#and am not simply a figment of your imagination

[xxivletxx]

visuallyuninterestinggaiusdoodle.jpeg

[heartfullofleeches]

Puppy Hybrid Reader spotting their favorite treats in the claw machine mimic's prize window, but their dumb paws won't let them grip the controller properly to play. (Reader has normal hands, but they wear paw gloves because I make the rules around here).

Hungry and defeated, their cuteness is what wins them their prize.

-

"Biscuits... So close... Didn't have time for breakfast this morning... I need them or...or..."

Thick tears mask your vision as you paw desperately at the glass; claws barely grazing the surface through the heavy wool of your gloves. Curse these mittens. If they weren't so cute on you, you could've had those snacks by now and been on your merry way home. You already had trouble wearing them during your day job- Why does the universe enjoy making you suffer so-

"Please, Mr. Claw machine- Or Ms! Whatever you prefer, I haven't had those snacks since I was a pup. I don't know how you have them, but I need them!"

Cheek pressed firmly against the glass, dim light washes over your miserable form crumbled at the floor of the machine. Your ears detect the shift of plastic as the flap covering the prize door rises simply from the work of an invisible hand. Legs held together, your hairs stand on end as a bone shaped biscuit slides from the open door into your lap.

"Whoa! Am I dreaming?! No way-"

The treat tastes too good for it to all be a figment of your imagination. You snatch it up without a second thought, gobbling it down without a care for any dangers that may arise from eating who knows how old snacks from an abandoned claw machine you found on the side of the road. Tasted fresh enough- As far as your taste buds could tell, there wasn't a thing wrong with it.

"More, please? Uhh, is there some kind of magic word I have to say? I have more money if that's what you want!"

Hugging onto the machine, your tail smacks hopelessly against its side. More treats pile into your lap - far more than you can carry home in your pockets. Your greed catches the better of you; heart unable to saddle the pain of leaving even one of them behind. Scooping as many as you can into your grubby arms, you fail to witness as the sign urging players to deposit their hard earn money into the machine tranforms into a small heart.

[irmawrites]

Night encounter

Summary: Living in Dragonstone, claiming a dragon, it all seemed surreal to Ulf. Having a Targaryen princess in his bed all to himself even more so.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: Ulf the White x Targaryen!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, she's his niece but she could be Rhaenyra's daughter or Alicent's daughter, it’s all up to you)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, slight degradation, corruption kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2017

Author’s note: hi everyone! Not too long ago I received the following request: "I was wondering if you would do one where Ulf is infatuated with the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin after meeting her after he claims Silverwing and could it possibly progress into smut?". To say that I was delighted to receive a request for Ulf would be an understatement. I am literally obsessed with this character and I really wanted to write something for him <3 HOWEVER I am incredibly sorry it's filthy, it's inappropriate, honestly I'm almost ashamed I wrote it ahaha

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

From the first moment he saw you, Ulf knew he had to have you. Such a sweet little thing, all soft smiles and happy giggles. A real ray of sunshine. He and you may have been related, but you couldn't have been more different. Uncle and niece like the moon and the sun. Where he was rude and boorish, you were polite and gentle. Where his lack of manners and unkempt appearance worked against him, your tact and polished looks made you stand out among all the inhabitants of Dragonstone.

But while he appreciated your sensitivity and gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when he finally robbed you of your innocence.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was just a facade, a role you only played in public. You weren't the perfect princess you pretended to be, of that he was almost certain. After all, hadn't he noticed your eyes wandering to his fingers several times while he licked off the meat juices that stained them? And then there was that one evening, during a meal, when your hand had wandered to his thigh. You had gently brushed his crotch, where a bulge was already stretching the linen of his breeches, without even looking at him, too busy laughing with Jacaerys. The older man remembered clearly how he had had to excuse himself in a hurry, feigning sudden fatigue and retreating to the chambers assigned to him. That night he had imagined your lips wrapped around his impossibly hard member, your silver curls between his fingers and your eyes locked with his as he pressed your nose against his pelvis, forcing you to take more, always more. He had come with a loud grunt, painting his palm white, and then swore he would have you. It was almost a matter of life and death for him at that point.

Perhaps the Seven had heard his plight, if they existed, for they soon offered him everything he wanted on a silver platter.

Claiming Silverwing was the achievement of a lifetime, and yet it seemed like a dull moment when he opened the door to his bedroom and found himself face to face with the woman he had been lusting after for weeks. Dressed in an almost transparent silk nightgown, you looked like one of his heated dreams. Instinctively, he even pinched the skin at the crook of his elbow to make sure it was all real and you weren't a figment of his wild imagination. "I couldn't sleep," he heard you say, your voice almost shy, "with this storm." Oh, but he knew that your nocturnal visit had nothing to do with the lightning that tore across the sky, or the thunder that shook the walls of the fortress. If you were there, it was simply because you too were unable to resist the tension between the two of you for a single minute longer. "Come in," his hand automatically came to rest on your waist to guide you inside, "I wouldn't want to keep a princess waiting".

If asked, Ulf wouldn't have been able to explain how he ended up in bed with your body pressed against his. Maybe it was you who had taken his hand and made him lie down beside you. Or maybe it was he who had persuaded you to slip into his arms, into his sheets, to find some welcome comfort. Everything seemed a blur now, especially as your buttocks pressed against his crotch.

You wiggled your hips. Maybe accidentally, maybe consciously, he didn't know, but the effect was the same. He could feel the warmth of your body under the layers of fabric, and he was desperate to show you what happened to women like you in the arms of men like him. It felt like a punishment, forcing himself to remain chaste and not give in to his desires in such a situation. Not to touch you when you were so close to him and his length was already so painfully hard.

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath caressing your skin. His hands slid down your chest and he let his thumbs lightly caress the two small, hardened buds. "Tell me to stop," he whispered as his fingers slid lower and lower, grazing the hem of your underwear in the hollow where your thigh met your hip, "tell me to stop if that's not what you want". "That's exactly what I want," your voice sounded like a breathless moan as your hand rested on his, as if to encourage him to give you more, " and I want you to continue."

The idea that he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted, made his head spin.

Between your legs, his fingers found your wet folds. "You're soaking wet," he breathed as he traced your slit from your entrance to that sensitive spot that sent shivers down your entire body, "we've barely started and you're already soaking wet." It was almost inconceivable that a beautiful, delicate princess like you would agree to give herself to a gruff old man like him. "How does it feel, here?", he asked as he kissed your neck, your back still pressed against his torso as his index finger circled your little pearl beneath the fabric of your underwear. "It's... It feels good", your voice was choked, a broken moan, "warm". Ulf gave an approving grunt. "And here?", his tone became more authoritative, and soon two of his fingers were inside you, stretching you just right. Tired of waiting, he barely gave you time to get used to the new sensation before he started moving back and forth, leaving you breathless. "Answer me". He could already feel you clenching around him, the friction against your inner walls something you'd never felt before. "I can feel your fingers inside me," you finally managed to answer, and to reward you he pressed a little harder against that sensitive spot that made you see stars, "I feel... full." He couldn't help smiling against the soft skin of your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart," as if to back up his words, he pressed his fingers impossibly deeper, burying them in your wet warmth, "you'll feel even fuller soon."

He withdrew them almost immediately with an obscene noise. That would leave you empty, he knew, but he also knew that he wanted you to come around another part of his body for the first time, and not just on his fingers.

"Undress," the older man ordered, pointing vaguely with his chin at the little bit of clothing you were wearing. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as you stood completely naked before him, kneeling between his thighs. "Such a pretty body," his voice sounded almost distracted, his fingers busy sliding down your sides as if to show you were to his liking, "a pretty mouth too, I wonder what it would look like around my cock." He saw you bite your lower lip before finally answering, emboldened: "Perhaps I could show you." Your hands rested first on his chest, brushing against the linen of the tunic he wore for the night. Then they slid lower, much lower, replaying a scene Ulf had seen a hundred times in his dreams. Your fingers undid the drawstring that held his breeches together and he had to remind himself not to make you pick up the pace, to give him what he wanted right then and there.

A curse escaped him as your hand finally wrapped around his manhood. It looked so big, massive, between your forefinger and thumb, which couldn't quite touch. And when your lips finally brushed the head, where he was already weeping for you, he threw his head back on the heavy silk pillows. It took all his strength and resilience not to close his eyes from the pleasure he felt from your back and forth movements and the wet warmth of your mouth. "You're doing so well," he growled as his hand made its way to the back of your head, finding refuge in your silver locks, "sucking my cock so well, like the perfect little whore you are." Around his member he could feel the vibrations of your audible moan. It seemed you liked it when people didn't really treat you like the princess you were supposed to be, but more like a cheap slut from a seedy pillow house. A discovery that couldn't have made him happier.

The vision was royal, the sensation divine. He felt like a king, he felt like a god, with a dragon under his feet and a Targaryen princess pleasuring him with her mouth. He had everything that he had ever wished for and yet he wanted more, needed more.

Bloody greed.

His grip on the back of your head tightened, forcing you back a few inches. His gaze fell on your red, swollen lips, glistening with spit and something else that testified to your sinful actions. You smiled at him, obviously proud of yourself, and he couldn't help but kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. "On all fours," he ordered, right against the skin of your neck, his voice hoarse with desire. The order may have been short, the tone a little awkward, hurried, but you understood immediately what he was trying to tell you. With your face now pressed into the pillows and your hips raised, Ulf could hardly believe that this was your first time, and yet. One of his hands cupped his still aching manhood while the other gripped the flesh at your waist. Captivated by the sight of his member disappearing into your wet heat, his eyes couldn't leave the spot where the two of you were joined for a single second. "Fuck," he groaned as he gave you time to adjust to his presence, "such a tight cunt." Despite his vast experience, he had never tasted, never felt anything like this in his dull life of Flea Bottom brothel escapades and quick embraces with nameless prostitutes. Perhaps it was because he was now living with real royalty, or perhaps it was because your exchange was different, more intimate, almost affectionate.

He withdrew almost completely, the friction against your inner walls agonisingly delicious. Your juices had left his member soaked and glistening, a sight that drove him deeper into you this time, the headboard hitting the wall with a thud. "M... more," you begged as he pulled out again, your voice like a broken moan that made his head spin with desire and possessiveness. The older man was more than happy to comply, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Soon the pleasure became too strong, too great to articulate anything coherent. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, how perfect you really were around him, but the words remained stuck in his throat and only grunts managed to break through the barrier of his half-open lips. But you weren't any better. Beneath him you were a mess of moans and gasps, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. You were close, he could tell, you had grown impossibly tight around him, and he was tired of making you wait. So, in an act of mercy, he let his own fingers slip between your thighs to briefly rub your pearl and finally, finally, push you over the edge. He joined you almost immediately, his approaching climax accelerated by the rhythmic clenching of your walls around him.

It was probably foolish to pour into you with white ropes, to fill you in a different way this time. But when exactly had Ulf ever been responsible? The sight was simply mesmerising, the mingled evidence of your release flowing from your still clenching hole as he withdrew. So divine that he could hardly tear his eyes away. And as you pressed against him, seeking the warmth of his arms, your noses brushing together in an achingly tender touch, he mused that he was prepared to do many more foolish things to keep a thing as sweet as you by his side.

[niyanii]

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 || 𝐉𝐉𝐊

Summary: Jeon Jungkook has a crush on you, the girl everybody wants to be like. You were usually called a good fuck by the guys in college, they weren't wrong. Jeon was smart, and you took advantage of that when you needed help in your studies, but in return, he asked you for something. It was a deal Pairing: Soft! Jungkook X Motorcyclist! Reader Friends with benefits AU, Motorcyclist AU, college AU genre: Smut, fluff. Warnings: Soft Jungkook, Dominant reader, smut, angst. !! I am not sexualizing Jungkook, the character portrayed in this story is simply a figment of my imagination, This is all just FICTION!!

(This story will be parted)

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you glance over your shoulder to find the stranger sleeping peacefully next to you. Furrowing your brows in frustration, you stand up and grab your scattered clothes on the floor, feeling a mix of emotions rushing through you. With each step towards the bathroom, you can't help but ponder the events of the previous night, wondering how you ended up in this situation. You decide to take a long, hot shower, hoping that it will wash away not just the physical remnants, but also the lingering memories. As you dry yourself off and get dressed, you can't help but feel a sense of urgency creeping in. You grab your keys, wallet, and phone, stealing one last glance at the stranger before you silently slip out of the room.

Walking out of the building and into the morning air, you take a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. The new day brings with it a sense of freedom, a chance to leave behind the night before and begin anew. Making your way towards your motorcycle, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement as you turn the engine on and embark on your journey home. Glancing at your watch, you realize that time is of the essence. It's already 5:30, and you have a strict schedule to follow. You remind yourself that you need to get to college in 2 hours, fill your gas tank, change at home, and then head off to college.

As you speed through the streets, the roar of the motorcycle fills your ears, drowning out any other thoughts or worries. The wind caresses your face, and you feel the raw power of the engine beneath you. In this moment, you find solace from the struggles and challenges of life. The city lights twinkle like stars, casting a mesmerizing glow on the pavement as you navigate through the night. It's as if the world around you is in harmony, offering a brief respite from the chaos that often engulfs your mind.

It's moments like this that offer a sense of refuge, especially when your parents are too preoccupied with their own lives to notice yours. The wind is like a friend, gently reminding you that, although your parents may be uncaring, there are still moments of beauty and peace in the world. These moments of solace provide a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounds you, allowing you to find strength in the midst of familial neglect.

As you park your bike in front of the huge mansion you never seemed to be proud of, you enter the home. It was empty as always, not even able to be called a home. The silence echoes through the halls, emphasizing the emptiness that permeates every corner. You take a deep breath and look around, allowing the memories to flood your mind. Everything was so familiar yet so distant, a bittersweet reminder of the life you once had. The weight of sadness settles in your chest.

"You're finally home, where were you all those days?" The female voice asks. It's your childhood nanny, more like your mother for you. She smiled and gently stroked your hair, her touch a soothing balm to your weary soul. You felt like you were finally home, a place where love and acceptance are unwavering. You hugged her tightly, grateful for the stability she provides in a world filled with uncertainty. As you pull away, a bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a reflection of the disillusionment you feel towards your own family "You know Liz, what's even so great in this home". She follows your lead, understanding the depth of your emotions. She looked at you with a soft gaze and said, "No matter where you are, this place will always be home. You are loved here and always will be". Her words resonate deeply within you.

