began to rely on powers to the point that anyone born without a Quirk (or a Quirk that was useless) was someone to be pitied.

Honestly, when I first started watching the anime, I was with my sister and she'd already seen it. So by the time we got the part with the Slime Villain and all the Pros not knowing what to do, I just turned to her and asked, "So wait, since Deku has all the knowledge about these Pros, is he just gonna become a master strategist and coordinate an effective attack and save the day?"

And she just looked at me with this sad expression and said, "No, but that would have been really cool."

Even though I enjoy My Hero Academia, faults and all, I will admit that is a small disappointment I'm still not over. And that might be why the Villain Deku AU appeals to me so much personally. It would have been awesome to have a Pro-Hero or a villain who was 100% Quirkless and making it work the best they could.

I mean, imagine anyone of the My Hero cast humbled like that. "Got our asses whooped by a Quirkless fella."

Aizawa's Quirk is virtually useless on its own. That's why he also uses a scarf, a knife, and martial arts combat to fight. Even if he lost his Quirk, he still has a scarf, a knife, and martial arts combat. Not much changes except he now has to adapt his fighting style to finding a different kind of opening to strike.

Touya might've been fine if someone suggested he use a highly-flammable accelerant as support gear. It was only prolonged usage of his fire that seemed to be hurting him.

Deku losing One For All? He was a brain over brawn character-type to begin with, so I genuinely don't see this as a major issue. An issue because losing any abilities sucks, but he's got a legitimate workaround as the strategist.

And if Midnight was going to use a whip...

...why couldn't she have used it like a fucking boss? Alas, we were robbed.

[penny-anna]

His first thought, on laying eyes on his new assistant, was God, but he’s young. He quickly revised his judgement; after all, people could and did look younger than their years. But still. In his line of work, it was rare to encounter someone quite so – fresh-faced. “Marty, this is Doctor B,” said Strickland, motioning at him. “He’s the head of your department. Doctor, this is your new assistant, Marty M.” They were standing in the hallway outside Manufacturing and Development. It was a little after ten thirty in the morning. Marty M was flanked by Strickland on one side and a security guard on the other; he had on a wide-eyed, dumbstruck look that Emmett recognised vaguely from his previous, rare encounters with new hires. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward and offered up a friendly handshake. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m Doctor B. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The kid – it was difficult not to think of him as a kid – had his arms folded across his chest. He made no move to return the handshake. He looked at Emmett’s outstretched hand. His eyes went to his face; they tracked, slowly, up and down his body, taking all of him in. Then he turned and bolted like a frightened animal. “Oh, my,” said Emmett, as he vanished around the corner with a squeak of shoes on hard floor. The security guard was laughing. “Mr Murphy!” barked Strickland. “On it,” said the security guard. “I’ll get him – don’t worry.” He jogged away in pursuit. For a long and uncomfortable moment Emmett stood in the doorway of M&D, trying not to meet Mr Strickland’s unfalteringly stern gaze. “Uh,” he said, looking somewhere in the direction of his left ear. “How’s the orientation going?” “He’s been trying to give us the slip all morning,” said Strickland. “Ah,” said Emmett. “I’ve had worse,” Strickland added. He did not elaborate. There was a yell, nearby; and the security guard rounded the corner, half-carrying, half-dragging Marty M, arms firmly around his waist. “Let me go!” the kid was yelling. “Let go – let go of me –” His feet fully left the ground, kicking out at the air, his hands grasping at nothing, and at the look on his face Emmett’s guts twisted. “Feistiest new hire we’ve had in a while, huh?” said the security guard.

hey guys!! big news!! after stalling at like 99% completion for many weeks, i finished this monster of a Back to the Future/Severance AU tonight!! i have titled it 'Welcome to the Panopticon'.

When will it be published?

as soon as i finish editing chapter 1

What if I like Back to the Future but haven't seen Severance?

i would recommend you watch Severance bcos it does slap, however, the majority of the relevant worldbuilding is recapped in the fic so u should be fine

What if I like Severance but haven't seen Back to the Future?

you will have 0 problems with this fic as it has fuck all to do with Back to the Future

What if I haven't seen either?

you can do whatever you want

Why would you combine those 2 things?

listen sometimes you're hyperfixated on a thing and then you watch a really good TV show and you are compelled to plug tab A into slot B even if it makes no sense. idk something something time travel?? alternate selves? idk Severance is just a really fun way to explore character dynamics

How long is it?

it will be my longest published fanfic to date at seven chapters & just shy of 90,000 words!!

Jesus fuck

yeah I know :( read my fic anyway it took me 8 months to write and im very proud

[catierambles]

Blood Moon Ch.17

News of their engagement spread like wildfire through the rest of his family, Sy getting calls from his sisters-in-law the next day congratulating him along with his nieces and nephews (who were old enough to talk) being very excited that Annalisa was going to be their Aunt. She was a big hit with them, apparently. Annalisa got calls as well, having exchanged numbers with them the previous day during lunch. None of them mentioned or even hinted at their “conditions”, so either his brothers didn’t tell inform their wives (or ex-wife in the case of Jake), or they didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. It would have to be brought up eventually, as Annalisa had been correct, they would notice that she and Sy didn’t age as the children got older.

The idea that what made him turn furry also made him immortal was...something he'd unpack later, but the fact that it meant he would literally be spending forever with his Mate, and she wouldn’t watch her Tovaras age and die while she stayed the same, was a comfort.

“Hey, babe?” Sy said as he lounged in the couch in her office and she hummed in response, not looking up from her monitor. “Annalisa.”

“Yes?” She asked, catching his tone.

“What happens...what happens if a vampires’ Tovaras dies?” He asked, “You said that you knew Markus wasn’t because his death didn’t destroy you. What would’ve happened if he had been?”

“You sure you want to know?” She asked and he paused.

“Yeah.” He said finally.

“I’d die.” She said simply, “Not right away, but I...” She sighed, “I saw it happen once, a friend of mine, a member of my coven. His Tovaras, Daniel, died in a car accident before he had a chance to Turn him.”

“Okay.”

“David just...stopped. Everything. He stopped going out, he stopped talking to people, he stopped feeding. It wasn’t just grief, it wasn’t just him being depressed from losing his lover, he was...he was dead inside. We tried to help him, tried to get him to feed, getting him animal blood, human blood from donation drives run by vampires for those who don’t want to take from the source, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He starved to death.”

“Fuck.” Sy said with a sigh, running a hand over his face.

“We had him cremated and his ashes interred next to Daniels’.” She said, “If something happened to you, or if you were still human and refused to let me Turn you, I would suffer the same fate, but I wouldn’t care. You were gone, so I wouldn’t have any reason to live. I’d have died when you did, but my physical death would come later.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what would happen to me if you died.” Sy said and she sighed. “You know, don’t you.”

