#either death at the hands of the enemies of humanity

[thedovesaredying]

Fire Meet Flesh | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader | Dragon AU | Part 1

(GoT Screenshot)

Ghost is the last remaining dragon. He, alongside his human rider, Johnny, patrol their kingdom's border and protect its people from those who would do them harm. Just the threat of a fully grown dragon is enough to deter enemy kingdoms from striking, but this leaves Ghost rather lonely. That is until he discovers you.

He's determined to win you over, but even with no competition, can a dragon who has no idea what he's doing earn your heart?

A/N: Fun little AU fic where Ghost and Reader are both dragons! Body-wise the dragons are more like wyverns, with a set of wings and one pair of legs.

Words: 1,430

Warnings: Unedited.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

“The hell has gotten into you, Ghost?” Soap groans for the umpteenth time that morning, yanking on the reigns attached to the dragon’s chest only to sigh in exasperation when Ghost simply continues on regardless. Nothing the Scotsman can say will sway the dragon from the task at hand, they’re on a mission of the greatest importance, even if Soap doesn’t know it yet.  

At another round of expletives from the brunette, Ghost shakes his head with a snarl, refusing all attempts at getting him to turn around. They’re deeper into the mountain woodland than they’ve ever travelled before, completely uncharted territory. While most dragons are trained from a mere few days of age to obey their riders, Ghost never had such an education, the only remaining member of the now extinct wild dragons.  

He was captured as a fledgling and locked away as part of the spoils of war. While the rest of his species were slaughtered, and the handful of domestic dragons battled against one another, Ghost was left to rot in a dungeon far too small to contain his rapidly growing body. Brothers turned on brothers, sisters on sisters, and parents were made to kill their own hatchlings in the name of their human kings. His once golden scales faded to a sickly white after years of living in darkness, and his throat, snout and legs were permanently scarred from the chaffing of iron chains. Humans had done nothing but bring pain and suffering to him and his fellow dragons, used their loyalty to their riders against them to bring about the ruin of their species.  

Soap was originally brought before him as another prisoner, someone he was supposed to burn and then consume – the first meal he’d seen in several weeks at that point – but the strange human had been smart enough to convince him they could work together to escape. He only bonded with his Johnny with the intention of leaving him the moment they were free, but it would seem the connection between a dragon and their chosen rider goes much deeper than Ghost had realised at the time.  

Even if he wanted to, Ghost couldn’t get rid of the damn human, they were bound together for life and Ghost wouldn’t be able to have another rider until Soap’s death. If he survived the pain of a lost partner, that is. Begrudging as he was to admit it, he really couldn’t see himself bonding with another, they would either perish together or Ghost would return to the wilds, the last of his kind.  

At least, that was what Ghost had thought, what the silly little humans and their so-called scholars had thought. But Ghost knew the scent of dragon, could pick it up from miles and miles away, and somewhere on this mountainside? There was another dragon.  

For hours he’s forced Soap to circle the same patch of land, breathing in lungful after lungful of the delightful smell. It sends tingles down the entire length of his spine every time he catches it, but he’s not entirely certain why. That isn’t what he’s focusing on, however, rather he is more interested in trying to pinpoint where the smell is coming from. It’s difficult with how dense the trees are, but eventually, he spots a clearing large enough for them to safely land.  

He twists about in the air, drifting just above the tops of the pine trees, before he lowers his legs and drops down onto the grass below, none too gently if Soap’s pained grunt is anything to go by. He tries to send something akin to an apology down their shared bond, but it’s no doubt overshadowed by the rapidly climbing excitement building within him.  

Johnny just huffs at him, swinging his leg over his saddle, before clambering down Ghost’s back to the ground. “Now, what’s got ye so full o’ beans?” the human grumbles, petting at the side of Ghost’s face when he offers it. Unable to verbally explain, he merely whines and starts stepping from foot to foot, entirely restless. The display, unfortunately, just gets Soap to laugh at his enthusiasm.  

Deciding to ignore his rider’s cruel mockery of his eagerness, Ghost is quick to put his snout to the ground and begin sniffing. If he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging at a mile an hour, but he’s a dragon, and dragons compose themselves with much more dignity, and so, Ghost will deny any claims Johnny makes about him practically wriggling with excitement when he catches a trail he can actually follow.  

The scent takes him away from the open grass and further up the mountain, through some of the sparsely growing trees, before he finally sees physical evidence of his target. Where the trees have begun to cluster closer together, several of them have been knocked clean over, torn up roots and all, covered in deep claw-shaped gouges.  

The destruction doesn’t go unnoticed by Soap, who starts trying to deter him from his search, but Ghost has a clear path to follow now, and instead picks up speed. He’s not exactly subtle as he crashes through the short bushes and branches at get in his way, and Johnny certainly isn’t helping the matter with his panicked yelling. Fortunately, he’s not so distracted that he misses the massive, gaping hole in the side of the mountain, screeching to a halt when he realises that’s where the scent is freshest.  

Ancient trees form a thick canopy above the cave’s entrance, hiding it entirely from the air while still creating a space large enough for a dragon to easily enter and exit. It’s the perfect spot for a lair, far superior to the dragon stables Ghost is currently forced to live in, miserably lonely wooden structures that no longer even smell like the dragons they once housed.  

This dark cavern, surrounded by only the sounds of nature – the wind, the birds, the bubbling stream nearby – and smelling strongly of a lair is perhaps the most enticing place Ghost has ever encountered. He could easily see himself choosing to roost here, hunting the grasslands at the base of the mountain and indulging in a long nap or two beside the cool stream in the midday heat.  

Poor Johnny had only just caught up with him, reaching out to rest a hand on his hind leg, only for Ghost to start moving again, much to the man’s disapproval. He pokes his head into the cave, noting that it’s much deeper than he had anticipated, with tall ceilings and even a small pool of water at its centre. It’s dark inside, so much so he almost entirely misses the large form settled at the back of the cave, mistaking it for a large pile of stone.  

He realises perhaps too late that the rocks are moving and is more than a little stunned to find a pair of bright green eyes blinking back at him. As his eyes rapidly adjust to the darkness, he sees the large, powerful form of the dragon who had been resting moments earlier. Your scales are completely black, blending in seamlessly with the shadows, and a large frill juts all the way from your neck to the tip of your tail. Your horns are long and sharp, pointed like the tips of deadly spears, and a deep emerald green is glowing from between your bared teeth, evidence of the flames you’re more than ready to unleash on this unknown dragon.  

It hits him like a bludgeon to the face when he takes in another breath of your scent – you're not just a dragon, you’re a she-dragon. He’s not only found himself a fellow dragon, but perhaps the very last female of his species. He’s so enamoured by this discovery that he completely overlooked the fact that the two of you aren’t alone. A gasp from Johnny is all it takes for your attention to immediately shift to the human currently gaping at you from your own doorway.  

It’s rather embarrassing having to later listen to Soap gripe and groan to Price and Gaz about almost being toasted by you when Ghost had to rather quickly snatch him out of the literal line of fire.  

The two of you might have got off on the wrong wing, but Ghost is certain he can win you over. He’s not exactly sure how his species usually try to court one another, but he’s seen how humans attempt to woo their mates, so surely it can’t be too difficult, right?  

[lordcaptains]

:(

:)

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[deadghosy]

Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

[keto-keyes]

Slytherins with a non!Deatheater S/O

Imagine/preference

The Slytherins are down bad for their partners. So how do they rip off the band aid and break the news that secretly, they're all bad?

Mattheo Riddle:

We all know he's a bad boy with a bad attitude

...except around his S/O

He doesn't try to hide the blood on his hands, but uses the excuse "I was protecting you"

He does actually do it to protect you, don't worry

His dad threatens to end you if he refuses to do his Deatheater duties

So he makes sure to keep you around him whenever he can to make sure you can't get hurt

Our boy stresses the heck out whenever you get even the smallest bit injured

It might start fights sometimes between the two of you, but you KNOW this mamas boy would never lay a hand on you in the wrong way

If you try to join, he discourages it

He doesn't want to psychologically scar you

lots of time together whenever he can kick his dad outta his mind

Then he holds you tight like he's gonna lose you

Don't ever stop loving this man, alright?

Tom Riddle:

It's kinda impossible for you not to know about his...situation

It's all anybody talks about when you're around

But he only wants to protect you

So he makes sure to keep you distracted whenever he must get the job done

He'll take you dancing, or go shopping afterwards

sometimes you might need to clean him up after a scuffle

he lets you, but only if you promise not to ask how he got the injuries

His dad also threatens him with losing you and he could never be complete without his S/O safely in his arms

if somehow you get tangled in his mess of deatheater-ness, he will sacrifice EVERYTHING for you

his only thought is to keep you safe

Theodore Nott:

He doesn't tell you he's a Deatheater until you meet his friends

That's right, he didn't let you meet his friends

not at first

after you meet them, it's kinda like momentum until he finally tells you he's a deatheater

he definitely expects you to hate his ass, but you don't so he's hopeful

he smokes to forget all the horrible things he does.

he does it more once he finally confesses, but tries not to when you're around.

dw, his stoic attitude when you ask him about being a deatheater isn't him being uncaring

he just forgot how to feel remorse after being a human murder weapon for so long.

it's like torture for him, and he hates it

So care for him please, as best you possibly can

Draco Malfoy:

He's probably the most affected by the deatheater thing

If you're dating him, either you're younger than him or your families are close.

So you know all about the deatheater thing

he pretends having a dangerous father is a good thing

like, he can destroy draco's enemies in an instant,

but... he could also force you to join Voldemort, and that's something that can never happen.

you have to either be holding his hand or his cheek AT ALL TIMES,

otherwise his anxiety causes him to start shaking

he'll whisper all his worries as he weeps himself to sleep, and sometime you catch him doing it

his dad only protected him for so long, now it's your turn

Blaise Zabini:

He doesn't talk about it

ever

even when you two have been dating for a while, he doesn't mention it

it's not your problem, it's his

and he wants it to stay that way for as long as possible

he's afraid telling you will somehow lead to Voldemort knowing, and holding it against him

especially since the only thing Voldemort's actually threatening him with is death. extremely painful death.

so he doesn't even mention it.

you know though. you know how painful killing and torturing is for him.

it tears him apart, almost to the point where he wants to smoke with theo

sometimes he wishes desperately that he could tell you everything, but he's scared you would be in danger.

so he stays quiet and lets the anguish build

he doesn't crack. ever

he stays stoic and silent. caring

Pansy Parkinson:

she doesn't like to bother you with the gorey details,

but sometimes they slip out

she breaks down all the time. it's traumatising

but she can't really articulate what she feels

so she just cries as you hold her to your chest/side

yeah, idk i didn't really have any ideas for pansy

Lorenzo Berkshire:

he may be a little flouncy at times, but he cares about your wellbeing enough to protect you

its his main goal in life

so he tries to keep himself between you and the others for as long as possible. like theo

its less of a "you don't need to know them"

and more of a "what? other people? who needs people when I'm your cute bf?" while waving his hands in front of you so you focus on him

he lets you wash his cuts for him

and do his hair in consolidation for not being by your side for a few hours.