You smiled and hugged her again, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the comfort of the home you had come back to. "Loved only by you, I wonder if my parents know I exist or not" You smile as you pull away, she could see the sadness glistening in your eyes. But you were cold, she saw coldness in your eyes. She hugged you tighter, as if trying to shield you from the harsh realities of the world. She said, "Of course they do. They may not be here to show it, but they care about you." Her words may be a mere consolation, but they offered a glimmer of hope in the midst of your doubts. As she kissed your forehead and held your arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for her unwavering support.

You knew she said that just to make you feel better about it, but you didn't mind it. As you smile back, a sense of determination fills your heart. You inform her that you'll be heading up to your room to get a bath and get dressed, eager to wash away the weariness of the night before, though you did take a shower at the stranger's home, you felt the need to have another bath. She nods in response, understanding the need for personal space. You walk up the stairs, feeling a little better, knowing that you have someone who cares deeply about your well-being. You take a long, hot shower, and as you dress up, you felt a warmth inside of you, a warmth that she gave you. This feeling of being loved and valued reminds you that you are not defined by your parents' neglect, but by the love and support you receive from those who truly matter.

As your motorcycle gracefully pulls up at the college's designated parking spot, you can't help but notice the numerous gazes fixated on you. It's a familiar sensation, one that you've grown accustomed to over time. Your hands instinctively reach for the head helmet, pulling it off and revealing your face to the curious onlookers. Your hair, meticulously tied up in a high ponytail, cascades down your back, adding to your captivating presence. The glint of the lip piercing on your bottom lip catches the sunlight, accentuating your edgy allure.

Unbeknownst to you, a few meters away, Jungkook discreetly observes as you effortlessly dismount from your sleek black bike. His eyes are glued to you, captivated by your every move. The grip on his books tightens as he continues to admire you in awe. His heart beats vigorously inside his chest, and a comforting warmth spreads through his entire being. Despite his desire to approach you, fear holds him back. He watches wistfully as you stroll away, yearning for the courage to introduce himself. Little does he know, the whole school is well aware of his infatuation, and that includes you.

Curiously, you have never seen his face before. You are only familiar with his name, or perhaps not even that, as it has never held any significance to you. His feelings are of no concern to you, and you have no interest in getting to know him. The constant reminders of his supposed crush on you have always been met with indifference. It simply doesn't matter to you, not him, nor anyone else for that matter.

With each confident click of your boots on the concrete floor, you stride into the familiar halls of the cherished college. The usual prying eyes follow your every step, but you remain unaffected. Head held high, you continue walking, undeterred by the curious gazes around you. Your singular focus is on reaching your destination - the classroom. As you enter, you seamlessly settle into your designated seat, comfortably awaiting the arrival of the professor. In the meantime, you effortlessly scroll through your social media feed, completely oblivious to the anticipation building in the room. The modern classroom is a busy hub of activity. As students arrive, their conversations are a mix of excitement and anticipation. The professor finally enters, and the room is silenced by a wave of respect. You can feel the energy of the room shift as the professor begins their lecture. You make a valiant effort to absorb the information being shared. The professor's words blend together in a harmonious melody, and you find yourself completely engrossed in the captivating discourse.

Your grades were dropping, and it's not like you care about it. Once your parents find out, your life will be hell, not like it isn't already. You need to figure out a way to get your grades back up, or you'll never hear the end of it. They'll cut you off everything, and you can't afford that. You start to consider your options - studying more, asking for help, or hiring a tutor. And it clicks. Once the period is over, you head up to..what's his name again? However, you head up to him, and he sat in the corner, head buried in his books for the next period. You tap him on the shoulder, and he looks up, a little surprised but strangely pleased. Jungkook would've never expected you out of everyone. Your voice softer than usual you speak: "Uhm, Jungwon right?" The man chuckled shaking his head and you ponder what had been so funny. "Jungkook, Y/N" He smiles as you look away embarrassed. "yeah, uh sorry" Scratching the nape of your neck you abruptly sit down next to the man, his eyes focused on you as he closes his books and places them on the table. "It's okay," he reassures you, an amused smile playing on his lips as he looks at you with an appreciative gaze. You feel a sense of relief wash over you as you realize that you might have found a solution to your academic struggles. "I need your help," you finally admit, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. The man is shocked by your sudden remark, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Looking around the classroom, you try to avoid his gaze as you speak. "Help? from me?" He asks genuinely confused, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. Your eyes find his again as you sigh, summoning up the courage to share your plea. You nod, feeling a little bit embarrassed but determined to salvage your grades. "Yes, I need your help. I'm struggling with this class, and I was wondering if you could spare some time to assist me." The man sitting next to you in class is renowned for his exceptional intelligence. He always knows the answer to the professor's questions, and he consistently earns top grades on his tests. You, on the other hand, find yourself constantly lagging behind, desperately trying to keep up. " I don't know Y-" In a moment of vulnerability, you cut him off, intertwining your hands with his, and begging him earnestly for his guidance. "Please, Jung...uhm, I mean, please help me. I can't afford to fail," you plead, your eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and determination, hoping that he will see the sincerity in your request and offer his assistance with your studies. Jungkook simply shakes his head at you, his expression softening as he takes in your words. "I don't know, Y/N," he says quietly, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to see you fail, but I don't know if I can help you." You take a deep breath and mustering all your courage, you straighten your back and look Jungkook in the eyes. "Please," you say, your voice barely audible. "I'll do anything. I need your help." The man sighs as he looks away for a brief moment. Jungkook looks back at you and nods slowly. "Okay. I'll help you." There is a sudden flurry of joy filling your eyes as you leap up in utter joy. "Thank-" This time he cuts you off and says "But, you'll have to help me too..." You shoot a brow up wondering what he needed help with. "So, there's this...girl." You can't help but burst out in laughter, though he doesn't look as happy as you do. "Oh sorry, continue," You say trying to hold in your chuckles." I need your help to teach me everything you can, for me to be able to ask her out." The situation is so funny that you can't help but laugh. You can't believe that he needs your help to ask out a girl. It's like a scene out of a movie. "Fine, I guess it's a deal?" He nods. "You don't need to pay me, just teach me" You reluctantly agree, even though you're still laughing inside. You tell him that you'll try your best to help him. He thanks you for your help and you both head your separate ways. Not before trading numbers.

Your curiosity reaches its peak when you wonder about who the girl Jungkook likes might be. As you drive through the street on the way to your home, the wind hits your face giving you the sense of freedom you urge for. Your thoughts are still lingering around the mysterious girl Jungkook likes as you arrive at your home. You know about the possible rumors surrounding you and him but you can't help but wonder who it was and why Jungkook wanted to change himself for her.

As you step inside your house, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. You ponder over the countless possibilities of who this girl could be, and the reasons why Jungkook would go to such lengths for her. It's a mystery that keeps you intrigued, and you can't help but let your imagination run wild with each passing moment.

"1...2...3..." The man counts as he does his daily reps of pushups. His upper body exposed and coated with sweat. He stops for a moment, out of breath, he lays on the ground and looks up at the ceiling. His thoughts drift back to the girl who head up to him earlier in the day, you, he smiled to himself of how you looked so embarrassed when saying his name wrong. Sweat glistens off his toned body, his muscles contracting as he moves. He shook his head, chuckling at the memory. He stood up and grabbed his towel to wipe off the sweat. "You know you could just confess to her and move on with it?" A deep voice resounded in the gym. Taehyung, Jungkook's best friend, spoke. "I don't know what you're talking about," Jungkook said, trying to play coy. He knew that Taehyung saw right through him, but he didn't want to admit it. "Come on kook, helping her with tuition, lying about some girl just to be able to spend time with her? I'm dumb but not that dumb" Jungkook wanted to know you better, he wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to be able to talk to you and spend time with you. Taehyung smiled, he could tell Jungkook had a crush on you. He could see that Jungkook was trying to hide it, but he knew the truth. Taehyung knew that Jungkook was willing to do anything to get closer to you.

"Do I really need to say anything to you?" Jungkook casually tosses his towel over his shoulder while settling himself onto the chest press machine. Taehyung lets out a laugh, takes a swig of water and proceeds to complete his push-ups. "Nah, I already know what you're experiencing," Taehyung remarks with a smirk. Jungkook rolls his eyes and commences his workout. Taehyung observes him for a moment before resuming his own exercises, privately amused by the younger one's demeanour.

Tags: @ottergirl

[drafthorsemath]

Brotherly Love

Synopsis: Crosshair can't sleep and Tech appears to him as a force ghost. Lots of comfort.

A/N: I need some kind of conclusion for my brain. Whether you accept the finale and that Tech is dead, I think I need to get this out of my system to grieve.

Word Count: 846

It was nearly pitchblack in the bedroom, save for a sliver of a moonbeam shining through the window. Pabu was quiet this time of night and usually Crosshair found comfort in that. Tonight though, he was struck by sadness. He thought of Tech and the nights they'd spend together as cadets. Crosshair's eyes would hurt from the bright lights on Kamino after long days of training. Tech would turn off the lights, get into bed with him, and read to him. Crosshair smiled as he thought about all the different things Tech read. History, science, even the occasional holonovel. He would always find comfort laying next to his brother and hearing his voice. He wished he could hear him again now.

Crosshair sat up in bed and sighed as he looked out the window. He could swear he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder; steady and comforting as it always was. He sniffled and leaned into the sensation, only to realize that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Tech?!" Crosshair jumped up and turned to see a kind of blue light around what he could have swore was his brother. "What the kriff?!"

"Yes," Tech replied, examining his glowing limbs with curiosity. "I could ask the same thing."

Crosshair reached out to try to touch him. He felt a presence and yet could see through him.

"Is it really you?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course it's really me," Tech replied with an eye roll.

"How are you doing this?" Crosshair asked.

"I am unsure," came the honest answer. "However, matter is never created nor destroyed. It simply changes form. For whatever reason, this is the form I am currently taking."

Crosshair sat back down and without warning, sharply inhaled and let out a sob. Tech put his hand back on his brother's shoulder.

"I've missed you," Crosshair said, trying to compose himself.

"I'm still here," Tech said. "I've always thought of you before I fell and I've been with you since. I cannot fully explain the latter part."

"This is the first time I've seen you like this, though," Crosshair noted.

Tech nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes. Crosshair somehow understood now. All those times he felt like Tech was with him and he tried to suppress the feeling for fear it wasn't true when in reality, his brother had never left him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Crosshair looked into his brother's familiar eyes and couldn't help but let a tear slip despite his best efforts. "I'm sorry I didn't leave the Empire sooner. I missed out on time with you. I should have done better."

Tech shook his head and pulled Crosshair into a hug.

"I am just glad you came home," Tech said. Both men felt relief. Relief that there were no hard feelings between them and that they cared for each other as they always had.

After awhile longer, Tech asked, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not here."

"I'll still be here, Crosshair. Even if you can't see me and I promise I'll do my best to show up so you can. There has to be some interesting science behind this and now I have an infinite amount of time to try to figure it out."

Crosshair chuckled. That was so like him. Then, even though Tech had changed form, Crosshair could sense his brother had a question as easily as if they'd both been there in the flesh.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked.

"Are you going to get a prosthetic for your hand?"

"I'm not sure yet. I still have my left hand and Echo's given me some tips on getting by."

"If you do get a prosthesis I would be happy to help you optimize its utility."

"Can you even hold a spanner?" Crosshair asked dryly.

"I'm sitting on your bed and just gave you a hug. If I can do that, I do not see why I cannot use tools to fix something."

"Fair point," Crosshair replied with a grin. "I'll let you know."

Without a word, Crosshair and Tech both laid down as they had done when they were cadets. Instead of reading, they talked about their brothers and Omega. How much time it took them to truly relax on Pabu after the intensity of all that had happened. How Omega was growing, having something of a childhood, and how her piloting skills were improving all the time. They were both filled with pride in her.

It took awhile, but Crosshair finally let himself sleep, still feeling his brother right next to him. When he woke up in the morning, he startled a bit. He couldn't see Tech anymore. His eyes searched his room, but Tech was no where to be found. Had it been a dream? Was his brain taunting him? Just as he wanted to curse these mind games, he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder again and took a deep breath. Tech was still there. Crosshair would never have to be alone again.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Power

Thank you @dansnotavampire for this delicious prompt! TW blood.

‘Your Grace,’ whispered a wretched shade, forming and breaking as it spoke. ‘The king returns. Will you allow me to open the way? Please?’ The thing cowered, once a tiefling man and now simply smoke. He gazed up at the woman on the throne high above with fear and adoration, a beaten dog. Tav met his eye and he held her gaze, trembling.

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Let him walk.’

‘As you wish Your Radiance.’ He scurried off. The other shades raised their voices in a chorus, the rustle of wind, tiny spots of cold in the oppressive heat.

Tav waited, listening. The throne room was empty, the House void of any living thing save herself and Haarlep, who curled into her at night and now sat quietly with his cheek pressed to her thigh. He was here to keep her husband in line, not her. A telltale roar from outside, the scream of a tormeted soul, and the doors banged open.

She knew the walk was long. He seemed so far away from up here on the throne, a figment of her imagination. And yet as he moved into the room with its sumptuous velvet and glittering gold and infernal marble warm like a body to the touch, he became real, and realer still. Brimstone hit her nose first, so concentrated it was sickly sweet, the musk and cherries barely masking it. She’d almost forgotten, but her head swam with it, made her turn away.

‘Beloved,’ she said flatly as he surged towards her, face twisted in a snarl. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘You would have me walk?’ he hissed, trembling with fury. ‘In my own house? My darling little mouse, you-’

Her gaze fixed on him then, hot and vengeful as a lightning strike. ‘Be quiet.’ Beside her, Haarlep held his breath.

‘You would dare,’ Raphael whispered, ‘to order me? I, who brought you here in good faith, fed you from my table, allowed you to share my bed, you- spiteful child, you would dare-’

Her lips pulled back in a sneer. ‘I am no child. I am your queen. Your wife. And you left me to fight your stupid, suicidal war.’

‘And you would take the incubus,’ he said, voice scathing as he gestured to Haarlep. ‘I suppose you didn’t even wait until my side of the bed was cold, did you, Your Grace?’

