#and i still need the hunting dogs dead even if i know its likely not going to happen

[lesbianyosano]

legitimately what the fuck was that

[hatchet-boy]

Judging SPN Seasons By How Messy It Would Be If Sam And Dean Started Having Sex

Season 1: freshly reunited. no one else in their world but them. they are obsessed with each other. they would fuck like feral dogs and it would make them so much worse. also dad is there. unspeakably messy. 12/10

Season 2: dad just died. the grief sex would be more tears than come and at least one of them is probably saying johns name mid fuck. dean might have to kill baby brother (TM) and so the obvious reaction to this would be extremely possessive sex. sam would not like that attitude (with the one exception of if it happens when hes drunk in playthings). messy in even grosser but marginally less feral ways than szn one. 13/10

Season 3: milder. still obsessed with each other but more settled into it now. deans turn to maybe die and sams turn to be uber-doober possessive about it. unlike sam, dean would be extremely into that. and his deal is comin due so he might as well. sad and tragic,, but not that messy. probably still more tears than come. 6/10

Season 4: dean just came back from hell to find sam fucking his new demon girlfriend. the angels are there. they're still hunting but Stuff Is Going On and god knows they need to be grounded with each other to make it through. sex would probably help. would do the opposite than make things messier. would be vicious. definite chance dean might try to feed sam his blood. 4/10

Season 5: apocalypse fuck. oh fuck. ruby is dead. angels and death and demons and god and destiny. sam and dean are the most experienced and secure theyve ever been and yet. the whole damn world is about to explode. and yet they are still tortured and annoyed by the goofy everday hunting horrors. fucking would be nice for them, would remind them they belong to each other. they think theyre gonna die so the consequences wouldnt matter a whole lot. less insulated and worried about holy judgment so the incest thing may be a bother now. 2/10

Season 6: you fuck your brother but its not your brother he's different in ways you cant explain but you havent seen him in months and you thought you lost him and hes not quite right but fuck he looks like him and talks like him and knows everything about the two of you and he fucks like a greek god and hes mean as a motherfucker in bed but you can take it its fine its worth it its sam godammit-

15/10

Season 7: stranded up the creek without even a twig for a paddle. both brothers are destroyed and traumatised and forcing each other forward by force of necessity and a brotherly hand on the back of the neck. at least its just them alone together (dean please ignore the hallucination of lucifer sitting in the corner and judging our cock size-). sex would go terribly and be the most unsexy sex ever sexed. but they would probably like the closeness if sam could handle it. messy but wouldnt ruin them long term. there would be a terrible Dick joke. 8/10

Season 8: WHOA BOY WHAT A DOOZY. BOTH BROTHERS HAVE PARAMOURS ON THE SIDE WHOM THE OTHER FUCKIN HATES. DEAN IS PURGATORY FERAL AND HAS ONE EYE ON A VAMP. SAM IS SOFT HAS HIS PINKY FINGER TWINED AROUND SOME RANDOM GIRL. WHY DIDNT YOU LOOK FOR ME?? // YOU TOLD ME NOT TO!! // YOU TRUST A DAMN VAMPIRE OVER YOUR OWN BROTHER?? // YOU HIT A DOG... meanwhile sam is doing the trials losing his mind again and dean is losing his mind about that. letting you down was my biggest sin//there is nothing i would ever put in front of you. messy. 10/10.

Season 9: less than ideal with sam possessed by and angel. dean is rocking with the guilt and confliction. the mark of cain is also making him a bit feral again. theyre safe together in the bunker but thats already claustrophobic enough sex might just suffocate them both. pretty messy. 7/10

Season 10: your big brother is an angry angry man but its not his fault right??? its because of the mark right?? he cant control it and you love him and you want to stay in the safe house/bunker/tomb with him you dont want to leave anymore and you need him. youve both been through enough. you deserve this. there would be minimal messiness caused by sex with your brother rn. exception to those few weeks where he was a demon. 2/10

Season 11: gods sister is here and its the apocalypse again. dean hates what he has with Her. at least his sammy is here. at least theyre together. still crazy about each other. gay incest sex is the most reasonable reaction. god might find out- but then again, he and his sister are pretty wacked out together too, and are we not made in gods image?. 1/10

Season 12: Mom is here and so is lucifer and his kid and also the cunt ass brits. not ideal. minimal messiness so long as no one finds out. and fuck all them anyway its pretty clear sam and dean can only ever really trust each other. sex would be affirming and safe here. they are absolutely fucking in the kitchen to the smell of toast and coffee. dean discovers he has an std because no its not normal that your balls have iched like that for the past four years you need to go to a doctor and dean i swear on the impala if you gave it to me- . 3/10

Season 13 to 15: fellas is it gay to have sex with your brother who you've been functionally married to for over a decade? probably not right ha ha. if they havent already fucked by now theyre not going to. theyre just gonna be intensely platonically married until they die. they both have erectile dysfunction by this point . sex would mean everything to them but change nothing they would still be old and married in their bunker with the devils kid tomorrow regardless. they dont care what people think anymore. fuck all messiness. 1/10

Post Season 15 Finale/Heaven: we deserve a soft epilogue my love sammy. mildly concerned about being kicked out of heaven for incest but with everything else theyve done they still made it there. it would be the least of their sins. lovely soft and nothing hurts. can you make a sex tape in heaven? 0/10

[strawberrystealer]

Bungo Stray Dogs- What I think they’d do if someone kidnapped you

Characters: Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, and Akutagawa

For some reason I think about this a lot sooo why not write about it!

Fyodor- 

Angry, upset, annoyed, all of those would be understatements

The pure rage that would fill this mans body once he gets the news-

If he saw like a letter or something thats like “Ayo we got ur bae come get them or they die lmaooo #livelaughlove” But a lot more sinister and stuff he’d go straight there and uhhh

Basically kill everyone there using his ability of course

He’d be so quick about it too, like drop everything he was doing and go straight there

Once he’s at the place in like the span of a few seconds everyone’s already dead and he goes over to you and idk takes off your blind fold or whatever they have on you

He becomes the softest man you’ve ever seen just for that moment cuz he doesn’t know what you’ve been through and he doesn’t want to cause you anymore pain

Once you two get home he’ll run a bath for you or something and stay by your side

He’ll make sure no one ever touches you again, he can’t ever risk losing you.

Nikolai- 

I bet he’d be like coming home all cheerful, ready to come mess with you or something and... you’re not on the couch.

Not in your room, the bathroom, anywhere

The smile immediately drops from his face and he gets worried

But then again he probably does this all the time so he texts you and you don’t respond??

Now he’s 10 times more worried than he was before!

Probably not a lot tho cuz he probably knows where you are

If thats the case then he just goes the the location and pays you a lil visit

Knocks on the door like a gentleman ofc 

But when they open it-

BOOM

“QUIZ TIME!!! Where’s my lovely little s/o?? Can you guess??” And he looks over and sees you inside the house.

Then he’d immediately kill move the kind gentleman into a burning fire! So sweet ik

He’d get to you and ofc be worried but once he finds out you’re okay he’ll be fine and back to his normal goofy self 

Unless you want the more realistic take where he cant stop thinking about it and thinks its his fault for weeks but is also trying to rid himself of emotions so ofc he cant be scared or guilty so he’s constantly battling himself on whether or not its his fault and if you still even like you because he might not have been there just in time to save you.

Sigma- 

He’d be so unbelievably worried 

He wouldn’t know who did it, why, how, or anything and he’d be just as confused as you probably are 

He’d probably have to ask for help, contemplate calling the cops but then realizes hes fr a terrorist he cant do that-

So he asks Fyodor for help and after a bit of pleading Fyodor gives him the location of where you and your abductor are

Once Sigma gets there, with some guns he’s probably scared to use, he sees the man that kidnapped you

Its gonna be like “if you give me ur casino ill give u your s/o” type of shit (super unrealistic but its all I can think of rn)

So obviously ur man isnt having that and shoots him

I mean he had no problem shooting that red haired girl (whatever her name is in the hunting dogs) so he probably wouldn’t have a problem killing some weak guy to get his lover back

Once he gets you safe he’ll keep asking if you’re okay alllll the time just because he’s so scared

“Darling are you sure you’re okay?? He seemed really scary... he didn’t hurt you did he? Do you need any bandages?”

Akutagawa- 

He looks completely unfazed

Like he’ll read some letter telling him to come get you or you die and be like “...Ugh not this again” 

He will get you though

And he is slightly scared but not really because he knows you’ll be fine once he gets you

When he gets to the place he doesn’t even knock on the door

He just punches a big ass hole in it with his ability and goes through it 

Also kills your abductor<3

Once he gets you he’s quiet

He’ll lightly hug you, glad your alive and the drive home will be silent

He’s considering weather he should be all “you’re so weak how’d you even get kidnapped” or “are you okay? ... He didn’t do any physical abuse to you, correct?” But both of them sound weird to him so he’s silent

When you get home he’ll prepare anything you wish

Tea? Dinner? Blankets? Anything, he’ll do for you

He does love you and he was very worried its just he has a poor way of showing it, thats all :)

[cafecourage]

feral twilight feral twilight feral twilight

or, i am once again simping for feral twilight

Everyone likes a Feral Link. ☺️

- hard to get twilight to even be feral. You have to have that man let go of the metaphorical leash he has on his wolf instincts. Even then it won’t ever be pointed at you since he doesn’t want to get violent by accident and hurt you.

- If you did talk him into getting to that point there will still need to be some time before you see it. When you’re lucky he could wake up and in his morning brain let his body take control and just lazy lay on you. Nippling at the nape of your neck maybe leaving a few kisses. He isn’t going to let you go once he gets started but it’s going to be very sweet.

- Now on the flip side Feral Twilight when he is at that state of no thoughts or little thoughts just wolf brain. He is super protective which isn’t saying much since it’s Twi. But I’m talking about having you in his arms and not letting you go sort of protective. He isn’t going to let even other links near you if you were in that much trouble. He basically guard dogging you.

- Feral Twilight might also be a bit… weird because Twilight in such a state of no thoughts that he would start doing things he wouldn’t normally do. He is still a good boy! He will listen to if you say no. But he is gonna only listen to you and like Time or Wild. So handling him might just be up to you in the long haul. As again him getting to an animistic state means probably a lot of danger. So you’re really the only one that can look after him, also being the fact that he is clinging on to you most of the time anyway.

- Most likely Feral twilight would be the result of two things. A monster battle that results in you getting hurt. Which god speed for that poor soul. They will be dead in minutes. Twilight when this happens will almost be unstoppable since all reservations are gone. They hurt you. They will perish.

- The second is if Twilight is Wolfie for too long. If he stays in wolf form he is going to have a hard time breaking habits he did before. So it’s not feral as its wolf brain going BRRRRRRRRRRRR.

- Lastly and this is the most extreme case. FD Twilight is dangerous. He is probably the most feral Twilight can get and will chase you down if you run away. It’s a hunt and your his prey.

- I fully believe Twilight won’t even remember what happened when he was put under that much pressure. Nor should he know, he will get guilty and ashamed of it. Being a wolf isn’t something he really sees as something worth boasting about. So Feral Twilight might be a secret until someone asks about it. Then he will piece the pieces together and have to explain in better details.

[epickiya722]

You know what, season 2 broke a lot of our hearts, didn't it? Well, here's some moments I thought were funny, heartwarming and just off the wall to lighten things up!

