#either way I'm so tired I just want that old man dead

[pandoraheadcanons]

If they make Quaritch and Varang a couple I WILL lose my mind (in a bad way).

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[mcflymemes]

DUNE (2021) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary. suggested by lalamoon

it's good you're up early.

why do we have to go through all this, when it's already been decided?

if you want it, make me give it to you.

you look tired. more dreams?

there is no call we do not answer.

you put on muscle!

i would like you to take me with you.

can i trust you with something?

so you dreamed about stuff we all know about.

i dreamt about you.

i saw you lying dead, fallen in battle.

dreams make good stories, but everything important happens while we're awake.

i wish we could bring them all with us.

you don't think we'll ever come back?

i understand your impatience.

great leaders are raised in the mud, not around tables.

don't throw my words back at me.

i told my father i didn't want this either.

a good man doesn't seek to lead. he's called to it, and he answers.

i found my own way to it. you might find yours.

we have to be ready for anything.

don't stand with your back to the door.

i guess i'm not in the mood today.

you fight when the necessity arises, no matter your mood.

i have you.

will it be that bad?

you don't really understand the grave nature of what's happening to us.

the last of our ships have left.

to break a virtuous man, give him a burden too heavy to bear. a lesser man would drop it, but a good man will carry it 'til it crushes him.

get dressed and come with me.

what's in the box?

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer.

an animal caught in a trap will gnaw off its own leg to escape.

i will face my fear.

tell me about these dreams.

do you dream things that happen just as your dreamed them?

i could have died.

how does it feel to walk on another world?

how are you, old friend?

they were pointing at us. what are they shouting?

let's get you out of the sun.

if you mean to harm me, i warn you. whatever you're hiding won't be enough.

treat them well. these are friends.

i have so much to tell you.

that is all i have to say to you.

wait 'til you see. it's beautiful out there.

you're out of your mind! we're not going out there!

i knew you couldn't stay the hell away.

legend is a pretty word for a lie.

i think you're afraid it might be true.

how can i make my way if my destiny was written before i was born?

you have to sleep.

why not just cut their throats?

don't you dare touch my mother!

it's not safe for you here.

you're not coming with us?

one move and you die.

i would not have let you hurt my friends.

you chose the hardest way up.

i will not have them.

this will be an honor for you to die holding it.

this world will kill you.

do you yield?

this is only the beginning.

[impuls1veworm]

LATE NIGHTS.

Mikey X Reader

Draken X Reader

A/N: I'm getting too old to be on this app. You'd think after using it for 10 years, I'd know how to work it. Nope. I literally just figured out ten seconds ago how to make the text small.

— Mikey x Reader

“Do you think we’d still be a couple in another life?” Mikey asked. He had a race tomorrow, so it was supposed to be an early night, but he didn’t seem to be the slightest bit tired. He was always like this the night before a race; the anticipation causing his brain to be firing on all cylinders. When you didn’t respond, Mikey gave your back two quick pokes to get your attention. “Go to bed,” you grumbled. Your husband may not have been tired, but you were. It was a long day of press conferences and preparations for tomorrow, and all you wanted to do was rest.

Mikey wasn’t phased by your response or attitude, instead choosing to further agitate you, “what if we already got married and had five kids?”. The question may have been said to tease you, but Mikey couldn’t help but fantasize about that universe. He could see it so clearly. Visions of him standing in a tux, watching as you walk down the aisle in a beautiful silk wedding gown. The ‘I do’ and gentle kiss the both of you shared as you finish tying the knot. The two of you stare in disbelief at the positive pregnancy test 2 years later. Arguing over nurse colors and baby names.

“Go to bed,” you stressed, trying to get him to get some rest finally. With a fond smile still on his face, he relented. Turning off his back and into his side, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close.

If only the two of you knew this was the best timeline. The other timeline leaves Mikey an empty shell of a man who leads a life of murder and fraud. No one by his side, but a loyal dog. And you, a corpse, dead by the hands of your first (and last) love.

—Draken x Reader

You had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. It was now three in the morning, and you felt completely awake. Lying there staring at your phone, you racked your brain to who could possibly still be up at this time. No one came to mind— well, scratch that, actually, one person did. But, it was someone you had no plans to see again; your ex-boyfriend, Draken, who had dumped you a month prior. You were about to set your phone down, roll over, and force yourself to go to bed when a message appeared on your screen.

From: Kenny

‘I can’t sleep.’

Logically, you should erase the message and forget you ever received it. Go on with your life and leave Draken as a fond memory, but your mind raced with ‘what if’s’. What if this was him extending an olive branch. What if he wanted to get back together? What if the two of you did get back together? Would it last this time, or would you be left heartbroken again? You had to know. You knew you’d be filled with regret for the rest of your life if you didn’t see what this would lead to.