‘Of course not,’ she said, scoffing. ‘You treated the poor thing terribly and made him do all the work.’ She leaned forward, back straight, smiled a thin, mirthless smile. ‘The house is mine now, Raphael. Your subjects mine. The gift your father gave you, mine.’ Haarlep purred in agreement, a wicked little smirk on his lips. ‘You should not have come back.’ She stood, descended the stairs, watched the devil stand straighter even as he glowered down at her. ‘Something you’ll never understand is that they love me. Sometimes they look at me the way they looked at you and it makes my stomach turn because they are afraid. But they’re my people now. You lost your right to that seat-’ she gestured upwards, ‘-the moment you left on your absurd quest. All I can say to you is good luck, if you think the God of Ambition will allow you to steal from him.’

‘And who made him so?’ Raphael growled, clawed hands gripping her shoulders, eyes burning with longing and anger. ‘You, beguiling vixen, you created him. Our own enemy. If you had simply told the boy to kneel to his goddess, none of us would be in this mess!’

‘You chose to leave!’ she snapped, baring her teeth. ‘We could have been a united front, faced everything that came at us, but your selfishness knows no bounds.’ She pushed at him but he did not budge, towering over her. He dug in his claws, nostrils flaring in anger.

‘My selfishness,’ he hissed, ‘is why you are here, and not washed up on the docks in Baldur’s Gate, blown to pieces by a fucking Netherbrain! Perhaps I should have left you on the mortal plane! You would have come back here anyway, a little lost soul, to call me Master! Yet here you are!’

She lunged with a cry of rage, the sharp slap of her open hand sending him reeling back in shock, infernal eyes wide. She crouched, hands curled as though she had claws, a feral howl ripped from her throat. ‘ENOUGH!’ She was tiny compared to him, fragile, her nails and teeth blunt, and yet in this moment she felt a surge of power such as she’d never had.

There was fear in his eyes.

‘That word will never leave my mouth.’ Tav stepped back, conceded ground, but Haarlep rose behind her, bolstering warmth at her back, his tail curling soothingly- and possessively- around her ankle.

‘Your Grace,’ he said, voice silky, ‘do you want me to get rid of him?’

‘No,’ she said, not taking her eyes off her husband. ‘You’re king of this realm, are you not?’ He narrowed his eyes, swished his tail like an angry cat. ‘Answer me.’

‘I am.’ His jaw clenched. ‘Though you have made yourself quite comfortable in my seat, my dear.’

‘Someone had to rule.’ The retort was venomous, meant to wound. ‘You will not remove me.’

‘Oh?’ He was amused now, grinning with fangs on full display. ‘It was hardly a fair conquest. You stole it when my back was turned.’

‘Come and get it, then,’ she said boldly. ‘If you’re no coward.’

He stalked forward, eyes dancing with malice and mirth. Ah. He thinks he’s in control. ‘You’ve had your fun, little mouse.’ His voice held a dangerous lull, too soft. ‘Come here. All is forgiven.’

‘Oh, that’s cute! You think I’m the one who needs forgiveness! Are you insane?’ Tav drew a blade from within the folds of her dress, flipped it in her hand, hissed. ‘You should be on your hands and knees begging me Raphael.’

He hesitated, the smile dropping from his face. ‘Insolent pup, you’re actually serious.’

‘Queen. Do as I say.’ Haarlep’s tail tightened around her ankle; he was enjoying this.

Raphael was at war with himself, clearly; his tail swished angrily, but his eyes bore into her with pure lust, and he almost looked proud. He smirked, holding onto any semblance of control he could, and pressed his palms and knees to the infernal marble, wings folded neatly over his back, eyes locked to hers, waiting. ‘Well?’ he said smoothly. ‘Your enemy is defeated. Press your advantage.’

She could’ve done. But that would have meant going to him, and that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, in the most commanding voice she could muster, she said, ‘crawl to me.’

And he did. Slowly, without taking his eyes off her, he crawled to her feet, leaned onto his haunches and gazed up at her with such false innocence a flush of heat swept through her and she broke out in a sweat. ‘What next?’ He was enjoying this. She realised with a jolt he would’ve done this plenty of times, because of-

‘Oh, Your Grace you’re having so much fun… may I?’ Haarlep leaned over her shoulder, lips inches from her ear. ‘I would hate for the king to take all the spoils of war…’

Raphael looked down, seemingly fighting with himself. She could hear him taking steady breaths, claws kneading his thighs.

Tav shivered, felt the incubus close his teeth on her ear. But there was still the devil at her feet; she couldn’t show weakness. Reaching out with the dagger in her hand, she placed it under his chin. ‘Eyes on me,’ she said softly. His eyes blazed, claws digging into his skin, but he obeyed. He tensed, showed his fangs and got his feet under him, readying to pounce. He would, she thought, if I let my guard down.

‘What’s the matter, little mouse?’ he whispered. ‘Feeling a little in over your head?’

She growled, pressed the dagger to his skin. Beads of blood formed and trickled downward, slipping beneath his clothes. Haarlep pulled with his tail at her ankle, bringing her off balance, his arms snaking around her to take her weight.

And trap her there.

‘Haarlep. Whose side are you on?’

‘Oh, yours my queen, always yours. You seem a little tense. Perhaps you’d like to relax?’ He pawed at her breasts through her dress, kissed the pulse in her neck. She did not take her eyes off the devil, who licked his lips.

‘Put in the effort for once,’ she croaked, dropping the blade. He leapt for her, catching her by the hips and rucking her dress around her waist, his claws digging into the softness of her thighs. Blood welled, coursed slowly across her skin, and she yelped in surprise at the heat of his tongue lapping it up. He groaned, vibrating through her, pulled her forward to his tongue and teeth as he bit at the inner thigh, sucked a bruise there, fucking laughed when she moaned in response. The incubus hardly helped; he tore at the fabric of her dress, wrenching it from her shoulders and biting. He was pulling at her, the devil snarling at the competition. She had to wrest back control somehow. Reaching down, she grabbed a fistful of Raphael’s hair and pulled hard, hoping against hope that her resolve would not slip entirely.

‘As the conqueror commands.’ He was toying with her even now, even as his mouth closed around her clit and his claws raked her thighs, as he hummed into her core and shook with amusement as she jolted back in Haarlep’s embrace.

‘Patience little thief.’ The incubus gripped the back of her neck, turning her head to kiss her deeply, his tongue hot in her mouth, saliva sweet and heady. Heat bloomed again in her belly, gathered at the apex of her thighs, only made more intense by the infernal creature between them. She curled small hands around his horns, trying not to melt into a puddle on the spot. Haarlep pinched a nipple between two claws to bring her attention back to him and she gasped into his mouth.

‘You little wanton whore,’ said Raphael, breaking away to glare up at her. ‘Let go of him and cry for me.’

‘No.’ Tav turned, tried to ignore Haarlep at her throat. ‘No, I’ll do as I please. I- ah!’ She cried out as the devil returned to his ministrations with renewed vigour and aggression, sending her close to the edge- and stopping. ‘No, don’t,’ she whined, digging her nails into his scalp. ‘Keep going! I fucking command you to!’ He hummed against her but acquiesced, sending her crashing into orgasm, lightheaded from its force.

Haarlep ground against her, impatient. Raphael seemed to take pity, snapping his fingers- their clothes vanished into fire and ash, and the incubus wasted no time in taking her, thrusting into her body with the ease of many times before, his fingers shoving roughly into her mouth to stifle her cries. Raphael rose to his feet, watching her face contort as the incubus fucked into her at a near brutal pace, never seeming to tire. He could feel it, of course. The echoes of touch in his own body. She bit at the incubus’s fingers, laughed as he yelped and withdrew.

And then she pulled all the strings again with a single word.

‘Stop.’

Haarlep obeyed, staring at her in astonishment. It was echoed on Raphael’s face, slack-jawed shock. The infernal creatures here held sway with fear and violence, pleasure and pain, and yet this mortal woman, this fragile soft thing, had leashed and muzzled them, so they could do nothing but exactly what she told them to do. Not out of fear, nor force.

But out of loyalty. Tav ignored them both, ran her fingers through her hair and felt two pairs of eyes follow her hands. She smirked, still not gracing them with eye contact, and slid a hand between her legs, the other sliding softly over the swell of her breast. They burned, both of them; she could feel it in the crackle of the air, the catch of their shared breath as she exhaled, like they could breathe only because she did. The power had shifted and she held it all. The queen played her own body deftly as a lyre, and the liars watched enthralled; she cried out into the vastness of the throne room, her domain now, anointed it with heat and light and nectar they could not taste or touch. Devil and incubus were rooted, frozen, even as they ached to press fingers to flesh- hers or their own, it hardly mattered. She crooked her coated fingers, watched the king crumble. He took a step and she shook her head, laughter bubbling from her throat like bursts of sunlight.

‘No, you don’t,’ she purred. ‘Get down and beg.’

His knees hit the floor, his arms reached up to grip her by the hips, his gaze half fear and half adoring. She had become infernal iron in his absence, strong and wild and too hot to hold in the mortal world, destructive and terrible. But here, in the hells, she dragged him up to her level while he dragged her down to his. They would meet someday on an even keel, but for now… for now…

‘Please,’ he rasped, face pressed to her belly, eyes beseeching. ‘I don’t… know what to feel. I want your body but I am tired of trying to take it. I want you to give, freely. You have consumed my mind, my fiendish soul is lost somewhere within your own. You are becoming a creature, a monster, or my resolve is turning to ash at your touch. I don’t know which, I don’t. I hardly care. You vex me-’ here he whined, pressing his forehead to her skin, horns either side of her throat, struggling to rein himself in. ‘You torment as I torment, making one another bleed. You make me more human as I make you a little less. Some feeling is lodged in my throat and you will call it a lie, I know you will.’ He met her gaze again, her stomach jolting at the sight of tears. ‘My little mouse. What have you become? I fear I love you. I know I want you. I want to rip you open and crawl inside your ribs and stay there for eternity. What have you done? What have you done?’

‘I couldn’t have love from you, so I wanted power,’ she crooned, stroking his hair softly. ‘I have power. You would do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?’ She looked past him to the incubus, who whined like a dog. She pushed her fingers into Raphael’s mouth, reached out to Haarlep with her other hand. ‘I trust you can see to your frustrations,’ she murmured. ‘Seek audience tomorrow and I may grant your wish.’ She hissed when the devil bit at her fingers, but would not relent. This was about power, not want, Her own desires would wait. The truth of it would reveal itself come dawn, when their minds were not clouded by lust.

‘Draw me a bath,’ she said to Haarlep, dismissing him. He slunk off, unsatisfied, and Raphael drew a shaking breath and stood.

‘Negotiations are going well, I trust?’ he asked quietly.

‘As expected.’ Her eyes flicked down his body. ‘Take care of yourself before someone sees you like this.’

‘If I could-’

‘No.’ Her voice held the ring of authority. ‘Tomorrow. Tomorrow, you will learn. Tonight you sleep alone. Show me you understand.’

He drew her close, enveloping her body entirely with his own, kissing her deeply until her head spun with heat and the pounding of blood. Then he withdrew, equally unsatisfied, a bared soul aching for something he dared not name.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

[munsonsmixtapes]

I am in fact gonna request Finnick Odair 🙏🏻 (situation of your choosing)

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Finnick was always desperate for your attention. If you weren’t speaking to him, he’d at least want you to touch him in some way. Weather is was carding your hands through his hair while his head laid in your lap or simply just holding his hand, it didn’t matter. He was well aware of how needy he sounded, but just wanted to make sure that you were still there. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t stand to lose anyone else, especially not you.

You seemed to be the only peace in his life, the only thing that put the nightmares to a stop when he would shut his eyes. He could now sleep peacefully through the night as he knew that you were on the other side of the bed or wrapped up in his arms.

And he loved rolling over in the morning to see you staring back at him, that warm smile on his face that he had grown to love so much. That look of love in your eyes that seemed to only be for you.

"Good morning," you'd whisper as you scooted closer to each other, noses touching, lips pressing together in a soft kiss.

"Good morning," he'd reply and you'd both then roll out of bed and head into the kitchen. And you both leaned against the counter, giggling and making conversation over cups of coffee that accompanied your breakfast.

Your hands would be joined as you ate, neither of you wanting to let the other go as you went back and forth, squeezing fingers that was your way of saying "I love you" without having to speak. It was always three in a row, one for each to really emphasize the feeling.

And Finnick would pause occasionally just to look at you, to prove to himself that you were actually there and not just a very pretty figment of his imagination. The Games had really fucked with his head and sometimes he just needed the reminder.

You'd look over at him with that same warm smile and he'd wonder to himself how he had gotten so lucky as to have someone as amazing as you. How you made him feel like he was a better version of himself when you were around.

And you'd wonder the same thing, asking that exact question which always seemed to catch him off guard. He'd blush that adorable shade of pink, lowering his head as a sheepish smile spread on his face.

You'd then grab him by the chin, pressing your lips to his before gathering your dishes and bringing them to the sink to rinse them off while he'd stand behind you, his hands on your waist as he'd pepper your cheek with kisses just to hear your little giggles, whining at him to stop.

And the cycle repeated itself. Every day it was the exact same thing and you wouldn't have had it any other way. You loved the continuous loop that you were both living in, your own little bubble that you lived in, not letting anyone disturb it if you could help it. It was always just you and Finnick and that was exactly the way you liked it.

[obsessedwrhys]

Any ship headcanons for Niru from AFK Journey? Can be fluff, angst, anything :)

|| NIRU DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ fluff, angst (im a sucker for it), mention of death and killing, reader is gn (can be read as merlin or not)!!

For a soul collector, it's expected for him to be the quiet and serious type. That's why falling for you was the last thing he expected to happen.

He was simply doing his duty collecting the souls of a heavily wounded fighter. How he sees things is that it is better to put someone out of their suffering instead of feeding them the delusion of a possible recovery.

He was ready to approach them, his scythe held close in his hand. All he can promise is to make their death swift. And that's when you came in, running from wherever you were.

Seeing the presence of another person, he quickly hid in the shadows. You kneeled beside the man and began doing your magic. An unreadable expression was on his face as he watched you tend to the fighter.

The way you still choose to save the man even though he was on the brinks of death was... naive and yet, funny enough the guy managed to survive thanks to your aid.

Ever since that day, he wouldn't stop thinking about you, of the sight of you saving that man. There was just this indescribable feel of hope in you.