“Yeah, Kyle, I do. Wolves that lose their Mates go insane, go rabid, and need to be...put down, for their own sake and the safety of everyone around them.”

“Fuck.” He said again and she got up from her desk, going over to the couch and laying on him gently, her head on his chest and her hands holding his sides. He wrapped his arms around her immediately, holding her tight. “I’m not losin’ you. Never. And you’re never losin’ me."

"The rest of your family needs to be told about us." She said, "Preferably before the wedding."

"I know. I want my brothers there when it happens, so they can keep'em calm if one of them flips their shit about it."

"Pete called us monsters."

"Yeah. Yeah, he did. I'm not holdin' it against'im though, he was just worried about his babies."

"I've been called a lot of things over the years, "monster" isn't even in the top ten of the worst of it." She said and his hands rubbed over her back. "The coven will need to be notified of the engagement, as well."

"How's Eugene gonna take it? He gonna be a problem for us?"

"Most likely, but he'll just have to get over it."

“How do you feel about gettin’ married in a church?” He asked and she hummed.

“As long as holy water isn’t directly involved, I’ll be fine.”

“You good with crucifixes?”

“Jesus Christ was not the first, nor was he the last person to be crucified by the Roman Empire. It was basically their execution method of choice as it was brutal, highly public, and sent a message. Crucifixion was nothing special. If I had a reaction to that, I might as well have a reaction to guillotines or nooses. Besides, there are Muslim vampires, Hindu vampires, Jewish vampires, Agnostic and Atheist vampires, and it would make absolutely no sense for them to have a negative biological reaction to a symbol of a faith that they don’t adhere to.” She explained and he thought it over for a moment before making a small sound.

“Makes sense when you put it like that.” He agreed, “Why does holy water burn you, though?”

“I have a feeling that it’s less because it’s “holy” and more due to the belief of the priest that blessed it. They believe that it’s purifying, so it is. Their belief doesn’t work on crucifixes, though, because as I said, crucifixion wasn’t special or unique. There aren’t naturally occurring bodies of holy water.”

“And the whole silver thing? Ma has a silver candlestick that gave me one hell of a burn that I had to hide.”

“Allergy or sensitivity to silver is something that exists in humans. Whatever makes us us gives us that allergy cranked up to eleven. It’s why before the advent of modern mirrors, we had to avoid them. Not because we didn’t have a reflection, but because it was physically painful to be around them, like we were standing too close to an open fire. Modern mirrors don’t contain silver, so we’re good with those.”

“But the sun doesn’t hurt you.”

“Why would it?” She asked, looking up at him and he paused before giving a shrug.

[aholotte]

All of this hatred for Elemental is so corny. I understand where people are coming from: you have all of these forbidden love stories with straight people, and people will watch these and then go out and be homophobic. Even so, this movie has NOTHING to do with Disney censoring LGBTQ+ representation. The story is important to the director because it was inspired by his interracial relationship and how his parents (and society) reacted to it. Yet all of these white gays want to make everything about themselves and accuse the movie of being homophobic, while disregarding how interracial relationships, straight or otherwise, have been discriminated in society. (Before you accuse me of being homophobic, I am queer myself)

If you don’t like the movie? Fine whatever that’s your prerogative. But actively nitpicking every single damn thing about the movie and hoping that it flops? Please get a life instead of getting so angry over a movie. Y’all genuinely don’t care for animation and animators whatsoever. We can advocate for more LGBTQ+ characters and no censorship instead of attacking other movies. Or maybe, just maybe, you could seek out indie queer content instead of relying on a corporation for it.

(Banner just in case this blows up)

EDIT: Now the narrative has shifted to “it’s a bad allegory for racism” even though the damn movie isn’t out yet! The director is literally Korean, and the voice actors playing Wade and Ember are also ethnic minorities (Wade’s VA is black and Ember’s is Chinese-American). I don’t think it will be like Zootopia, where it was like “oh it’s justified that we oppress certain animals because they are inherently dangerous.”

They also say “why not tell a story with real people?” “Don’t make it an allegory” IT’S A FUCKING PIXAR MOVIE YOU BLOCKHEADS. All of their movies are about talking inanimate objects, and even their movies about humans have fantastical elements. For example, Turning Red uses Mei’s turning into a red panda as an allegory for puberty. The Toy Story movies represent everything from parent-child relationships to the stages of life. Finding Nemo is about the stages of grief. Monsters Inc is about capitalism, and so on.

Istg y’all are just looking for reasons to hate the movie. Grow the fuck up.

[maxwell-grant]

So I saw that Street Fighter tier list, and I noticed that C. Viper was near dead last. I'm not too familiar with her, but I was under the impression she was pretty well-liked by SFIV standards--any reason why you dislike her so much?

I don't actually dislike her much as a character, I put her at the bottom because of how much I hate Viper's playstyle. That wasn't really a tier list for the series in general, more so about the prospecting of those characters returning (ex: I don't hate Necalli, I wrote the biggest semi-defense the dude is ever gonna get, and I still know he needs to fuck off). In Viper's case, I find her uniquely grating to watch because she spends so much time spamming feint Seismic Hammer to condition control over the opponent's jumps or canceling Burning Kick in the air to mix up her landings, and it makes it she's always doing that ringing sound all the goddamn time, at least El Fuerte's squeaky shoes and running animation are funny. Yes, it kind of is sublimely perfect that the CIA agent's playstyle consists of overtly psychologically conditioning and electrically torturing your opponent into opening up, but that lands her into a firm "fuck off forever" for me because I never want to sit through a Viper match in SFIV and MvC3 alike, or ever again. So unless they did something about that, I don't consider it a loss if she's never playable again. She probably will though, if not in 6 then in 7, but that's a headache for later.

I mean, SFIV standards were abysmally low so you could say Viper was comparatively well-received next to the other new characters, but she was never really that popular. In fact even at the game's launch Ono was surprised that players weren't latching onto Viper, despite Viper being custom-made for Western audiences

“With all due to respect to him (Abel), he’s a great character, but honestly we thought Crimson Viper would be a big hit here,” said Ono. “We got a lot of marketing data and a lot of advice from our US branch in creating that character. She was kind of custom tailored for the States and we thought people would like her.”