To Kenny:

‘Me either…’

And that’s how you ended up in your current predicament. Sitting on your couch with junk food lined in front of the two of you and some corny new horror movie you’d been wanting to see playing on the TV. Draken sat in the middle of the couch, legs spread and his left arm draped over the back, and you with your back against the arm rest and your legs laid across his lap as his right hand's thumb rubbed small circles on your ankle. It was silent, save for the movie playing, but you had no plans to break the silence. You were content and didn’t want to potentially ruin the peaceful atmosphere. Thankfully, you didn’t have to be the one to speak up.

“Sitting here with you like this is nice,” Draken admits. You agreed, wanting to keep your answer short. You didn’t want to open the flood gates and admit that you haven't been happy since he left. How everyday it takes everything in you not to call him and tell him about your day. How when you went to the convenience store, you had to refrain from buying him something as he wouldn’t be waiting for you when you got home.

“I’ve missed,” draken said, running his hand further up your leg, “everything about you.” He stopped at the edge of your night shorts. His fingertips slowly work their way up underneath them before stopping completely just before touching your panties. Pulling Drakens' hands out of your shorts, you intertwined your fingers and gently pulled him towards you. The tips of your nose brushes together, your lips ghosting over his as you said, “am I reading this wrong? If I am…push me away.”

You were almost expecting him to pull away when instead he pulled you closer, claiming your lips. As he pulled you into his lap, refusing to break the kiss, you hoped this time it would last.

[bettyfrommars]

Betty! I'm so excited, for your blurb game can I get E4, ?, 💚

hannah my love!!!!!!!

Your Person is Drifter Eddie, your Place is a Cemetery, and your Thing is a Blanket

This was also inspired by the idea of cemetery caretaker Eddie as imagined by @br0ck-eddie and @jo-harrington

18+ONLY, mention of death and dying, scars, loneliness, I'm afraid I'm deeply in love with him

word count: 694

You knew the way to Pleasant Valley Cemetery by heart. It was your fourth time there that month, as you'd found yourself really needing the company as of late. The company of cold stone and the buried bodies of long dead corpses? You couldn't explain it to yourself, let alone anyone else, but it gave you comfort.

It was October, and autumn leaves crunched under your tires as you made your way up along the tree lined entrance, listening to the new Portishead album. It was also the middle of the day in the middle of the week, and there was only one other car parked way over on the on the other side of the plots. There was also a motorcycle by what you assumed was a utility shed, and for some reason, it looked familiar, like maybe it had been there before.

Maybe you'd sit and chat with Eleanor Harris, who shared a plot with her husband Daniel; they'd gone to rest only three days apart in 1946. Or Anthony Russo who passed away when he was barely four years old in 1887, his marker was a little carved lamb. You gravitated towards the plots that looked like no one visited anymore, and you usually brought a little something for them, but that day was an exception.

You'd been walking with your head down, arms wrapped around yourself, but stopped short when you got to the tree near the grave of Sherwood Smith. There was someone sitting there, a few yards away from the cracked and worn headstone.

He was on a blanket, booted feet and ripped jeans, long dark hair pulled back to reveal a patchwork of angry scarring down his face and neck. There was a brown lunch sack at his hip, and he'd just taken a bite of a white bread sandwich...bologna perhaps?

You tried to spin on your heel and go the other way, but it was too late, he'd already spotted you.

"Oh, hey," he swallowed the bite, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into the sack, and got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Am I in your way?"

Your voice got caught in your throat as you searched his warm chocolate eyes that were kind, yet weary. He didn't know what to do with his other hand, so he shoved it in the pocket of his leather jacket as you found your words.

For the first time since arriving, you noticed that there were fresh bouquets of wildflowers on Smith, as well as some of the other long forgotten graves in that corner.

"Did you know Sherwood?" It was kind of a silly question, you rationed a bit too late, since the person in question passed away before either of you were ever born, but maybe the man standing in front of you was a relative.

"Not formally," Eddie kept his head turned slightly, trying to hide the scarred side. "But I'm the groundskeeper, so I like to go around and introduce myself to everyone."

It was more than that, but he didn't know if you'd understand that he paid attention to the ones that never got any visitors, and he made sure they were always well-kempt, brought them flowers, even chose different ones to have his lunch with.

"Well, Sherwood and I go way back," you chimed, mirroring the grin that quivered on one side of his mouth.

He popped a finger gun at you. "Didn't I see you here last week leaving flowers for Sara Gerber?"