Voldemort really can't touch enzo without hurting you.

So he keeps his mouth shut about it a lot.

sweet boy livin in a cruel world, what can i say

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[akariamai]

Claws, Blades, and Botanical Love

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!OC

Word Count: 1642

“Where are we going?” Logan asked in a steely tone as Wade forcefully shoved him into the discolored and slightly wrecked stolen car. It had been a day since the small celebration of the multiverse was saved and now, Wade was forcing him into another adventure.

“Listen up, my little honey badger of doom and gloom, we’re about to inject some much-needed joy into those dead fish eyes of yours. Seriously, would it kill you to crack a smile for all the lovely readers out there? They’re lying in bed, wide awake, thinking about your mopey ass at 2 in the morning. Give ‘em a little something to dream about, will ya?” Wade finished with a boop on Logan’s nose.

“What the fuck are you yapping about?” Logan snapped, slamming his fist onto the headliner of the car.

“Chill your claws, Logan. So there I was, doing my little multiverse hopscotch, trying to find the you that’s not you but is still you—don’t think too hard about it. And guess what? Every single one of you grumpy furballs has the same weak spot. I mean, color me shocked when I find out Wolverine’s out here simping hardcore for a mutant angel, Mother Nature herself with all her leafy green goddess vibes.” Wade paused, turning the engine on, before continuing, “And oh, wouldn’t you know it? She’s your soulmate, bub. Yep, the big bad Wolverine falling head over claws for Mother Earth. Who knew you had it in ya? And for my grand finale after saving the multiverse, I asked the TVA to track down your leafy soulmate right here in this universe. I know, I’m a hero. Now, where’s my applause, Logan? Or, you know, a little thank you pegging wouldn’t hurt either. Your call!”

Logan absorbed the information in silence. He gripped the side of his seat, knuckles turning white and claws threatening to come out, as the weight of the words spoken sank in. His breath hitched — a soulmate. The concept circled around his mind, relentless and overwhelming. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the car seemed to close in on him. A soulmate. His soulmate. The thought pounded in his skull, echoing louder with each beat of his heart.

His eyes darted from one side of the car to the other, unfocused, as his breathing quickened. Every face he’d ever known flashed through his mind— mutants, friends, enemies— all blurring together in a desperate search. He released his grip on his seat to only grip it tighter, digging deep into his memory, trying to pinpoint who it could be. Who from his world could possibly be the one.

“Oh, I can practically hear the gears grinding in your noggin, Wolfie. Relax, it’s not like you’ve missed out on a soulmate meet-and-greet. You never met them in your universe—they kicked the bucket before your paths ever crossed. Just like the Logan of this universe bit the dust before he got his chance to meet them. So, no need to lose any more sleep over it, bub.” Wade reached into the hidden compartment of the car and handed Logan to file. “Alright, feast your eyes on this bad boy—it’s got all the juicy deets about your little sweet pea right here. Buckle up, Logan, it’s time to dive into the love story of the century!”

Logan’s fingers hover over the file, trembling slightly. He shallowed hard, his throat dry as he stared holes at it. His breath came in uneven gasps. The file lay heavy in his hands, a stark contrast to his tight grip as if it might burst into flames of open with a truth he wasn’t ready to face. He became a monster after the death of his friends — his family — a vicious and heartless animal with no regard for human life. He had a fiery temper and alcoholic tendencies. He hesitated, his eyes darting to and from the file, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he were bracing himself for impact.

The file contained a possible future, a future he was not worthy for, but he was a selfish man who wanted nothing more than peace. Once the file was opened, his eyes were drawn to a picture of a gardener, Flora Winters.

Flora was the right mix of grit and grace. She had this magnetic way of commanding the camera’s attention, her presence effortlessly filling the frame with a blend of strength and elegance. There was a subtle, almost intangible quality that made her stand out.