People did start playing her a lot more overtime because she turned out to be a competitive scene monster, but I mostly remember people being baffled and cynical when she got picked for MvC3. C.Viper was a popular moveset, but not so much a popular character, and it wasn't at all difficult for Juri to completely eclipse her, despite how hard they were trying to push Viper at first. I think you can very easily point to what Ono said as a reason why she didn't catch on that much. She is blatantly designed to appeal to American audiences and that made her more of a gimmick than a character. She is Angelina Jolie as a secret agent spy in an extremely tight-fitting pantsuit who also has superhero powers that nobody else has and that she achieves with technology. I already don't give much of a damn about most of the military/government affiliated characters in the series, but they tend to have other things going on that Viper really doesn't.

The KOF ladies she's ripping off have distinct fighting styles (and those games get to play much more loose with character design) they get to provide an interesting take on by doing it while dressing fashionably, but Viper is defined by her reliance on gadgets and gimmicks. She is a very generic videogame protagonist lady who plays like one of those hodpedodge World Tour characters, and she's not even a bad design on her own, she's just not really pulling her weight as a Street Fighter character. She represents nothing, and I don't think she has anything going on really justifies her inclusion over another character.

All that said, I actually do think Viper is a useful character to have around. I'm against her ever being playable again but, like I said, she probably will, and fine, she has a allright enough niche as a character. I am exceedingly generous to a lot of SF characters I'm otherwise not a fan of and she's a character I can talk myself into appreciating more, as I'm doing now. She's a decent POV character to drive stories around in her IV and V appearences, given her job forces her to play detective around the characters, but she actively doesn't want to fight, so she's always going to run when the going gets rough and leave the fighting to the actual main characters. Her priority is to do her job so she can go home and be with her daughter and that's all she cares about, she has neither time nor patience to care about this and she finds it frankly ridiculous that people call her gadgets unfair, when she's just trying to get the fight done as quickly as possible.

They get some good mileage out of the fact that she stands for nothing and that she is intruding somewhere she doesn't belong, that she's just punching the clock on a job she was given, that she really doesn't have any kind of beef with these people and just needs them to get out of her way and really has no stake other than survival for her family's sake, and that all the fighters detest her, whether it's because she is blatantly cheating, or because she's a pain in the ass, or because of how viciously she brutalized Cammy (not sure if that whole movie is canon still), that kind of thing.

It could be very possible that Juri ls lying, and the illustration is definitely exaggerated, but I enjoyed the reveal in SF6 that she and Viper have basically become partners in crime, that Juri considers them "cut from the same cloth", and that she has the same goal as a greedy career criminal who kidnaps people for evil organizations (which was the same thing C.Viper was doing undercover). I enjoy them mostly dispensing with the pretense that Viper is supposed to be a good person and I enjoy the series letting one of it's government/military agent characters be a bastard/ honest about the job they have.

She can love her daughter as much as she wants and even have decent enough interactions with other characters, it's not going to make her not a CIA spook who beats up and tortures people with electric gauntlets on the clock. It isn't even that unbelievable that she would wind up on good terms with Juri, not just because they're both cheating with technological assets, or because they were both working for the same guy and biding their time to backstab him, but because they both exist to break the rules everyone else is mostly abiding by, neither strong enough to attrack too much attention as villains nor weak enough that they can't match the heroes when push to comes to shove. They both had personal revenge stakes to get through (Juri with her parents, Viper with her fallen partners), and with both of their targets gone, they get to just be themselves: cockroaches trying to make off with the prize / turn a profit in a space they view as largely dominated by suckers.

Much like Mel Masters in the 6 comic, I think it's good for Street Fighter to have characters that have an agnostic/adverse relationship to the concept of street fighting, and to her credit, there is something really funny about her position. She is a James Bond in a world full of evil organizations and villains to fight, but the only way to get to them is through fighting tournaments, and all the actual heroes of the world fighting said people hate her guts for cheating and refusing to put in the work they did in martial arts that are, apparently, the most important thing in the world I guess??? She is a hypercompetent superspy who wishes she could be out there doing regular espionage stuff, and instead has to deal with superpowered fighting bozos flushing years of careful investigative work down the toilet. Born to blow up islands full of henchmen and arm South American coups, forced to step into the ring with Ryu from the Streets who doesn't even pay taxes.

[inkblackorchid]

What are your thoughts on the 5DS movie bonds beyond time? Plot characters villain animation and so on

Ahhh, good old BBT. Minor caveat: It's been a hot second since I've seen the movie. But generally speaking, right from the gut? Bit of a mixed bag, this one. Let me address what you asked point by point, though. The tl;dr for anyone who doesn't want a lengthy response: I don't hate it, but outside of making me grin and/or fondly roll my eyes about some fanservice, I'm mostly just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about it. I appreciate it for the extremely fun attempt at a for the time pretty ambitious crossover, though.

The longer response, then:

Okay. Okay. Conceptually speaking? This movie is the absolute peak of fanservice. All three protags of all three ygo shows that had come out by that time, all teaming up against a special bad guy, and everyone's allowed to show off their coolest shit? Absolutely bananas. Fuck yeah.

Where the execution is concerned, though... Let me start with the obvious: This thing is too short. It doesn't feel like a proper movie, it feels like your average big plot duel stretched over two episodes. And that's a shame! Because Yugi's there, and so is Jaden, and these two and Yusei get to bounce off each other and I think a lot of people would have eaten it up if we had gotten more of that. Interactions aside, though, the short runtime also makes the plot feel rushed. First Yusei's sad, then things are going to shit, the he's off, then we're suddenly in Venice (what the fuck is Jaden doing in Venice??), then we're in Domino City, then blam, bam, onto the big duel. Can I get some time to breathe and actually enjoy the characters interacting, please?

And speaking of plot! Now, on paper, I don't have an issue with the idea of a guy going back in time to try and get rid of duel monsters. My problem lies more with the fact that the guy in question ties into 5Ds' main plot. And in a not insignificant way, at that. Like, perhaps in a universe where this movie was handled differently, BBT tying into the Iliaster stuff could have been cool as heck, but as it stands, Paradox and his plans feel a little too close to his namesake to me. The guy is almost exclusively relegated to a movie, to outside content of the show that wasn't shown in sequence with the rest of the episodes, yet he's actually one of the major characters of the Ark Cradle arc. And worse yet, said arc only gives us the barest, shittiest recap of who he is and what he wanted. It feels too disconnected from the rest for me, especially considering that Sherry more or less ends up replacing Paradox. And don't even get me started on the batshit implications his quest to kill Pegasus has on the way time travel is handled in 5Ds. The way this movie shows direct, devastating consequences of time being tampered with is a major reason for the headaches the emperors of Iliaster give me, which I've discussed in my Meklord post.