You nodded, feeling a bit exposed. "Yep," you popped the "p", looking down at your feet. "I have quite a few...friends here, you could say."

"No, I get it," he started to feel so at ease with you that he let you see his face straight on, paper bag crinkling as he loosened his grip on it.

"I have a granola bar in my bag if you want to---" you gestured to the blanket. "---I mean, we could all have lunch together, if you have time?"

Every single task he had planned for the rest of that day could absolutely wait.

"Yeah, I got time," he stepped back to make room for you. "But I know Sherwood is a pretty busy guy."

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #5: House at the End of the Street

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #5 Summary: There’s a glaringly big issue. You’re dead and you really want your partner. In every way.

Pairing this chapter: MK system x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Content: angst, a reminder that this fic is nsfw, mdni! p in v, mentions of oral and other very suggestive thoughts and talk, all the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, probably inaccurate DID (show based)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

Jake’s eyes were fluttering closed, his head dropping to the pillow.  “I’m so tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“Why not?” you asked, blinking innocently.

“Because...” another sigh, “I’m afraid that when I wake up, you’ll be gone.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Spectorr!" Barney called over the usual Triple B's morning bustle.

The door's bell jingled as Jake pushed his way inside. He tipped his hat, greeting the oblivious owner, as Barney summoned him down to the side register. "Usual?"

As Jake bypassed several other customers, Barney noticed not only the flat cap, but a particular jacket and black gloves.

"Buenos dias," Jake flashed a grin.

"Mr. Lockley," Barney grinned. "Apologies. I'll get those hash browns started right away."

"Gracias," Jake shot back with a chuckle.

"Haven't seen you in a while, kid. How you doing?" Barney asked sincerely, getting to work on Jake's café au lait.

"The answer to that question is the fact that I'm here, Barn," Jake shrugged.

"Right, right," the older man nodded, his dark eyes shining with sympathy. "Still...how you holding up with things? Marc said he's having some trouble sleeping. Worried about you boys."

"I would tell you, but you would probably think I'm crazy."

"Whoa, now," Barney cautioned, "Your girl didn't let you talk like that. I'm not about to either. What's going on? Haven't seen Marc in here for days."

Jake wasn't really the care-and-share type. But Barney had a way of disarming everyone.

Besides, Jake wasn't exactly a pretentious fellow. He had nothing to hide.

Leaning in over the counter, Jake glanced around him and lowered his voice. "You believe in ghosts?"

Barney folded his thick arms over his round tummy. "You for real, Lockley?"

"I saw her. Talked to her. So did Marc." He kept his voice just loud enough to be heard over the hiss of the griddle and the bustle of morning customers.

Barney's eyes went wide. "You serious?"

Jake shrugged again. "Told you it sounds crazy. Why do you think Marc's not sleeping? Why do you think I'm here?"

Right then, Jake's order came up. "Figured it was for the café au lait." Barney winked, handing over the to-go hash browns and beverage. "On the house."

"You're a legend, Barn," Jake gave a little salute.

Taking his bag and disposable cup, he ventured back out into town - the town you'd loved so much. It was typically Marc and Steven walking these streets, living in daylight. Jake enjoyed the dark - his car, the noise of the city - the mystery of it.

But he loved you more. So an adorable bungalow in this little town was the life for him.

But now you were gone.

Today, he would work Marc's hardware store shift. He didn't mind. Hopefully Steven would show up for his library shift tomorrow. Sitting in a silent environment filled with old books was about like watching paint dry, at least for Jake.

He had a pleasant day working with his hands. He half expected to hear from one of his alters in various shop windows, but his walk home was quiet - adorned only by jack-o-lanterns, oversized cobwebs and the crunch of leaves under his boots. Then he happened upon the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop, where Ms. Marjorie was waiting in the doorway, as usual.

"Lovely evening," she called. "Mr...Mr. Lockley, isn't it?"

Jake removed his hat and pushed his fingers through his hair. "Don't think I've had the pleasure, Ms..."

"Ms. Marjorie," she returned. "I'm an acquaintance of Mr. Grant. I won't keep you if you're busy. Just wanted to say hello."

Jake nodded, intrigued by the strange old woman. "I'll, uh...I'll tell Steven you say hi. Nice meeting you."

"He told me a little, you know - about her. I'm sorry for your loss."

Jake normally wouldn't discuss his home life with strangers but he knew how to read people. Kindness lingered behind her eyes. The corners of those eyes crinkled with a sympathetic smile. "Goodnight, dear."

Jake nodded. "Buenas noches, Señora."

A bluster of wind swirled around Jake as he pulled his cap back over his curls.