“Hey, Earth to Perve, are you done giving her the ol’ eyeball striptease yet? You haven’t even met her and you’re already panting like a dog left out in the summer sun all day. I can only guess what’ll happen when you’re actually in the same room. Actually, I can totally imagine it— and if you don’t mind, I’d love to join in on the bedroom fun!”

~~~

Flora Winters spends the day slicing into the strawberries she’s grown in her greenhouse, experimenting with different recipes to find the one that’ll make her taste buds dance. She plans to sell them alongside the rest of her crops. Her life is mostly mundane, except for the occasional boost she gives her plants with her powers.

She senses a subtle tremor in the grass—a quiet warning from the trees that someone is near, getting closer. She feels the presence of two individuals stepping onto her porch, brushing against the ivy draped from the roof, ready to knock on her door.

Cracking the door open just enough to peek out, she narrows her eyes at the two men standing there. “What do you want?” she asks, taking in their ridiculous outfits. One is decked out in a red-and-black bodysuit that looks like a walking dildo, complete with a mask that only leaves his bug-eyed lenses visible. The other guy’s in a yellow-and-blue getup that looks straight out of a comic book, his muscles practically bulging out of the suit. They look like they’re about to audition for the weirdest superhero team ever.

Logan’s heightened senses pick up a scent that calms the raging animal inside him. It’s subtle—like the earth after rain, mixed with blooming flowers and a hint of something uniquely her. For the first time in what feels like forever, a deep sense of peace settles over him, like he’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for. Every instinct tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Wade practically bounces on his heels. “This is it, bub! Your happily-ever-after, complete with a side of rosebuds and thorns.”

Logan shoots Wade a withering glare. “Shut up!”

But Wade, being Wade, ignores him and keeps running his mouth. “So, Flora, you should know—Logan here is a real softy under all that muscle. Sure, he’s got the claws and hair of a kitty and the whole brooding loner vibe down pat, but deep down, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I said that. Anyway, I’ll just leave him here and pick him up after this little playdate.”

Flora’s eyes flicker between the two, her brow furrowing as she narrows her gaze. The walking dildo keeps yapping nonsense. The vines hanging from the roof pulse with energy, eager for her command to snap into action. The thought of wrapping those vines around these idiots and flinging them far from her home is very tempting. It would be so easy.

Her eyes dart to the door—a simple barrier she could slam shut if they don’t retaliate. She hears the dildo’s yapping and the other guy’s low growling. They’re not really a threat, more like oversized children.

“Enough with your childish bickering. I want names. Who the fuck are you, how do you know my name, and what do you want?”

Wade starts to speak, but Logan cuts him off, his voice low and growling. “The moron here thinks we’re soulmates.”

Wade jumps back in, grinning. “The TVA stamped it, laminated it, and probably put it in a scrapbook labeled ‘Destined Couples of the Multiverse.’ Ain’t love just precious—like a rabid wolverine with a bowtie! So, congrats, lovebirds. Now kiss, fight, or do both. I’m just hyped to see good ol’ Logan drop the whole grumpy routine and maybe—just maybe—stop looking like he’s got a permanent wedgie. Fingers crossed he cracks a smile without breaking a mirror.”

Flora crosses her arms and tunes out the rest of the nonsense. The vines behind the two men sway towards them like serpents, coiling around their bodies and lifting them off the porch. With a flick of her wrist, the vines hurl the intruders as far as possible from her farm. She hears their screams fade as she calmly shuts the door, ignoring whatever mess is happening outside.

Wade and Logan watch the farm grow smaller and smaller until it vanishes behind the trees. Logan lands flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, silently cursing Wade for dragging him into this. Wade, not as lucky, ends up impaled on a lonely tree stump. “Motherfucker.”

Logan gasps, “That went well.”

Wade pulls himself off the stump, glaring at his ruined suit. “I knew I should’ve handled the chit-chat! This is what happens when you let amateurs do the smooth talkin’—awkward silences and cringe-level dialogue. Next time, leave the witty banter to the pros—me.” He points at himself with both thumbs before inspecting the lacerations in his suit. “Well, there goes my uniform! Ruined! You know how hard it is to play arts and crafts with my own skin-tight, butt-hugging suit? This is what my life has come to—reconstructing fashion disasters caused by homicidal landscaping and that damn Vine Vixen.”

Masterlist

[inbarfink]

There’s just something about the fact that Zim reads as So Autistic. Like, both in the sense that it’s easy to map his experiences as an alien secretly living on earth to Autistic experiences:

A lack of understanding of social cues and conventions

The Anxieties of feeling like you have to fit in some arbitrary social standards or Something Bad will happen

Unusual sensory sensitivities

Pickiness about food

General alienation

Even the whole ‘fully grown alien disguised as a human child but he’s so immature he basically acts like a child’ shtick can really resonate with a sort of Growing Up Autistic Feeling of… being both far too mature and childish for your age at the same time.

And also in the sense that even in the context of comparing him to other Irkens...

He has problems with volume control

And possibly audio processing

And definitely with emotional regulation

And is extremely impulsive 

And uses very unusual wordings and turn-of-phrases 

And experiences sensory overloads.

And these aren't even Alien Things. That's just Zim being Zim. So he can be read as a metaphor for being Autistic and also as just having the Irken Equivalent of Autism

AND ALSO

His human arch-enemy Dib also has SO MUCH AUTISM VIBES

Like being single-mindedly obsessed with a special interest from a young age

(The part where his interests alienate him from his peers at school and he only finds companionship with an assortment of fellow weirdos of various ages he met online is something I find especially relatable for my own experiences)

Also having problems with reading social cues 

And a tendency to rant and info-dump

AND ALSO ALSO 

There’s also Gaz

Who is ALSO single-mindedly obsessed with a singular subject

And it’s something that always gives her something to do with her hands

And avoid eye-contact 

Which she generally prefers to avoid

And also seems to dislike any sort of physical touch

And either expresses her emotions in a way that is terribly understated or overstated

And it could also apply to their dad too, who’s been obsessed with science stuff from a young age

And also doesn’t seem to do so well with social interactions

Outside of just, like, me looking back at my Autistic-but-unaware-of-it middle-school ass imprinting on this show and being like “oh yeah, That Makes Sense” - it’s also kinda darkly hilarious how this show is basically about two autistic boys who just fucking hate each other to death (plus one of the boys' extremely autistic and extremely dysfunctional family). I mean, in the real world Autistic Solidarity is so incredibly important, obviously. But Invader Zim, a show that was everything to me as a lil autistic teenager is all about that sweet sweet Autistic Hostility.

[loverslodge]

Glitch

summery: you is a broken mutant and Bucky is very adamant to protect her

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warning: experiments, violence, ptsd, angst, fluff

A/N: finally a bucky baby romance. love him so much i want to cuddle him to death.

You didn't know how to react. You were kissing Bucky Barnes and you didn't know how to react. This was not the way you thought kissing Bucky Barnes for the first time would go.

You joined the team over two years ago. You weren't an agent, you were a lab rat. Well, a lab rat is a harsh way of putting things. You had somehow gained some sort of superpowers. You were attacked during the Ultron takeover and something burst near you that gave you just enough powers that could make you glitch. Many glitches later, you determined that it was the panicked adrenaline that set off the glitches and once you calmed down, everything was ‘normal’. Someone must have found out about you after years so SHIELD came to you. They basically kidnapped you and shoved you in their labs.

You met The Avengers. The new recruits as well. Including the famed Winter Soldier. You have seen him work, when he was under control. Actually, they had exchanged conversations. He did save you from an enemy, the one he was supposed to assassinate. But he was beat so you had nursed him. You had left the next day, you were on the run after all. And now, here you were again, meeting him. He didn't remember you and why would he? You were nobody with whom he shared a passionate kiss as Winter Soldier. He made her a promise that he'll come back for you but you knew you weren't going to see each other again.

He stood on the other side of the glass and was talking to Captain America and Iron Man about something. He kept on glancing and pointing at you. You also saw the Eye Patch Man join the discussion. Winter Soldier was getting angry, frustrated maybe, you couldn't really tell. Captain America put a hand on his shoulder and patted his back. He huffed in frustration and left the room.

Bucky saw the state you were in. none of the avengers were allowed in that facility till two years later. He was shocked to see you, a person, like him, treated like a lab rat just like he was. Something about you seemed familiar but he couldn't put a finger on it. He got angry. They told him she was going to be part of the team and yet she was trapped in a glass cage for everyone to look at. She had wires attached to her. She seemed unbothered, unfeeling even. It broke him a little, to see you give up. He used to be like this, then he got friends and they helped but you had nobody. He had Steve. He argued with Tony and Fury but they said you needed more time. He knew what that meant. They were willing to keep you in there till they had control over you. He didn't like that. All of them walked in the conference room where the rest were. They all put out points. Wanda saw his point and agreed, so did Natasha. They finally agreed to have her roam free in the compound but she would be engaged in the lab with Banner. She would be his helping hand and might also be part of experiments that will help her. They explained to Bucky why you needed to be experimented on. You had become part mutant which was not good for you. Either they can help you be a complete mutant or take away the powers and turn you human. Till they find the root of it all, they couldn't even give you options. Bucky agreed. He just wanted you not tied to the wires.

You got your own room. To your right was Wanda, to your left was Natasha and across you was a huge room of Winter Soldier, whom you now know as Bucky Barnes. You were introduced to almost everyone. Others later, once they came back from their missions. They were so nice to you. Especially Wanda and Natasha. But you knew, they had you close because they were supposed to watch you. Make sure you dont glitch on the compound and if you do, drag you straight to the labs. Sleep was evasive. You would wake up glitching because of nightmares. You would not sleep with water because it gave you a reason to walk to the kitchen and settle your glitch. Every night you would meet Bucky there. You didn't talk but both of you shared a silence. He kept your glitches a secret from Fury. and that made you want to look for a solution even harder. You didn't want him to be in trouble because you were sure it was because of him you roamed free.

You avoided Tony’s parties. But your window provided enough entertainment of these parties. You would gaze down and see people buzzing. Sometimes you had tears in your eyes and sometimes you glitched. Bucky knew you were watching. It was obvious. He felt eyes on him and he could hear your little squeaks when he looked up at your window. He liked having you around but he didnt know how to help. So he would stay silent. He followed your schedule. He knew you had nightmares. He also knew you liked to go to the kitchen to grab water because it took your mind off. He started to wait for you. The moment he would hear your door lock after you after you returned from the kitchen, he would go back to sleep as well. He wanted to keep you safe, he doesn't know why.

It was the Fourth of July. It was also Captain Rogers’ birthday. You loved to make small desserts so you thought this was a good time of showing the team that you were grateful for inclusion. You gave the first piece to Steve and he very graciously accepted. He loved it so much he asked you to bake some more for him whenever you had time. You blushed. He nodded vigorously and bumped into Bucky. He insisted you call him that. You offered him your dessert. He didn't have to say he liked it, his face and eyes talked for him. You felt your heartbeat rise and you ducked away from them, yelling ‘happy birthday steve’. That was the loudest he had heard you. He loved your smile. He loved your voice. Even though none of it was directed to him, he still soaked them in.