That said. I don't think Paradox, per se, is a bad antagonist. He's got the whole long-suffering shindig the other major players of Iliaster do, too, his design is bonkers in a fun way and of course, the idea of him hijacking protagonist ace monsters with his Malefic shenanigans makes him perfectly hateable. On paper, he's a completely fine antagonist, and I actually think the 3 V 1 duel he has with the protags is pretty fun.

And as for the animation, no notes there, honestly. I think BBT has some of the nicest animation of the 5Ds era (and especially like the way Yusei is animated in the movie).

So yeah! The whole thing is a bit hot and cold for me. I know some people love BBT to death, I know some people hate it with a fiery passion, and tbh, I get where both sides are coming from. Ultimately, I'll happily watch it, but there are always at least twenty other 5Ds episodes I'd watch even more happily. BBT is fine.

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Shit Happens

Previous

Carl unlocked the gates once T-Dog called out that the food had arrived.

"What you got?" The kid asked.

"Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans, theres' a lot more where this came from." T-Dog said, carrying it through to one of the cells.

Sully jogged towards Natalia, sniffing the stuff she was carrying as he walked by her side.

"Any change?" Rick asked the make shift infirmary cell.

"Bleeding is under control and no fever" Lori said. "But his breath is laboured and his pulse is way down and he hasn't opened his eyes yet."

"Take my cuffs, put them on him." Rick told Glenn. "I'm not taking any chances."

Carl helped T and Natalia whilst Rick talked to Lori, Natalia was still fuming about what had happened in the cafeteria, she should have killed him and let Rick kill her after, least she'd be taking the creep down before he could do anything to anyone else.

"Nat, T, come on, let's go." Rick called out once their conversation was done.

"Stay with Carl, Sul, I'll be back. Be a good boy, will you." She gave the dog a treat as she rubbed his head, scratching behind his ears.

"Hey, I don't blame you" T-Dog told her as they walked back out the door.

"Least someone agrees with me." She scoffed.

Rick could hear them, he didn't say anything for the moment. Once they got back to the prisoners and Daryl, Rick layed the weapons on the table, for them to choose from.

Tomas picked up the crowbar, looking at it.

"Why do I need this, when I got this?" He asked, taking out his gun once again.

"You don't fire guns" Daryl said. "Not unless your backs up against the wall, noise attracts them, it really riles them up."

"We'll go two by two. Daryl will point with T. I'll bring up the rear with you. Stay tight, hold formation, no matter how close the walkers get. Anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down, anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker, end up with an axe in the head."

"And that's where you aim, these things only go down with a head shot." Daryl explained.

"You ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man"

"They ain't men. They're something else."

"Just remember, to go for the brain."

The prisoners picked up their weapons to get ready.

"And what about you little lady, ain't got a partner?" Axel asked.

"She can handle herself just fine." Daryl told him, catching her off guard.

"Nat here was on her own, been surviving like that for a while, hell, she damn near saved our lives and ended it." T joined in.

"You broke into my house and refused to leave." She scoffed, walking after the others.

"Why'd ya call your dog Sully?" Big Tiny asked her, they'd clearly seen her bidding the animal goodbye.

"You ever seen Monsters Inc? One with the monsters who have jobs?"

"Yeah, once." He replied.

"The big blue one, he's called Sully."

"You picked that?" Axel asked.

"No."

"It's a stupid name, who'd you let name your dog that?" Andrew included himself into the conversation.

"What you do to end up in prison, show the world how much of a fucking brainless idiot you are?" Natalia turned on the man, the people in the group slightly thrown off by her sudden aggression.

"Jeez, was just a question, uptight bitch" Andrew grumbled.

"Well mind yer own business." Daryl told him in a low voice.

"Man, it's too damn dark in here." Oscar complained as they walked through the dark hallways.

"Gotta hold it up high out In front of you." Daryl told him, gesturing to raise the flashlight.

"You're gonna hear them before you see 'em." Tomas whispered.

A clanging sound came from behind a corner, unsettling some of the prisoners.

"It's coming!" Axel called out.

"Shh." Rick hissed.

A lone walker trudged past the corner, Daryl raised his hand in the air, counting down, but before he could reach one, the prisoners ran at the dead prisoners yelling and shouting.

The four watched as the prisoners punched, kicked and beat the other walkers that came out.

"These guys are idiots, why are we helping them?" Natalia asked.

"Cause we have a deal." Rick sighed.

"We're wasting time." Natalia scoffed, pulling out two knifes, pushing Axel out of the way so that she could plunge one in the head of a walker that was getting its gut punched in, then handling the one Oscar was kicking, before taking out the third, as the prisoners stared at her. "Are we done? Can we move on now?"

"Let's go" Rick ordered, nodding at T and Daryl to lead the way again.

Once again, a walker by itself walked round the corner.

"It's gotta be the brain" Daryl said, shooting it in the head with his crossbow. "Not the stomach, not the heart, the brain."

"I hear you, the brain." Axel repeated as another one came at them.

Oscar, Axel and Rick took out three as more kept coming.

"Stay in tight formation, no more prison riot crap." Rick told the group. 

Natalia noticed the biggest member of the group step back as everyone took out the walkers, one with long curly hair had followed him, she went to help when a walker that had been handcuffed struggled to get his hand's free, had managed to slip one out, although his hand had slid off the bone.

"Look out!" She called as it reached for Big Tiny's back. She threw a knife at the walker, causing it to drop dead as the knife imbedded itself in the skull of the walking dead prisoner.

Though what she didn't account for, is the walker that had sized her up as a meal, falling into her and sending them both to the ground, She struggled to get it's face away from hers as it snarled and spat at her.

It had ceased when a metal arrows head poked through, almost firing into her.

Natalia pushed the walker off of her, Rick quick to help her get to her feet.

"You alright?" Rick asked.

"Fine." She caught her breath.

"You saved my life." Big Tiny expressed, picking up the woman as he hugged her, almost crushing her bones.

"Don't mention it." She patted his back. "You can put me down now."

"Oh, right, my bad." He smiled shyly, dropping Natalia down so she could stand on her own feet.

As they went to continue, another walker had walked round the corner, Big Tiny hadn't noticed it until it was biting into the mans side.

"Argh!" He screamed out.

Tomas was quicker than everyone else, shooting two bullets into it's skull.

"Oh my God!" Natalia gasped, looking at the bite as Rick stared down Tomas, before coming to his senses and gently nudging Natalia out of the way so he could get a better look with the flashlight.

"I'm telling you man, I don't feel anything, it's just a little bite."

"I'm sorry, man." Rick sighed, knowing what would happen.

"I can keep fighting!" He argued.

"You cut that old guys leg off to save his life." Andrew brought up.

"Look at where the bite is"

"Guys, I'm fine! Just, I'm fine." He repeated, trying to reassure Rick.