Obviously approaching you was the worst way to deal with his thoughts, that's why he came up with the idea of meeting you in your dreams.

And you didn't pay no mind to that because you yourself didn't know it was an actual person in your dreams talking to you.

Every night, he would always set out on adventures with you. Whether it be lucid dreams or not, he's just glad to be there. Watching you do silly things in your dreams was entertaining enough.

However if you had nightmares, he is fast to protect you. Sometimes he might just hold you in his arms and you'd always wake up in the morning thinking back to how real it felt.

Despite the fun times spent with you, the guilt of not telling you whole truth of who he was still crept up to him. Not to mention how he really felt about you... that's why he decided to tell you when the moment was right.

Scenario ↴ (this ended up being so long)

You ran across the field, enjoying the way the birds all flew away when you came even a step closer. It was another dream of yours but this time it was oddly soothing, no excitement no nothing.

That's when you turned around to see your dream friend sitting under the tree, the shade protecting him from the sunlight. It's a wonder how he manages to appear in all of your dreams but you figured it wasn't anything serious. Besides it's kinda nice having a friend to talk to at the end of the day, even if it's during your sleeping time.

You approached him, his scythe placed on the grass beside him as he's leaned back on the tree. He watches when you decided to sit beside him. Then you let out a sigh.

"Tired from playing?" He asks while you curled up into a ball with your arms wrapped around your legs.

"Just bored..." You said, looking out at the beautiful field of Golden Wheatshire.

"Bored?" He raises his brows out of surprise. This was not the reaction he wanted out of you, after all, this dream was his whole idea.

"Yeah..." You rest your head on your knees. He stayed quiet for a second as he looked at your expression.

Suddenly he looks away and joined you in staring at the golden wheat from afar. He's not showing it but he's clearly having doubts in his mind. Is it a good idea to tell you the truth? What if his friendship with you ends?

After what felt like centuries of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"I hope these dreams have brought some beauty into your life, as they have for me..." You look at him and you could see a hint of fear in his eyes, like he's afraid to say what he has to say next.

"But I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I am not just a figment of your imagination, but a being that exists beyond the realm of your waking hours. I am a Soul Keeper, a Graveborn, and I have been visiting you in your dreams because I could not stay away..." He pauses, his adam's apple bopping as he swallows.

"During the times we've shared together, I have grown to love every aspect of you, and I can no longer keep my feelings hidden... Your soul is a beacon of light in a world that is often dark and cold. It shines brighter than any star in the night sky, and I am drawn to its warmth like a moth to a flame. I have never felt this way before, and it is a feeling that I never want to let go of..." Slowly he finally locks eyes with you, the muscles on his face are relaxed as he's practically giving you the heart eyes.

You tried to say something back but it felt like your voice was gone, no matter how much you try talking nothing came out. You frown, realising it was one of those dreams again. Seeing you struggle, he lifts his hand to the side of your face to caress your cheek.

"It's okay, I know this is all too much for you to comprehend... I am not a being that's alive... yet you make me feel like I have a soul again. So if you'd please, meet me here again tomorrow at night..." He said and at the same time you could feel your body starting to awake from the dream.

You try really hard not to wake up but eventually you did thanks to the sound of your companion banging on the door and shouting for you to wake up. You let out an exhausted sigh as you ran your hands through your hair. The thought of that mysterious being still in your mind.

Like the usual, you carried out your daily duties. But your mind was constantly distracted by what the dream said. Is it even real? What if it was all in your head? Night time came slower than anticipated, you were on your way back home with your companions until you finally made up your mind. Without giving anyone much of an explanation, you decided to head to the place.

From the distant you could hear everybody asking where you're headed but you just shouted back a simple "I'll be back"

There it is.

A small smile makes it to your face as you anxiously approach the tree. You sat down and looked around, feeling a bit awkward. Ah... did you really expect this to be one of those romances? You sigh.

"Tired again?" A familiar voice spoke that it sent goosebumps across your body. You quickly turn and that's when you saw him, walking out of the shadows to join you.

You never realised how tall he was. Seeing him in real life now felt so unreal.

"Have you given my words some consideration?" He stands before you while making sure he gave you just enough space to not make you feel uncomfortable.

"... I have..." You uttered.

"And to be honest... I'm excited to see what the future holds for us" Your answer catching him by surprise since from your tone, he had expected you to be against the idea. He smiles almost out of relief.

"As am I... Let's take this journey together, one step at a time"

Since he's very connected to spiritual world, you can trust every moment with him to be a moment to be remembered. Even if you guys are just chilling somewhere in the forest, it'd still be a soul fulfilling time.

He finds your height cute, he's like gigantic so there's no way are you ever gonna be taller than him 😭

"Agh... I've been breaking my back trying to kiss you lately..."

"I'M NOT EVEN THAT SHORT"

Now his kisses are gentle and tender. It's the kind of kisses that speaks louder than words. He enjoys running his hand across your back when you guys kiss because he can't help but smile everytime you chuckle from the ticklish feeling.

He enjoys watching you sleep, not in a weird way, it's more like admiration.

You both are laid down on your mattress, you were already fast asleep but he was still awake. He's laid on his side as he observes the gentle curves of your face. The sound of the soft whispers of your breath made him feel he belonged. He smiles slightly, wondering how he was so lucky to have scored you.

PDA? No thank you. Honestly, he does not want to be risk seen in public at all. He's a Graveborn and he doesn't want to risk his relation with you to be the reason you're getting harassed by people.

But it's fine, he doesn't care if everybody views him invisible when you see him clear as day.

However, dating this man isn't all rainbows and sunshine. He has major PTSD from his military days.

I'm talking constant triggers and nightmares about the lives he's failed to saved.

You are always the one to be there for him and he never realised how comforting it is to be able to go through one of his episodes with someone there to remind him of the good times.

Head boops? YES. He just gives me black cat vibes.

Cuddles is a must have. I think he prefers being the big spoon for obvious reasons 🤭

You have once try to hold up his scythe and he was fast to take it from your hands when it was too heavy for you to bear. Thankfully nobody got hurt.

Since he used to be a doctor, he just has this instinct to always make sure you're healthy and well. If you ever get hurt, he's already there to take care of you.

Nicknames? He calls you my flower or my person, maybe even sweetie when he's in a really affectionate mood.

Now just because he's kind towards you that doesn't mean he's not such a big tease. He's so mean with it too.

Also did I forget to mention how flirty he can get?

"Niru, can you help me get the sugar?" You'd ask as you're by the kitchen counter preparing to bake.

You simply wait for him to get it for you when suddenly he cups your face, you bat your eyelashes at him a few times out of confusion.

"We ran out of sugar... how about we use you instead?" He jokes to which you smack his hand away with a laugh.

You probably don't realise but he keeps the letters you write to him everytime he's away. So when he's feeling a bit down, he'd just take it out and read it to make himself feel better. The reminder that he's truly loved.

1000% GRIM REAPER SHI

[vyloy]

Obession in Love

People kidnap others for ransom, for money, for blackmail, but what if you get kidnapped for love and pleasure?

Tws: kidnapping, non-con, slight bondage, dacryphilia.

Johan Liebert

︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

You have had your suspicions on a certain individual for a while now,Johan Liebert , a German man, early twenties, seemingly perfect in everyway, you obviously don't buy his act but whenever and whoever you asked, they all had good views of him, "He's such a nice young man", said an old man as you questioned him about the individual, this answer pissed you off as you always get that same reply one way or another. Getting up from the man's chair , you were about to say your goodbye's to the kind old man but, as you walked towards the door, it opened. Speak of the devil, "good after noon ,mr-", his eyes widened at the sight of you before his lips curled into d smile "Good afternoon ,sir y/n", he extended a hand to you, expecting a handshake, you only turned away ,again, heading towards the exit, fortunately, the man lets you through.

"How unlucky!", you screamed in frustation, slamming your fists on the desk, papers sprawled everywhere, pictures of Johan that were all him looking Straight into the camera despite the pictures being taken in secret, it was all oddly creepy. Ring-ring the old telephone rang, yougot up to answer it, an odd feeling accompanying you, "hello?" , "Is this Sir y/n L/n?" you recognized the voice , "Johan?" "I'm flattered you can recall me,sir", you swore if you were infront of him right now, he would be smiling, "how did you get my number "Sir Moriku gave it to me",

shit,an officer you've worked with in the past had given your personal number to the person you've been investigating, Just your luck, "Oh, what do you want?", "please don't get the wrong idea,Sir, I simply want to invile you to dinner as we got off the wrong foot, do you mind?", as you were about to decline ,your stomach rumbled you rationalized that this could be a chance for you to learn more about him "I don't see why not".

You're in the restaurant Johan had invited you to, you tried to look clean as you didn't want to embarrass yourself in such fancy place. "Sir Y/n i hope i didn't make you wait too long Johan finally reached the restaurant, he took a seat infront of you with a smile of a child, "have you been here before?", he sparked up a conversation with you "I've been here once with someone, it you was a long with time ago though...", you reminisced the good memories you had, "with whom?", " a lover, let's move on" ,you tried the good changing the subject as it was getting personal for your comfort, "What would you two gentlemen like for this evening?" , the waiter asked while a notepad sat on his hand as well as a pen.

"What did you invite me here for?", you asked ,still wary of him and to his know intentions you, he only chuckled before answering, "to get to know you, you're very interesting", "interesting?", you'd have never thought he would say that about you but here you are, puzzled by what he had just said , "Pardon?", " You heard me, you're very interesting you're... different", just as you were about to question him again, the waiter braught in the meals,

lucky bastard.

"Now tell me what you meant, how am i 'different'? I'm just a normal and average individual like you'', you pointed out , "we all know that's a lie", you couldn't tell if he was talking about you or him, was he aware of what he says could reveal some sensitive details at this moment without you knowing. You both sat uncomfortable silence him wearing that grin, a creepygrin At the end of the night, you both go your seperate ways.

In the morning, you woke up thinking everything that happened the night before was merely figment of your imagination though, when you got to work, a certain someone awaited your presence, Johan "it's nice to see you again so soon", you tried to keep up a facade but slurred your words a bit as you were still groggy from waking up so early, "You don't look that good ,sir, i'll get you a cup of water, please wait here", he walked away, to the kitchen you presumed to get a cup of water, you wonder who let him walk in so freely.

Not long after, he comes back with a cup of warm water, he hands it to you "thanks" , you mumbled but loud enough for him to hear.

It was a cycle of hate and tolerance throughout the months that followed, at times, you would warm up to him, only to put your guards on a minute later. These couple of days you've had a feeling, a negative one, as if something would jump at you, you were a bit worried at first but after the feeling didn't go away for weeks, you brushed it off, bad mistake.

"what should i cook for dinner...", you wondered to yourself, it had been long time since you ate home cooked meals "chicken soup should be good", you say to yourself as you drive on the road with a hungry and rumbling stomach. As soon as you stepped out of your car, your legs almost gave out, you didn't know what it was but everything just seemed off, that was when you heard it a chuckle behind you, was he always there? you immediatly turned around, clutching your gun, a person, no, monster emerged from the shadows of your car "Johan", your voice trembled, fuck, you knew it, he's the cause of all of this, you wanted to shoot but every muscle in your body froze out of fear , "I'm sorry for this~" he said in more of a teasing tone rather than an apologetic one, then you passed out.

You woke up in a clean room, it was a bedroom, "Ah, you're awake", a pleased Johan turned to look at your half awake face, you immediatly woke up upon seeing him, realizing you were tied up, "ever since i first saw you, sir, knew you would be the one to help me,to be by my side", he announced to you, face full of genuine feelings, you sat there, dumbfounded, not knowing what or how to answer him "You're all mine now", he approached you with the intention holding you, feeling you.

"Ah, don't!", you tried yelling at the much stronger man, you had trained in the force for years yet, young man is able to hold you off, "You got too involved in my business, a shame, i would have loved toying with you some more", he then pushed a finger you, "Ah~" you moaned out, the pleasure getting to you, erasing any bad thoughts from your mind, not only was he perfect on the outside, he could also fuck you with just one finger, "you like that~?", he smirked a bit, you didn't want to give in, so you still tried to get him off of you, "Seems like you need to be more honest", he then inserts another finger, making you moan loudly, "fuck~!", you moaned out of frustration, he was way too good at this, all you can feel is pleasure, he added 2 more fingers, making you scream, oh god he was amazing at this, you were almost at your climax before he released his fingers, making you whine unconsciously, "Aw, aren't you an impatient one".

As your clothes and his clothes were in the floor, scattered, he pinned you to the bed, both your hands held by his as he relentlessly pounded your hole, it was noticeably very tight, "Is my cock too big for you?~", he teased, full knowing that he was enormous, tears started to drop from your eyes, this turned him on even more "cry more for me, darling, you look ravishing like that", your groans and pleads being ignored by him completely as all he focused on was how you were taking him in so well despite how big he was, almost as if you and him were destined from the very beginning, "ah~ this is like heaven", "what kind of monster, would be allowed in heaven-", you were cut of by him roughly thrusting into you, you shouldn't have said that, he was now visibly pissed, "Darling, keep your mouth, shut.", his smile full of sadistic intentions, it was clear he wasn't going to slow down anytime soon.

"P-please...ah", you weakly pleaded, he had been pounding your hole for more than a few rounds now, your hole ached, your stomach looked a bit bloated from Johan's cum, your eyes filled with tears, both your bodies sweating, you wondered how he could still go on after so many rounds, "It's such a surprise you haven't passed out yet", you close your eyes as he says this before you feel a hand grabbing your cheek, when you open your eyes, Johan was looking into your eyes, his hand on your cheek as he goes in for a kiss, the kiss was long and filled with passion before he lets go of your lips, looked into your eyes once again, and says, "I've always wanted you, Y/N".

︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

Taglist: @ohdearalatus @secretivemessenger

[txttletale]

Okay, so I think that other ask helped me figure out why I'm struggling to meet you on this issue: this feels like talking to a certain type of anarchist, where every concern is met with "well once we eliminate this hierarchy, no one will do bad things any more." I find your writing on MLism generally compelling (despite not totally lining up with my own politics) because you have a pretty clear vision for the world under that system, and can directly address concerns people have about it. That doesn't seem to be the case with family abolition.

Mainly, this discussion is frustrating because it feels like you refuse to directly answer the question of if there are ever any situations in which children should be compelled to do things for their own good.