Starting with the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death Arc and if y'all want, I'll do a part 2 for the Shibuya Incident!

NOTE: I may have talked about some of these moments before in other posts.

Utahime, just all of Utahime in the first episode. She's awesome, I adore her. "SHOOOOKOOOO!!"

Chibi Satoru and Suguru. Especially the part of Suguru walking up the stairs as the others were talking. "Urusei."

"SENSEI, I SAY WE STOP THIS HUNT FOR THE CULPRIT!"

"SO IT WAS YOU!"

"Blegh!"

Shoko dipping out.

Suguru was really about to jump Satoru with a curse!!!

The fact that Suguru even went from wearing regular-waist pants to high-waist ones from manga to anime is glorious. Whoever decided that knew Suguru was meant to be a fashion icon.

Digimon

That WALK!!! Y'all, those are Special Grade sorcerers!

Suguru scowling Satoru on his behavior, also... "Satorrruuu~" Did he have to purr? That was a purr!

I love Satoru Gojo, I do. But with those glasses, he really do be looking like one of the Three Blind Mice from Shrek.

I don't know how but Toji somehow made saying he took his wife's last name scary. Like, he was very intimidating that it bypass me the first time of how cute it is that he loved Mamaguro a lot.

They actually added Suguru fixing himself a cup of tea in the anime!! This teenager really had that man captured by some Kissing Curse, told him he couldn't be a rice farmer and had himself some tea. Iconic.

Ooh, Satoru didn't have to do Bayer like that. But I applaud him for taking such a selfie!

Shoko trying to explain how RCT works actually irritated Satoru... which is rare!

Riko actually was the first to defeat Satoru. Did him dirty!! Suguru actually laughs at Satoru getting slapped while in the anime he looks shocked. Either way, his reaction is funny as hell.

"You look like a liar! And what's up with those bangs?" Then Riko got jumped for that!

Suguru's bangs ain't that bad, come on!

Knowing how Suguru turns out, it's something he's the one to tell Kuroi that she's Riko's family. Years later, he had his own "family". It's actually heartwarming he tells her that.

That old man didn't even get touched yet and he was already seeing his dead dog from 50 years ago!! Man's life flashed right before his eyes and he even says that! The whooping Suguru put on him was so bad that he was having visions!!

The one time Satoru is shown to have some sort of charm is with a bunch of school girls. The teacher should be locked up though.

Baghead man really had on the All Might cosplay.

Toji didn't have to say a word to that man and he still scared him shitless. Alright, Toji, I see you being all scary!

Satoru really be carrying kids like they're bags of groceries. Did it with Yuji, he did it with Riko.

"I failed!"

Kuroi being rescued! Satoru really stomped on those guys!

The plane scene. Satoru checking each passenger all with a glare. Meanwhile, Suguru was just chilling with a book, sitting there all pretty.

The whole beach scene!! "IT'S A SEA CUCUMBER!!"

Teen Kento having that hairstyle and his dynamic with Yu is just too adorable. He looks like he has Wii music playing in his head all day. Such a good kid!!

I cannot believe that DIO's VA is also Toji's. It's funnier when Toji has had beef with Satoru as a kid and DIO has had generational beef with the Joestars.

I just know that Worm Curse was having the time of its life on Toji's back while he was jumping around and being tossed about. Also, Toji smiling the whole time while fighting.

Suguru actually has mad hops! Did y'all not see that long ass jump?!

Squid gun. Speaking of, where in the hell did all those squids come from?! I need a story on that one!

Toji talking about how he fights for a while before Suguru tells him to shut up and due.

"Am I pretty?" "Sorry, you're not my type." Okay, well, damn.

The Worm Curse pretty much "NOPE" at Suguru.

That kick was fucking personal, I just know it! Also, the fact that Toji actually thought about the curses inhabiting Suguru's body is something. Especially, given later. I actually question that when Suguru dies in JJK 0, did Satoru have to deal with any curses?

Toji remembering Megumi.

Also, if you pay attention to the Worm, that thing sometimes matches Toji's expressions. It's like Reki and his headband (SK8 the Infinity).

Satoru standing all menacingly outside for Toji.

"Is he high?" Well, given that a few moments later he'll be floating in the air.

The fact that people have described Toji's death as "turned into the Apple logo" to "hot the Rengoku treatment". Y'all are out of pocket! And he looked so disappointed, too.

"Mommy... hug me..." That scene is just...

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Yu, never change!!

Yuki's reaction to what Suguru tells her about what he has heard about her. "She's pouting."

"I heard you the first time. That's why I said 'huh'!" Bro was just that mad.

Shoko. Just Shoko when she and Suguru meet in Shinjuku.

Heartbreaking as the scene is, you had one lanky ass teenager looking deranged on one end and the other with the "I'm going to the store real quick" fit on having this fight in front of KFC. Becomes even funnier when you remember the slogan "finger lickin' good". What does this have to do with anything? Think about Yuji.

One, where did Suguru get the robes from? Two, given he was born the following year in February after Satoru, if I did my calculations right... Suguru really started a cult at 17. No wonder there was objections. After he killed that guy, I'm sure everyone was like "oh, he's unhinged".

Okay, but the head rubs he gave the twins was so cute!! Look, they may been raised as killers, but it's sweet that they were Suguru's family. He adored those girls and they adored him!

The first meeting between Megumi and Satoru!!

Satoru waking up and seeing his students was just so heartwarming!!!

[goodday-goodmorn]

Little blurb that’s been sitting in my Docs for while based on @auspicioustidings idea from a while ago now i think— But yeah! I’be got like zero motivation to continue this- butttttt i liked the scene a lot so it shall be seen now! (Plus it’s Mhari’s Birthday!!! Happy Birthday Mhari! :> Even though i’m a few hours late into the day Hope you’re having a wonderful birth celebration!)

Based on a a scene i cooked up where reader finally gets caught by none other than the Ghost himself:

The weight of a gun in your hand is familiar.

So is the quiet sounds of a break in. You point at the door, watching, waiting. Like clockwork it creaks open, and there he is.

“Don’t move.”

You say sharply. Making the gun in your hand well known to the intruder.

Silence. He stares at you, you stare back. How many times have you done this dance? Tense words and a dashing messy escape. (The poorly wrapped bandages around your abdomen throb answering you question for you. Too many then.)

You sigh, and lower the gun.

He doesn’t even look suprised.

With a soft, Thump! ,you plop backwards onto the bed, arms outstretched. The gun is still in your hand but it’s dead weight. (Just like you.)

“…You’re not gonna ever stop are you?”

It’s said up at the shitty hotel ceiling. Hushed in the darkness of the room.

“No.”

He says it so simply.

You hum, pulling your knees and legs up onto the bed and rolling over. Back facing him, on your side. You snag a plushie on the way, hugging it close to your chest and settling your chin atop its head.

“Well shit. Turn all my red flags to white then, i give up.”

Defeated. Hushed. Tired. It sounds so unlike your normal voice. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

There’s a dip in the bed, true to his namesake- he was silent as he walked to sit. You haven’t even heard him.

“…Who did your bandages?” Gruff bastard with his gruff voice. Sounding way too passive for talking with you, an enemy, his target actually. He should be barking orders and threats to you, you’ve heard the way he speaks on a mission before, all bite and harsh. But he shows none of that tension now. Not a lick of hostility.

“Who do you think?” You snort out, tucking your face into the head of the plushie and vehemently ignoring him.

“Kid, you need help. You can’t survive on your own.” Straight to business it seems.

Without even turning to look at him, you halfheartedly raise your middle finger.

He sighs.

Silence. Blissful, damning, silence. You’ve no more fight left to give and he knows it. Months on the run, months of constant near death escapes, months of being hunted like a dog. You’re tired. So tired.

“Ya know, Torture isn’t an effective way of getting info outta someone: statistically speaking.”

“We’re not gonna torture you.”

“But you do want that info don’t you?”

More silence.

You hum knowingly.

“And what happens after you get your precious information? You’ll kill me? Maim me like all the other fuckers who end up in your shit list?”

“No. Never.”

He says it with such ferocity it almost takes you by surprise for a second. If you were to be facing him, you would see the hardness of his eyes. The pure conviction swarming in his gaze.

“Not you. Never you.”

…

Finally you turn to him, feeling far too much like a young little kid on the playground who just can’t understand-

“Why?”

Something in his gaze softness. He wants to tell you this because he cares. The team cares. All of them- that they saw you, a prickly, panicked little bird in over their head and flying blind- but he knows it an answer you won’t accept. One you won’t understand. Not at this stage. Not yet. You don’t believe in words, you’ve been lied too far too many times for that.

So he says something you will believe. A watered down version of the truth that feels like such a disservice to everything that makes up your very being.

“You’re interesting.”

You seem to digest his words. Turning them over and thinking in that little head of yours.

‘How long is that interest gonna last?’

That's what you want to say. You want to scream at the top of your lungs that he doesn’t want you. No one does. He’ll get sick of your brashness eventually- he’ll learn and grow used to your tricks. And when your spontaneity grows old, you know what’ll happen.

But you don’t.

You say nothing except—

“…Can I at least pack my bags? …please?”

He knows you don’t have much to pack. He also knows you’re one tricky, flighty little bird. However, he heard your small plea, sees the defeated look in your eyes, the way your hand is so lax around the gun.

Gently, oh so gently, he takes the gun from your hand. You don’t even try and fight him.

“Sorry little bird. Can’t trust you to pack.”

The sad look on your face nearly makes him reconsider. But he can’t risk you getting away again. Not when you’re so easy to catch right now. So vulnerable.

“Can’t you restrain me and then i’ll tell you what to pack?”

That, he can do.

“Up.”

Commands come so naturally to him. You’re almost jealous at how easily they fall from his lips.

Like the old defeated dog you are, you listen, sitting up and presenting your hands to him to restrain. You don’t meet his eyes.

He takes no chances, you are securely bound with a pair of handcuffs. He tugs on them, standing you up and nudging you to the common area of your hotel room. It’s a sizable room, a nice hotel, though truthfully you hadn't really been thinking when you booked it. Brain to frazzled and exhausted to think about anything beyond a clean bed and a hot shower.

The lights are flicked on by his gloved hands, flooding your vision. You hiss blinking and adjusting while he nudges you to the center of the room, down into your knees.

“What am I looking for here, bird?”

Your gaze flicks to him, then to the corner of the room, a vent right by a little corner desk with a lamp.

He follows your gaze and then, (with one last hard look towards you that screams ‘stay’), he walks over. Inside the vent is a crumpled up backpack, old and raggedy. It looks out of place amongst the clean cream colors of the hotel amenities.

He prods at the thing, trained caution. (You don’t blame him after your last stunt with explosives.)

Unceremoniously he opens up the bag and dumps all its contents on the floor. You wince, watching your whole life be scattered on the ground.

A journal, a thermal blanket, a lighter, cash, USB sticks, Your laptop in its thick padded casing (thank god), stolen hotel amenities, nicotine patches, several pill bottles, a half empty water bottle, a pocket knife, bullets…

Your own personal little horde of trinkets.

“Was that necessary…?” You mutter, as he stuffs some stuff back into the bag.

“Can’t blame me for bein’ cautious.”

“Well- i could.”

He turns to look at you. Just… stares at you, all you can see is his eyes at that dreadful mask, boring into yours. He doesn’t need to say anything. You both know you could but you never. Been through too much to really blame him.