"It's slow, you don't always get hit with it so soon." Natalia sighed.

"Look at me... I'm not changing into one of those things."

"Look, man, there has to be something that we can do." Oscar said "We could just lock him up."

"Quarantine him." Axel joined in.

"We gotta do something. Why you just standing there? We gotta save him."

"There's nothing we can do." Rick disagreed.

"You son of a bitch" Andrew cursed.

"I'm all right."

Tomas charged forward, shoving Natalia out of his way and onto the floor, before bashing his weapon into Big Tiny's head, letting the man fall to the ground as well, he looked at the bloody weapon for a moment, bringing it back down onto the mans skull repeatedly, sending blood and brain matter splatting everywhere.

Natalia crawled back as she watched the scene unfold, her eyes wide, she had killed many times before, but never so gruesomely, never like the man had just done, she was a survivalist, he was psychotic.

Two hands gripped her arms, pulling her up, she looked behind her quickly before noticing that it was T-Dog, Daryl beside him.

"You alright, got hurt?" T asked.

"I- I'm." She looked back, letting the rest of her sentence die down in her throat.

Once Tomas was satisfied the job was done, he looked back at Rick before walking ahead once more.

Daryl walked toward the handcuffed walker, pulling out the knife and wiping it on the overalls, passing it back to Natalia as the others headed after Tomas.

"Thanks" She muttered. "And for..."

"Let's go." He grumbled, nodding for her to go first.

Rick, Natalia and Daryl stayed behind the others as they walked down the dark hallways.

"You see the look on his face? How he threw Nat?" Daryl asked Rick.

"He makes one move." Rick told the pair.

"Just give me a signal." Daryl finished his sentence.

"I shouldn't of let you stop me earlier, told you I got a knack for this kinda thing." Natalia gritted.

The group made it to the laundromat, inspecting the empty room, just in case anything jumped out at them.

Snarling and banging came from the double doors in the room.

Daryl chucked his ring of keys at Tomas as they neared it.

"I ain't opening that." Tomas said.

"Yes, you are." Rick told him. "If you want this cell block. You're gonna open that door. Just the one, not both of them. Because we need to control this."

With a sigh, Tomas bent down and picked up the ring of keys, looking at the group before stepping towards the door and unlocking it.

"You bitches ready?" He asked, he struggled to open the door. "I got this."

Tomas pulled one more time, opening both doors before jumping back.

"I said one door!" Rick shouted at him.

"Shit happens."

The group fought off the overloading herd of walkers that followed out from the double doors, spreading everyone out.

Natalia pulled her knife out of one head, dropping it to the floor as she watched Tomas purposely try and take Rick out, who had narrowly missed it, causing her to almost forget about the walker that came straight for her.

Natalia dealt with it before running to Ricks side, who was now on the floor from a walker being thrown at him by the Hispanic.

She plunged the knife through its head, letting the man push it off him as she helped him get to his feet.

"T, mind the gap!" Daryl shouted out, also seeing what had just happened.

"Thanks." Rick said to the woman.

"Just paying you back." She said, fighting against another walker that came at her. "Now deal with our other problem."

He nodded at her in agreement, Rick knew what he had to do.

Soon enough, the laundromat was rid of hungry walkers.

Daryl aimed his crossbow at Tomas who shrugged off Ricks heavy stare as he walked towards him.

"It was coming at me, bro." Tomas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Rick agreed. "I get it. Shit happens."

The laundromat was silent as Rick and Tomas had a stare off.

Until Rick swung his arm back, the one carrying the machete, before bringing it down onto Tomas's head, pushing it down so that he landed on his knees before dropping to the ground.

"No!" Andrew cried out, attempting to hit Rick with his bat. Natalia tugged out her handgun from her waistband, aiming it at him.

"Easy now" Daryl said, moving the aim of his crossbow.

Andrew looked at the pair before turning back to Rick, realising he had no options here. He spun around, running out of the door.

"I got him" Rick told the three as he chased after the prisoner.

Daryl and Natalia pointed their weapons at the other two prisoners, T-Dog quick to copy with his own gun.

"Man, get down on your knees." Daryl ordered.

"We don't have no affiliation to what just happened!" Axel told the three. "Tell him, Oscar!"

"Stop talking, man" Oscar said, his hands up in surrender.

Rick soon enough came back, raising his own gun at the prisoners.

"We didn't have nothing to do with that." Oscar said.

"You didn't know?" Rick asked him. "You knew, let's end this now." Rick moved to point his gun at Axels head.

"Sir, please, listen to me!" Axel cried. "It was them that was bad, it wasn't us."

"Oh, that's convenient."

"You saw what he did to Tiny! He was my friend. Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer." Axel pleaded, Natalia scoffed at him. 

"Oscar here, he's a B and E, and he ain't very good at it neither. We ain't the violent guys, they were! Please, I swear to God! I wanna live!"

Rick turned back around and aimed his gun at Oscar.

"What about you?" Rick asked when he still had said nothing.

"I ain't never pleaded for my life. And I aint about to start now. So you do what you gotta do."

Natalia eventually put her gun back on safety, tucking it back in the waistband of her pyjama bottoms.

Rick took this as a sign, lowering his own gun, letting the pair stand up.

Daryl grabbed a hold of Axels overalls pushing him to walk forward to cell block D, using his keys that he picked back up to unlock the door, throwing the man onto the ground.

The Cell block was full of dead prisoners lying on the ground just outside their cells, their hands zip tied behind their backs and blood coming out from their heads, where they had clearly been shot.

"Oh, man." Oscar sighed.

"I knew these guys." Axel whimpered. "These were good men."

Natalia couldn't help the thought that they were in prison not let her fully believe what he said.

"Let's go." Rick told the three.

"So, you're just gonna leave us in here?" Oscar asked him. "Man, this is sick."

"We're locking down this cell block. From now on, this part of the prison is yours, take it or leave it, that was the deal." Rick shrugged.

"You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside." Daryl offered.

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones."

"Sorry about your friends, man."

Natalia followed after Rick and Daryl.

"A word of advice, take those bodies out and burn them." T-Dog finalised before leaving as well.

"What a day" Natalia sighed, stretching her arms up high.

"Yer lucky yer still breathing." Daryl told her.

"Yeah, well, falling on my ass twice and saving a mans life before his horrific death, all without dying, I would say that's pretty lucky."

"Lets just get back and see how Hershel's doing" Rick told them, scratching at his beard.

"Hey, that was pretty badass, what you did with the machete and the dramatic pause, but I still think my idea was way better." Natalia told Rick.

"It wasn't really for a show. Your way was barbaric"

"I know, but it would of been gratifying, would make me feel a damn lot better." She shrugged.