You started to open up more. Not a lot, just enough for people to interact more casually with you. You started to spend more time in the kitchen. It started relaxing you. You did glitch sometimes, if startled, but over all, you were getting ‘better’. Dr. Banner had taken your blood samples and had been working on reconstructing your cells. He said something about broken threads needing to be sewed but you wouldnt understand. You were more of a stenographer in the lab, everything Banner said was written down. You were happier, more relaxed. Even tried to step outside the compound once but someone saw you glitch and you ran back to your room. You spent more time with Bucky too. He said he could train you and you had said yes. Twice a week was your schedule with him. He would make sure you both were alone in the gym and so, even if you glitched, he would be there to calm you. His presence did that to you. Calmed you so much that even the tiniest glitch disappeared. Just like it did when he had kissed you way back.

There was a part of this though. You were very scared of fireworks. It reminded you of your lonely years and attacks. You had been dealing well because New York had been protected by The Avengers. You rarely hear fireworks too. Just during the New Years this year but they were muffled because FRIDAY had turned on sound blockers after seeing you flinch, glitch and shiver.

The celebrations began. You were in your room again, looking down the window. Your eyes were following Bucky. Again. He was enjoying his drink with Steve and Sam. he glanced up and you squeaked and slid down to hide. You still weren't aware that people couldn't see you from down there but Bucky loved it. He loved that your eyes followed him everywhere. But then he heard Tony say that he had bought shit-ton of fireworks this year to celebrate Steve. He tensed. He weaved his way to your room. You were unaware of this blasting development and gazed down at the people. Bucky knew you feared fireworks. FRIDAY told him after the first time. He was vigilant and made sure nothing startled you but he would always startle you. He was very stealthy after all.

He was seconds away from your room when the fireworks started. You jumped and glitched and screamed. He heard you. He ran. He asked FRIDAY to open your door. He saw you glitching and quivering under your blanket. He rushed in. He held you tight and covered your ears. The sound blockers were not working. You grabbed his shirt. You think you tore it a little but it didn't matter. You were holding onto him for your dear life. You were hyperventilating.

“Can't… breathe…” you huffed, trying to regain your pulse.

“Breath with me, y/n. Here, feel me. See, I am breathing well, yes?” he tore off his shirt and placed your palm on his heart. It did calm you a little but not enough. You tried to concentrate on his breathing but the loud fireworks riled you up even more.

He had read that stopping someone’s breathing for a few seconds would help with hyperventilation. He could choke you but you were a blubbering mess and he didn't want to leave marks saying he tried to kill you to save you. So he did the only logic that spun in his head. He pressed his lips against your. His hands were cupping your face and his lips firmly against yours. He felt your breath hitching to a stop and he sighed. He held for a few more seconds to actually feel your body relax against his. But something unexpected happened. Your lips moved against his. Now his breath hitched. You were kissing him. You angled your head for better access and he registered that. He immediately pulled you on his lap and moved his lips. You opened your mouth and his tongue went right in. you moaned. The familiar feeling of kissing him was back and you didn't want to let him go. Your hand moved from his chest to his neck, pulling him closer. His hand held your waist tightly against himself and the other cupped the back of your neck.

Suddenly he was transported to his Winter Soldier days. One day to be very specific where he had almost become Bucky just because he shared a heated moment with a girl. That familiar touch, that moan and those lips. They were the same. He latched onto you even further. He remembered you. He went back to look for you but you were long gone. Then shit went down and he came back to be Steve’s best friend. He had forgotten about you, almost, till this very moment. He cradled your head and tried to pull back to let you breath but you caught his lips again. As if you were thirsty. He chuckled and started caressing your head. He slowed down the pace of the kiss and you calmed down. You slowly pulled away and looked down. Your face was on fire. The fireworks had died down.

He cupped your face and tilted it to make you look at him. “It was you, the one who almost pulled me out of my insanity. I have you back in my arms.” he sighed and kissed your forehead. “Are you okay? I will talk to Tony to not schedule updates on fireworks days.”

“I thought you didn't remember me.” your voice came in whispers. “I'm okay. Now. I didn't mean to pull you away from Steve’s party. I, uh, waited for you. A bit. Back then. But I had to run.”

“You didn't pull me away from anywhere, doll. I came to you myself. I always found you familiar but it was your kiss that reminded me that you were the one I had lost back then. Now you wont run, will you?” He asked, looking at you. You shook your head and he pulled you to his chest. You could hear his heartbeat clearly. You breathed deep. You were exhausted after the episode.

“Let’s get you to bed.” he stood up and carried you to his room. Your blanket was still wrapped around you. He lowered you down on his mattress and went to change out his clothes. You nestled deeper into his bed and tried to keep your eyes open. He trudged back in the room and got in bed beside you. Your arms immediately went for him and he let you pull him to you.

“You will not let me go again, will you?” you asked softly.

“Never. You are holding on to me forever.” he wrapped his arms around you and you both snuggle to sleep.

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just… emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[mononijikayu]

already gone – gojo satoru.

(manga spoilers for chapter 261)

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

GENRE: shinjiku showdown arc (spoilers for chapter 261)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: already gone by sleeping at last

NOTE: im mourning so hard, i haven't stopped crying. but i cried more because i can't imagine how my oc would feel considering genmei views satoru as her lifeline. im not even at that part of the story writing, but genmei would be hit hard. she wouldnt be able to move on. she wouldn't be able to stop crying either. but i needed to write this, to get the emotional brunt off my chest. i hope that this comforts you a little as it did with me. i love you all. hugs for everyone.

masterlist

u s and t h e m

THERE REALLY WAS NO GOING BACK FROM THIS. You and Satoru sat alone amidst the aftermath, the bodies of the higher-ups lying around you, a grim testament to the brutal reality you both faced. 

The silence was heavy, a suffocating weight that pressed down on your chest as you stared at the carnage. The acrid scent of blood and death hung in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang that coated your tongue. Each breath felt like an effort, the gravity of what had transpired settling over you like a dark cloud.

Satoru, usually so carefree and unbothered, looked uncharacteristically solemn. His usually bright, mischievous eyes were shadowed with emotions embroiling into a chaotic harmony. 

He sat close to you, his hand resting on the ground beside yours, fingers almost brushing but not quite. The unspoken connection between you had always been palpable. Even when both of you were a bit younger. It was if anything, even when you both lost Suguru, a thin thread of solace in the midst of the horror.

You glanced at Satoru, seeking some form of reassurance, but his gaze was fixed on the bodies, his jaw clenched tight. The weight of the recent events bore down on you both, the decisions made, the lives taken, all swirling in a chaotic maelstrom of regret and necessity. 

There was no other choice. Not when there was such little time, when there was no way you would leave this for the kids to wrap up. It was a moment where the true cost of your responsibilities became painfully clear, the price paid in blood and sacrifice. This is all that will secure the future.

Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough. "We did what we had to." he said, more to himself than to you, as if trying to convince himself of the necessity of their actions. “Don’t think too much.”

You nodded, though your heart ached with the truth of his words. "I know." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But after all this time, I thought it would be easier.”

You did think it was easier. You knew what it was like to kill human beings. The act of taking a life was not foreign to you; it had been part of your existence as a jujutsu sorcerer for as long as you could remember. The initial shock and horror of it had dulled over time, replaced by a grim acceptance of necessity. Each death was a means to an end, a way to protect the innocent, to rid the world of curses, to maintain balance. Yet, today felt different.

The bodies of the higher-ups lay sprawled around you, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. These were not faceless enemies or malevolent curses; these were people you had known, some for years. Their ambitions, their fears, their humanity—it all lay exposed in the finality of their deaths. You and Satoru had made a choice, one born out of desperation and the need for a new order, but the cost of that choice now weighed heavily on your soul.

You have always been able to justify your actions in the past. Each kill had been a step toward a greater good, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. But this? This felt like a betrayal of the very essence of what you stood for. These were your peers, your allies, albeit flawed and corrupt. The distinction between right and wrong blurred, leaving you adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity.

Satoru's hand tightened around yours, a silent anchor in the storm of your thoughts. His presence was a reminder that you were not alone in this, that he too bore the weight of what you had done. You glanced at him, searching for some semblance of solace in his expression. His face was a mask of determination, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—betrayed a depth of sorrow that mirrored your own.

His eyes flicked to yours, a flicker of pain and understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that there would be no going back to the way things were. The choices made here would haunt you, but you also knew that you would face the future together, bound by the shared weight of your decisions and the unspoken promise of support.

“Hm, it doesn’t.”

Silence engulfs you both.

Your eyes flared downward.

A sigh passes through your lips.

"It's not in you to have liked to do this." you finally said, breaking the silence. Your voice trembled with the weight of unspoken emotions, the sorrow churning in layers unknown. “To decide the upper floors had to go.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. "We had no choice," he replied, his voice devoid of its usual lightheartedness. "We have no more time to indulge in the future."

There was so much you wanted to say, so many arguments and pleas that burned on the tip of your tongue. But the words refused to come, trapped in the maelstrom of your conflicted heart. Satoru seemed to sense your turmoil, turning to face you, his piercing blue eyes searching yours.

"Just say it," he urged gently. "Tell me how you hate me for what Yuuta and I agreed to do, should I lose to Sukuna."

You met his gaze, the pain and love in your eyes reflected in his own. "I do hate you," you whispered, the confession tearing at your soul. "Because I love you too much."

Satoru's expression softened, and he stood, walking over to you. He pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. "The loss of me will pass," he murmured against your hair, his breath warm on your skin. “Hm? You will always move forward. You have to.”

You clung to him, the thought of losing him more than you could bear. "You say it as it is. I had to. Not because I wanted to.”

He laughs a little, echoes of guilt layered among it.. “But you will this time too.”

This is what you think you hated the most about Satoru. How settled he was in his ways, how stubborn he was with his plan. It was a means to an end. As long as it brought down the system, he didn’t care about what happened. As long as his students lived, he didn’t care. And yet you wondered, what he would leave you with. 

How much emptiness, how much grief he would let you settle for years and years — because he cared more about the world he wanted to build. In a way, you loved Satoru too much. You loved him so much you went against the world you had always known.

You had a dream of a normal life. Once when Kaiko and Namie were alive. Once with Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. When all you had left was Satoru, you were determined to live for him. 

But you never gave up on that dream That you would have that white picket fence life. That you would raise a family. That you would grow old with him. But you should have known. You should have known that he was too far gone for you to reach. 

Even with all the love that was between you, you should have known that love would not be enough to bring him back to life. Gojo Satoru had decided that love was a curse. And he lived by it. Geto Suguru had given it to him. 

And he had accepted it. And since that day, you knew that he would have never let it go. Yet, what right do you have to judge him for it? You felt the same, when Kaiko died. And you never looked back. 

“I loved you too much to let you just be a passerby in my life," you finally  said, your voice breaking. "I've lost too much already, Satoru. But…. but to lose you would break me."

He held you tighter, his voice steady and resolute. "You have to be strong, for me and for everyone, y’know that." he said. "They'll need you when I'm gone."