You’ve saved his life before, even though he was hunting you. You both know you would never blame him for doing his job. Not at this point.

(Just as he would never blame you for running.)

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter One

Leon was alone.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Body Horror, Suicidal Thoughts

Notes: This fic came to me in a fugue state after pulling an all-nighter. I was just really thinking about the potential for Plaga!Leon angst and what it would be like for him to live as one of the monsters he used to put down. I also think it's dismal how little Leon/Chubby!Reader content there is right now, so I made it myself. I'm not sure if I want to leave this as a one-shot or make it a short chapter fic, so let me know what you guys think!

Masterlist | Next

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Leon succumbed to the parasite.

He managed to defeat Saddler and his monstrous puppets, being able to somewhat retain his mental state without a master to control him.

He got Ashley to safety, but he told her he was staying behind, knowing what might happen if the government got its hands on him. He figured it could go a few different ways: they’d either kill him immediately because he would be deemed a threat, they’d experiment on him, or they’d use him as a bioweapon—the thing he’d been fighting against this whole time.

Ashley tried to convince him that she and her father would do what they could to prevent those outcomes after all he’d done to save and protect her, believing (as a young girl would) that he could be fixed and live a normal life.

Leon knew better than that. And so he asked her to tell the world he died when she made it out. Despite her protests and her tears, she did just that.

He then met with the merchant after saying his goodbye to Ashley. The strange man let Leon trade his weapons and equipment—things he’d never need to use again—for basic supplies to ease his transition into living in the wilderness.

Leon had always preferred civilization to the great outdoors. The irony that he'd spend the rest of his life in the middle of nowhere after lamenting this fact was not lost on him.

With a cheerful adieu, the merchant packed up his things and left, never to return.

Leon was alone.

At first, it was almost peaceful.

He lived off hunting the animals in the woods and spearing the fish in the lake with his new scorpion-like tail. He even maintained a friendship with the dog he helped (that helped him in return), aptly naming him “Wolfie” because Leon had never been the creative type.

Even with his animal companion, though, Leon felt… lonely. He had lost everything; his friends thought he was dead, he no longer had a purpose to fulfill beyond survival, and his humanity had been ripped away from him—one of the few things left he ever really held onto while fighting monsters for so long.

He craved human connection more than anything but knew he had to settle for what he had.

And so, when the occasional curious hiker appeared nearby, he did what he could to scare them off. He rarely had to do much to ensure that they wouldn’t come back, using the decomposing bodies of the Ganados and the carcasses of his prey as “decorations” around the entrance of the village.

Of course, there was the occasional brave soul who ventured into his new home. Leon had to take matters into his own hands by either darting between trees and buildings to feed their paranoia or simply showing himself from a distance, standing to his full height and glaring them down.

They always ran screaming after that.

The longer he lived alone, the less human he felt he was, giving in to baser instincts to survive and provide for himself and Wolfie.

But he tried to maintain the human side of him that somehow still persisted, in any way he could. 

He’d talk out loud to himself and his furry friend. He holed up in the village chief’s house and took care of it to the best of his ability. He would set traps for rabbits and birds. He even used the old motorboat to go fishing in the lake, though it eventually ran out of fuel, forcing him to rely on the four appendages that sprouted from his spine as makeshift paddles.

He did his best.

The years slipped by and his loneliness only grew.

Wolfie was old now and Leon worried what would happen to the little sanity he had left when his only companion died. He did what he could to keep the wolf-dog comfortable, ruffling his clawed hands through his fur as he’d done a million times. But now gray tinged the animal’s coat, and Leon wondered how he never noticed it before.

What about Leon, then? Was he aging, too?

In a fit of rage, during the early days of his transformation, he had broken all the mirrors in the house, not wanting to look at himself and what he’d become.

So now he traveled to the well outside, staring at his rippling reflection in the dark water.

The skin of his face was still smooth—or what was left of it after his mouth ripped apart to make room for the rows of deadly sharp teeth that burst from his gums.

His once blue eyes were now a vibrant, glowing red, his vision having been improved vastly by becoming the ultimate apex predator. Just another step further from his humanity, he thought.

He kept his hair the way he always liked it, though learning to use the rusty scissors he found while out rummaging in the village had been a challenge with his new needle-like fingers.

His body had been slowly… growing… over the years. Elongating. His arms and legs, once thick and corded with muscle, were thinning into gangling limbs.

God, it was like a second puberty. But infinitely worse.

He barely fit into any of the clothes he’d collected, the articles simultaneously too loose on his form but far too short to cover his lower abdomen and calves. He didn’t bother with shoes anymore, none able to be pulled onto his taloned feet.

It was fine, however, as the ground wasn’t painful to traverse now (even on the roughest of terrain), and he no longer experienced the cold or the heat in a way that could affect him. That was one of the few “improvements” he welcomed over time, after facing the sweltering summers and winters blanketed in snow.

Despite these changes, though, Leon realized while studying his mirror image that there wasn’t a single indication of aging to be seen. Not a gray hair or wrinkle in sight.

Internally, he began to panic.

If he didn’t age, would that mean he’d be stuck living like this forever? That once Wolfie passed, he’d be alone for eternity?

He wished he had just gone with Ashley and hoped whoever greeted them would have gunned him down on the spot. At least then he wouldn’t have had to live this half-life, practically a ghost already haunting these woods.

He wondered if even the cruelty of experimentation or being used as a weapon would be worth no longer facing this suffocating isolation.

He chided his younger self for his optimism that being left behind was the best option.

It was set, then. After he buried his dog, he would finally pluck up the courage to kill himself. It wouldn’t be easy for him. Leon had always been a fighter, never wanting to give up. But he was tired, and there was nothing besides his animal companion that was keeping him tethered to the world. He was listless.

And yet, there was still a part of him that hoped something might change. He of all people—if he even had the right to call himself a person anymore—knew better than to let hope lead him.

It had been a decade of the same, hadn’t it?

The monotony of his days was almost too much to bear. He thought years ago, before he was infected, that he would enjoy a life like this. It was peaceful in a way, wasn’t it? He realized now he missed the chaos.

A far-off noise suddenly jarred him from his thoughts.

Another “improvement” had been his enhanced hearing. He could pick something up nearly a mile away.

He tilted his head to better decipher the sound.

Footsteps.

Well, that wasn’t unusual, given the area. It was full of wildlife, after all.

But then he heard something else, something that made his whole body freeze up.

Something so distinctly human, there was nothing else it could possibly be.

He heard singing.

+++

Your family and friends had called you ridiculous when you told them you wanted to hunt the supernatural for a living.

Perhaps they were right, but it was a passion of yours to seek out the weird and wild. Maybe that was why you were so compelled by what went bump in the night.

You weren’t sure you truly believed in ghosts and cryptids and the like, but you had an open mind and the ambition to seek out answers. Given the state of the world and the B.O.W.s that terrorized it, you supposed the supernatural might not be far removed from reality, anyway.

You had always been deemed “strange” by others. Had always been on the outside looking in, wondering why being normal never came easy to you.

It didn’t help that your body type—short and plump—made you feel further removed from everyone else. You never thought you were ugly or unattractive, but that didn’t stop others from deciding you were, based solely on something so trivial.

But you weren’t completely alone. Your family loved you, you made good friends, and you even had your fair share of relationships over the years.

You learned that normalcy was bullshit, and so you embraced your strangeness.

And that’s what led you to this abandoned village, hidden deep in the Spanish woodlands.

The locals of a nearby town had told you of the horrors that occurred here. Stories of missing hikers and a cult seeking to take over the world through a parasitic bioweapon; of the daughter of the former United States president being rescued by a young agent who died tragically while saving her life.

You knew all of this already, of course. You had done your research on this place and what had happened to it.

You knew that Ashley Graham made it home safe—traumatized but mostly unharmed. You knew the cult and its monsters had been completely wiped out. You knew the place was practically a ghost town, the forest beginning to reclaim the ruins.

None of that, though interesting, was what brought you to this village, however.

What caught your attention was what came after.

Many were curious about the place when the news broke, but only a rare few dared to visit it. Fewer still ever made it past the gate.

But those who did spoke of a creature who lurked in the shadows. They claimed it was tall—nearly seven feet—and its eyes glowed red. No one had managed to snap a photo of it in their state of panic, but the descriptions were all consistent.

El Escorpion, they called it.

It seemed like a solid lead, and even if you never found this recently discovered cryptid, the tragic and insane history—not to mention the creepiness factor—of the location would be enough material to write a compelling post for your paranormal blog.

Despite your family and friends’ initial concerns about your career of choice, you were doing well for yourself.

You still had to work on the side to pay for your rent and all the expenses that came with your investigations, often cranking out clickbait articles for a quick buck. But your blog had only recently popped off, your posts receiving a ton of new followers after an emotional visit to the ruins of Raccoon City (and likely a dangerous one, considering the radiation).

People liked your methods. They liked that you explained the story behind every location you visited with great detail and respect, but managed to keep it fun while still building up a spooky atmosphere.

If you were honest, the popularity of your blog wasn’t something you really cared about. Although it was nice to see the numbers rise and people engage with your hard work, the content was controversial and you were often belittled for your passion. The only thing you wanted was to get as many followers as it would take to receive sponsorships in hopes of making enough money to take your investigations to new heights.

It definitely wasn’t easy trying to live your dream, but so far it had been rewarding. You hoped this trip would be, too.

You had just exited the vehicle of the friendly (and very, very chatty) local who was kind enough to offer you a ride to your destination. They were a fan of your blog, they told you, and warned you to be careful.

Once they drove off, nothing could have prepared you for the horrifying sight that greeted you when you began your journey.

Bones and rot littered the ground—were even strung up on the surrounding trees like party streamers. Several of the carcasses seemed awfully fresh, and you weren’t sure, but some of the older remains looked… almost human?

No, you had to be imagining it.

But if the visuals didn’t make your stomach turn, the smell definitely did.

Ignoring your watering eyes and the gag reflex threatening to trigger, you pulled the collar of your shirt over your nose and snapped a few promising pictures before moving forward.

It was a bit of a walk, having to travel through an old hunting lodge that had seen better days in order to finally reach the village gate.

You balked at the human skulls that lined the top, a chill lurching up your spine at the realization. Instead of allowing the sinking feeling in your gut to control you, you took some more photos instead, determined to see this through.

You drew in a deep, calming breath and opened the gate, having to use most of your strength to push through the rust that coated its hinges.

You practically vibrated with a mix of excitement and anxiety as you looked at the village before you.

It was terrifying to do this alone, but you had grown used to the solitude during your investigations. You reminded yourself that the most you had dealt with in the past were other people pulling pranks on you and wild animals going about their business.

So, you continued on, not wanting to feed the needling fear that someone or something could have been left behind by the cult.

You spent some time in the village, singing to yourself to help settle your nerves, before leaving out of another gate. You didn’t have a map of the area, no one having been much further than the village in the ten years since its abandonment, so you simply had to explore on your own and hope you didn’t get lost.

You were walking down a wooded path, taking in every detail as you meandered forward, when you heard a rustle in the trees beside you. 

Whatever it was, it must have been huge. You prayed it was a deer.

Gathering your courage, you faced the direction of the noise and drifted closer to the edge of the forest, your movements careful and deliberate in hopes of not scaring whatever it was off or goading it to attack you.

It was broad daylight, but you were struggling to see into the shade cast by the densely packed foliage.