"Hershel stopped breathing" Carls voice could be heard as the group walked into the cell block. "Mom saved him."

"Its true." Glenn clarified.

Natalia slid down the wall facing outside the cell as everyone filled it, Sully jogging to her side as he nudged his head against her chest, making her raise her hands to hold his face, scruffing up his fur as she kissed the top of his head.

"Daddy?" Maggie called to her father, followed by a more excited Beth as the man opened his eyes.

Hershel had made it, and Rick was to thank for that.

The sun was shining as Natalia walked round the field with Sully, throwing around a ball she found for the dog to catch and bring back as Rick, Daryl, Carol and T-Dog brought in the cars.

"Hey, Nat, you helping out today?" Daryl shouted over to the woman, gesturing for her to come over.

"Come on, boy." She called to her dog, walking over.

"It's gonna be a long day." T-Dog told her. "Collecting and burning bodies."

"How exciting, so glad you asked me to help out." Natalia teased.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie? We could use some help." Carol asked.

"On watch, right?" Natalia asked, looking around for the pair.

"Yeah, up in the guard tower." Daryl pointed up at the tower.

"Guard tower, they were up there just last night." Rick reminded.

"Must've been a lot to scope out."

"Glenn! Maggie!" Daryl called up.

The head of Glenn popped up through the window, unlocking the door and walking out as he was in the middle of getting dressed.

"Hey! What's up, guys?" Glenn called down, doing up the button of his jeans.

"You coming?" Daryl asked him.

"What?"

"You coming?" He repeated.

Glenn looked towards Maggie unsure of the question as everyone stifled laughs.

"Come on, we could use a hand."

"Yeah, we'll be right down." Glenn raised a finger as a dishevelled Maggie looked down unapprovingly.

"Least someone's getting some action." Natalia mused.

"Maybe you can try your luck with one of them" T-Dog pointed from behind them, causing the group to turn around.

Axel and Oscar had walked up to their side of the fence, looking down on the others.

"Come with me" Rick muttered, walking towards the fence, the other four on his heels.

Natalia slipped the gun out from behind her belt, holding it tightly just in case.

"That's close enough." Rick told the prisoners. "We had an agreement."

"Please, mister. We know that." Axel pleaded as Maggie and Glenn came out from the red door behind them. "But you gotta understand  we can't live in that place another minute. You follow me? All the bodies, people we knew, blood, brains, everywhere. There's ghosts."

"Why don't you move the bodies out?" Daryl asked.

"You should be burning them" T added.

"We tried. We did."

"The fence is down on the far side of the prison. Every time we drag a body out, those things just line up. Dropping the body and just running back inside." Oscar explained.

"Look, we had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew. Nothing. You trying to prove a point. You proved it, bro. We'll do whatever it takes to be part of your group. Just please, please... don't make us live in that place."

"You can always leave" Natalia said.

Axel looked at Natalia before back at Rick.

"Our deal is non negotiable." Rick told the two prisoners. You either live in your cell block, or as Nat said, or you can leave."

"I told you this was a waste of time." Oscar told Axel. "They ain't no different than the pricks who shot up our boys. You know how many friends corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw them out, like. These were good guys. Good guys who had our backs against the really bad dudes in this joint, like Tomas and Andrew. Now we've all made mistakes to get in here, chief. And I'm not gonna pretend to be a saint, but believe me  we've paid our due enough that we would rather hit that road than to go back into that shithole."

Rick turned around, to where Natalia and Daryl were both stood, his eyes asking their thoughts, at first she thought it was just to Daryl until his eyes shifted to hers, each both shook their heads.

"The road it is then." Rick told them.

Daryl escorted the pair into the outer gate where one of the cars still sat whilst Rick deliberated with everyone else.

"Are you serious, you want them living in a cell next to you? They'll just be waiting for a chance to grab our weapons. You want to go back to sleeping with one eye open?" Rick asked T-Dog.

"I never stopped. We let Nat join us, she could of easily done the same thing, now look at her, locking her cell at night so we can't get in."

"Hey, mind your own business, I let you people in, besides, I've never been in prison, from committing a crime!" Natalia defended herself.

"And we're all grateful for that" T-Dog told her. "But what I'm saying is, I think we should bring them into the fold. If we send them off packing, we might as well execute them ourselves."

"If you think they're that incapable on their own, what use are they to us?" She asked him.

"I don't know, Axel seems a little unstable." Glenn joined in.

"After all we've been through? We've fought so hard for all this, what if they decide to take it?" Carol asked.

"It's just been us for so long. They're strangers. I don't... it feels weird all of a sudden to have these other people around." Maggie sighed.

"You brought us in" T-Dog reminded her.

"Yeah, but you turned up with a shot boy in your arms. Didn't give us a choice."

Natalia looked between the group, she had been with them for around two months, she didn't realise how much she actually closed her self off from the group until finding out that Carl had been shot, just now.

"They can't even kill walkers." Glenn brought up.

"They're convicts, bottom line."

"Yeah, both points I've been making, thank you."

"Those two might actually have less blood on their hands then we do, especially Nat." T-dog said, making Natalia scoff as she bit her lip.

"I get guys like this. Hell, I grew up with them. They're degenerates, but they aint psychos. I could have been in there with them just as easy as I'm out here with you guys." Daryl said, seeming to have swayed his vote.

"So are you with me?" T asked him.

"Hell, no. Let 'em take their chances out on the road like we did." He finished with, bringing back Natalia's hope in him.

"What I'm saying, Daryl-"

"When I was a rookie, I arrested this kid. Nineteen years old, wanted for stabbing his girlfriend." Rick started. "The kid blubbered like a baby during the interrogation, during the trial suckered the jury. He was acquitted due to insufficient evidence, and then two weeks later, shot another girl. We've been through too much. Our deal with them stands." Rick finalised, walking away, the rest following except for T-Dog, who eventually came to his senses and caught up.

"Move the cars to the upper yard. Point 'em facing out. They'll be out of the way but ready to go if we ever need to bail." Rick told Glenn, chucking him the keys, who jogged ahead. "We'll give the prisoners a weeks worth of supplies for the road."

"Might not last a week." T-Dog sighed.

"It's their choice." Rick shrugged.

"Did they really have one?"

Natalia ignored the conversation, leaning against the fence, Sully by her side as the vehicles were being moved.

"Twin cylinder. is that a Triumph?" Axel asked Daryl as he hopped on his motorcycle.

"Don't even look at it." He threatened the prisoner, struggling to start it up.

"Don't want it bored out?" Axel tried again at making conversation. "Sounds like it could use a tune up. I'm pretty handy with a wrench." He shouted over the revs of the bike starting. "Heads are leakin', I know my bikes!"