His words cut deep, but you knew he was right. The world would keep turning. The sun would keep moving forward. The march of time, the echo of life would not change. It will go on and on. Even without him. People would need you to be there, to fight for them, to protect them. But the thought of a world without him was a dark, hollow void in your life, in your heart. In your soul. More tears flowed in your eyes. 

Memories echoed in your head, as though they were just reels of your life in a picture show. You knew he could see it too, as though his six-eyes could see it as painfully as you could. As clearly as possible. Eleven years of life, motioned into small moments. Small  moments that encompassed your whole world. Because he was your world. He was your whole world. 

2011

You and Satoru spent a day at the beach, the sun high in the sky and the ocean waves crashing gently against the shore. He chased you along the sand, laughter bubbling up as you tried to escape his playful grasp. When he finally caught you, he lifted you up and spun you around, both of you dizzy with happiness.

You collapsed onto the sand together, breathless and smiling. "I wish we could stay here forever," you said, looking out at the endless horizon.

He squeezed your hand, his voice soft and sincere. "We can always come back. This place will always be here for us. We’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki with us next time too.”

You smile back at him. “I’d like that, Satoru. More than you know.”

2013

One quiet night, you both lay on a blanket under a canopy of stars, the world around you silent and still. Satoru pointed out constellations, his voice a soothing murmur in the darkness.

"There's Orion," he said, tracing the outline with his finger. "And over there is Cassiopeia."

You nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Do you think we'll always have moments like this?" you asked softly.

He wrapped an arm around you, his voice filled with certainty. "Always. No matter what happens, we'll always find our way back to each other."

2014

Your New Year's together that year was magical. You stood on a rooftop, watching fireworks light up the night sky. The colors exploded in brilliant patterns, reflecting in Satoru's eyes as he pulled you close.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling a sense of hope and excitement for the future. "Let's make this year unforgettable."

He smiled, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Every year with you will be unforgettable."

“You guys make me sick.” Megumi whispered under his breath, taking a bite out of his cake. 

“Megumi, don’t say that! They’re in love.” Tsumiki says, smiling at the sight of you and Satoru.

You both could only laugh.

2017

In the quiet of the night, you and Satoru sat together, your hearts heavy with grief for the loss of Suguru. The weight of his absence hung in the air like a tangible presence, a reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of duty and honor.

Satoru's normally bright eyes were dimmed with sorrow, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the burden he carried. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering what little comfort you could in the face of such profound loss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I had to do it. I had no choice."

You squeezed his hand, offering silent understanding and support. "I know," you replied softly. "It wasn't easy, but you did what had to be done. Suguru understood that."

Tears welled in Satoru's eyes as he leaned into your embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of your presence. In that moment of shared sorrow, you held each other close, finding strength in your love and the knowledge that you would always be there for one another, no matter what trials lay ahead.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful intensity. "Remember all the things we wanted?" he began softly. "Now all our memories, they're haunted."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words resonate deeply within you. "We were always meant to say goodbye." you whispered, your voice trembling. 

"Even with our fists held high, it never would have worked out right," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were never meant for do or die, darling."

A sob escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I didn't want us to burn out, Satoru" you said, your voice breaking. "I didn't come here to hurt you now. I don't want to hurt you. But now I.... I can't stop."

Satoru gently cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter where we take this road. Someone's gotta go."

His words cut through you like a knife, the finality of it all hitting you hard. "It doesn't have to be you."

He smiles shaking his head.

"And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better," he said, his voice full of love and regret. "But I want you to move on, so I'm already gone."

“How do I do it?” You sobbed to him. “Without you?”

“You can.” He presses a kiss against your nose. “And you will.”

“You were meant to grow old with me.” You croaked to him.

"But now you’ll do it for me. For the both of us, hm? Live a long life." Satoru shakes his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Keep Gakuganji in check. You know that old geezer can’t be trusted to keep the straight line.”

“Satoru….”

“Keep the jujutsu world at peace on my behalf.”

You shake your head against his chest.

You hit your arms against his figure.

Infinity was always down when it was you.

“Live long so that you have stories to tell me."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I hate you!" you repeated, the words laced with anguish. “I really really hate you.”

He laughed sadly, a bittersweet sound that echoed in the empty space around you. "I know, darling." he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know."

In that moment, you both understood the depth of your bond, the unspoken promises and the inevitable heartache that lay ahead. But for now, you held onto each other, finding solace in the shared pain and the love that had brought you together.

When you let him go that day, you knew.

You would have to wait until you were gray.

You looked at Shoko and you shook your head.

Your eyes were too red to even look one last time..

As far as you were concerned, he was already gone.

[loliwrites]

V. Dedication | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, enemies to lovers [ish], age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, infected and terrible humans present, death and murder, blood, groping under the guise of a pat down, big angry joel, reader gets thoroughly beat up [happens off-screen], terms of endearment [babygirl, sweet girl], female reader, joel is able to carry reader, reader has hair long enough to brush back, no other physical descriptions, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.0k series masterlist  a/n: the penultimate part of this series! i’ve had so much fun writing it and i hope you all have enjoyed

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Holding onto your horse’s reins, your eyes bounced back and forth between the arguing Miller brothers. They were in a spat over something you believed to be ridiculous. A quarrel over you.

“It’s just one day. It’ll be fine,”

“If she’s goin’ out on patrol, I’m her partner. End of story,”

“We got word of a bloater in Teton County and a pack of stalkers on Elk Creek trail. Do you really want her to go up against a bloater?”

“I can go with her to clear the stalkers,”

“No, you can’t, ‘cause I ain’t gonna fight a bloater with Jesse.” Tommy paused and turned his head toward the young man who stood next to you with his own horse, “no offense.”

Jesse was nice enough. Competent. A good shot and tough. All around a good patrol partner. You nudged his shoulder and tilted your head to the side to lead him away. No use wasting daylight listening to Joel and Tommy bicker like an old married couple.

Up on your horse, sliding your rifle into the scabbard at the side, you started to mentally prepare for the upcoming fight you were about to take part in. Until today, you’d never been on patrol without Joel. There wouldn’t be the shorthand of routine; of knowing what his next move would be. About his strengths and weaknesses. For all intents and purposes, you were going in blind with Jesse. Left to nothing but prayer that he was good enough to not get either of you in hot water. Regardless, there was no point in dwelling on it. You were going out into the great wilderness with Jesse. Case closed.

That is until your horse came to an abrupt stop, let out a startled whinny, and backpedaled. Below, just in front of you, Joel was there. Hands pressed to the horse’s neck, halting the animal’s forward advance, “Joel, move.”

“Just hold on a second ‘til we figure–”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” you shot him your most sympathetic smile. Life was dangerous these days. You weren’t about to hold his concern against him, even if it was a little misplaced. “I’m going with Jesse and you’re going with Tommy, and I’ll see you when you get back. ‘Sides, I should be more concerned about you,”

He inhaled deeply and came around to the side of the horse. His hand drifted up to your knee and cocked his head back to look up at you sitting tall in the saddle. “Be careful, alright?”

“You too, Miller,” you leaned over, practically folding yourself in half to be able to reach his lips for a kiss. Perhaps it was a little foolish for how unafraid you felt. Maybe a little fear would do you good. 

Once upright again, you clicked your teeth and dug your heels into the horse’s sides, urging forward out of the gates of Jackson. Out there for the first time in months without Joel. In fact your partner for the day couldn’t be more different than Joel. Youthful, thin, never knew a life without the cordyceps outbreak. It was the only world he knew and he had learned to excel in it. He had to. Survival depended on it. It was partly the reason that fear hadn’t entered the equation. Jesse had gone on plenty of patrols and he’d come back from every one of them. Today would be no different. Even if you did find it strange that he preferred to keep a shotgun on him instead of a rifle. Anytime you’d had to use a shotgun meant you were within a handful of yards away from the target.

Plus it would give you a chance to extend your roots. Being out on patrol with Joel five or six times a week left very little time for you to feel like you wanted to do much of anything other than sleep and lounge around. Didn’t want to socialize at the Tipsy Bison, or make your nights longer going to the movies. You wanted to get sufficiently fucked and then pass out so you could do the whole thing over again in the morning. Despite not having had much of a chance to be friendly, Jesse proved to be a better conversationalist than Joel had been on the first day out. He asked about how you were adjusting to your first couple seasons in Jackson. Naturally you asked where he’d found the edelweiss (in the woods off of the ski lodge, not far from where you were on your first patrol with Joel).

“How’s it going with him?”

Your eyes darted over in Jesse’s direction. “It’s good. He’s… reliable on patrol. Good at what he does,”

“No, I mean…” Jesse trailed off and adjusted himself in the saddle. Nearing Elk Creek, you knew there was a finite amount of time left to talk before you’d be trained in on eliminating the stalkers that had been seen. “Ellie’s mentioned stuff to Dina and I. And that kiss,”

You nodded slowly and returned your gaze straight ahead, nearing the edge of the woods. Though they weren’t exactly on a talking basis, you figured Ellie was observant enough to have gathered your presence at the house or Joel’s absence because he was at yours most nights. That was another thing you remembered about being a teenage girl. Gossip.

“Been a long time since I was part of a community this normal. Like before. Joel’s really helped me assimilate. Helped me feel useful here. I–”

A twig snapped off in the distance. Something with weight to it. Eyes widened, ears straining. You and Jesse looked in every imaginable direction and yet saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just trees and trees and trees. Swallowing, you looked down at the saddle horn, trying to focus on all the sounds of nature around you, for anything that seemed out of place.

“Stalkers?” Jesse whispered. His head was still whipping around, trying to locate something. Anything.

You lifted your head again and shook it, “we woulda’ heard something else by now.”

“Maybe just an animal?”

Nodding, you really hoped he was right and yet knew he wasn’t. You were being watched and supposed the only reason you hadn’t been shot at yet was that you were out of range and they didn’t want to waste their bullets. Tugging on the reins, you got your horse to take a couple steps backward, “follow me. Real slow,”

But no sooner than you whipped around in the opposite direction, prepared to regroup with Jesse and come in from a different angle to get the upper hand on what you assumed were raiders of some sort, a shrieking started from your new direction. You glanced over at Jesse, “those are the stalkers.”

“Any chance the stalkers and the people hiding sort themselves out?”

That got a laugh out of you. God that would’ve been great if they could. “Probably not,” you glanced back over your shoulder to see if you were being snuck up on. “Go back to Jackson and bring a couple more people. We’re gonna need ‘em,”

“I can’t leave you here alone,”

“Go,” your tone was matter of fact and left absolutely nothing to be confused. He hesitated, fear in his eyes – but not for himself. For you. You pulled your rifle out of the scabbard and outstretched it in his direction. “Gimme your shotgun,” but Jesse wouldn’t reach for it. Just shook his head, almost paralyzed, so you all but forced it into his hands, “take mine back to town.”