“I won’t hurt you,” you whispered gently as another movement from whatever it was jostled the bush in front of you.

It was stupid, but you felt inclined to reach out your hand, hoping it wouldn’t get bitten.

That’s when you saw the pair of glowing eyes staring at you through the leaves, roughly waist-height to you.

You felt some sense of relief at that, believing it to be a woodland animal.

That is, until the eyes started to move up. 

You froze in place, hand still outstretched, as a massive creature stood upright before you, their features obscured by shadow. 

Your mind screamed at you to run but your legs remained locked in place.

This is it, you thought. I’m going to die.

Well, at least it was a good run.

The creature stepped forward into the light and you were met with possibly the most horrifying beast you had ever seen.

It was over a foot taller than you, its form similar to that of a human, if not for the four long, spidery appendages that unfolded from its back, a scorpion tail whipping behind it.

It had talons on its feet and long claws instead of fingers, the tips of them dangerously sharp, its worn clothes hanging off of it awkwardly. 

Your eyes eventually climbed back up to its face, its mouth split nearly to its ears as it bared its fangs at you, glinting wickedly in the midday sun.

Your gaze met those glowing red orbs once more, the creature’s expression akin to a glare.

Something about its face seemed so familiar to you for some reason, the mix of confusion and terror only further cementing you to the ground. 

You still didn’t move when it took another step closer, its leg nearly brushing your still outstretched hand.

“You should’ve been running by now.”

You were startled by its voice, the sound deep and masculine. And pleasantly human despite the obvious threat.

You knew you had heard it before.

He leaned forward, his head level with yours as he searched your face, looking clearly befuddled by your refusal to escape.

“You’re practically begging me to eat you, little rabbit. But I prefer a chase.” He sounded serious, but he made no move to touch you.

Your hand finally fell to your side and you swallowed, hard.

“You’re lying.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, barely visible behind a curtain of choppy blond hair, before replying, “Excuse me?”

You took a shaky breath. “You’re lying. You’re not going to eat me. You’re not going to hurt me at all. There hasn’t been a disappearance in the area for ten years and everyone who’s come here since has lived to tell the tale.”

He laughed in surprise, running a claw through his hair. It was so uncanny how human it was. And how familiar. “Maybe I’m just a bad hunter.”

“Well, if those animal remains at the front of the village path are anything to go by, I highly doubt it.”

“Not all of them were animals, you know.” 

“The ones that weren’t are too old, though, aren’t they?”

“You’re observant, I’ll give you that.” He folded his long arms over his chest, red eyes looking out across your surroundings, sounding almost sheepish as he added, “You know, this might be the most I’ve talked to someone I should be eating instead.”

He shook his head and chuckled to himself before meeting your gaze.

And then it clicked.

“You’re… You’re Leon Kennedy, aren’t you?” you breathed.

He stiffened at the name. “How do you know who I am? Did someone tell you? Did someone send you here?”

He took another step during his inquisition, your noses nearly touching, his hot breath fanning across your face as you glanced at his sharp, sharp teeth.

“I’ve seen pictures of you. Interviews, too. You were all over the news when you survived Raccoon City. And again when President Graham claimed you died in action.” You paused for a moment in thought before you asked, “Did Ashley Graham know you survived?”

He scoffed, pulling back and stepping around you to add some distance. “I asked her to tell the world I was dead so I could live the rest of my days in peace as this… monster.”

“Ah, and all these curious visitors are like annoying kids in your front lawn?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Something like that. Why are you here, anyway? You seem kinda far from home.”

“Well…” It was your turn to look sheepish as you tried to explain, “I’m a paranormal investigator, and I came here because there were cryptid sightings in the area. Guess you’re the cryptid. Mystery solved.” 

He rushed back over to you, grabbing your arm. The movement jostled you and made you flinch, but it didn't hurt. He winced at your reaction, though, and loosened his grip. “Listen, please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I don’t need this place becoming a tourist hotspot. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet..? What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, just… Please just promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “The problem is that I spent a lot of money on this trip, and if I don’t have something to show for it, my career could flop.”

He sighed deeply, releasing his hold. “Look, I can make it up to you, okay? If you’re strapped for cash, I have a bunch of gemstones, jewelry, and expensive little knick-knacks. Take what you can carry, got it?”

You thought on it for a moment, considering your options. You wanted to respect his privacy, but it was difficult to let something this big go. However, if he was willing to pay for your silence, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Maybe you could even buy better equipment when this was all said and done.

“Okay. Deal.”

He moved to shake your hand in his clawed one but pulled back when he noticed you eyeing it nervously. “Great. We’ll get you your stuff and send you on your way before it gets dark.”

“About that… My ride isn’t coming to get me until tomorrow morning. I was planning to camp out here tonight,” you revealed.

He gave you an incredulous look. “You’re telling me you heard rumors about a monster living in the area and you decide you’re going to spend the night here? No backup plan?”

“What can I say, I like to live on the edge. Besides, I didn’t really believe there was a monster out here, anyway. Egg on my face, I guess.” 

He rubbed his eyes with his palms as he let out an exasperated breath. “Right, well I guess you could spend the night, then. There aren’t any B.O.W.s left in the area except me, obviously. But some of the wildlife isn’t exactly friendly. Would be safer for you to stick with me.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his generosity before you offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I appreciate it.”

“Please, just… Just call me Leon.”

“Well, thank you, Leon,” you said, proceeding to give him your own name. 

His lips peeled up in what could almost be described as a bashful smile before he pointed further down the path. “C’mon, then. I can make us dinner.” 

You shocked him by hooking an arm through his, beaming up at him.

“We better get to it, then.”

+++

We.

Leon hadn’t heard someone say that in a long time.

Maybe things could be different.

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

Masterlist | Next

[mintytealfox]

*carb walks in*

*holds up a question*

*yeets*

What the au where norton is big and alice(and melly) are tiny like did they found kurt book but don't know how long it last and norton is now stuck being the babysitter till the their normal size again or is it drugs?

MUAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHA AAAAAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHHAHAHA MUAAHAHAHHAHHAHA

THE AU HAS BEEN ASKED ABOUT MUUAAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAA 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

Perfect timing too honestly cause I was feeling sad about Netease being emo as frick with the Norton stuff lol (there is an ask in the inbox about it and I am gonna go so wild once I collect my thoughts 👀)

-rubs hands togetherrrrrr-

so this one with Melly:

was a little one off thing cause I love Navi from Legend of Zelda and I imagine she is so tired of Link and I had Da Capo on the brain and was like 'aw yea these two' LOOOOOOOOOOOL

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

The other one with this stuff:

is super MaCross coded 👀🤌 if you are familiar with Zentraedi then you got a gist of what is going on here lol but here is a link to a intro to the au: here Then this one has the links to everything I have written for it so far: here

I am more of a report writer rather than creative writer anymore these days. So, if its bad then my bad LOOOOOL! If you don't want to read all that then here is this to get the gist of what is up with the world

"Some background:

Two species of humanoid now inhabit the same planet. One from another dead planet and seeking refuge and a new place to live (the humans). This was met with hostility from the original habitants (the larger one). A war broke out for 10 years, for the humans to come on top in the end. The larger species are now used as a sort of work horse in most cases. Some manual labor, others protecting the area and hunting, etc. there are still Nobels and high ups in politics but the less well-off tend to be put to difficult work and conditions. Even though the humans have the tech to make it easier, just don’t want to waste resources.  It’s a political way to keep them down, busy and obedient basically. 🙃

Norton, of course, works in the mines." ----------- BUT I LIKE WHERE YOUR BRAIN IS GOING -rubs hands together- a thiirrdddd au cookin I seeeee~ LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

Knowing Alice, its probably DRUGS that did it -WHEEEZE- Then Melly having to get involved trying to be like "oh my gosh stop sniffin D R U G S" and tries to take it away but it just gets all over~ nice and cliche 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

But I can see Melly having fun with the size change cause talk about an entire new perspective for her research of insects lol -can pet beetle like dog- "who would have thought they liked little pats on the head" So much new research to be done 🤣🤣🤣 Her command of insects is broadening LOOK OUT -WHEEZE-

Now for Alice, there is no stopping her now, every nook; every cranny is now hers to explore LOL no locks can keep her out now!! No document/letter/sensitive information can hide from her -WHEEZE- No drawer or box left un-sifted through PFF No conversation left un-eavesdropped! She is more of a danger to society's secrets now than she was before IM DYING LOOOOL

Yea Norton is definitely gonna have to babysit these two MY GOSH! Good L U C K BRO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

(THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! I L O V E talking about this stuff HA! And needed the distraction honestly SO THANK YOOUUU)

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 10: Promises? Nah

chapter synopsis: After knife training with Daryl, he heads off to track a deer, leaving you to prepare for the Atlanta run. With Glenn's help, you share a secretive exchange about a mysterious item. As Glenn departs, you emphasize safety and his return. Later, while playing guitar, Lori's presence triggers memories of Rick, leading to a tense exchange about his fate.

chapter warnings: Knife training aftermath, secretive exchanges, emotional conversations, preparations for a run to Atlanta, and introspective moments with Lori.

word count: 1.3k words

author's note: Alright, folks, the next chapter will cover Season 1, Episode 1 of "The Walking Dead"! Our beloved Rick Grimes will be here! Yay! Anyway, enjoy reading! Mwah!

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

The morning sun cast its warm embrace over the campsite, illuminating the aftermath of your knife training with Daryl. Post-training, Daryl had promptly sent you back to camp, citing the need to track a sizable deer. Eager to glean more survival skills, you insisted he let you tag along. However, Daryl swiftly dismissed the idea, asserting that what he needed was the deer, not your potentially frightened presence clinging to a tree.

A slight frown etched across your face as you absorbed his refusal, but you wished him caution nonetheless. Daryl, ever the gruff archer, grunted a dismissive reply, telling you to focus on your own worries. Returning to camp, you encountered the scrutinizing glances Carol had warned you about. Unfazed, you brushed off the speculative looks and turned your attention to preparing, well more like listing your necessities, for the upcoming run to Atlanta of group of volunteers.

The volunteer squad boasted an array of personalities: Glenn, Morales, Jacqui, Andrea, T-Dog, and the unexpected addition of Merle. You couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of Merle being absent for a whole day, freeing you from his intrusive catcalls. Despite being occasionally annoyed by Daryl's presence, you appreciated his protective stance when it came to Merle's inappropriate behavior. It seemed that the older Dixon brother couldn't resist throwing a lewd comment your way, but with Daryl around, you felt a sense of relief and gratitude.

Glenn was knee-deep in organizing his backpack when the familiar sight of your boots interrupted his concentration. Looking up, he was met with your shy smile as you knelt down to his level, handing him what seemed to be a crumpled-up paper. It resembled a list, and Glenn couldn't help but wonder if he was about to get dragged into some post-apocalyptic scavenger hunt.

With a curious raise of his eyebrows, Glenn took the paper, and you quickly explained, "Those are the only things I really need." Glenn, being the agreeable guy he was, nodded and began perusing the list. It seemed pretty standard at first – essentials, art supplies, clothes – until his eyes hit an unexpected item. That mysterious item that left his eyes wider than the Grand Canyon.

"W-what... and who do you need this for?" Glenn stammered, eyes wide as saucers, looking up at you, who was now sporting a sheepish grin.

You, leaning in conspiratorially, replied, "Look, it's something I should've packed ages ago, considering the whole 'end of the world' situation. Just grab it, and let's keep it between us, okay?"