No doubt we can imagine restructuring the world in such a way that more children are incentivized to adopt healthy habits, and to learn about topics they would currently be resistant to. But ultimately, counting on good role models and rational explanations to just convince every child to do every thing that is unpleasant but necessary seems hopefully naive. No societal restructuring is going to convince a toddler that getting a vaccine is worth it, for example. Even if they can roughly understand cause and effect, it simply takes time and experience for decision-making abilities to develop.

So I keep coming back to this question of whether your position is that children (of any age?) should be given complete bodily autonomy, even if deleterious to their health and well-being, or if there are any cases where that should be infringed. I know you can't perfectly imagine a world so radically different, but this seems like a pretty core pillar of your philosophy here that you seem to be unwilling to address head-on.

In striving for socialism, however, we are convinced that it will develop into communism and, therefore, that the need for violence against people in general, for the subordination of one man to another, and of one section of the population to another, will vanish altogether since people will become accustomed to observing the elementary conditions of social life without violence and without subordination.

this is what lenin said about communism and i think this applies just as much to children as it does anything else. i am not 'unwilling to address it' but rather simply don't think there's anything relevant or meaningful that i could achieve by brainstorming a hypothetical perfect system of total autonomy for all under Communism, because i do not have either the conditions of communism nor the precursory conditions of socialism in front of me to judge them. i'd just be conjuring figments out of air.

under socialism, of course, although the family could be abolished, total autonomy and freedom of children is not yet a possibility, just as total autonomy and freedom of adults is not yet a possibility, and will not be a possibility until the abolition of classes & the withering away of the state.

& i think that the toddler example is a little silly. i obviously do not think a toddler can meaningfully articulate a preference about their medical care. i think it's a silly and bad-faith reading of my arguments to think that i want total toddler autonomy (let's just let the little fuckers roam around let's let them dual wield flintlock pistols what could go wrong).

but either way post-abolition of the family children are still going to be bound by, like, the fucking law as long as a state exists. i'm not proposing the purge (2010) for children! i'm advocating for the abolition of the family as a coercive system of social control and the transfer of the responsibility of care away from 'the family' and towards the entirety of society. not bugsy malone world!

[margarine-archives]

So, we saw the dead s/o… what about Financier with a resurrected s/o?

Revived!S/O with: Financier Cookie !

notes: anon you have wonderous ideas ! I like recieving lots of financier requests !

I am sorry for how delayed this is, I had to focus more on work ! I will be quick next time !

- she wouldn't even describe this as shock, she feels more than just that. She's frozen in place, wondering if her lack of sleep has truly gotten this worse

- she's wary, she's scared. This is simply fake- a delusion ! Whoever wants the paladin in her most vulnerable state would definitely use such a tactic ! She won't fall for such, it's so.. unnatural, absurd !

- she doesn't believe anything, anything you say. She draws her sword, preparing to fight such foolish cookie who thinks it's funny to impersonate her deceased lover. Yet your voice, the same as ever, so alluring, such a soothing voice of comfort, one to make her fall to her knees in an instant, and she hates how much she needs it right now.

- The feeling of comfort so foreign to her ever since your death, the exhaustion her body couldn't take anymore simply collapses infront of you, as if it's made of fragile sugarglass (and she hates how she feels like fragile sugarglass right now !)

- your familiar touch gently grabs ahold of her hand, and then her face, of how she missed you dearly. She wanted to pull back, to fight the fake that were surprisingly good at impersonation, she wanted to call out to the guards, the consul, anyone, yet she feels entraced by your simple touch of a hand.

- to this she finally drops her sword, hands moving forward to finally embrace your figure. 'This is nothing but a tactic to fool me once more' she thought 'but this time, I am truly fooled' but in the back of her mind, she doesn't care anymore. She's found you again, the missing piece to her sweet heart, with yours as equally sweet.

- and yet she was scared, for the very first time, scared that it truly was just a figment of her imagination, that you weren't the same cookie that she loved ever since. She wanted it to be true, yet couldn't believe that this was real.

- it takes her a very long time, a long while to finally realize: you were the very same cookie to love her, the one to take care of her when she couldn't, the one to motivate her more into working harder, to becoming a better version of herself.

- did the divine light bless her and gave her what she wanted ? or did they simply felt pity for the paladin's dismay. Either way, she felt happy, after what felt like a thousand years of sorrow without you. She felt whole again, she felt complete, and oh so completely loved.

- your kisses, so familiar, and yet she missed it dearly. Warm hands that would hold onto her rough, calloused hands so gently as if it were crumbling the moment you had touched it, and oh your voice, the same voice that felt like the light's gracious melody, engraved into her mind..

- Even so, she couldn't get enough of it. The compliments you'd give her, alongside your tone of voice that's enough to make her stone cold demeanor so warm and soft, your eyes that would glow with the light from above, you looked like the embodiment of light itself (especially loves it whenever it's sunset).

- oh but how could she stay composed when you stare at her so lovingly ? Oh how you were the best distraction she could have, but is it even a distraction to her ? it's more of like a blessing ! even if her reputation almost gets affected.

- could you blame the cookie ? after losing you for so long and now suddenly having a reason of wanting to wake up in the morning feels like a sudden blessing given to her from the divine light.

- and to this she prays, not from sorrow, but from utter happiness. She prays every day, all to thank the lights above for bringing you back to her, for making her feel like a complete cookie again

- this occurrence is very sentimental for the paladin. She didn't know how it happened, or when you truly came back, but all she knew was that she had you again, and that was enough for her.

- after reuniting with her lover, financier cookie will be more protective of you, she'll make sure that not even a single crumb falls from your body. Can you blame such actions ? She had been traumatized, fear of ever losing you for the second time due to her lack of protection, and she doesn't think the divine light will be as generous anymore..

- it's quite greedy to ask for more, when they have given her everything that she could ever want. You. Maybe that planned proposal isn't cancelled after all !

[eternalflashh]

reflection ; aspiration

neuvillette / furina (platonic or romantic, your pick) | 999 words

“There’s been an uproar in rumors, you know,” says Brigitte, a relaxed countenance accompanied by the darkening night. “Regarding the Hydro Archon—whether she has truly died. They say—“

“—the Hydro Archon faked her death, and is really just shirking her duties? I’ve heard,” the Iudex hums. There isn’t any trial scheduled for the day, so the court of Erinnyes is considerably empty. The winter air blows pleasantly past them, the fountains by the court lazily reaching for the skies. “The idea isn’t particularly new, either. Even the light novel writer who popularized it admitted she drew inspiration from past research that was buried in the depths of Meropide.”

“That explains your lack of surprise. But if the idea managed to persist through time…”

“Perhaps only testifies to how tempting the idea is, to humans—to those who cannot accept loss so easily.”

Neuvillette’s steps slowed down before the Fountain of Lucine, Brigitte following suit. It’s one of the few things in Fontaine that has observed significant change since the Hydro Archon’s resignation; the Chief Justice had been quite insistent on retaining everything in Fontaine as they were, as if the god had never left. Truly, life had continued with all of Fontaine still worshiping their god, no matter that she had become human. No matter that she had passed.

The Fountain of Lucine blooms ever the brighter in the night, water gleaming cyan with a power of Hydro that exists nowhere else. Water sprites swirl around the fountain, crooning a gentle melody, heard only to those with particular affinity. 

It’s a wonderful night to treat your friends out to a meal, speaks the teasing voice. Whether the voice is real or simply a figment of his imagination, Neuvillette refuses to discern. Turn back before it is too late—or I will splash you with a rage that rivals the Tulpa’s.

The Champion Duelist remains silent. Then, “I don’t suppose you are so much different than us, in that regard.”

“I don’t make up stories to convince myself she’s alive,” Neuvillette chuckles, but his eyes are still fixated on the statue before him. 

“You don’t. You make a shrine of her—a sentient image—that should remind everyone of her existence, her divinity, her sacrifice. An eternal reminder that serves as your company when she is no more.”

The water swims around Furina’s curtseying figure, before resting upon the pool with a splash. “I believe the difference lies in that I have thoroughly accepted her death. I am… remembering her for the life she’s lived, not spun-up tales about boasted magnificence, or a selfishness to her that never existed.”

“Yet you pray, like she's to come save you.” Brigitte laughs, but it is pitiful. “I believe that is your own manner of delusion.”

“Is that what it is, to you?” Neuvillette lets out a gentle smile, running a hand through the diaphanous waters. “Here I thought I’d simply been reminiscing.”

The skies let out its first teardrops; like this has happened one too many times, Brigitte quickly pulls out her umbrella, shielding herself from the rain. Neuvillette, as always, takes the rain as it is—lets it run down the length of his hair, the edges of his coat, his gloved fingertips. 

“I’ll take my leave for the day, then,” the duelist says in greeting. Neuvillette lets out a hum, barely casting a glance her way. She turns, but pauses just then.

“You say this is reminiscence, to you.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Why is it that you reminisce of her, when it is your birthday?”

The trickle of rain against the stone road fills the air. Neuvillette hardly budges, gazing still at the fountain, the statue, the vigorous waters, the glowing waters, holding moonlight in its palm. 

“What do you do on your birthday, Brigitte?”

“We commemorate our lives, how far we’ve come,” she responds in an instant, “and make wishes for the upcoming year, what’s more to come.”

Neuvillette then turns to her, granting her a small smile. “Isn’t the Fountain of Lucine perfect for such notions? For reflection, for aspiration?”

Brigitte raises an eyebrow. There seems to be a question barred behind her gaze, but she shakes her head, and gives him a nod, before walking towards the station, leaving the Chief Justice to his own company. His own, and the spirits of the fountain before him.

You are hopeless, it seems to be saying. A fine night, and you ruin it with rain and gloom.

Neuvillette takes his gloves off, lets himself feel the touch of benevolent waters. He lets the fountain dance, feeling currents run through his fingers, feeling its poison, feeling its kiss. 

He closes his eyes. 

In his mind, indeed, are plenty of memories. Of banter in the court from the Iudex and the Hydro Archon’s respective seats. Of watching Furina dance on stage, him holding his heart with the utmost admiration. Of distress, seeing Furina shrieking over the smallest critters, running over the smallest problems. Of all the times Furina would question his faith in her—to retrospectively understand the fear that underlied her accusations, the desperation in her violence.

Neuvillette would spend hours in the rain doing this—to replay each memory, four hundred years worth of a performance; to learn why she had chosen to act the scene in that specific way, to appreciate it all belatedly. The show is over, but Neuvillette has plenty of time going ahead anyway—if there is anything he owes her, if there is anything he can do, as the specially invited audience—it’s to learn.

To learn, to praise, to immortalize. 

The skies betray his heart, thundering and pouring through the night, swallowing the full moon with its weight. But Neuvillette stays by the fountain, letting it dance to its heart’s content until it decides to rest. 

What is the meaning of my existence? He’s had to ask for centuries. 

This, he’s realized. To be your witness, to be the arbiter of true Justice, for past, present, and for all of the lightless future.

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 98: Till Death Do Us Part

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: language, scary situation, blood and gore, character death, typical TWD stuff ❧ Word Count: 6.2k

❧ In This Chapter: With walkers swarming the Commonwealth, Daryl and the others must act quick to get everyone to safety, including you. When the citizens of the Commonwealth come to the governor's gates, there will be Hell to pay.

❧ A/N: Hey guys how convenient that Daryl Dixon is a universal blood donor all of a sudden, amirite? So we're at the finale, and don't get me started. This whole episode is so rushed and lazy and forced and AHH. It really was not the ending we deserved imo, but I'll do what I can with it. For me, the joy in writing this final episode is just the moments between Daryl and his wife. They're so cute. Anyway, please keep in mind that this chapter might be kind of unrealistic and way too convenient because it covers the events of the finale and that's just how they wrote it. I am working with what I got besties.

“Help me!”

He kicked open the glass door, bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Help!”

In and out of consciousness, you could see him, hear him. If you could bring yourself to touch him, you would raise your hand to touch his cheek, but you were numb. Your arms were numb, especially your left. That was when you felt a brief sting, somehow both sharp and dull. There was a tingle running down your arm, where the blood dripped. The taste of pennies on your tongue was more than just faint now, it filled your mouth. 

“You’ll be okay.”

Daryl…

During the brief moments that you could feel, you no longer felt his arms. Your body was laying horizontally now, on some lumpy mattress, in a familiar room. The hospital lobby, where you’d come just a week ago, in much more pain than you were now. Somehow, though, you were more drained, more flimsy. Between slow, laborious blinks, you saw a soldier, running towards the exit, his gun drawn. Another followed, carrying a white case. 

They ran past you, turning the corner. No longer could you see Daryl, perhaps he had been a figment of your imagination. It’d happened before. But no, you heard him again, some words that morphed into each other, creating an unintelligible string, but there were brief clarities.

“...Help…wife…shot…blood…”

A yell, and his body fell, a flash of blue from the painted wing on his vest as he hit the floor. Outside, the herd was approaching. You could see through clouded vision, just through the windows that stretched along the wall. Moreover, you saw the door, completely ajar. 

It took all your strength to wake yourself fully, to lift yourself from the gurney. Stumbling past Daryl’s body, you pushed the first door, a great pang coursing through your left arm. Your right would have to do the heavy lifting, so when it came to the other door, you simply threw yourself against it, your right side pushing hard as a stray walker lodged its hand between the doors. 

A strained grunt escaped your bloody lips as you pushed with all the strength of your good side. It wasn’t enough. The walker pushed, too. With one burst of strength, you stepped back to launch yourself against the glass, the pressure sending the walker back a few feet. The move bought you time to scramble to a nearby desk and push it forward. 

“Come… on…” you muttered, barely able to speak, but your delirious frustration was enough to provoke you. 

You slid the desk towards the door, and just at the nick of time, before the walker could get wedge its body, you pushed it snug against the jamb. That was about all you could do. 

Without much strength left in your legs to hold you up, you steadily crawled to your knees, dragging yourself to Daryl’s body. You pulled yourself with your right arm, desperately making yourself move. “Daryl,” you croaked, reaching out to try to turn him over onto his back. “Daryl, wake up.”

He’d been bludgeoned by a dull weapon, a nasty set of bruises beginning to form on his head and eye. When you were close enough, you lifted his face with shaky, cold fingers. The walkers outside began to pile up, their rotting bodies pounding against the glass doors and windows. With all your might, you tried to pull Daryl’s unconscious body to no avail, it only weakened you more. 