It took a little convincing. A few angry glares and frustrated sighs before you swapped guns and he trotted out of the woods. Truth was, if things ended up going sideways, you wanted your gun safe in Jackson and not in the hands of some halfwit bandit. Another problem was the half ton beast you were currently atop. There wasn’t a real way to be stealthy while remaining on it. It’d be a dead giveaway of your position. Putting you high up on a platter for picking off.

That was how you found yourself in a tree. A literal tree with your horse tethered to a different tree twenty or so yards off. Nestled up high in the branches with a knife in one pocket, a handgun in your waistband and the shotgun precariously wedged between two limbs. In a perfect world, you would’ve positioned yourself some place where you had a vantage point to watch the other humans who were undoubtedly around. As stupid as they might be, they did have a functional brain not overrun by a fungus. It would’ve been nice to be able to keep an eye on their movement. If only you had known where they were.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Joel stared straight ahead, choosing not to give Tommy more attention than was necessary. He was still stewing in his saddle over the thought of you out there with Jesse. And Tommy was no fool. He could tell his brother was fuming. Could tell he was one bit of bad news away from blowing his lid. Unfortunately he was going to have to deliver some.

“I don’t exactly know what we’re up against,” Tommy admitted, squinting his eyes, looking off into the sun. Anything to not have to look Joel in the eye.

“No one saw anything else with the bloater? More ‘an likely a handful of clickers,”

“No one saw the bloater.”

Joel slowly turned his head in Tommy’s direction. An icy glare and pure disdain on his face. Seeing red didn’t begin to describe it. He yanked on his reins until his horse came to a stop.

“I said we got word of a bloater. We’re checkin’ it out,”

“Tommy,”

“All the other times we got word of one, there was one. I’m sure it’ll be there,”

“You better hope there’s one there,” Joel clicked his teeth and got his horse moving again. “You better hope there’s a stupid amount of clickers with it.” 

Tommy shook his head, “she’s fine, Joel. Horse’ll outrun the stalkers. She could be a hundred yards from ‘em and pick ‘em off,”

“S’not the infected that worry me,” Joel glanced in Tommy’s direction again, this time catching his gaze. “Elk Creek is like fuckin’ Route 66 for raiders. They’re gonna go up against people. It’s warmin’ up, they’ll be on the move. Stickin’ close to the river. I’ve seen her shoot down clickers like it was child’s play. It was never the stalkers I was worried about,”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

You hit the ground, back first, with a heavy thud. The air, knocked out of your lungs and came from your mouth with a pained grunt. That wasn’t the only pain though. Something else stung at your side and you figured one of the three fuckers standing above you had clipped you. It was the only reason you could come up with for why you’d so clumsily fallen out of the tree. It hadn’t been the first tree you’d ever climbed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. But now outside of trying to fill air back into your lungs, you had to figure out how you were going to get out of this. Alive, if possible. They already had you at an impossible disadvantage.

“Well, looky here,” one of the men smiled down at you. There was a small bit of relief to find you didn’t recognize any of them. “Shook a tree and a girl fell out,”

They all laughed. Unnerving considering none of them seemed to care that you were supine and they were all hunched over, towering over you.

“What’re you doin’ out here, girl?”

You forced a smile, thinking maybe if you just played it cool and unassuming they’d leave you be. But what was that thing about a girl rather being stuck in a forest with a bear over a man? “Just hangin’ around,”

They laughed again; this time at your shot at a joke. But it was short lived before one pulled a revolver out from behind his back and cocked it, pointed down at your face. Not much of a chance now. The only upper hand you had was that you knew there were two stalkers a few handful of yards away from where you lay and hoped that these three big oafs over you didn’t know that. And rather unfortunately, the shotgun was out of reach – not that these guys would let you make any moves without their permission.

“Get up. Slow,” the one with the gun wiggled it around as if that would be the thing that got you moving.

All you could do was play it smart. Turning onto your side, you kept your eyes locked on the barrel of the gun as you hoisted yourself off the ground. Back on your feet, you flicked your hands beneath the hem of your jacket. It looked natural but it was a subtle way to make sure it hadn’t gotten hung up on the handgun in your waistband. If these guys had any sense, they’d pat you down. That was when you’d make your getaway. You figured it could give you a few steps head start to create some space. 

After more than two decades of this, these guys were well-seasoned to survival, and search you they did. The one with the gun lowered it so his buddy could press on your shoulder and spin you around; away from them. His hands then drifted down your sides, though it felt more like groping than searching for any weapons. That’s for the best. His fingers reached down to your ass and lingered longer than necessary to do the job and that was probably as good of a time as any to start trying to get away from them.

You coyly reached into the inner pocket of your jacket and slowly pulled out the pocket knife in it. It wasn’t as flashy as a switchblade, and not as easy to open. You’d have to complete a rather exaggerated flick of the wrist to get it unsheathed. That was going to take away from your getaway time – if there was any. But no time like the present, you flicked your knife-wielding hand out to the side and angled it behind your back. With one swift motion, sunk the blade into the side of the man patting you down. He let out the most wretched scream you could imagine, with the expletive, “fuckin’ bitch”, but that was all you heard before your pulse pounded in your ears and you took off running. They were no doubt going to be quick on your heels. Truly a toss up whether it’d be all three or just two.

Swerving left and diving beneath a thicket, you were glad (and lucky) that the thorns had caught on your clothing and stopped you short of coming out on the other side, where it appeared the stalkers were on the move in your direction. And more importantly the direction of the men, whose voices now started to ring in your ears again, searching for you. Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe those guys and the stalkers would sort themselves out. And following that train of thought… where the fuck was Jesse?

He should’ve been back by now. Or close to it. He should’ve–

All thought was cut off by adrenaline. By the feeling of a thick hand wrapping around your ankle and squeezing tight. By the knowledge that that hand was about to do unspeakable harm to you and it all started with the hand yanking you backward. Out of the brush and into the clearing of three large men and however many stalkers came to join in the fun.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Joel stomped out of the armory with Tommy right on his heels. If the weather had been slightly colder, surely there would’ve been steam coming out of his ears. Pissed didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling right now. As much as he wanted to pin all that anger on Tommy, he couldn’t help that he felt a great deal of anger at himself; for not having put up more of a steadfast disapproval and fight over you going out there with anyone other than him.

“They should’ve been back by now,” he growled in Tommy’s direction, teeth practically gnashing together. Looking skyward, the sun was nearing the horizon. If it got as far as the moon peeking into the sky, he knew you’d never make it through the night.

Tommy clapped his hand down on his brother’s shoulder, doing his best to be reassuring, “you know Jesse plays it smart. If they came up on something he didn’t think they could handle, they would’ve come back.”

“He did come back,”

Joel’s head whipped around toward a voice he never thought he’d hear again. Ellie. Standing at the entrance of the stables with a freshly tacked horse by her side. They’d been through so much together. He’d seen her through terrifying experiences, but at this moment, she’d never looked so worried.

“But he didn’t come back with her,”

“Goddamnit, Tommy!” Joel screamed, surely loud enough for everyone left in the community to hear. 

He neared her, and Ellie held her hand out, offering the reins to him, “grabbed Dina and Astrid and went out again.”

“Joel, quit.” Tommy pushed on his brother’s chest, trying to get him away from the horse. “Even if she is still alive, you ain’t gonna be any use to her once night falls,”

But Joel shoved harder, sending Tommy stumbling a couple steps backward. “If it were Maria, I wouldn’t be stopping you.” He lifted his foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up in the saddle, “Ellie get me a gun.”

She was in the armory before Joel even got done speaking. His rage, however, diffused slightly at the sound of the guards up on the wall screaming about incoming riders. Joel dared himself to hope you were safe with them. Allowed himself the optimism to believe you were there. But when the gates opened, all that wishful thinking evaporated. Four horses came in with three humans. Jesse, Astrid, and Dina. He recognized the fourth horse to be the one you’d left on this morning. 

Joel yanked on the reins to keep his horse steady despite the anxiety caused by the energy of the newcomers, “Ellie!” Then he shot the angriest of glares at Jesse, “where is she?”

“I didn’t want to. She made me leave her and come back for help…”

“Where is she?!” His voice thundered, sending some people not even in the conversation cowering.

“I don’t know! Wasn’t where I left her. Just her horse, a couple dead stalkers, and two raiders,”

A nudge at his shin and Joel glanced down where Ellie pressed a rifle at his leg for his attention. Your rifle. God, how he wanted to turn it on Jesse in this moment. He scooped up the rifle from Ellie and slid it into the scabbard at his side. There wasn’t time to let anyone else have another word. He had to get out there. Night was coming far too quickly.

“Let me go with you. Help you find her,” Jesse insisted.

“Why?” Joel snarled, “‘cause you did such a good job last time?”

Horse spurred and running out past the gates, Joel was of one track mind. The whole stretch of creek trails went on for nearly seven miles. If you were along any length of it, hidden back in the brush, it could take him a whole day with good daylight to find you. As it stood, he’d have about a half hour by the time he arrived at the trail before pure darkness overtook the landscape.

“Incoming from the east!”

Joel’s head swiveled and followed the direction from the call from the guard on the wall. One look and he knew it had to be you. About a quarter mile out, you were just a little blip in his vision. But it was you. It had to be you. He wouldn’t accept any reality other than that.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

There was a pounding in your head that felt like an ice pick was sticking out of your skull. Breathing had become a little more laborious, not sure if your nose was just abysmally bruised or if it was broken. The taste of blood had become less prominent, but based on the color of the saliva you spit at the ground, it was only that you’d gotten used to it, not that it had stopped. Your side hadn’t stopped bleeding either. The realization that you’d been hit came on the long walk back to Jackson when your shirt began to stick uncomfortably to your skin. It was then you noticed a red patch seeped through. A graze of a bullet wound.

Every part of your physical body wanted you to stop. Wanted you to lay down and give up. Give it a rest. But there was a flicker in the back of your mind. No. Keep going. Get back home. Get back to him. If you were going to see the last of life, you were going to have Joel in it. You would move to the other realm with the image of him forever burned into your soul’s memory. So you put one foot in front of the other and repeated that over and over again until the walls of Jackson loomed close.

You didn’t recognize it as his horse but you knew it had to be Joel in the distance. No other person would’ve risked their life to come search for you in the darkness. Only when he was near enough that you could correctly identify it as him, did you allow yourself out of the self-preservation phase, and into the emotional one. The tired one. Your chest started to bounce up and down, taking in ragged breaths while quiet sobs overtook your body. Tears came easily. Too easily. You hadn’t been lying when you’d told him most of your nightmares had become about losing home. Shit. Losing him. And today had been a hell of a close call.

He was close now. Not close enough for your aching voice to reach him, but close enough for him to swing himself off his horse before it had even come to a full stop. He ran up to you, never missing a beat or stride.

“Joel,” you wept, dropping to your knees. Your feet could take you no further. Luckily they wouldn’t need to.

He skidded up in front of you, landing on his knees, too. “I got you, babygirl. I got you,” he so badly wanted to touch you – to hold you – but you looked like you’d just clawed your way out of the seven levels of hell, and no spot on your body seemed safe to embrace. “Let me get you home,”

“I hurt everywhere,” you sobbed a little harder, bowing your head as crying didn’t exactly make your ribs feel any better. 

His eyes scanned your body, “I know, babygirl. I’m sorry. What hurts the most?” Finally his gaze rested upon your chest, where your hand pressed against the center of it. “Chest?”