Glenn, still processing, mumbled, "But why?"

You, leaning in as if sharing the world's juiciest gossip, confessed, "You know, for emergencies."

Glenn's face contorted in bewilderment. "Emergencies? What kind of—"

You cut him off with a sly smile. "Just trust me, Glenn. It's a must-have in a world gone crazy."

Glenn scratched his head, muttering, "Alright, but who's it for?"

You chuckled, "Me, obviously. I'm not taking any chances in this geek-filled world."

Glenn's eyes widened further, if that was even possible. "Wait, what? You're serious?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "Just shut up, alright? And if you spill this secret, I swear I'll go medieval on your manhood while you sleep, ending your bloodline right then and there."

Glenn's eyes widened in horror, and he immediately reassured her, "No way! I-I won't tell a soul, I swear! Not even my own reflection in the mirror!"

You flashed Glenn a grin, the kind you reserves for anyone handing over grub. "Nice to know," you chirped, as Glenn awkwardly chuckled. Your grin wavered, morphing into a mix of worry and seriousness. "Hey, be careful out there, okay? Atlanta's like an undead playground, geeks everywhere. Just watch your back. And, if you can't get the stuff I need, it's cool, no biggie. Just come back in one piece, alive-in-person style, not alive-in-geek style. Got it?"

Glenn took a nervous breath, shooting you a tight smile. "I got this. I practically own Atlanta streets. And don't worry, I'll snag that... thing."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "No sudden moves or crazy stunts, okay? I don't need you getting yourself geekified."

Glenn grinned confidently, "Geek? Not a chance."

"Yeah, but your recklessness and stupidity might do the job," you replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Because you're a dumbass."

Glenn squinted at you, "I'm not dumb!" he defended, jabbing a finger your way. "And just so you know, I go off-plan because my gut tells me to." He laughed, and you joined in, shaking your head. "My gut says it's the right move, okay?"

You felt touched. Those were the words you had used when you first brought him to camp, facing doubts about adding another mouth to feed.

Shaking your head, you scoffed, "Look at you, spending too much time with me, turning into little ol' dramatic, socially awkward, terrible-at-comforting Y/N Grimes."

Glenn grimaced, "No way. I'm not becoming Y/N freaking Grimes, the drama queen."

"Hey!" You slapped your chest, looking slightly hurt. "That stings, you know!"

You both chuckled, rising from the ground. Glenn huffed and blew a raspberry, and you countered with a soft smile. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you looked him in the eye. "Come back, Glenn. Seriously, in one piece. No bites, scratches, or anything hurting, okay? Promise me."

"I will," Glenn nodded.

"You promise?"

Glenn scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't do promises."

You, puzzled, asked, "What?"

Glenn chuckled, "I don't do promises. Why? Because I know I'm coming back to you. No need for words when it's a sure thing."

Before you could start tearing up, you pulled Glenn into a tight embrace, burying your face in his neck. Glenn reciprocated; it was the first time he'd be on the run without his best friend watching his back. He had to come back to you, being the only one who had your back.

"Hey," Your muffled voice interrupted his thoughts, "make sure to leave Merle Dixon behind, yeah?"

Glenn chuckled. "I'll see what I can do."

As they broke the hug, you looked up at him with a half-smile. "And no unnecessary heroics, okay? We're not in a comic book."

Glenn grinned. "No capes for me, promise."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. You're not that cool."

Glenn mockingly gasped, putting a hand to his chest. "Ouch. Right in the coolness."

It was afternoon, and you found yourself with nothing to do. Daryl was off hunting in the woods, Glenn was on a run in Atlanta, and Carl was with Lori and Shane. Not in the mood to draw, you lay in your tent, staring at the top. When your back itched, you turned and was surprised to find a guitar. Glenn must've brought it, so you picked it up and headed outside.

The camp was quiet, with everyone seemingly taking siestas. You sat by the campfire, strumming the guitar and humming freely. You were halfway through when Lori joined you. You straightened up, stopping abruptly.

Lori questioned, "Why'd you stop?"

You shrugged. "Not in the mood."

Lori furrowed her brows. "Because of me?"

"Not you, Lori. Just... thinking about the past," You replied, rolling your eyes internally.

Lori pressed, "But you were singing, then stopped when I sat here. Anything wrong?"

You thought, This woman can be too pushy sometimes. Can't she push something that would make me happy?

"I," You took a breath, "I was thinking about Rick, alright? He used to sing with me. Last time was when Daddy was alive. And now..." She couldn't finish.

"Now that Rick's gone?" Lori asked.

You narrowed your eyes. "He's not dead. Rick is not dead."

Lori gave a sad smile. "He is, sweetie. Gone, somewhere better. We need to accept that."

You stared at Lori. "Why would you say that? Rick is not dead. He will be back, and he'll find us."

"Sweetheart," Lori sniffled, tears threatening. "You'll accept it someday. You're grieving. It hurts, but you need to accept the truth."

You glared, stood up. "The only thing that would make me feel good is if you don't believe Shane's lies. Be yourself." Then, you walked away.

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55 @snailss

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐇𝐔𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐓𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑

Summary: When Y/N needs help on a hunt, she doesn't expect Bobby to send Dean Winchester to her. Now the two must work together to solve the case and Dean has to deal with Y/N's sarcastic and biting personality, that maybe he likes a little too much.

Pairing: Dean × F!Reader

Warnings: spn level violence, swearing, nudity

Word count: 2171

Series

Dean and Y/N crossed the alley that led to the gate of the small house, careful not to attract the attention of the two lovers or the mysterious creature. They both held their gun loaded with silver bullets: they didn't know if it would work, but it was the only thing that was lethal to most creatures.

They entered the house picking the lock with a simple pin that Y/N always carried with her. Just as they crossed the threshold, a deafening scream broke the silence. Dean and Y/N glanced at each other briefly, then rushed upstairs, where that scream was coming from.

"OH MY GOD!" screamed a naked Michael Connors, pointing to the dead body of Peter Johnson, which lay on the floor devoid of eyes, teeth and nails.

Dean looked at the helpless shape of the man. Then he grit his teeth and pounded on the door in a sudden fit of anger.

That thing had been there and they hadn't arrived in time to stop it.

"Damnit!" Y/N yelled "Where did it go?" She looked around nervously. It couldn't be far in such a short time.

The man to whom she asked that question, however, didn't seem to listen to her much: he was there crying for his deceased lover, with his knees on the ground and his hands that continued to shake him in the hope that he was still alive.

“Michael, where did it go?” She asked pulling him away from the still warm corpse of the other man.

“Peter is dead! HE IS DEAD!" He cried out.

He should never have answered her like that.

She wished she had the time to calm him down and make him assimilate everything that happened but she couldn't afford it: the only way she had to get an answer to that question was to slap him. Which she did without any problems.

"Ouch!"

"You will die too, if you don't tell me where the fuck the thing that killed him went!" Her grip on his shoulders tightened, almost leaving him ten holes as a souvenir.

"I don't know what... it was a dog... big... its tail..."

"Tell us where!" She exclaimed, skipping that description that they had already had the opportunity to reconstruct with the doctors' testimonies.

When she saw the man's pupils dilate to focus on something just behind her, she couldn't turn in time to strike him. But there was a shot anyway.

It was always nice to have a teammate watching your back.

"The bastard is freakin' fast." And from that sentence she understood that Dean had missed his target, yes, but at least he had managed to give Y/N time to drag Michael in the corner of the room. It was him it wanted, wasn't it?

"Come and get him!" She invited it to come forward, looking at the door that connected the bedroom to the living room.

It had to be in there.

Dean had never seen that creature before: it looked like a dog, a rottweiler with much sharper teeth, a bit like a large wolf but with a body that resembled that of an otter or a mammal that lives in water and a tail that had, at the end, a hand with sharp claws. It was making a low growl, drooling from its mouth and moving fast, very fast. It was so fast that Dean didn't even notice he had hit it, for a moment. He looked around, the gun still pointed at nothing, ready to pull the trigger a second time.

"Ssssh" he said in a low voice, bringing the forefinger of his hand in front of his lips. He shot a knowing look at Y/N, which she immediately interpreted as "keep your eyes open." Then he advanced cautiously towards the living room, slipping into the semi-darkness. Dean fumbled around the wall for a switch, and when he found it he understood that they were out of light.

It's smart, he thought, the bastard cut the electricity. Dean sighed and took a few steps forward. The room was empty and the curtains fluttered gracefully in front of the wide open window. Never letting his guard down, he walked over to the windowsill and looked down.

Whatever that thing was, it had managed to run away. He had confirmation of this when he noticed a small spot of blood staining the window. He put the gun back in his jeans and went back to Y/N and the poor guy who survived.

"The thing ran away," he announced irritably. “But he's wounded. I think I grazed him.”

"Wh-what was it?" stammered Michael, still naked and terrified.

"Believe me, you don't wanna know it," Dean said gravely. Then he shifted his gaze to the corpse.

He picked up the phone and called the 911.

"I'd like to report a body," he said, when a female voice answered on the other end. Dean gave her the address. "My name? Yes, my name is…” but he hung up nonchalantly before finishing the sentence.

"C'mon, let's get out of here before the police arrives," he said to Y/N, before returning to the window. He took out a piece of cloth and wiped away the blood stain on the windowsill. They needed the DNA of that thing, but above all they didn't have to arouse suspicions with the police.

"Who the hell are you?"

Great question, Connors.

"God, what do we do now?" Y/N asked to Dean, ignoring the question of the other man in the room.

"Were you two following us?" The man asked again, remaining in the corner like a helpless little worm.

"I don't know, but that thing will come back." Dean answered, ignoring the man for a second time.

"You're not from the FBI. You lied! Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Suddenly both heads of the hunters turned towards him, glaring at him.

“If you keep interrupting me, I swear I'll shoot you. Okay?" Y/N warned him with her lack of patience, then went back to ignoring him as she did until then.

"Okay... whatever we are gonna do, he's coming with us." Dean said pointing to Connors.

He was right. Michael was the only partner left, they couldn't risk leaving him alone: ​​he was their last hope.

A naked, shivering man was their only hope…damn what a sad picture.

"What do you wanna do to me?? Where are you taking me?" yelled the man looking from Y/N to Dean and from Dean to Y/N, obsessive and rightly frightened.

Y/N sighed.

“Put something on and hurry up. If you get into the car naked, he'll be the one to shoot." She suggested, nodding towards the door that her hunting partner had just passed through to reach the lower floor.

When they were finally ready to leave, Dean got behind the wheel with the two passengers aboard, before the police arrived. As expected, that poor man began to list a long list of questions, questions that Dean -as well as Y/N- knew by heart for the too many times he had heard them asked: who are you? What do you want from me? Aren't you FBI agents? Do you want to kill me?

"No, we don't wanna kill you, Michael," Dean answered patiently. “Listen, that thing is hunting you and will soon come back and kill you. We just want to stop it."

"Why me?! I didn't do anything!" said the man, frightened and confused.

That creature probably lived in the lake and didn't accept that its house had to be replaced with a dam. He didn't want to be evicted and from there its desire for revenge was born.

Dean and Y/N ignored him, occasionally exchanging a fleeting glance, while Michael Connors repeated the questions as if he really expected an answer from at least one of them. Finally he gave in, his gaze downcast and thoughtful. This was the worst moment, when they began to realize what they had just experienced.