The rest of the walk home was uneventful. Even Mrs. Nockles didn't magically appear to force a conversation. No, Jake walked all the way to Elm Street without incident. He thought he might eat a little something and then take a nap before working in the city tonight - both jobs.

He wanted to get back to the things that were his: the car, the darkness.

And he wanted to see you. He half expected you to be sitting on the bed once he climbed the stairs to the bedroom to change clothes. Even after a shower and that nap he was so interested in - nothing.

He finally got dressed to head out to his actual job, pausing at your front-porch-photograph hanging outside the bedroom in the hallway.

"Te amo," he whispered, swiping one finger over your pictured hair before pulling on his gloves.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The next morning, Steven woke up late. Not surprising, given that Jake was out most of the night.

You were there, perched on the end of the bed. You had become aware of yourself - conscious - while they slept. You watched your partner resting, longing to talk to him. And wondering if you would be seen once they woke up.

Steven saw nothing.

You followed closely behind him as he brushed his teeth and got dressed, sighing in defeat as he walked out of the bedroom, pausing by your picture in the hallway.

"'Mornin' my love," he softly greeted. "Miss you so much today. Almost feels like you're here. Guess I was a bit too hard on Marc. Might be going a bit bonkers myself. Thought I saw you in the window the other night."

You rose (floated?) to your feet, wishing with all your non-corporeal form that you could run to Steven and shake him.

"Steven, I'm here!" You called out. "Wait, please, I'm right here!'

But he left. You couldn't follow. You could never follow. Anytime you tried to leave the room you only ended up back in the Dark Place.

It happened a lot. It was like it took a lot of focus and energy to stay in this room.

Steven came home tired and oblivious. Ms. Marjore and Mrs. Nockles had invited him in for sandwiches, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He never lifted his gaze to find the bedroom curtains rustling. And of course, he couldn't see you there, waiting on the bed.

But the following morning, Marc did.

Steven had fallen into bed by 7pm, and Jake was exhausted from fronting. They slept all night, leaving Marc feeling quite refreshed.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in bed only to see you there on the end, waiting for him.

"Oh shit," he hissed, in surprise, running his hands over his face to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. By this point, he expected you to murmur some tortured nonsense and float out the window. But you scooted closer, seeming quite yourself.

"Marc?"

His dark eyes blinked and then narrowed, scrutinizing you for a moment. Was he dreaming?

Your head dropped in defeat when he failed to answer. "You can't see me," you lamented.

"Sweetheart, yeah. I can see you. I see you."

Your head snapped back up, making your hood fall down. "Marc," you breathed. "Hi..." You weren't sure what to say. You didn't want to scare him again.

"Hey," he softly returned, pulling back the covers to slide closer to you. "Don't leave, okay?"

"I won't," you quickly assured him, momentarily distracted as your eyes flickered down to his bare chest, trailing down his soft tummy, over the tantalizing bulge hidden by black boxer briefs. The thin fabric barely wrapped around his thick thighs.

Ahem.

"You’ve been gone. I missed you," you told him, eager to have a real chance to talk to Marc. "I'm so sorry I was scaring you. I wasn't trying to."

"I know, baby," he quickly nodded. "It's okay. I just..."

Your gazes locked.

His dark eyebrows shifted as he studied you quizzically...almost hopefully. “Jake said you talked to him for a while. That you seemed…clearer.”

You nodded eagerly. Feelings were still strange to you, but you were sure you felt relieved that Marc wanted to talk with you. That he wasn’t so traumatized by your presence.

He scooted closer - so close that, if you had a living body, your thighs would have been touching. His eyes studied you so carefully, with such tender regard, you were almost certain he wanted to kiss you.

“Is it true that you can’t leave this room?” He asked you, his voice tinged with sadness.

You chewed where your lip used to be, thoughtfully. “Yeah, I don’t think can leave. Not that I can remember.”

On instinct, he reached for your hand, but came up empty.

“Marc, I…I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay, baby. Not your fault.” He granted you a tender smile, but pain lingered behind his eyes. “You really weren’t downstairs the other night? In the living room, in my chair?”

Your eyebrows shifted in confusion. “I was sitting in your chair?”

“No, I was,” he explained. “You were sitting…well, on top of me.” Marc scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

So cute.

“I was sitting on top of you in your chair?” You repeated, blinking innocently. “What was I doing on top of you?”

Marc chuckled sheepishly, his dark lashes kissing his cheeks as his gaze dropped.

“Jake said you saw me naked,” you went on. “Was I naked, on top of you?’

This was too adorable. Marc Spector was blushing. “I, uh…I had too much to drink, I think. Probably a dream.”

“Was it a good dream?” You whispered, drawing his gaze back to you.