“Heart,” you whimpered, trying to stifle your tears.

“Then we gotta get you to the doctor quick,”

You shook your head. “No,” you sniffled but another round of tears sprung loose. Having to admit this to him… “Didn’t think I was gonna make it,” you swallowed and choked on your breath, “scared.”

Words failed him. What could he say? Nothing particularly coherent came to mind, perhaps because he’d been just as scared. Instead, Joel leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. He cradled your skull as delicately as he could, and furrowed his eyebrows to press his lips to you a little harder. It was all he could do for fear of causing you even more pain. But when he pulled away, he helped you up to your feet; much to your dismay. You couldn’t just stay out there all night. 

Joel’s arm ghosted around your back, enveloping you closer to him, trying to usher you toward the gates though your feet wouldn’t move. “Think you can get up on the horse?”

The shake of your head was immediate and paired with a distressed hum. Climb up on a horse? Absolutely not. So Joel scooped you up with one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. A wince assaulted your expression when he lifted you – it all being a bit too much pressure on all of the sore parts. He apologized but there wasn’t much he could do to make it better. He had to get you home. 

“Wait, my gun,” you looked over Joel’s shoulder and back at the horse he’d come in on, where your rifle was still holstered. 

“Look,” Joel jostled your legs to get a better hold on you, “Jesse’s comin’ out for the horse. He’ll get it,”

You turned your head and did indeed see Jesse running out in your direction. You wondered if he’d been just as scared as you – arriving back to where he’d left you, only to find it abandoned. He must’ve been pretty startled not being able to find you; thinking he’d lost a patrol partner. Knowing he’d have to go back to Jackson and admit it. It surely couldn’t have been an easy thing to do – not with Joel staring him down with something evil. And Joel passed by him so quickly, you only had a passing glance at each other. Horror written all over Jesse’s face. You figured you looked as bad as you felt. 

Thankfully Joel got you back inside the gated perimeter of the community quickly. Back into this safe haven where the terror you’d faced earlier in the day could start to slip away. Maybe it would never leave completely – none of it ever did – but within the walls of Jackson, it would be easier to forget. 

As he walked down the main street with you in his arms, you were only half aware of all the people that had gathered around. Staring. Unsure if the feat was the state of your being or the fact that Joel, a man on the back half of his life, was carrying a woman in his arms like it was just as natural as breathing. The vague awareness surrounding you, however, wasn’t due to any injury sustained. It was because your eyes were locked on Joel’s, listening to every little word he whispered.

“You’re safe now, sweet girl. You’ll be alright. Gonna get ya’ fixed up and then never let you outta my fuckin’ sight again,”

A soft smile flashed over your face. It was all you could muster. That idea seemed absurd. That you’d spend the rest of your life under Joel’s watchful eye. And yet… it sounded pretty good. After all the time you’d spent feeling unsafe (for longer than you could remember), you could get a shot at turning that around.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Your pulse evened out sometime around the point Joel turned onto his street, very clearly taking you back to his home, where he’d be able to keep a watchful eye over you. By the time he was climbing the steps of his porch, you’d gained your breath back too. No more active tears fell from your eyes and you thought that if you could just rest for about a week straight, you’d get back to normal in no time. 

But it seemed Ellie had picked one thing up from Joel – a flair for panic when someone he cared about was in trouble. Though her panic wasn’t directly for you, but for Joel. Surely it was evident to her that Joel had developed more than just a fondness for you. Even if she spent most of her time tucked away in the converted garage, there was no way she could’ve been immune to the knowledge that you spent most nights in Joel’s upstairs bedroom.

Joel twisted the knob on the front door with unforeseen ease given that you were also still in his arms. He kicked the door open and turned sideways to shuffle inside. And you were greeted by the scent first, noise second, and sight third, of Ellie in the kitchen. She stood hunched over the stove with a spoon in her hand, haphazardly – anxiously – pushing scrambled eggs around in a pan. Her head flicked around when Joel’s footsteps made way into the threshold of the room. She looked frazzled, scared. You weren’t sure if Joel knew it, but you did… knew that this was her running back to father. Were those not the eyes you looked at your own dad with when it all became too much?

“I–shit, fuck–” she snapped her hand away from the pan where her knuckles had fallen against the searing hot edge. Ellie looked back up at Joel with an unsure gaze, “I made eggs. It’s kind of all I know how to make, and I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I bet you’re…” her eyes danced over what you were sure were bruises forming on your face, “fuckin’ hungry…”

A smile twitched over your lips, nearly regretting it as all that did was send a new sharp pain up the side of your face. “Thanks, Ellie. Maybe I can eat upstairs?” You shifted to look up at Joel, hopeful he’d get you there sooner rather than later. Your entire body was beginning to throb, becoming keenly aware of all the places where Joel’s arms dug uncomfortably into your flesh.

“Mind fixin’ her a plate, Ellie?”

It was all a fluid moment in time. Ellie shaking her head that of course she wouldn’t mind, turning on her heels to make you a plate of food, and Joel climbing the stairs up to his bedroom. His mattress, with all its bumps and lumps, seemed pretty good right now. Seemed like it’d feel like one of those hotels you remembered staying in while on vacation as a kid.

He was gentle in laying you down, foregoing shuffling around the sheets and instead opting to set you on top of them. To allow for rest to begin as soon as possible. Joel sat on the edge of the bed beside you and brushed your hair away from your face. You recognized the fear scattered on his features.

“How you feeling?”

You forced a smile, eyes shut. “Like I got the shit kicked out of me,” 

He pursed his lips together and set his hand on your arm. It looked like the only place to touch that wouldn’t be painful. “Let me grab you food,”

Joel went to stand but now you were the one grabbing onto his arm. Your fingers didn’t have the strength or energy to grip onto him too tightly, but even the suggestion of your hand there had him pausing. “Eat with her first. She’s running back because she’s scared for you.”

“I wanna get you settled. You’re still bleeding–”

“I want to sleep,” your eyes drifted shut, heavy now from bruises and exhaustion. “This is her olive branch. So go eat,”

With eyes closed, you felt the mattress beside you dip lower beneath Joel’s weight. And moments after, you felt his lips on yours. Just a whisper of a kiss and without any more fight, Joel got up from the bed and exited the room. You could hear his feet pad down the stairs and his deep voice call out to Ellie in the kitchen. There was only slight recognition of their conversation downstairs before you slipped off to sleep, longing for something restful and yet knowing that you’d soon be plagued with another nightmare of losing home. Of something that almost became far too real today. Despite being taken by sleep, you hoped this truly was the olive branch from Ellie you perceived it to be. Lord knows Joel needed it to be.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Passed out. Dead to the world in the most figurative of ways, you only roused when you felt fingers lifting your blood-soaked shirt. Your body had stiffened in sleep; muscles tightening up and clenching to dull the pain which only intensified it now in consciousness. When your eyes opened, you saw Joel standing over you, inspecting the wound on your side.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in the dark. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out. Long enough for the most noticeable thing in your body to be hunger. “Looks like it’s stopped bleeding,”

“Just a scratch,” you smiled weakly. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you were now trying to diminish the damage to keep from any further emotional pain on his end.

“Yeah,” he falsely agreed. He lowered your shirt and sat on the edge of the bed again, this time reaching for the nightstand where you noticed a small plate of food. “Brought you some eggs and toast. Feel up to eating?”

Then as best you could, you pressed your arms on the bed beneath you and tried to wriggle your way up to rest your back on the headboard. It was slow going; any quick movement sent you grimacing in pain. And Joel, waiting patiently, watched you find a comfortable spot before he stabbed at the scrambled eggs and brought the forkful up to your mouth. You eyed him keenly, wondering if he was getting a rise out of this “taking care of you” bit. If there was a part of him that liked knowing you needed him. To be honest, there was a part of you that certainly did.

He pulled the fork out of your mouth gently and looked back down at the plate to get another bite prepped. “Y’know you scared the hell out of me today,”

You nodded and opened your mouth again to take the second bite. Realizing he was content to feed you to your heart’s desire, you sunk lower into a more slumped, relaxed position.

“Not knowin’ where you were or what had happened.” He scooped up another bite of eggs for you, “m’not sure I would’ve found you if you hadn’t nearly walked yourself all the way back.” A relieved grin stretched across his face. “How the hell did you walk yourself back after all this,” he nodded at your wounds. Sure, he’d walked himself through some pretty terrible things, but how easy it would’ve been to just lay down and give up.

“Had to get back to you,” you smiled in return. And after swallowing the next bite of eggs, you dodged the fork and picked up the piece of toast. “Make sure you weren’t bein’ an asshole to Tommy,”

A hoarse laugh shook his body, “not sure you got back soon enough for that.”

“Figured,”

Joel let you finish eating in peace; happy to watch you take slow bites. It was almost like he was trying to commit you to memory now. Every line on your face. Every curve of your body. Trying to remember it without all the marks and injuries that now colored you. They might leave scars in their place but he’d do his best to forget those as well – to not let the past change the way he saw you now – as perfect.

When sleep overtook, it was the kind you’d hadn’t experienced since early childhood. The kind where you were just out. The kind that wasn’t riddled with any fear or worries. Just eyes closed, breathing even and deep… safe. A sleep, while all-encompassing, still rendered you aware of the fact that at some point throughout the night, Joel had crawled into bed next to you. He let out a deep exhale as he turned in and scooted himself closer, up against you with the slightest of pressure. Tonight, instead of flinging his arm around you entirely, and pulling you in tighter to his chest, he settled for the gentle placement of his hand on your hip. Ever present, ever ready to spring up at the tiniest shift of movement to be there to provide whatever you may need. For every bit of dedicated you clearly were to him, it was entirely reciprocated.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely. 

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight.  Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly. 

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully.  He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off.  But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner. 

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves. 

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love. 

[yandere-romanticaa]

It's 8 PM. I am listening to Frank Sinatra. And Jing Yuan makes me emotional therefore, I need to write some shit down. When will I ever write for any other HSR character that's not him???

Jing Yuan, a long living species, who falls for a regular human. A short living species.

He is a man who is able to play the waiting game, he is that kind of person who can and is willing to analyze every single possible move his enemy, or ally, can and is willing to make. Centuries of long and hard battles have desensitized him to certain brutality. Now, he is not some beast who is not capable of compassion but when you've lost so much, it's only natural for your heart to harden.

That is why the realization that he cannot play the waiting game with you dawns on him.

You may stand by his side now but where will you be in the next 10 years? The next 50 years? A century means nothing to him. It will all go away in the blink of an eye, forgotten and unnecessary.

His heart sinks at the thought of you not being with him. The way in which you coo after him, it gives him a reason to actually enter his office and leave it with a smile on his face. Who will be there for that cheeky little Cloud Knight of his when he's feeling pouty? Who will be there to smack Jing Yuan back to his senses as he takes yet another unnecessary nap?

One day, you will grow old and he will stay the same as he is. He will hold you in his arms and weep as he watches the life leave your eyes for good. Jing Yuan will be forced to watch the final piece of his heart be ripped away from him, stolen by cruel destiny. He could already taste the blood in his mouth as he bites back a scream of pain.