“That thing killed Peter…”

"He killed your other two partners, too," added Dean, looking at the man's tearful face in the rearview mirror.

"I don't wanna die."

"And it won't happen," he replied, turning back to face the road. “You have to trust us. I know we lied to you, but we're the only ones who can help you right now, okay? If you run away you're dead, if you stay hidden you live. You got it?"

Michael nodded, wiping his cheeks with the palm of his hand. Dean sighed and Y/N looked at him.

"We need to find out what that thing is," she said.

“Let's get Michael somewhere safe first. Then we'll go back to killing that dogotter.”

"Dogotter?" Y/N asked, confused.

Dean sketched an amused smile, «yes, that's what I called it. The thing is half dog and half otter, you know..."

The girl raised her eyebrows, bewildered. Then she shook her head and hid a smile behind her hand.

"What is it, you are on your period? Hurry up!" Y/N knocked repeatedly on the door to urge Michael -probably in the middle of another crying crisis- to come out of the bathroom of their motel room.

They had returned there to give Michael the chance to call his family and warn them that he would be gone for a while. Plus they'd have to refuel before starting a twelve-hour long drive to Sioux Falls, going to Bobby.

“Are you sure you don't wanna get some rest? I don't think you've been sleeping much lately» she said to Dean, who was busy packing his bags.

He shook his head but receiving a negative response didn’t stop her. "If we split up we will get out of this sooner," she said then. She didn't want to loose her life in a very stupid road accident caused by Dean falling asleep while driving.

No, Dean was not stupid, he would never have driven his car if he wasn't sure he could drive safely.

Maybe deep inside, but really deep, Y/N wanted to avoid squeezing Dean's energies to the extreme.

"I'm taking 'Mr. World's Longest Piss' to Bobby and Sam's and as soon as we find out anything we'll let you know." She yelled that nickname on purpose, hoping the insults would get to the the man in the bathroom.

"Is that altruism I hear in your voice?" he asked, almost shocked.

“We'd shorten the time, Dean. It's twelve hours to get there and twelve hours to get back here. As far as we know that…that dogt-"

"Dogotter," he corrected her with a smirk, zipping up the bag.

“Okay, that thing could also attack the workers. We need someone here."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her face serious and determined to make him at least consider her correct point of view.

"Are you afraid I might crash us on the way?"

"I don't know, how long has it been since you slept?"

“This is a nightmare! Everything is a nightmare!" Michael complained as he came out of the bathroom. But, as usual, no one listened to him, especially Y/N who was now busy staring at Dean.

Dean shifted his gaze to Michael as he entered the scene. Then he went back to preparing for the journey, ignoring the man's complaints and Y/N's words.

"'Don't worry,' said Dean, intent on filling the second bag with all the guns he had previously pulled out of the Impala when he arrived in the town. "The workers are safe."

"And why do you think that?" Y/N asked.

“The creature cut the electricity when we were in that house. Which means only one thing: it doesn't like the light" Dean answered.

He closed the zip of the bag and loaded it on one shoulder, grabbing the other with his free hand then indicated the door to Michael with a nod of his head, inviting him to shut up and get moving.

"He's sleeping?" Y/N asked, turning back to look at Michael, sprawled in the backseat of the Impala.

"Like an angel," Dean answered ironically.

They had been on the road for about seven hours and the sun had been up for quite a while. Luckily the streets were clear enough for Dean to continue at a brisk pace.

He had a strange feeling that Y/N was staring at him, but he decided not to try to confirm it. He continued to keep his eyes on the road, ignoring those of the young huntress.

"I almost forgot how good you are at what you do," Y/N suddenly confessed, surprising Dean in a good way.

"Are you flirting with me, sweetheart?" Dean answered ironically, while a crooked smile appeared on his lips.

Y/N smiled, amused. “As if that bothered you, love.”

It was almost funny how every time Dean called Y/N "sweetheart" she responded with "love", just to tease him. Maybe she liked it, just a bit.

"Not at all," Dean admitted sincerely, giving her a fleeting glance.

They both smiled and silence fell again in the Impala.

Tags: @eevvvaa @spn730015 @supernatural111222 @youcancallmelily @clairenovakanddeanwinchester @dads-on-a-hunting-trip @3amstillawake @supernaturalmess @marvelandsupernatural @agirlwatchingalotoftvshows @candy-coated-misery0731 @impalaslytherin @rudy-the-winged-wolf @dean-winchester-6767 @samanddeansannoyingsis @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse @random-spn-fan @xoxokiaraaxoxo

Series: @stitchintimefan @foxxymunson @sagexcandles @deans-spinster-witch

[j--ackdaw]

dog-eat-dog: part 1

can’t breathe.

tlou fanfic ao3 summary: You swore you would avenge her. Karma. What goes around, comes around. Before the story starts, you already cut through the hunters that had actually killed your sister and almost killed you. But now, you were on the hunt for a pair of brothers who needed to pay. word count: 1.7k warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader is nearly an OFC, but I’ll try to keep it as vague as possible (reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), dog imagery/inferences (shocking I know), based in a slightly altered game timeline, (TW) lots of blood imagery, violence, death, good ol’ revenge, allusions to abuse/torture, manipulation, trauma, physical scars, panic attacks, NO USE OF Y/N

a/n: Might write more for this?? Dunno yet. This isn’t necessarily going to be a Joel x fem!reader fanfic since well, your endgame is killing him (or close to it). Let me know if any of you would actually like me to continue this. This is kind-of a proof of concept, I guess. I thought the og plan for Abby was super gut-wrenching. So basically this is playing off that concept except earlier in the story, maybe a couple months after Ellie and Joel arrive in Jackson.

Apologies if this isn’t super well written. I’m not really a writer, but I’m trying to get better at it lol.

———

Outside Boston, Massachusetts | 2019

The woman in front of you begged for a scrap of mercy. Spit flew out of her mouth as her screams scrawled into your eardrums. A bandana hung from her neck, soggy and wet seemingly from once being used as a gag.

“Please, I’ll do anything! I won’t tell anyone, we won’t tell anyone! Just let us go! Please, I will–”

A devastating crack rang in the still, stuffy air for a few moments.

You choked on your breath, caught off guard by the sudden noise. Her cries ceased, only to leave a dead silence hanging on every breath of air you took. It was suffocating. Heavy and thick, almost as if you forced yourself to swallow each gasp of air to keep it from escaping out of your throat.

Her hair was matted. Brown, once shimmering, coils of hair knotted and tangled into an undistinguishable disarray concealing her face.

A moment prior, she had mirrored yourself. Kneeled and hunched on the spotted tile floor. Bound by a makeshift rope, her hands were covered in splatters of blood and sweat. Her attention frantically searched the bleak room before locking onto your eyes. Even in the darkened lighting, her eyes were distinct. Filled to the brim with complete, unadulterated terror.

The glint in a person's eye just before their internal clock is shattered flickered into view as she stared.

Her motionless body now laid on its side on the floor. A constant shake that enveloped her entire body was absent.

Eyes devoid of any notion of life.

Just as you peered down, a mixture of blood and brain matter inched its way beneath where you knelt and soaked the knees of your jeans. Every thread held onto what was once the woman’s lifeline, her experiences, her emotions, her triumphs, her resounding failures. All to be left to the heap on the floor and the pooling blood soaking the knees of your jeans.

It was uncomfortable. Everything in the room felt hollow. You couldn’t help but focus on the unbearable, warm wetness of your pants. Your skin crawled. You needed the sensation to stop.

It didn’t matter anymore what was being said. It didn’t matter that you could barely see through the blockade of tears obscuring your vision. It didn’t matter that all parts of you were being tugged at. It didn't matter how it was demanded for you to look into the eyes of your captures. Everything glazed over. All of the things you looked at carried a translucent, dark wash overtop. Your intense focus barred you from making out the fuzzy details in the gloomily lit room. Knives that had once made you sear with pain felt like a nail being dragged against your skin. None of it mattered.

You could only pay attention to your jeans.

The woman, your sister, was gone, and you were up for slaughter.

———

Wyoming | May 2034

Surviving by the skin of your teeth had taken a toll on you. 

Day in – day out, each passing minute felt like white, hot, sweltering pain. An ever-present rumble persisted in your mind. Across your back, each movement, tight and stiff, felt like a fucked-up mnemonic omen to your past. Reminders were strung across the pavement, painted along cracked walls, hidden in the bleak corners of your sight. Closing your eyes never helped. The black void moved. It writhed into crude shapes resembling her. Shadows resembled the lifeless bodies that seemed to cling to you, no matter where you went.

Living left you battered and bruised. At the turn of your adolescence, being used as bait was what kept you fed. Supplied a cot to sleep on. Hunters dangled rations above your head on the condition you performed your 'trick' accordingly. You’d set off, hooked onto a leash of watchful eyes, feigning injury to lure unsuspecting do-gooders into a trap. A trap that left their corpses sizzling in a horrific bonfire and their belongings stacked on tables for auction. Cry for help as a ploy for the attack, get rewarded. If you escaped, you'd be stripped of essentials. You were a kid. Surviving on your own never posed as a viable option. It was hard to admit to yourself, but you’d be dead the moment you were let out of your cage. Other members drilled that fact into you. You knew even without their teeth snapping in your ears. The “Huntsman” provided an alternative far from feeling comfortable, but you could grin your teeth and bear it. Scars that sizzled along your back would be returned in due time. You laid in wait.

Into your adulthood and new-found 'freedom', surviving on your own was far more manageable. You were capable. Knowing how to defend yourself and manipulate those around you made being alone an easier plate to consume.

Long gone were the days of innocence and naivety. The cracks of bone and the tear of flesh had become your normal. You reeked of it.

The stench lingered off of you. A bloodthirsty curtain hung heavy over your eyes, dowsing all of the light they once harbored. Your experiences shaped you entirely, and not in a good way.

You were angry. Enraged. Frenzied. 

A thick, heavy sheen of viscera seeped into every single waking moment and each minuscule second of your unconscious mind. You couldn’t escape it, even if you tried.

You took it in stride; no other choice was thrown to you.

Every ounce of fury ached in your bones. You used it in all facets of your existence. 

You were living in a premonition. A desire. A need.

And you —

You would stop at nothing until that obligation became your reality.

-

Infected were commonplace. Nothing but a measly obstacle in your cyclic routines.

At first, you had been so hesitant to kill them. What if they could feel? What if they were still human? Sometimes, you thought you heard runners retching, fighting out the word 'stop', while devouring their kills. Avoiding them at all costs was a priority. You couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt if those thoughts were the truth.

Now, you had no choice.

Killing was made practical. Methodical. You had a way of going about it.

Thinking about the act too strenuously made you feel sick. Torture and the drawn-out ‘satisfaction’ of draining something of life wasn’t a pastime you enjoyed. Blood building around the eyes, it dripping from the mouth, made it too real. Death was delivered as swiftly as you could within the circumstances you were in. You’d only go the mile if it was something you deemed necessary. Or deserved, rather.

It boiled down to a quick draw of your revolver or a sweeping heave of a machete, and foes were left as nothing but flesh that oozed. They were puppets pulled on fungal strings for an organism that barely kept them alive. An infection pawning creatures as a means for motion and viability. Or, they were empty husks of people, lost too deep in the compensation for being ruthless and lusting for blood.

If anything, you were putting them out of their misery, right?

You convinced yourself to believe that.