"Man, will you just stop?" Oscar asked the blond, also watching the pair interact. "Have some balls."

"Just sayin'"

Natalia leaned off the fence as Glenn was closing it, walking back up with the others.

Carol was moving the red truck as Daryl, Rick and Natalia climbed through the hole in the fence, planning on heading for the woods, Glenn caught up after giving food to the prisoners.

"Should I take her out?" Glenn asked, pointing to the walker on the other side of the water.

"No." Rick told him. "If that armoury hadn't been picked clean, we could spare the ammo."

"I'll start making runs" Daryl offered. "The sooner the better."

"We'll throw as much wood as we can in the dog run."

"Won't fire attract more walkers? Maybe we should bury them." Glenn suggested.

"You wanna count how many bodies that is we'd have to bury?" Natalia asked him, looking over her shoulder to see that Daryl was still stood at the gate, looking into the woods.

"Besides, we're behind the fence. It's worth the one-time risk to get rid of the bodies for good. I don't want to be planting crops in walker-rotted soil."

"I don't get why I'm out here collecting fire like a lumberjack, I could've helped with the cars" Natalia sighed as they began making piles.

"Can you even drive?" Glenn asked her.

"Yes, are you old enough?"

"I'm 22."

"I'm 26."

"Liar. There's no way you were walking and talking by the time I was even born." Glenn rejected.

"Believe it, kiddo."

"We've never seen you drive, we've seen them." Rick said. "When was the last time you drove a car?"

"Uhm, probably nearly three years ago?”

"Why so long?" Glenn asked, surprised by her answer.

"That's a personal question." Natalia said. "But I still know how to, besides, I didn't need to, my boyfriend did, but he's dead, so it's up to me again."

"Oh, uh, well I think this is enough firewood, so we should head back." Rick cleared his throat.

The four of them walked back towards the fence, only three of them carrying firewood as Daryl carried his crossbow, helpful.

"Looky here" Daryl said, holding the fence open for the others to get through.

Natalia was the last to climb out, chucking the logs of wood into the pile the other two placed theirs as they all watched Hershel, on crutches, walk around the courtyard.

"He is one tough son of a bitch" Glenn grinned. "Alright Hershel!"

"Shh! Keep your cheers down" Daryl muttered to Glenn, gesturing to the walkers roaming around outside the fences.

"Oh, man, can't we just have one good day?" The Korean sighed.

"Don't go jinxing it." Natalia told him.

The four smiled at the others, happy for Hershel's achievement, until Natalia noticed something behind Carl.

"Shit!" She cursed, instantly reaching for her knifes.

"Walkers!" Carl screamed, turning around. "Look out!"

"No!" Rick shouted, sprinting down the fences, Daryl following and Natalia right in front, Glenn skidded back to tie the fence back up in order to not get outsiders coming in either.

"Get out of there! Now!"

Natalia reached the gate first.

"Keys! I need the keys!" She screamed out.

Glenn chucked the keys to Daryl, who threw them to Rick who then tossed them to Natalia, who unlocked the gate, throwing it open so the others could get through.

"Move!" She shouted at the two prisoners, running for the other gate to unlock it.

"Come on! Come on!" Daryl shouted.

"I'm trying! It's stuck!"

"Out my way" Rick moved in front of Natalia, trying his luck.

"Got it" He eventually said, throwing the gate open.

"Hey, bro, what about us?" Axel cried out as the four ran up to the prison.

He was ignored.

Rick and Natalia shot walkers, landing headshots, Daryl took a few out with his crossbow, whilst Glenn opted for his machete.

"What the hell happened?" Rick shouted at Beth and Hershel, who were safe in a cage, Natalia could thank the lords above that they had brought Sully with them.

"The gate was open!" Beth answered him.

"Where's Lori, Carl... everyone else?"

"Maggie led Lori and Carl into C block." Hershel replied.

"And T was bit." Beth added.

"Anyone else?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Stay put." Rick instructed, turning around to take out another walker.

"Those chains didn't break on their own." Glenn reported back, once they had got all the walkers in the courtyard. "Someone took an axe or cutters to 'em."

Daryl, Rick and Natalia turned around to find Axel and Oscar walking up.

"How convenient they show up now." Natalia commented, aiming her gun at them.

"You think they did it?" Glenn asked.

"Who else?" Rick said.

Just then, an alarm blared around the prison.

"What's that? Oh, you gotta be kidding me!"

Glenn, Natalia and Rick shot at the speakers, but not ceasing the alarms.

"Kill it!" Hershel shouted.

"How the hell can this be happening?" Rick asked the prisoners, pointing his gun in their faces.

"Woah! Woah! Woah! It must be the back up generators." Oscar said.

"Well how do you turn those on?"

"There's three that's connected to a diesel tank, okay? Each one controls a certain part of the prison. The hacks shut 'em all off when the prison was overrun."

"Can someone open up the gates electronically with full power?" Rick pointed at the main gates.

"I only worked in there a few days. I... I guess it might be possible."

"Come with us!" Rick grabbed Oscar by the overalls, running to the cell blocks.

Once they got to it, there were a few bodies on the ground, but Carl, Maggie and Lori were nowhere in sight.

"We just took out five of 'em in there." Daryl said, grabbing one of his arrows.

"There were four in here but no sign of Lori or any of them." Rick reported back.

"Must've been pushed back into the prison."

"Somebody is playing games!" Rick exclaimed. "We'll split up and look for the others."

"We need to shut this alarm off" Natalia said.

"We will, whoever gets to the generators first, shut them down! Lets go!"

They ran back out the cell block, the prisoners accompanying  them.

Glenn and Axel ran off, but before anyone else could they got chased towards the generator room by a large group, forcing them through.

Daryl and Oscar kept the doors closed as Rick and Natalia looked around, guns held high.

"How do you shut these down?" Rick shouted, looking at the machinery.

"Go, help him, Nat, c'mere, switch" Daryl ordered.

Natalia helped hold the door closed as Oscar went to turn off the machines.

"Did you see how many was out there?" She asked, gritting her teeth.

"Was too busy running!" Daryl responded.

"We could take them."

"No!"

A loud cry sounded from the other side, before metal hitting metal.

"What's going on?"

"It's Andrew, he's alive!" She told them as they both struggled with the door, her being able to see slightly better than him.

"Alright, one... two  three!" The two stepped away from the door, Natalia readying her knife whilst Daryl reached for his crossbow.

The door flew open, Walkers entering as the pair took them out.

"Shoot him! We can take back this prison!" The voice of Andrew shouted. "What you waiting for? Do it! It's our house, shoot him!"