Curse the Abundance. Curse the entire Universe for taking you away from him. Curse your silly mortality, curse the fact that you were so perfect to begin with.

That is precisely why right now, he must have you. He takes you away and locks you in some private estate, where you can be safe. The thought of making you a long living species is tempting but he is not sure if he's willing to play that card.

You scream sometimes. You weep and cry to please let you go, that you love him but that this is not alright. And Jing Yuan can do nothing but to kiss your forehead and mumble sweet nothings in your ear.

He may perhaps even marry you in secret. If he does, his wedding ring would never come off his finger, not even after your passing. This sparks so many rumors on the Lofu but Jing Yuan does not acknowledge them. He is the only one who needs to know the true meaning of the ring.

Jing Yuan is not ready for your death. He may try to prepare but really, who is ever ready for something so painful?

He sits quietly next to you, the sheets beneath you all silk and perfection. The room reeks of medicine and flowers but it is missing the bright sound of your laughter. You are gone. Jing Yuan bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks of funeral arrangements.

But it's so hard to concentrate if his vision is filled with black spots.

Jing Yuan stands up, his feet shaky, his soul shattered. His heart is either dead or dying because you took it with you, wherever you may be. The General can feel the walls around him tightening, the air in his lungs knocked out as the floor is suddenly covered in golden leaves.

Ah, they look pretty. You would have liked those indeed. Jing Yuan reaches towards them, a long, ink black talon gently picks it off the marble floor as his long white hair covers his face.

Odd, he thinks to himself. His hands never looked so black before.

A nearby caw of a raven breaks him out of his trance as Jing Yuan looks to his left, where a massive mirror hangs. He is greeted with something that should horrify him, something that should make him weep but he has no tears left to shed.

The Mara is taking over him. It is too late to fix him.

Maybe, just maybe, the General of the Lofu does not want to be fixed. Perhaps he can be slain in battle and be reunited with you in the afterlife. Would you be happy to see him? Would you hold him in your arms, play with his hair and sing him songs in the quiet evening?

Perhaps you wouldn't show him such kindness. After all, he has hurt you in so many ways. He does not deserve your love. But he can't help but to reach out for it.

A final tear cascades down his pale cheek as Jing Yuan smiles at his reflection. A maid opens the door behind him and lets out a loud scream, her eyes shaking in fear as she witnesses the General transforming into the same kind monster he swore he would keep in check. Jing Yuan sighs as he feels his heart beat, for the final time.

He was coming to see you. He was going to see you again. He was ready to grovel and beg as much as necessary, if it meant that you would be by his side. Yes, that truly was a pleasant thought. You and him, together as the sun sets. He can still see the faint glimmer of the golden ring on his finger, his eternal promise to you. It shines like a lonely star in a massive galaxy, with no way to protect itself.

However, not even stars can live forever.

And just like that, the world goes dark.

[xi-xi-chen]

Lightcannon Week // Day 03 - Dystopian

Bringing back Halo! I had so much fun drawing an old design I made for them. Spartan Lux and Soldier Jinx, although she eventually joins the ODST unit.

But ever since the Spartans were released to the front, Jinx can't help but notice as Lux seems to be assigned to her platoon everytime they deploy. Eventually Jinx realizes a terrible truth about how Spartans were made, especially about the rumor of clones being involved. Jinx would not only find herself fighting war but thrown into an investigation about missing children.

On the other hand, Lux has been at death's doorstep several times over but Jinx refuses to let her die, even after she told Jinx that her purpose is to fight for humanity, she's just a weapon afterall, nothing else.

_____________________

Some notes : (disclaim//this isn't at all from expertise, I'm still in training)

CO - Company Commander <- this is usually a captain's position, (or Lieutenant [Officer]) that controls two platoons, in turn, platoons have four squads, squads with fire teams, breaking it down more, each squad is two Attack by fire or assaulting elements (ABF), one support by fire (SBF) and a weapons squad (WPN) (this is the most mass casualty producing team, they are very essential to the operations.)

AO - Area of Operations <- this is not completely accurate for this scenario, however may be still categorized as Area of Op since this mission is classified as a Raid turned Defense in order to eliminate the enemy forces and cut off some of their supply chain within the objective.

Radio Dia - "Monkey Tree niner-- (3-9) Platoon Lead will first address the Squad Lead by their assigned nics and then repeat their own after brief of OPORD. Usually, we give radios only to the main chain of command within our platoon, which is our leadership. Does not contain team leads either. However, I can't remember if all the soldiers in Halo were hooked up on the same frequency of comms. Oh, well. But the pain I felt while rewatching Halo legends...NEVER say "over and out." Blegh! It's just "Out!"

++ OPORD - Operations Order <- basically the plan about the shit that's about to go down. It's pages upon pages of planning people, not fun, but very important. We have two more Orders as well, yay, more paperwork...

[tangerinesgirl]

Hi! Can i request vampire Frank smut where he and the reader had been flirting the entire night, and at the end he is a vampire and has killed all the others(including lambert and abigail) and the reader is the only human left, hut since Frank took a liking to her ,he ends up asking him to stay with him and they end up fucking to "satisfy the flirting" plssssss (ur an awesome writer btwww)

Fuck Around, Find Out

**SPOILERS FOR ABIGAIL (2024)**

Reader x Frank (Abigail)

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: 18+, nsfw, explicit

Warnings: flirting, smut, choking, violence, language, technically p in v but no explicit reader body parts mentioned, Frank being feral, rough sex, some hints of enemies to lovers

Notes: tysm for the kind words! 💕 Sammy uses they/them pronouns for reader once, but otherwise reader has no specific gender, so everyone can enjoy this fic! Some use of Y/N.

🦇

You freak out. Everyone freaks out. You've all just put a death sentence on each others heads by kidnapping a freaking vampire. Did Lambert know? How could he do this to us? Lots of thought are going through your head. You snap out of it and see Frank choking and threatening Peter. The whole operation has gone to shit.

Frank drops Peter as he admits defeat. Frank has clearly lost the plot too, you decide you have to be the calm voice in the commotion and maintain composure.

"If you put your hand around my neck, you'll lose it", you snap at Frank, letting him know his actions were completely out of order.

"Oh yeah?", he swaggers over to you, putting the back of his palm on your cheek, stroking it. "And...what about putting my hand around a different body part?"

A click. Frank looks down, your gun pointing directly at his crotch. "I don't know. Try it. Fuck around. Find out."

Frank is clearly impressed, he tries to hide it but you can see the glint in his eyes. You squint as you smile at him sarcastically. He backs away, with his arms held up in surrender. You holster your gun in the dip at the back of your jeans. Frank swipes a hand through his hair, either in exasperation or to try and maintain a calm appearance somehow. As he does so he gives you a subtle wink, and gives each member of the crew a plan to take down the ballerina vampire.

*

Frank, Sammy and Peter essentially tumble down the stairs after their encounter with Abigail. You and Joey look at each other as if to say "we told them so", and start working on the casualties.

You walk over to Frank, "You know this is the second time I've saved your life tonight".

"I wouldn't count a pencil to the hand as a fucking life saving event."

"Hey lead poisoning can be very fatal."

"You know there's not actually any lead in-"

You pull the stake out of his leg in one swift motion, Frank cursing every deity under the sun. You quickly bandage his leg up to use as a tourniquet, it's not great but it'll do for now, at least it's stopped the bleeding. Frank looks at you with gratitude, but is too self-righteous to say anything. You look at him and can't help feeling more attracted to Frank seeing him disheveled like this. You quickly snap out of it and start tending to Peter's wounds.

As you're working, you can't help but see Frank in the reflection of a bookcase looking directly at your ass. You smile to yourself and turn around, "Hey we're supposed to keep grab ass to a minimum, remember?" Frank smiles and looks you up and down, clearly thinking unholy thoughts. Your body shivers as he does, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

Sammy chirps in, "Yeah, they're right. You were fully checking them out, you weren't even subtle dude."

Frank barks at Sammy, "I think the rules have gone out the fucking window now. And maybe you should mind your own fucking business and flirt with Peter some more."

"Sammy is flirting with me?" Peter is dumbfounded, but low-key delighted.

Frank rolls his eyes. You swear if he rolls them anymore tonight, they may as well turn into marbles.

*

You back away from Frank, slipping on Lambert and Abigail's blood, the warmth seeping through your jeans, you try to find purchase with your feet to try and stand up. Frank is clearly relishing in his new found life, this is what he's always wanted afterall. Pure unadulterated power. He feels his new fangs with his teeth, moaning, you feel awkward yet somehow aroused watching him, maybe you should leave and give him a moment. He snaps out of his daydream as you start to stand up. Frank tilts his head, curious, looking at you like a wild animal and smirks. "Like what you see?"

You don't say anything. "Come on Y/N, we had such a good thing going earlier. I can tell what an impression we made on each other...what I made on you."

He grabs your shirt and pulls you closer to him, he takes a deep sniff of you. "I can fucking smell it on you." You recoil as you can smell Frank's blood on his breath, but it's also somehow...hypnotising. Primal. "I mean you've clearly got me going, I've got you going, we have chemistry... We just need to get it out of our system. Don't you agree?"

You think over the events of the night, you can't help but feel somehow more attracted to him? Even if it is totally wrong, after seeing him stab a guy quite literally in the back. But seeing Frank just being given eternal life and the power he's always hungered for... and he's choosing you?

You nod slightly.

"I'm going to need you to use your words."

"Yes sir."

Frank wastes no more time and crashes his lips into you like a man starved. You try to grip on to his face or his hair, but you can't find purchase as the blood makes your hands slip. The metallic taste invades your taste buds as Frank kisses deeper, pushing you against the wall. Frank's hands roam your body, his hands slide down the back of your jeans, grabbing your ass as you grind into him.

You unbutton and remove your jeans and underwear and start to undo Frank's zipper and pull down his pants. You can't help but widen your eyes at the size of him, and he notices, this will only fuel his cockiness even more. His lips smash back into you, he can barely keep himself off you as he moans into the kiss. Frank briefly snaps out of it as he feels your hand on his member, positioning him at your entrance. Frank lifts up your legs to wrap around his waist, and pushes himself into you.

The air escapes your lungs as he thrusts inside you in one push, your back slamming against the wall. The size of him hurts at first, but he fills you up oh so good. Of course Frank is bigger than average, he clearly knows, it's all in his attitude. Frank thrusts into you, moaning every time he does. He puts his hand on the wall behind you to try and push into you deeper, but the wall swallows his hand up, leaving a huge hole in the brickwork. Frank still needs to know the limits of his new vampire strength.

Frank gets agitated and aggressively picks you up, him still inside you. He swipes his arm to remove all the items off a nearby desk and lays you on top of it. He grabs your legs to forcefully move you to the edge of the table as he continues to fuck into you. You can feel the table buckling underneath you. You try to tell Frank when-

The desk collapses on the floor, you still on top of it. Luckily Frank's hands were still underneath you, cushioning most of your fall. Frank doesn't care in the slightest, the only thing that matters in the world right now is fucking you. He continues to pound into you. You swear he growls in your ear at one point. You can feel yourself starting to clench around him as you reach your peak. Frank notices and puts a hand around your neck, squeezing slightly. This is exactly what you needed to send yourself over the edge, you cum around him, hard. Your legs wrapping around his waist, your walls squeezing him tight.

Frank lets out a gutteral moan as he arches his back as he cums inside you. The warm liquid starting to seep out of you. He feels amazing, all of his senses heightened. He comes down from his high and takes himself out of you. He dips two fingers into the pool forming underneath you. He runs his fingers along his fangs and licks them clean. He mumbles an "oh yeah" under his breath. Frank looks at you, spread out on the floor, the room a complete mess. It really is a sight to behold. He bites his lip, "I think I might just keep you".