A pounding started in your head, followed by increasingly clouded vision. You blinked several times, each one becoming heavier. As much as you tried to avoid it, gravity was pulling you down, your good hand still grasped tight around Daryl’s wrist as you tried to pull him and you to safety. 

Breath labored, unconsciousness closing in, you made one last tug on his arm, but you didn’t get far before the darkness took over, and your head hit the cold, sterile tile.

At that point, your hand was loosely in Daryl’s, frozen in time. 

He woke with a flinch, and one hell of a headache. 

He’d had worse, but any blow hard enough to knock him out wasn’t to be underestimated. The first face he saw was Carol’s, stoic and cold as always, but comforting, and worried. Confusion settled in when he registered the faint sound of crying. A small moment of panic struck him—he remembered what had happened. If there was crying, there was death. 

He sat up, looking to his left, where the crying was coming from. When the first thing he saw was red, his heart stopped. The worst, however, hadn’t come to fruition. At least, not from this view. Upon the gurney on the other side of the hospital room was Luke, his leg had been severed just below the knee, where the blood was pooling, dripping down the bed. 

Surrounding him were more familiar faces, Connie, Kelly, Magna, and Yumiko—the people Luke was closest to. That’s why they were crying. He didn’t have much time left. Daryl could tell, he’d seen enough people close to death before. 

It didn’t concern him now, it was out of his hands. The slight tickle of the gauze wrapped around his head reminded him of the last conscious moments, the last things he did. As he stripped the bandage from his head, he began to rise from the gurney, already reassuring Carol, “I’m fine.”

“Daryl,” she said, trying to steady him as he rose to his feet. “No you’re not.”

As he moved his disheveled hair away from his face, his heart sank to see you, still unconscious, lying in a hospital bed just feet away from where he lay moments ago. You were pale, limp… nearly lifeless. Nearly was the operative word. 

Upon your left shoulder, closer to your chest, there was a small white towel, stained red where it was soaking up the blood from the wound. His eyes trailing to the ground, he saw the pile of discarded cloths, all turned red and bled completely through. 

He stepped forward slowly, as if careful not to wake you. He was too used to moving like that, to seeing you asleep and conforming to the routine he’d set into place. Never wake (Y/N), she needs her beauty sleep. Well, that’s what you would say. You needed your beauty sleep. 

It struck him, of course, that he couldn’t wake you. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” he said. 

The sobbing from Luke’s bed became louder, more impending of what was inevitable. Cracking voices murmured well-intended reassurances that were untrue nonetheless. You’re okay… Stay with us… 

His heart did ache for them, for Luke. As stoic as he was, he’d lost too many people to be heartless. Some would think he would be immune to it by now, but it was never easy. That was a truth both you and he knew well. It was strange how much you’d both seen together, without ever losing the other. Now, you’d come too close again. Too close to that precipice of death, a fate that soon would welcome Luke.

“All the doctors are gone and the nurses and the medicine,” Carol informed him. 

It was just as he’d feared, after he saw the Commonwealth soldier carrying a white crate just before he was knocked out. 

“Where?”

“We heard Pamela took everything, and she’s holed up in her gated community, and she left the rest of the Commonwealth to fend for itself.”

Course she did, he thought. He’d been trained by you, more or less, not to use the word “bitch.” He’d learned it was a degrading term for women, especially when used by men, and that it should only be used to describe a particularly terrible kind of woman. If he ever used the word in front of Robin, he was sure he’d be sentenced to a night on the couch.

However, in this particular situation, he felt you would agree that it was an apt term to use. Besides, she’d shot you. Any sympathy for her he ever had, though minimal to start with, had evaporated by now. Rich bitch. 

“Well, that’s where we go,” he replied.

“There’s too many troopers,” she said, turning to lift the cloth upon your wound. The blood hadn’t soaked through just yet, maybe the bleeding was slowly, she figured. Still, the lack of blood in your body was becoming dangerous. “Hoping to find somebody to get us in without a fight.”

“What about Mercer? He knows people on the inside.”

“Yeah, Max thinks so. There’s a team after him. Some of the others are looking for the kids, and they’re gonna meet us back here.”

His patience was losing its hold on him, it always did when lives were hanging in the balance. Yours most importantly. Medical supplies, that’s what you needed. If it was being hoarded in the governor’s mansion, he’d storm the building and take the head honcho out himself if he needed to. 

“So we just wait?”

“No, we’re gonna take care of her, and you.”

Carol’s attention focused back on Luke, his dying words strangled in his throat as he gasped for breath. The blood must’ve been pooling in his lungs now, and he had minutes, most likely moments, left of life. 

Daryl looked his way, too, watching bloodied hands cling to each other, making promises to the dying man. When he faded away, his friends huddled around him, arms outstretched over each other as they sobbed. Magna had been sure to get the brain, inserting the knife from the base of his neck. It was the most respectful way to do it, any survivor would know.

When he couldn’t bear their heart wrenching sobs any longer, his gaze wandered, falling upon an IV kit. If he could prevent that same fate from meeting you, he would. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his mind about what he needed to do. 

“I’m gonna give ‘er blood,” he said, determined in his step as he grabbed the medical kit. “You know how to do this?”

“Yeah, but your types have to match.”

Eleven years of knowing each other and the question, “What’s your blood type?” had never come up. You’d asked Daryl all kinds of other inane questions, questions he might’ve found silly at the time, but he always looked back at your curiosity with fondness. That was one of the most beautiful things about you, how you smiled so bright when he’d reveal the most trivial piece of information about himself—his favorite color, his strangest dream, his most embarrassing childhood memories… It wasn’t really trivial. He knew that. Nothing you could ever say or do would be trivial or silly or unimportant to him. 

But you’d never asked about his blood type, and you’d never told him yours. That, as a matter of fact, didn’t even matter.

He ripped the plastic wrap of the IV open with his teeth, then further tore it with his hands. “Mine goes with anybody,” he said. “Merle used to make me sell it when I was a kid for money.” Finally, it would actually pay off. 

As he held the tube of the IV between his teeth, he rolled up his sleeve, the sudden appearance of the rabbit on his arm reminding him of you, as it always did. It was for you, and Robin, and now Wes. It represented everything good and pure in his life, and that was all what you had given him. It was everything he’d sworn he’d protect, from the moment he met you. It was always you.

Carol took the other end of the IV, carefully inserting the needle into the vein of your arm. Thank God you were out—needles weren’t your friend. Even thinking about an IV made you a little lightheaded, so it was good that you were temporarily excused from thinking.

She pinned the other side of the IV at the inside of his elbow, just above your rabbit. Merle’s little childhood scheme had one other benefit: Daryl, unlike you, wasn’t afraid of needles. 

The once translucent tube turned red as his blood transferred to you, who so desperately needed it. He’d give you everything—the skin off his back, the marrow of his bones, the air in his lungs. Every inch of him belonged to you, not anyone else on God’s green earth. 

He made a promise to you that day, that beautiful day you were married. He said he’d be yours until death, in sickness and in health. 

His gaze was held hostage by your face, until a loud clatter from somewhere else inside the hospital demanded his attention. If he’d been in any other situation, he’d immediately run to investigate, but he was tethered to you by blood, his body intertwined with yours, quite literally. 

Instead, Carol picked up her bow. “I’m going to sweep the hospital, make sure the others are okay.”

“We’re coming too,” said Magna.

Carol turned to Daryl just before she left. “You good?”

He only nodded, every hair on his body standing on end. If the walkers got in now, you wouldn’t be ready to go. He’d already strained himself by carrying you, he wasn’t sure he could get very far again. He’d try, God knows he’d try, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of his strength not being enough to save you. 

He needed luck, and relying on luck was a dangerous game. Then again, there wasn’t anyone alive that hadn’t relied on luck for the past eleven years. There wasn’t much else to rely on. 

Soon, he was alone, with you. He’d been alone with you so many times before, so many beautiful times. Even in moments like this, in which the space between you was filled with silence, there was so much there. Even with you unconscious, there was that connection. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, maybe forty-five minutes, maybe only ten. He became lost in your face, the face he loved so much. Absentminded fingers made their home upon your hairline, stroking your hair back gently. He’d done it so many times, a way to lull you to sleep or calm you when you’d be nearly hyperventilating with tears. He wasn’t sure why he did it now, when there was no way you’d be able to feel that comfort.

Maybe he did it for himself. Maybe he just needed to touch you, to imagine some other reality far, far away. A reality where you weren’t hurt, where nothing could ever hurt you. That’s all he ever wanted for you, from the moment he met you. He just wanted you safe. 

If you’d never told him that night, taken his hands in yours and told him how much you cared for him, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to confess himself. There must’ve been another universe wherein you never drank too much that night, or you never felt what you did for him. In any universe, in all those universes, he still loved you, and he still devoted whatever time he had left to keeping you safe, happy, loved. 

Even if he had never been the one you chose, for whatever reason you chose him, he would’ve died a thousand deaths for you, the only woman he could ever love this way. The purest heart, the most precious gem, like the one hanging around your neck.

Suddenly, time stopped as your eyes seemed to flutter just a bit, though he swore it was his imagination. No, it was true—you blinked hard, then let your eyes peel open slowly, as if you were afraid to look.

When your hazy eyes fixed on Daryl, you took in a sharp breath. His lips parted softly, one corner just barely curling upwards. “Hey,” he spoke in almost just a breath. His presence was a momentary comfort, but as you became more aware of your body, the pain in your arm, the hospital bed upon which you lay, an unstoppable anxiety took over. 

“What’s… what’s happening?”

His hand kept smoothing over your hair, though you tried to lift up your head, looking frantically around the room. The last thing you remembered was a walker, and a herd of walkers coming towards you. They were bound to be close by. 

“Wh—where are we? Daryl?” Your voice was a frightened quiver as your eyes became drawn to the bloody rag upon your left shoulder. Eyes wide, you looked back up at him, his hair a disheveled mess, the skin surrounding his right eye black and bruised. “What happened?” You tried to raise your left arm, but in it was the IV. Just the sight sent a nausea through you, your head resting back down upon the pillow as dizziness plagued you. “Oh, God…”

Not only that, but the left sleeve of your jacket was soaked through with blood. The skin of your arm dyed red, too. You knew what happened, but you weren’t going to let yourself admit it. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re at the hospital,” he said quietly, his own voice much shakier than you wanted it to be. When his voice faltered, you knew something was wrong. It wasn’t his words, it was always his voice that gave him away. 

Still, his hand stroked your hair back in an effort to calm you, to let you know he was there, and that everything would be all right. He wouldn’t let you die, he knew that. That wasn’t in his plan. It just wasn’t going to happen, no way. He was still breathing, still pumping blood. If he needed to pump every last drop of blood inside of him into you, he would. He was planning on it, in fact. He was prepared to do anything. 

Your eyes were trained on him sharply, yet with so many questions. What happened? Where is everyone? Are you all right? You were thinking of everything, of everyone except you, but you kept coming back to one question that couldn’t escape you.

“Am I gonna die?”

“No, no,” he said. Under his words, your voice began to crack. Tears were coming, you knew it, and he knew it. But it was okay, it was right. There was never anything weak about crying. You felt weak, but it takes some strength to cry, so couldn’t be weak. He knew that more than anyone. “You’re not gonna die.”

“It… it… Daryl, it feels like I’m going to die.” Your voice sped up in panicked crying, breaths going much faster than your lungs were prepared for. “What about—about Robin, and Westley? I need to see them before… I can’t just leave them, and you—I can’t leave you…”

“Shh… You’re not gonna die, you’re fine. You’re fine… You’ll see them again, you will. And I’ll take you home, things will be all right again, you’ll see. This ain’t the end.”

Glassy eyes squeezed out little crystal tears, falling over your cheeks. The salty drops pooled in the corners of your lips, diluting the copper taste in your mouth. If it’s not the end, then why does it feel like it?

“But Daryl…”

“This ain’t the end,” he repeated. “I won’t let you go.”

A thick fog distorted your vision, overwhelming your mind. As your eyelids became weighed down, you struggled to stay alert, but another bout of unconsciousness was closing in, like walls tumbling down all around you. Daryl’s visage became blurred, his features losing definition no matter how hard you fought it. 

You couldn’t see his worried expression, and you couldn’t feel his other hand softly batting your cheek, shaking your head. “(Y/N)?” He leaned in closer, speaking louder, though you were out like a light. That couldn’t be good, not at all. You needed treatment. The blood was helping, but you were losing it faster than he could give it. If he could keep you awake, he knew he was keeping you alive. “(Y/N)? Come on, wake up. Come on, angel.”

Crashes and bangs resounded as the impending doom of the hungry herd became more urgent. Carol rushed into the room, proclaiming that the hospital had been breached. 

“I can’t leave,” Daryl protested. “I can’t leave ‘er.”

More failed attempts to wake you, more desperate pleas that fell on deaf ears. 

The only solution, the only way out of this alive, was the Estates. The Miltons and the Commonwealth gentry lived there, and now, they were hiding there, hoarding the last of the medical supplies. 

Night had fallen when they reached the safehouse. Tomi, Yumiko’s brother, was a doctor, and a good one, too. He treated you there, doing what he could to first and foremost remove the bullet. 

The doctor lifted your eyelids manually, using a small flashlight to check your status. “She’s in a fragile state,” he remarked to Daryl. He lifted the cloth to uncover your wound. It was dark red, nearly soaking the entire fabric. “It’s good that you gave her blood. I’ll do what I can.”

That was an hour ago now.

At least now, you were stable, still laying on the hospital bed you’d been brought in with. Daryl didn’t want to touch you for fear of disturbing you, but damn, did he want you to wake up. You’d been shot before, you’d been hurt before, but your body was still weak from giving birth. Even Tomi said it was lucky that you hadn’t bled out before you got there. 

When you began to awake, Daryl stood to his feet, leaning over you to brush back your hair as you came to. It was a dizzying experience, waking up in some unfamiliar home. You didn’t see anyone for the first several seconds, you just looked up at the ceiling, allowing your mind to catch up with your eyes. 

It was like you knew exactly where he was just by feeling his presence. You turned your head to face him, with heavy eyes and parched lips. But those heavy eyes lit up with sparkle, and those parched lips opened up into a wide, toothy grin. “Daryl,” you sighed, every bit of pain leaving your body as soon as you saw him. It felt like coming home. 