No one else said anything as a gunshot went off.

Daryl closed the door back up, both looking at each other before moving to see what had just happened. 

Oscar was holding Ricks gun, pointed straight ahead. then he spun it, handing it back to the man, Andrews dead body on the floor.

Rick took his gun back, holding it as he moved back towards the machines, turning dials and soon enough the alarms stopped.

"Let's go" Rick told them.

They walked down the dark hallways, only finding a few lone walkers, that Natalia was quick to take out, the others holding flashlights. Soon enough, they met back up with Glenn and Axel.

The six halted behind a corner, running past it quickly to be met with two walkers eating an corpse.

Rick took them both out, the bodies dropping, revealed what was left of T-Dog.

He was dead.

Glenn paced back. Natalia covered her mouth, not knowing what to do with herself.

Daryl bent down, picking up a red cloth, Carols headscarf.

Next.

[sunrisevariant]

I’m back on my bullshit pissed as ever at anime fans refusing to be anything other than ableist ✨

There’s recently been a huge rise in an AU in the JJK fandom where Nobara survived Mahito’s attack and wears an eyepatch. All fine and dandy. I don’t mind that one bit. I do believe that her facial injuries would require either reconstructive surgery or something larger than an eye patch to cover the damage, but all in all, I’m content with that. I love Nobara and actively stopped watching after she died for a long while. This AU is a-okay in my books, and I honestly quite enjoy the thought of it.

Until I see how people are drawing it.

Every. Single. Fucking. Post. She just has that inaccurate, stereotypical “Perfectly Normal Eye That’s Just A Little Milky But Otherwise Looks Fine.” No scarring around the eye. No disfigurations. Not even a glass eye. Nothing.

Are we, perhaps, forgetting this scene where you can see Yuji clear through her fucking head??

This one? Remember this?? Ringing any bells??? Yeah that’s a hole in her fucking head

I am so sick and tired of people with physical differences/disabilities/etc having the reality of what their bodies look like being ignored or having their physical traits watered down until they can be shoved right back into conventionally beautiful little boxes wrapped up in pretty pink bows because we can’t be considered beautiful in our differences. And it always, ALWAYS boils down to this: we make able bodied people uncomfortable. We have to censor ourselves because other people feel like they’re entitled to not looking at us in public.

Someone is not less than because of their physical appearance. They are not unworthy of love or acceptance for showing visible signs surviving a severe physical trauma. They are not less beautiful, less acceptable, less anything. They do not deserve to feel shunned, outcasted, or like some alien out of a horror movie just because the Christians got their holy panties in a wad over them looking “demonic”, solely because they are, again, physically different.

Just in case I need to reiterate: HER FUCKING HEAD HAD A HOLE THROUGH IT.

Her eye would be gone! It was completely blown out and unsalvageable! Her face would not look the same! It And guess that? That is fuckin FINE!

She’s allowed to look different! She doesn’t even have to feel “ugly” because of it! Sure, it might take her a while to feel okay about it, she might struggle, but she does not have to view herself as some disgusting monster in this AU just because she’s now different from how she was before Shibuya.

Give her ACCURATE INJURIES. She lost part of her brain, yall! make the recovery process include coming to terms with her new appearance and learning to accept and love herself, INCLUDING her face. Show her getting used to the sudden loss of vision! The change to her depth perception and how she copes with it! How she might struggle with her speech or her coordination after suffering a traumatic brain injury! That makes for SUCH a more compelling story than “ouhhhh she wanted to be a model but now she CAN’T because she’s DISABLED and UGLY!!!”

I am SICK AND FUCKING TIRED of anime fans woobifying injuries that could have killed someone it’s mithrun all fucking over again

[columboscreens]

Been loving the Twitter account and realized I'd love the Tumblr too.

Anyway, I've always wondered something... my mom and I began to realize that maybe one of the reasons classic Columbo's formula made such a splash and continues to be unique is that he's basically presented as the story's "villain".

Not in a "he was the real killer" kind of way, I mean structure-wise for most episodes the killer is the main character with the majority of screen time. It occurred to us that all the best episodes really seem to present the murderer as the protagonist, with us seeing them plan and carry out their scheme, even sometimes be privy to their inner thoughts. Then after they've done their killing, this... monster starts stalking them. It seemed to us the best episodes were the ones where WE are put in the killer's shoes the most, and maybe the character and show formula has endured so well because its thrill feels so similar to watching your favorite movie monster pursue dumb teenagers in a haunted house.

We noticed it kinda felt like it had that same weirdly sadistic glee. Like sure the movie might be "about" the campers or family or whatever, but the monster creeping around "getting" everyone is who you really came to see.

I wondered if anyone else had felt this fun "relentless antagonist" vibe from Columbo? Maybe the formula continues to feel unique even today because it isn't set up quite like a detective show. It's a rich arrogant murderer show, we just can't wait for our favorite monster to show up and chase them (with insidious, relentless politeness).

thank you!

not to needlessly intellectualize my own favorite show (i say, maintaining this blog), but there's a real sophistication to columbo, a literary quality that i think appeals to people. though the production appears facile at first, those choices in formula and perspective you mention are indeed very deliberate and part of what made columbo so fresh and special both when it aired and today. it was a very novel approach to the mystery format to have us start off with the murderer and maybe even root for them sometimes against columbo. as i always say, the show evokes dostoyevsky and doyle, not bruckheimer; it's born from old-fashioned drawing room murder mysteries, not CSI.

the mysteries are usually sharp--between columbo and murder she wrote alone, levinson and link were two of the most prolific mysterysmiths of the 20th century. but ultimately, for both the viewer and for columbo, it's all about the chase, the game, the banter. it's about a mangy little guy tussling with someone with more dollars than he has hairs on his body, and winning to boot. the legwork is important, but it does ultimately come second.

steven moffat got torn to shreds for calling columbo a sadist, but he was absolutely right and needn't have apologized. if you get up in arms about that, do you really understand columbo?

the man is a benevolent sadist. that's why he appears borderline villainous. he is a sadist with a level head and good moral compass, but still a sadist. he goes well out of his way to fuck over people who deserve to get fucked over, and he clearly enjoys every minute of it. it's how he's able to remain so relentless without getting burned out. is that so wrong?

just look at the smirk on this man's face. you cannot deny that.

like a fine wine, his power grows with time...

peter falk himself often likened being chased by columbo to "getting nibbled to death by a duck". nobody can stand there and tell me ducks aren't the cutest and also pettiest most sadistic little bastards in the animal kingdom...

sir!!!! SIR!!!!! i don't mean to bother you, i've just got this one little thing on my mind, i thought maybe you could help me...