Walking along barren, cracked roads had become a dull environment quickly. Dilapidated storefronts, battered farmhouses, and run-down neighborhoods muddled into a blur of lush greenery and rotted wood. It was calming, in a twisted way. Civilization plummeting into a remnant of what it once was felt fitting, warranted, from what little you remembered. Bricks that had been chipped away by the elements littered the ground. Structures were left as ruined time-capsules of an easier way of life. A life you didn't know long enough to stow away attachments to. A bygone era. Much of their worn, cement bones were picked clean, unlucky for you.

A few stragglers inside an abandoned home you were rummaging through became a welcome change of pace. Heart racing in your ears, the adrenaline gave you a high. You’d press yourself against a wall, letting your hearing acclimate to the subtlety of a pin drop. You’d ambush. Quick on your feet, you’d rush behind a clicker, driving your pocket knife deep into its throat. It would choke out. Gurgling and hissing for a few moments, it would give a sad attempt at clawing its way out of your grip. Promptly, it would fall limp, and you’d allow it to crumple to the floor. 

Rinse and repeat. 

In a jam, you’d slide over tables and counters to create distance, trusty revolver in hand. A shotgun holstered on the side of your backpack was useful if you were cornered. You’d had countless close calls, but you’d always managed to slip past. Injuries such as a broken arm or snapped ankle wouldn’t stop you regardless.

Beams providing support to a nearly collapsed roof sometimes fell from their deteriorating posts; the crash stealing your breath away. You felt rickety floorboards beneath you, then suddenly they were gone. It's dark.

She’s screaming.

She’s crying out your name. She can’t stop saying it. You can’t breathe. You’re taking in breaths; why can’t you breathe? What happened? She won’t stop shouting your name. You can’t feel your hands anymore. What’s happening? Your arms are numb. You keep blinking, but you can’t stop seeing her. You weren't here a second ago, right? Why won’t you answer her? She’s gagging on her tears. On the floor now. She’s relentlessly calling for you. Say something. Ears are buzzing. She’s coughing up blood. Can’t breathe. She’s crumbled on the floor. Legs are cold. 

She isn’t yelling for you anymore. 

You’re screaming.

You couldn't take it anymore. You were so close.

Nothing could stop you now. There is only so much an ability to fight could do you good for. You’d have to be smart and play your cards right.

Because you knew damn well that waltzing in with a loaded gun and a seemingly empty threat would get you nowhere. 

It didn’t matter how long it’d take. You were more than ready to play the long game.

Fuck, you'd been playing the long game. This resolution had been brewing in your mind for nearly fifteen years.

This was personal. You would make it personal. 

After all was said and done, you couldn’t give a shit. But until then, you needed to act the part and end this perpetual nightmare.

And kill Tommy and Joel Miller.

Or, die trying.

[dmwrites]

It all thundered in Tango’s head over and over like waves crashing against the rocks in a storm. The crops. The empty pen. The teasing. The fire. The fire. Scar running away, lighter still lit. The fire.

He was vaguely aware of Jimmy thanking everyone who came to help out out the ranch. He kept yelling over him, only to be gently pushed back. He felt bad, but he had to scream. He had to.

Jimmy’s hands were cool on his face, on his neck and arms. Everyone was gone. They were back in the ruins of The Ranch. Jimmy was pushing Tango into the middle of the floor, and dumped a bucket of water on his head.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Tango blinked through the water and shook his head like a dog. Jimmy was pacing back and forth in front of him, holding his hands. “I had to put you out- you were burning!”

Tango noticed Jimmy’s hands, which were a blistering red. “Oh no. Jimmy, did I burn you?” Curse his fire-born background. He took Jimmy’s hands and examined them. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re just mad, is all. I get it! We will get revenge!” Jimmy spoke grandly, but grimaced when he moved his hands.

“Here, put some snow on the burns.” Tango said, getting some from a chest. “It’ll soothe it. I’m going to go chop some wood. Yeah, chop some wood.”

“I mean, could it wait until tomorrow?” Jimmy looked anxious. “Tango, I know you’re feeling rash and upset and I am too, but we need to plan! We need to rebuild!”

Tango had to calm his heartbeat, because it was Jimmy’s too, and if this was going to happen he needed to calm down just enough.

Tango took some deep breaths. “Yes. I agree. Planning. Scar is a lot smarter then he acts. I’m going to go chop some wood, I mean it. It’s relaxing for me. I promise I won’t go looking for Scar. I promise.”

Their heartbeats were slowing down. Jimmy physically relaxed, almost going limp. “Okay. Go on then. See you later.” He stumbled to bed and just sat there. The wind came through one of the many holes in the house and ruffled his hair.

Tango grabbed his axe and walked over to Jimmy. “Hey Jim?”

“Yeah?” Jimmy looked up at him with those lovely brown eyes.

“Love you.” He leaned down and kissed Jimmy on the forehead.

“Love you too.” Jimmy smiled.

And yes, it wasn’t Scar’s that Tango went to. But it wasn’t the forest, either. Tango tripped his way down the ravine Impulse had once shown him, a crude set of stairs illuminating his true path. It was evening, it was quiet out. He had very little time left, Tango knew that, so he went as fast as he could.

He fell into the ancient city through a hole in the ceiling. It hurt- Jimmy would be concerned.

A shriek. Then darkness.

Strike one.

He ran through the city, and his footsteps should have echoed back to him like thunderous applause, but it all got absorbed by the blue and black.

But still, a shriek. Then darkness.

Strike two.

“Come on out and face me, motherfucker!” Tango screamed, standing in front of the enchanter, spreading his arms wide.

A shriek. Then darkness. Then, a horrible, wet, explosion from right in front of him.

Strike three.

And there it was. The warden, keeper of the ancient city, towered above him. Tango’s heart pounded, and yet he couldn’t stop smiling. It was a terrible, horrible grimace that kept him from running, but a smile nonetheless.

The warden stood there, looking down at Tango, and for one moment, there was dead silence. A man and a monster, equals in seeking out what it must do. And then the warden pulled its head back and screamed, and Tango screamed too.

And then, Tango was awake. And it felt so fucking good. He was tangled with Jimmy in the tiny bed they had always shared, where they whispered about the future together. But the future was gone- the future was now. Tango stood up in the still-charred ruins of The Ranch, pulling Jimmy up with him. Jimmy’s eyes were as red as Tango’s now, and a painfully wide smile cracked the skin of his face.

“I think it’s time to go hunting, my dear.” Tango whispered. Their communicators were going off, and Tango already knew what they said. Run Scar. Run.

“I can’t help but agree.” Jimmy grabbed two swords, and tossed one to Tango. “Finally. God. Finally.”

The two ran, swords out and murder thundering in their veins. The forest burst into fire around them, as Tango, his whole body alive with flames that clawed the air five feet above him, ran past the trees. Tango blew his horn, and Jimmy followed suit, and now it wasn't something to be ignored. Now, the cry of their horns were a hunting call that needed no answer.

[phoenixyfriend]

I have endless thoughts about not-actually-puppet ruler Korkie and his network of escape routes for refugees. Given everything Satine did and went through herself, I can't imagine Korkie just rolling over for the Empire, but I can't imagine him being stupid about it, either.

Pacifists are often insanely dedicated to making things better for the people who need it, even if they can't or won't fight.

Satine relied on refugee escape routes as a teenager to survive.

The Jedi need help. So. So like. If Jedi are fleeing the Purge...

Korkie can easily, if subtly, hold up the actions of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as We Owe Them.

Korkie has the wealth and influence to quietly have the clans and Houses give sanctuary to the odd Force Sensitive...

He can't say anything, not publicly. But people know by the look on his face and by the history of his family that he does not believe a word of the speech the Empire is having him give.

There's a delicious irony in Mandalorians being there to save Jedi when the chips are down. How many of the children that Quinlan helped ferry to safety in the Kenobi show ended up housed with Mandalorian clans, do you think?

And like. Obviously. Obviously. Due to Ahsoka and all her work. Korkie is in contact with his aunt Bo, who does her own part in ferrying FS younglings, because Friendship With Tano.

(I want Bo-Katan to continue her whole "I am definitely winning, shut up about the fact that I got my ass kicked, I am the BEST" energy while ferrying babies.)

Mandalorians can get away with "I have a small child on a heavily armed ship with heavily armed people"

"What are you planning to fight?" "Fuck you." "Yeah, that tracks."

"That child is four years old." "Perfect age to observe the hunt." "…why do I ever expect anything different from you people."

From @calika on discord:

jango fett's ghost that haunts mandalore frothing at the mouth as he watches the Young Duke ferry another baby jedi through his secret palace, tucking a completed Mandalorian birth certificate and adoption paperwork into their coat pocket, and into the arms of one of his staff's families

Bo Katan giving the lil kiddos the Grump Aunt roadtrip experience gives them those hardboiled sweets as rewards its a Strategy TM because if theyre stopped by imperial customs officers, the kiddos cant answer any questions because theyve got a mouthful of sticky mess

grizzled old mandalorian placing their helmet gently over the kid's head. way too big but very adorable they need some form of Protection also i know that canon is very sketchy about jedi-mandalorian conflict history etc. but i imagine that the mandalorians might still have some old jedi artefacts that were war trophies/from battlefields and that even though the Jedi Archives were destroyed, some parts of the jedi's history was preserved

she has three babs in a sling, front-back-and-side babs. whose the real winner huh? what do you have that makes YOU the winner huh? victory in battle, political power as asthmatic attack dog? pppfffsh i have chubby-cheeked toddlers and a million crayon drawings on my fridge armoury door

I bet she has baby sized leather armor Korkie pretends to believe her "I hate kids" act but all her deliveries are rosy-cheeked and cared for and not crying as hard as they could be about being separated from their families.

bo, deadpan: never make me do this again. kid holding her hand with a stuffed mythosaur in hand: uhm

"Bo, are you sure you don't just want to adopt a kid." "Shut."

something something cast of The Mandalorian find a random refugee Force Sensitive that lights up at seeing Bo-Katan and insistently calls her Auntie.

I know Mandalorians no longer control Mandalore by then but I need. I need Duke Korkarius* Kryze.

* Stolen from Dead Peanut Gallery

[definitely-not-a-mew]

Heyo y'all! SO I made a decision to do a lot of writing alongside art, as the way I started with this kinda,, was very draining for me!! SO without further ado, the part got a little long so under the cut it goes!

The howling of the blizzard slowly fades away as the ragtag trio make their way into the cave. The light from the outside gets dimmer and dimmer, leaving them in the damp, chilly darkness. "So... whats our game plan here?" All eyes turned to the two glowing white pinpricks in the darkness. They flitted out of existence and reappeared as Egg blinked. "Can you not do that? It's.. creepy." The Mew shuffled in the darkness, cuddled up in the dirty labcoat they ended up stealing from Cole. "Do what?" it yawned blearily, flicking it's tail, not that anyone could see it. "Your eyes- they're just. Glowing. It's freaky." The two went back and forth about creepy caves, being tired, and glowing eyes for a bit, right up until they bumped directly into an obstacle. A.. strangely warm and fuzzy obstacle. "Is.. this some kind of cave moss?" The fuzzy wall began to shift, and tiny sparks of flame lit up the darkness. Several balls of flame appeared in the air, floating around the area and illuminating the cave. It became Very apparent the three had run into a pack of Arcanine, who were not happy to have been woken up. Egg, Cole, and Cheese all began to back up slowly, staring wide eyed at the large dog Pokemon. "We should probably go-" Several barks echoed through the cave, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, surrounding the three in a cacophony of noise and flame. Within seconds the pack had them surrounded, growling and nipping at them when they moved even slightly. "I don't suppose they'll let us go?" "Does the growling suggest they will??? Or perhaps is it the jaws snapping that screams 'mercy' to you?" Cheese shot a glare at the purple Mew. "They're Pokemon right? You're a Pokemon too, just. Talk with them or something." "Yeah okay, like they'll listen to me-" All at once, the growling stopped, leaving only the sound of crackling pyre. The circle around them parted as a very large Arcanine with several scars on it's face stepped towards them. "Why are you here." she growled menacingly, showing off her numerous fiery teeth. She seemed ready to rip them to shreds at a seconds notice.