His mouth curled into its own smile, a giddy, boyish smirk. Even if you had no idea where you were, or what was happening, all you needed to know, really, was that he was all right, and he was here. That was all you needed. 

“Hey, crazy woman. How do you feel?”

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as your face scrunched into a playful grimace at his words. “I feel like an idiot,” you said. “Is Maggie okay?”

He shook his head, amused and bewildered by your concern for Maggie. “She’s fine,” he said. “You saved ‘er.”

“Mm… Spur of the moment decision. Didn’t really think I was gonna get shot.” You chuckled under your breath, and as you tried to lift your left arm, you realized it was suspended in a cast, wrapped tight around your shoulder. “Oh…”

“Doctor said you’re gonna be jus’ fine,” he said proudly. “But you scared the shit outta me… Again.”

“And now I’ve been shot in both shoulders,” you said, your right hand gesturing to the right shoulder, the very first place you’d been shot. “That’s got to be good luck or something, right?”

“Sure. Just don’t get shot again, for Christ’s sake. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Though he was dead serious, you let out a snort as you reached your free hand up to bring his head down until his lips met yours. “I love you,” you said as you let go of him, but with a furrowed brow, you noticed the terrible black eye and the colossal bruise across his forehead. As you swept back his hair, you turned serious this time. “What happened to your face?”

Now he smiled, once again amused by your concern for him rather than yourself. “Just a black eye. I’ve had worse.”

Only you would be worried about such a minor injury. If Daryl came home with a hangnail, you’d be worried. “That’s a big one,” you said, tracing your fingertip over the bruise, never touching it, only hovering. “I’ve never seen you with one that bad, baby.” Damn that sling your arm was in. It prevented you from grabbing both his cheeks and pulling him against you so he could use your chest as a pillow. “I don’t like it.”

He laughed under his breath, trying not to garner too much attention from the others. “Sorry, princess. If I could get rid of it for ya I would.”

“You still look handsome,” you cooed. “My big, strong—”

“(Y/N)!” Aaron’s voice cut off your imminent embarrassment of Daryl. 

Your eyes shot open as you lifted your head a little too fast for Daryl’s liking. “Easy,” he said, but you sat up with his help. 

“Aaron!” Daryl quickly stepped aside, allowing Aaron to speed across the room. He wrapped you in his good arm, kissing your forehead. “How long have you been here?”

“We came back through the herd,” he huffed, his voice already turning serious. When he pulled away, he looked worriedly at Daryl. As your head volleyed between the two men, your eyes widened in preemptive panic. 

“What happened?” you asked. “Did something happen? Is everyone all right? Lydia… Where’s Lydia? And Jerry, and… and…” Even just speaking so rapidly had you running out of breath. 

“Take it easy,” said Daryl, his hand holding yours. “Everythin’s all right.”

But you knew there was something wrong, the way Aaron looked. He looked like you when you were troubled, when you were trying to figure out how to tell someone bad news. “What is it, Aaron? Just tell me.”

The first thing that came to your mind, of course, was Lydia. That was what it had to be. Aaron knew how much you cared for her, so did Daryl. They both seemed hesitant to say anything. Daryl looked distraught, too, as if something truly terrible had happened. 

You didn’t have to wait for an answer. Lydia herself appeared soon after, standing idly in the archway across the room. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief for just a moment. She was alive, unless you were dreaming, but you couldn’t be dreaming. Everything made too much sense to be a dream.

“Lydia,” you sighed, but she didn’t move. Half her body was hidden behind the wall, you realized, and in her eyes, she seemed to want to smile, but her lips were quivering, as if she was about to cry.

Will someone please tell me what the hell is happening?

She came forward slowly, her eyes not bearing to meet yours. When her full figure started coming closer, you noticed something off—the left sleeve of her sweatshirt seemed to hang loosely, her hand nowhere to be seen. You didn’t need anyone to tell you now. 

“Oh, Lydia.”

She broke down crying then, stumbling towards you. You yourself had only one arm able to hold her, but you held her tight, her tears falling onto the crook of your neck. 

Still holding her, you looked up at Aaron, searching for questions. “What happened?” You had a feeling, of course. 

“She got bit,” he replied. “We, uh… We lost Elijah in the herd. Lydia was reaching for him, trying to hold onto him.”

It seemed so much like Lydia, so much like something you would do, too. If it had been Daryl, you never would’ve let go until the last possible second, and for Lydia, that last possible second was the moment a walker’s teeth dug into the flesh of her arm. 

And you knew, of course, that all Lydia could think about now was him. Finding him. “We’ll find him,” you assured her, combing your hand through dark, silky brown hair. “I promise you. Everything will be all right.”

Gunshots. A sudden burst of appalled screams coming from outside. You turned towards the sounds. As much as you wanted to believe you were safe, you weren’t. The dead were still flooding the streets of the Commonwealth. The walls of the estates, where you were now, were keeping the dead out, but they were also keeping out the civilians. The poor, the working class. They were out there, outside the walls. 

From your limited view out the window, you could see guards on the inside, their guns raised and ready to shoot. 

“What’s going on?” asked Ezekiel, and suddenly you became aware of the rest of the people around you. Thank God everyone was safe, but it wouldn’t be right to let the people outside the walls die just because they weren’t one of the fortunate. It couldn’t be like this, not anymore. The world wasn’t built to be like this. 

“They’re shooting anyone that climbs the gates,” said Mercer. You watched the armored soldier move across the room, picking up a gun and cocking it. Ezekiel approached him, also armed with a gun. “The truck is gassed up with some reserves in the rear.” Mercer’s gaze fell on Aaron, then to you. He seemed to have sympathy in his eyes, even a sense of guilt. “It’s enough to get you home. We can sneak you out the back. This isn’t your fight, these aren’t your people.”

“Yes, they are,” replied Ezekiel, in that voice of his you knew all too well to be his kingly voice. Robin always admired him so. You knew why. You did, too. “And so are you.” He paused for a moment, looking around at the others. When he spoke again, you knew he was going to make a stand. “You may not think this place is worth saving, and I get that, given how they treated us. But it’s worth it to me. The people are worth it, and I’m not gonna allow them to fall without a fight. Not today. I’m with you. Who else?”

“Yeah.” Aaron was the first to speak up. That was just who he was. You were proud of him. You always were. “We can do more than just save ourselves. We need to.”

More followed suit—Connie, Kelly, Eugene, Lydia, Maxine, Rosita… It felt like the way it had felt so many times before. The people were different, save yourself and a few others, but it was what Rick had fought for. It was the family that made everything else worth it. You couldn’t help but think of the beginning, how those bombs had dropped on Atlanta and struck fear into your heart. 

Back then, you didn’t think you’d live to see the sun come up the next day. For eleven years since then, you’d seen thousands upon thousands of days. Moments became memories, and time never stopped because time was yours to make. It wasn’t going to stop now, either. There was too much to be done, too much to change. 

It was time to make a stand.

Daryl didn’t let you move a muscle, of course. You couldn’t blame him. The last time you’d convinced him to let you into the line of fire, you ended up getting shot. Still, it didn’t keep you from watching everything that unfolded. After all, you had told Daryl, you were going to need to write it all down in your journal, for posterity. 

From your vantage point, you saw Mercer, followed by dozens of armed soldiers, approaching the governor. She stood at the gates, just watching the civilians clamoring to get in. “Lower your weapons!” Mercer bellowed, though Pamela’s soldiers seemed conflicted. 

“Arrest them,” she said. 

Even her general gave her a questioning look. “Ma’am…” 

That’s when your people poured in between tanks, guns at the ready. Through binoculars, you kept an eye on Daryl, who filed in with Carol and Gabriel. Ezekiel led another group from the other flank. “Back up! Back up!” he yelled to Milton’s guards. They stepped back, but kept their weapons up. You couldn’t tell from this angle, but it looked like she was outnumbered, or maybe they were equal. In any case, Pamela had some things to answer for. 

The woman did shoot you, but you didn’t much care about that. What she was doing to the Commonwealth, what she was about to let happen to these people outside the gates, was inexcusable. 

“Traitors!” Milton yelled at Mercer. In the distance, the crying, pleading voices of citizens as they banged on the gates resounded. Faintly, you swore you could hear the impending growls of the dead as they made their way closer. Something needed to be done quickly, before it was too late. 

“No,” replied Mercer. “You are, Governor. You disappeared hundreds of citizens, led the dead to our doorstep. And now you’ve left thousands out there to die.”

The shouting and clamoring became louder as the walkers steadily approached. You swallowed hard, just wishing you were out there, able to do something. “Come on, someone open the gates,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“Let us in!” a man cried, shaking the bars of the gate furiously. You adjusted the binoculars to try to look past the crowd, but it was hard not to. There were so many. They began to cry, desperate for a way out. You knew it all too well. They were losing their home, and that had happened to you more times than you could count. 

Just when you were about to lose your cool, Gabriel lowered his weapon, crossing over to the gate. It was a peculiar move, but you knew what he was doing—he was going to open the gate, no matter what happened. 

“General,” said Pamela.

“Stop!” the general cried.

“We’re opening the gate and letting these people in,” Gabriel replied, his voice calm and his words final. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me.”

The general had her gun raised, pointed towards Gabriel. “Stop or we will be forced to shoot you!”

“We’ll fire back,” you heard Carol reply, her gun trained on the general. 

Gabriel didn’t stop, and you knew in that moment that you would have to make special note of his bravery. When you first met the preacher, you didn’t think much of him. In fact, at one point, you hated him for selling out your people, claiming you were all “evil.” Well, that was a long time ago now, and some days you still thought back to that moment in the church, when Daryl had been taken by the Saviors. Gabriel was a good man, even if God wasn’t.

“Shoot him!” Pamela commanded.

Gabriel raised his gun, about to shoot the lock, but one of the guards was about to follow Pamela’s orders—he held his gun to Gabriel’s head.

“Stop!”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere. Of course, it was Daryl. He stepped forward, no guns in his hands. It worried you a little, your heart racing as you chewed nervously on your lips. There were now guns trained on him, and he had no way to defend himself. Maybe all he needed, though, were his words. Daryl was never much of a public speaker, but you wholeheartedly believed he could do just about anything. 

“We all deserve better than this,” he said, looking towards the gate. He turned back to the governor. “You built this place to be like the old world. That was the fuckin’ problem.”

No one ever said Daryl was polite. 

“If I open the gates, the dead will get in, not just the living.”

“If you don’t, you’re gonna lose everything anyway.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, just a little. It was going to be so wonderful to write about your own husband’s bravery now. With Gabriel and the others, you only paraphrased their words. With Daryl, you’d be sure to memorize what he said verbatim. Well, maybe you’d leave out the cursing, just so Robin and Westley could read it. 

“We got one enemy,” he added, before making his way towards the gate. “We ain’t the walking dead.”

That seemed to sway the general. She commanded the guards to lower their weapons. Never in all the years you’d known him had you been more proud of Daryl. You knew he’d think it wasn’t a big deal, that he would’ve done what anyone else would’ve done, and that Gabriel was the real hero, but maybe you were a little biased. Just a little.

As Gabriel opened the gate, Daryl and the others helped pull it back, letting in a stampede of crying, terrified citizens. They flowed in, some tripping over others, but they all made it just at the nick of time. The walkers were pushed back by the gate, none of them making it in, but it would only be a matter of time before they put too much pressure on the bars. You’d seen it before, the weight of just one herd. If they get hungry enough, they’ll power through anything. 

With Pamela arrested, and the last bastion of the Commonwealth’s forces finally banding together against the dead, it was time to fight the real enemy, just as Daryl said. Quickly, you scrawled everything down with your good hand. It was history in the making, you were sure of that. 

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[a-forbidden-detective]

With the release of the last chapter and the start of the hunt after Ron, I began to get the impression that either Toto is Ron's schizophrenia, or Toto is just a mass hallucination of several people. Because I have no other explanation how the hell he was able to evade a professional detective.

Moreover, it simply doesn’t make sense how everyone just ... ignores him. Like, Toto and Ron don’t hide the fact that they always together so it’s easy for the Alliance to put pressure on the authorities and Toto, because Toto can be considered as partner in crimes.

In general, he should be the first one to be watched because he is connected with Ron the strongest of all. But no, he calmly goes to work and those guys didn't touch him.

This is as unrealistic as the fact that somehow magically no one pays attention to Toto among the antagonists. Like they all only followed Ron and not Toto.

Akira-sensei, what the hell is going on with your manga's logic and plot?!

Heya!

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! This is so delicious a-plot device I might steal this. But honestly I haven’t thought of that possibility.

Is Toto a figment of Ron’s imagination????

There’s this famous quote from Wizard of Oz:

Dorothy says to her dog at one point, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” It’s a phrase that has come to mean that we have stepped outside of what is considered normal; we have entered a place or circumstance that is unfamiliar and uncomfortable; we have found ourselves in a strange situation.

Am not sure if Akira is taking it like that. A strange situation. Where Toto seems to be a persona that is seemingly detached bc of his preposterous presence around Ron. That’s why we don’t know anything about his close family members despite him being the deuteragonist of the story.

On the other hand, Toto has a stalker. (Of course, we didn’t see that panel. We just read that he said it.) His experiences and feelings serve to be the audience’s mostly. He’s also a Japanese citizen. So maybe, these facts could still be relevant factors why this route is not possible.

But yes, now you are making me think things.

Thank you for this ask.

[fuckmeyer]

Ok that was amazing!!! I would love more behind the scenes details on CN now 😭 still on my phone so apologies if this is too long

“Answer the question, Isabella,” said Edward. “When did you last feel you were alive?”

With you, I thought immediately. Which led me to a grimmer answer.

“When I jumped off the cliff.”

What if I really had drowned?

“I heard about that,” he said quietly. “Rose told me. She said you were trying to kill—”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Well, you did,” he said. “God, if we weren’t already dead, I imagine I would be furious at you for doing something so stupid.”

“We aren’t already dead.”

“True,” he said. “There is a possibility I am somehow still alive, and my hallucination of you is simply filling in the gaps based on the information I’ve received.”

“You’re alive, I’m alive, and I’m right here.”

I lunged towards him again.

He dodged me, again.

Then he laughed at me. Again.

I wheeled around and snapped, “It’s not funny.”