The three could only stare as the huge dog impatiently waited for an answer. After what felt like forever, Cole finally spoke. "Ah- I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you or your family, we were lost and caught in a blizzard. We didn't know anyone was in here- we just escaped from somewhere and needed a place to stay." The scarred Pokemon paused for a moment, thinking this over. "How odd. You aren't here to hunt us then?" she pondered aloud. Cole vigorously shook their head in response.

The blaze in her mouth puttered out swiftly as she approached, deeply sniffing the human. "You smell of chemicals and.. like an old friend. You lack the necessary tools to capture us. What a strange creature. I believe your story." The fires in the air dimmed down to a cozy glow as the ring of Arcanine relaxed around them, and calmly dispersed. Growlithe could be seen a few paces deeper into the cave, huddled into a puppy pile. "You may stay here until the blizzard calms down. If you truly are lost, then I know a dear friend who may be able to help. If you are lying, I'm sure you know the consequences." She punctuated her declaration with the snapping of her teeth. The regal leader stepped back and padded over to her pack, turning around a few times before laying down once more. "That was... terrifying." said Egg, who was quivering and balled up as far as they could go into the labcoat. "How did you know what to say? I thought we were dead meat when you started talking." Cheese hissed out, still scrambling for their breath. "I... don't know, I think she just wanted to make sure we weren't a threat I guess? In any case she said we could stay until its safer outside... so I guess it all worked out." Cheese stared at Cole like they had grown a second head. "Okay.. I'm not going to ask how you know that. As long as we aren't dog food or freezing." Cole scooted over and picked up Egg, pulling both of the Pokemon towards the heap of sleepy fur. They propped themself up against a wall close the pack of Pokemon, holding Egg close to their chest. Cheese decided to curl up right next to them, shutting their eyes and slowing their breathing. Eventually Cole drifted off into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the warmth of the cave and the soft, rhythmic breathing the Pokemon nearby.

[the-gay-disney-games]

I felt like this piece of propaganda for The Fox and the Hound deserved its own post (also I didn’t want to crowd that post lmao)

This movie can be read as a queer allegory so easily.

Firstly, it starts with a woman named Widow Tweed adopting a fox cub. Foxes are known in society as being dangerous, but she treats the fox cub like she would any other pet. Tod the fox is essentially domesticated like a dog. Tweed isn't shown to have any children, Tod is her child. She can be read as both a widow/single mother or as a lesbian/lgbt woman that lives alone and minds her business.

Then we have Amos Slade the hunter. He's portrayed as sort of redneck character, loves hunting a lot. He gets himself a new dog, a puppy named Copper, because his other dog Chief is getting too old. Amos is shown to be intolerant as a person through the fact that he tries to shoot at Tod when the fox cub is young and Tod was playing with Copper inside Amos' property. Tweed yells at him and rushes to grab Tod and take him away, while Amos yells back that she can't keep such a dangerous animal around and that Tod needs to be put down. He also doesn't want his puppy Copper have anything to do with Tod, despite the two young animals having a growing friendship.

Just through the adults, it shows the dynamics of a possibly queer woman raising a queer child being shunned by society and told their child is a menace and needs to be hurt or worse, versus a straight white man with traditional American values/love of guns wanting to keep their child away from 'the wrong sort' and believing he knows best.

Then we have the actual main backbone of the film, Tod and Copper's friendship. They're a very wholesome and adorable pair. When they first meet they're curious about one another, never seeing the other type of animal before, sniffing each other, asking questions. But they quickly start playing with each other. They get along amazingly well and are as thick as thieves. Copper has no preconceived notions that Tod is 'dangerous' and Tod doesn't realize that he's 'different' or that Copper's a hunting dog that would be trained to hunt him. They're equals and love to play and explore, and call each other their best friend. They promise they'll be friends forever. Of course that can't happen, because of Amos' stubbornness and intolerance, his rigidity to tradition. Tod is born a fox even if he's been domesticated and acts more like a dog, and foxes are bad. He takes Copper away to take him hunting in the woods for a year, ripping apart the friendship his puppy and the fox kit have.

The pair are adults when Copper comes back. Tod tries to sneak in to speak to him. Copper tells him that they can't be friends anymore, which saddens Tod, who wanted them to go back to how things were before when they were kids, the closeness they had. Chief finds out about Tod and barks for Amos, starting a chase. Copper catches Tod but lets him go, trying to divert his owner from Tod's trail. Chief however finds Tod and keeps chasing him. The two almost get killed by a passing train, with Chief sustaining an injury. This enrages Copper and Amos, all of them swearing vengeance on Tod. Tod is horrified that his old best friend now wants him dead. Tweed is in tears as she realizes how much in danger Tod is, so she goes to a reserve to let Tod back into the wild. Later Copper and Amos go to the same reserve to hunt Tod. The hunters accidentally stumble across a bear and it's provoked to attack. Copper tries to fight the bear off to protect his owner, who had dropped his gun. Copper nearly dies but Tod jumps in to help in the fight, and the two end up falling down a river/waterfall. Amos goes to find Copper again, finding him with Tod and is ready to shoot. Copper positions himself in front of Tod to protect him and show his owner he's not going back on his friend again. Amos lowers his gun, realizing that Tod saved their lives. Tod and Copper reconcile, promising they're still friends and sharing one last smile, before Copper leaves the reserve forever. When he's at home, Copper reminisces about the day he met Tod, smiling to himself before falling asleep.

This film is literally THE perfect queer allegory, it's just told through animals than through people. Tod and Copper are so very gay, that sort of weird stage in queer best friendship where you're sort of in love with one another, but can't come to admit it because of issues coming up (like homophobic parents).

Help me I didn't realize I wrote an entire research paper in your submissions, I'm so sorry, I just adore this film and think it's underrated.

[sips-tea-cutely]

Can you write sdr2 boys if they were dating an ultimate spirit medium? Personality is cheery, bubble, outgoing, stubborn, and overbearing!

Sdr2 boys dating a bubbly ultimate spirit medium

a/n: the sdr2 cast is so hard to write :distressed:

#Hajime Hinata

he finds every ultimate cool, what do you think 😨😨

wouldn’t be really TOO interested in your talent pre/during killing game.

i feel like post-danganronpa, he’d really want to talk to chiaki but he knows he needs to move on so he decides against it, plus he was you after all. why talk to your dead bsf when you have an alive s/o 😐😐

ANYWAYS, during the killing game, he’d def be running to you for hints and to be his investigation partner (along with chianki, detective trio!!) after nagito went nuts

imagine if your a bit like toritsuka from saiki k, he’d definitely freak out if you could see ghosts in his dorm 😰😰

#Byakuya Twogami

imposter would find you… interesting to say the least???

how can someone be so cheery while talking to dead people 😟😟 they genuinely wanted to know but like they remembered they were dressed up as byakuya

“what foolishness. how can one be so exuberant and happy-go-lucky whilst having such a dreadful talent? tch…”

pls answer them, they need to know/gen 👁👁

#Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

“hey fuyuhiko, theres a spirit named _____, they want to s-“ “👁👁”

HASHSH ok but besides that, he’d find it pretty interesting tbh

post-trial 2, he’d ask you to mediate a conversation between him and peko as a final goodbye. after that i think he’d finally be satisfied and would move on

i feel like post killing game fuyuhiko would ask you if natsumi is okay, still not over her 😪😪

tbh though, at first i think he’d be terrified to approach you cause like what if one of the people he’s hunted down wants to talk to him? what then, would they be angry??

#Gundham Tanaka

help i think this would boost his god/chuunibyou complex 💀💀

“AHA, KAZUICHI, YOU HAD ONCE SAID THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE UNDERWORLD, BUT S/O, THE SUSTAINER OF HEAVENLY PRINCIPLES’ ULTIMATE TALENT ITSELF PROVES ITS’ EXISTENCE”

i feel like in the non-despair/UTDP AU, he’d brag about it to people that are kinda similar/related

omg youre the ultimate anthropologist who does seances? too bad, s/o is better. ultimate prisoner? yea, s/o could totally find the people you killed

omg ok but he really does love you sm, not just for your talent, would def love how you’re so cheery despite having such a despair-inducing talent

im praying to god that you also get into his false reality cause you’d be defending his little reality from kazuichi and i swear, i heard his heart skip a beat (im cham-p btw 😍😍)

#Kazuichi Soda

he’d find you pretty cool tbhh

i dont think that your talent would change any of his feelings but he’d definitely think its interesting

tbh i think he’d try to make devices to help make your talent a little bit easier like maybe a little spirit box or incense scent releaser

i feel like you’d have a thing where you refuse to accept his gifts but his love language is giving gifts and receiving words of affection so yea, it’d be little lighthearted fights aww <33

like i said, nothing would change, as long as you love him <33

#Nagito Komaeda

oh my god, youre amazing 😨😨😨

he would definitely use you as an example to everyone else for what it means to smile at despair in the name of hope

nagito for sure has a lot of people he’d like to talk to; maybe his parents or even his dog would be enough 😞😞 but i feel he’d be scared to do it for two reasons;

1: youre an ultimate! why should a talentless and worthless human being like him even get to ask you for a favor? to him, he seems to be very selfish for even thinking of asking for that

2: he also doesn’t want you to think that he only cares for you to use you as a medium to talk to his parents. sure, at first, he admired you for being a symbol of absolute hope but after getting to know you, he truly fell in love. and the longer he fell, the less of a need to cling to the past as long as his final wish was fulfilled; to be loved by someone before he dies.

#Nekomaru Nidai

YOUR TALENT IS SO COOL OFKFDJN

he would think that training would lowkey make your skill much more easier to practice

he wouldn’t really be too interested in using your talent for his own purposes but he would constantly push the ‘s/o uses their ability to solve the trial’ agenda WJSJSJS but monokuma didn’t allow it

would also ask a bunch of questions about your talent— does it give you a headache, how many spirits can you take, etc

AJSJSSJ im sry i cant think of alot 😭😭

#Teruteru Hanamura

ok i actually have a lot of ideas for teruteru.

so pre/during killing game, he wouldn’t really do anything about your talent, why would he, he’s a chef!

when ibuki suggests to use your talent to talk to byakuya’s spirit, teruteru would almost lose his cool and release his accent (he thankfully didn’t)

and also thankfully, monokuma banned you from using your talent since it’d make the trial boring if they all just relied on you

and then post killing game i feel like he’d ask you to help him talk to his dead mom since im pretty sure its hinted that shes dead

also also omg youre his personal taste tester and i swear to shuichis baseball cap that it’s all food wars clothes-removing inducing kind of good like *chef kiss*