“Isabella Swan, who lives thousands of miles away in one of the remotest parts of the country, who has never been farther east than Boston, is sitting next to me in a dungeon in Italy as I wait for the Volturi? Yes, in fact, I find it quite hilarious.” Except his laugh hadn’t sounded amused. Actually, he sounded bitter—and thirsty. “I cannot believe that as a figment of my own imagination you should need me to spell out how farfetched a scenario this is.”

“I cannot believe that as a real live person who’s sitting next to you in a dungeon in Italy, I have to convince you I’m really here. Newsflash: stranger things have happened.”

“Such as a vampire falling in love with a human?” he joked dryly. I groaned, rubbing my face in annoyance. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand your existence is predicated on my believing you’re real, thus you’ll do anything in your power to convince me. While I’ll readily admit to fantasizing about you being here, you’re kidding yourself if you think I’m insane enough to believe you’re actually here.”

Oh god. He was insane.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he continued, “we have two possible theories. Either I’m alive and you’re another hallucination—”

“You can hear my heartbeat,” I said, voice crackling. “You can smell my scent. If you wanted to, you could—” taste my blood “—t-touch me, and you’d know—”

“Ah, there it is.”

“What?”

“You want me to touch you,” he accused.

My cheeks had grown so hot, my head pounded. “That’s— I’m just saying, if you wanted to—”

“If I wanted to, what?” he snapped. “If I wanted to, I could taste your blood, is that it? Is that what you want?” I shook. When my lips parted, the bottom one trembled. The chill in his words ran through my veins. “What a convenient situation we find ourselves in. A starving vampire and his singer are trapped in a tiny box where no one can hear her cries for help, and she is throwing herself at me, begging me to touch her so she can—"

“Not throwing. Not begging. No. I-I’m not—I’m not saying you should drink me,” I said, nervousness making my voice uneven. “I’m saying if you wanted to go about this empirically, you would touch me. If I was a hallucination, you wouldn’t be able to.”

“Which provides us a perfect segway into theory number two,” Edward said without acknowledging my comment: “I’m in hell.”

“Hell!”

“Of course, you would want me to touch you.” The edge in his tone grew. “You want me to bite you, don’t you? You want me to taste your blood. You want me to drink every last drop from your beautiful veins until nothing is left because you are mine, mine—”

“All I’m asking is that you definitively prove I don’t exist. Which you can’t. Because I do. I’m trying to make you see that I’m real. That’s it.”

The low growl that punctuated our conversation made me shiver. Every molecule in my body tingled at the same frequency.

“And the second I buy into the idea that we’re finally together,” he said, “you’re going to die in my arms. I see your tricks.”

thank you, anon! :)

COME NIGHTFALL CHAPTER 27: VOLTERRA - DVD COMMENTARY

[i rewrote their meeting scene about a thousand times. i have a billion versions of that Verdict chapter where Edward is anywhere from a slobbering mess to a conniving little gremlin child. anyway, this is the earliest version of this scene, written March 2021:

In the darkness of the cell, I could see nothing except Edward’s marble-black eyes. His growl stole through the air around me. He circled me; the air sifted around me, choking me with dirt and blood and wet rat smell.

I came all the way here to die at the hands of my mate. I survived Victoria and Laurent and Jasper to die at the hands of my mate. I went all that way and went through all that effort to die by the hands of the person I thought I loved. My “mate”. Fuck this guy.

I swallowed, breathing ragged. “Kill me, coward. Do it.”

The growling ceased.

“Edward.”

In the corner, he snarled and snapped his jaws; I flinched, still blind in the dark.

“You’re not real.”

“You can’t smell me?”

Edward erupted into a grin of gleaming black teeth. I inhaled. “Nice try.” Clothing rustled, and a tiny thwip of paper hitting the ground.

My fingers fumbled around the sharp, folded edges of thick paper. My thumb traced the shape several times over. “A crane.” But that paper… Despite the musty stink of the cell, I smelled charcoal, acrylic, dried b—

Dried blood.

My dried blood.

The drawing I had given him. He had folded it. Into a crane.

“My crane.”

Edward’s slight cackle wheezed through his crackling chest; I flinched at the sound. “Can you believe I haven’t killed you yet?”

“Are you going to?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. Then added, “I am going to die here.”

My heart sunk. “You can’t die here.”

“Sure I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“I’ve lived long enough. I met you. I can die.”

“What?” Panic rose in my chest. “You can’t die, Edward.” I couldn’t die. Not until I saw him again. Since this wasn’t technically seeing him, I figured I could get out of this encounter alive with a loophole. “You—promised you’d come back.”

“I did.” Beat. “You’ll have to forgive me for breaking so many of them.”

“I won’t. Not if you die I won’t.” The deeper I fell into this world, it seemed, the tougher choices I had to make. Every step of the way felt like a failure, even if it wasn’t. “You made tough choices.”

“You certainly don’t sound like my subconscious. Maybe I really am dying.”]

[ok i guess we should actually start this scene]

“Answer the question, Isabella,” said Edward. “When did you last feel you were alive?”

With you, I thought immediately. Which led me to a grimmer answer.

“When I jumped off the cliff.” [girl you should have lied what the fuck]

What if I really had drowned?

“I heard about that,” he said quietly. [i vaguely sketched out Alice's POV from when Bells jumps off a cliff. dated December 2022: "Rosalie calls Edward and tells him Irina is on her way to the Volturi. She feels that Edward needs to take responsibility for Isabella because Irina going to the Volturi means that everyone’s on the chopping block. She advises Edward to stop Irina before she gets to Italy.

How would Rosalie call Edward? You have to assume I suppose that Edward flew from Brazil to Miami only for Rosalie to call the airport and request that a Mr. Edward Masen pick up the phone.

Why doesn't Edward corroborate? Why the fuck would he? This gives him perfect plausible deniability to go off and kill himself with reason so he's never tempted to come home to Isabella again."] “Rose told me. She said you were trying to kill—”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Well, you did,” he said. “God, if we weren’t already dead, I imagine I would be furious at you for doing something so stupid.” [this later becomes inspiration for Chapter 5: Alliance of By Starlight.]

“We aren’t already dead.”

“True,” he said. “There is a possibility I am somehow still alive, and my hallucination of you is simply filling in the gaps based on the information I’ve received.”

“You’re alive, I’m alive, and I’m right here.”

I lunged towards him again.

He dodged me, again.

Then he laughed at me. Again.

I wheeled around and snapped, “It’s not funny.”

“Isabella Swan, who lives thousands of miles away in one of the remotest parts of the country, who has never been farther east than Boston [visited, never lived there], is sitting next to me in a dungeon in Italy as I wait for the Volturi? Yes, in fact, I find it quite hilarious.” Except his laugh hadn’t sounded amused. Actually, he sounded bitter—and thirsty. “I cannot believe that as a figment of my own imagination you should need me to spell out how farfetched a scenario this is.”

“I cannot believe that as a real live person who’s sitting next to you in a dungeon in Italy, I have to convince you I’m really here. Newsflash: stranger things have happened.”

“Such as a vampire falling in love with a human?” he joked dryly. I groaned, rubbing my face in annoyance. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand your existence is predicated on my believing you’re real, thus you’ll do anything in your power to convince me. While I’ll readily admit to fantasizing about you being here, you’re kidding yourself if you think I’m insane enough to believe you’re actually here.”

Oh god. He was insane.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he continued, “we have two possible theories. Either I’m alive and you’re another hallucination—”

“You can hear my heartbeat,” I said, voice crackling. [bro the amount of times Edward has hallucinated or pretended a human's heartbeat is Isabella's is INCALCULABLE. she has no idea how terrible an argument this is. it's like The Tell-Tale Heart up in this bitch] “You can smell my scent. If you wanted to, you could—” taste my blood [the desperation is palpable. she has wanted him to drink her blood since Chapter 14: Explanations of In The Afterlight when she first dreams about it lmao] “—t-touch me, and you’d know—”

“Ah, there it is.”

“What?”

“You want me to touch you,” he accused. [YES GIRL SAY YES]

My cheeks had grown so hot, my head pounded. “That’s— I’m just saying, if you wanted to—”

“If I wanted to, what?” he snapped. “If I wanted to, I could taste your blood, is that it? Is that what you want?” [YES] I shook. When my lips parted, the bottom one trembled. The chill in his words ran through my veins. “What a convenient situation we find ourselves in. A starving vampire and his singer are trapped in a tiny box where no one can hear her cries for help, and she is throwing herself at me, begging me to touch her so she can—"

“Not throwing. [girl you just threw yourself at him] Not begging. No. I-I’m not—I’m not saying you should drink me,” I said, nervousness making my voice uneven. “I’m saying if you wanted to go about this empirically, you would touch me. If I was a hallucination, you wouldn’t be able to.”

“Which provides us a perfect segway [WAIT this should be segue holy shit i did not mean the scooter!!!!! omg i'm editing this rn] into theory number two,” Edward said without acknowledging my comment: “I’m in hell.”

“Hell!” [i really wanted to make a Dante's Inferno/Biblical reference, but at this point i was rushing to get the last chapters out. i wanted it to be over; i was so disappointed at how CN had turned out. shoutout to my beta Soup for helping me get over the finish line!]

“Of course, you would want me to touch you.” The edge in his tone grew. “You want me to bite you, don’t you? You want me to taste your blood. You want me to drink every last drop from your beautiful veins until nothing is left because you are mine, mine—” [thus far, this is the closest Edward has ever come to admitting the truth to her: he has a very real desire to drink her blood. to ME this scene is so sexually charged...]

“All I’m asking is that you definitively prove I don’t exist. Which you can’t. Because I do. I’m trying to make you see that I’m real. That’s it.”

The low growl that punctuated our conversation made me shiver. Every molecule in my body tingled at the same frequency.

“And the second I buy into the idea that we’re finally together,” he said, “you’re going to die in my arms. I see your tricks.”

send me 500 words of my fanfic & i will give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet

[thepaintedlady00]

can i request reader having cats and morpheus interacting with them? like he's so sweet and caring but he's kinda jealous of them ( and maybe an apparition of lord meowpheus ... 👀👀)

Oh absolutely!!! 😂😂😂 Dream is a cat. He doesn't want your full attention unless someone else is getting it, human or animal. And he is NOT above turning into a cuter cat to get it! 🤣

(Requests are officially closed until the next Request Week! Thank you all for participating! 🥰)

You had a thing for taking in animals that needed a home. Your kind heart and just pure love of all creatures made it difficult for you to turn away such innocent and cute little faces. It was something that Dream of the Endless found absolutely amazing about you. He'd seen the worst of humanity, particularly in his century locked away by Roderick Burgess, and stumbling upon you he figured this kindness of yours was little more than a ploy to gain the favor of your fellow humans. That's why he followed you through your dreams and watched you from afar weeks before he even spoke to you. And in that time he learned that it was, in fact, not a ploy or ruse... you were simply that kind.

Call it what you will, manipulative, desperate, what have you, but Dream instructed Matthew to pretend to be injured on a sidewalk you frequently walked down. He'd not known truly what he hoped to gain from this act, but you'd found the poor raven and immediately taken him into your home. Dream watched you carefully look over the bird in search of an injury and he thought for a moment when you'd find none you'd simple toss him out the window and that would be that, but you surprised him. You spent hours researching what ravens needed to eat and what kind of environment they flourish in as to make your new guest comfortable while you searched for a potential owner.

Matthew would repeatedly claim that this was the best week and a half of his life. You pampered him, as you did all of the animals in your care and Matthew loved every moment of it. Dream, however, took the first opportunity to appear in your home and demand you return his raven. This did not go as well as he'd thought. You were terrified, justly, of the man that had somehow managed to break into your apartment with no sound and no use of doors or windows. The dog you'd rescued a few months prior was far less terrified and far more angry at this strangers threatening demeanor. After an hour of absolute chaos, barking, hisses and birds cawing, you finally were able to regain control of the house and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

Dream opened his mouth to say something, but Matthew spoke first. "Sorry, lady, my boss can be kind of a dick."

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the raven, pure shock etched into your face as silence filled the room. "Did you just... Can you..."

"Talk?" Matthew finished. "Yeah."

"I'm going insane," you said, holding your head in your hands. "Everyone said having this many animals and no boyfriend would drive me to insanity but I didn't think they'd be right! Oh my god."

Dream felt a tiny bit guilty for causing such distress and with a well timed glare from his raven he sighed. "You are not insane."

"Says the figment of my imagination that I've clearly imagined into my house."

He reached forward and gently touched your arm. "I am quite real."

It did little to convince you, but eventually you'd been open to hearing his explanation. Obviously you didn't just take his word for it and so he took you to The Dreaming, physically, while you were awake, which came as a shock to... well... everyone. After that things happened rather quickly, not that either of you would complain. Dream and you were an odd couple, but you both enjoyed the oddities between you. He'd sometimes bring you stray animals in need of care and you'd in turn offer him anything he wanted, which was usually simply your time. Though the Dream Lord would never openly admit such a vulnerable thing, he enjoyed being the center of your attention and enjoyed spending as much time with you as he could.

On days, like this one, where your attention was much harder to capture Dream found himself jealous of the creatures you fussed over. Most of them were cats, usually aloof creatures but with you they all constantly craved attention. Now, Dream loved cats, loved most animals in general as they were far better than humans, but he loved you and your undivided attention more. That was what was on his mind when he'd changed into his cat form and leapt onto your table, shoving the other cats out of the way with his much larger form and plopping himself down in front of you, expectantly waiting. You didn't disappoint.

Immediately you giggled and began running your long fingers through his silky fur, using your blunt nails to scratch behind his ears and beneath his chin. It was divine. "Where did you come from?"

He purred, discreetly shoving another cat away from you. "Dream, is this cat yours or am I just imaging this?" A long silent pause as you looked around the room for him. "Dream?"

For a moment he considered letting you search for him for a bit, but decided to be merciful when he saw your slight concern. He leapt from the table and changed back to his regular form, looking down at you as your mouth fell open. "I did not mean to worry you. And I suppose the answer to your question is yes, the cat is mine... in a sense."

"YOU CAN TURN INTO A CAT?!" You shrieked, nearly jumping into his arms to examine his hair and face, as if you'd find feline features all of a sudden.

He chuckled and held you. "Yes, I can. I can change into a great many things."

"Why didn't you tell me before? This is amazing! I have so many questions!"

Dream silenced you with a kiss and gently nuzzled your noses against each other. "Later. For now, I just want you."

His voice never ceased to make you blush. "Well, you have me Dream of the Endless."