Marc peered at you openly now, his eyes locking on to yours. “You remember the seventh inning stretch?”

Oh, that.

Marc used to watch baseball games in his favorite chair. Occasionally, you watched too. Sometimes you were upstairs writing in your loft. Eventually, you would venture down and ask Marc how much longer til the game was over. He would always promise you he’d come upstairs during the seventh inning stretch - which, on television was simply another commercial break.

If Marc ever needed any convincing, you would simply appear in the living room wearing nothing. Once you had his attention, you would climb on top of him. Sometimes you were sure Marc pretended to ignore you just a little too long for the express purpose of you crawling on top of him in that damn chair and giving him a good ride.

You had a lot of good times in that old chair.

“I guess it had to be a dream,” he reasoned, pulling you from your reverie. “Damn good one.” Then he repeated something Jake had said. “You’re still so beautiful.”

You...swallowed? Your eyes fluttering down to Marc’s perfect, full lips, which he was presently moistening with his tongue.

What was going on? You were dead and he was very much alive. What kind of a ghost had…desires?

You were staring. Blatantly.

There were definitely more important issues than attraction right now, but Marc couldn’t help the way he responded to you. He loved you as much at this moment as he ever did when you were alive.

“Marc, I… it’s probably not fair to you, for me to be here like this. I mean…I still love you. But you…you should - "

“Do not say I should move on,” he warned, tearing his eyes from yours. “Don’t even think it.”

You found yourself speechless for a moment, which concerned him. Maybe you would become confused again, and disappear.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m not mad, just - don’t go yet, okay?” His voice broke as his eyes shone with moisture. “Don’t leave me just yet.”

“Hey, I’m here,” you soothed, drifting to stand in front of him. Peering down at him earnestly, you wondered how a dead vapor of a woman with no pulse and no heartbeat could feel such a burn in her chest - such a gut-wrenching longing.

You were presently dead. That was a fact. Which meant you were haunting Marc. If you kept this up, it would only hurt him. He would never be able to move on. But before you could figure out how to express your concerns, he beat you to it.

"I'm worried about you," Marc quietly confessed, his fingers toying with the vapor that was your hand. This small action both soothed and electrified you somehow.

“About me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Jake said you don’t know where you are, or why you’re not with your parents. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t answer - your face simply twisted as it was prone to do when you were carefully thinking, or sometimes, writing.

Marc would often find you in your loft, staring at a blank screen, your precious face twisted in thought.

“You’re stuck on a detail, right?” He would sweetly interrupt.

It was always true. You knew the outline of your story - where you wanted to go, but you would fuss over the details of the overalls your character wore, or how a strand of hair fell. Marc would help you zoom out and keep your eye on the big picture. Get the rough draft down. Be objective.

Steven would go through first and second drafts with you. He could spot continuity errors or suggest the slightest detail to brighten a paragraph.

Jake didn’t work with you too often, but he would take your manuscripts out at night with him and read them in his car. Jake always had a emotional suggestion. Even though you wrote children’s books, he would ask questions about their motivations.

“My 3 editors,” you would call them. You took their suggestions quite seriously, sometimes to the bewilderment of your actual editor.

Marc’s voice softly pulled you back to the present moment. “Sweetheart? You’re drifting away.” Peering down at him, you saw his eyes wide and worried.

“Marc?” You whispered. “Did I…was I gone just now?”

“No,” he confirmed. “Just quiet for a few minutes. I thought you might not come back for a while.”

A smile warmed your face. “No, I was remembering. It was…nice.”

After that, you and Marc got back on track - discussing the darkness and where you might be - why you weren’t at rest. You talked through some theories. Maybe this was the afterlife? Your bedroom - the place where you lived so much life, ate so many breakfasts-in-bed, sweetly conversed while moonlight streamed through the window.

Where your lover had held you in his arms, on his chest while you slept. The place filled with passion, heated lovemaking - night after night, tangled together in the sheets - the heavy length of him inside you…the press of his hips pinning you to the mattress.

The thickness of his thighs caging you in as you took him into your mouth, or the mess of dark curls between your thighs first thing in the morning.

Steven’s soft whimpers against your breast as he would suck you there.

The way you would pull Jake into bed by his tie at 4 am, end up with his gloved fingers stuffed deep into your pussy and his flat cap on your head. The tie would eventually secure your wrists to the bedpost and then you were in for it.

There wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t try with your partner and you loved every second of it.

The filthy words Marc would breathe on your neck as he would take you from behind.

He loved to find you half asleep, waiting naked for him to finish the baseball game. He would slide under the covers and pull you close - kiss a trail down the side of your neck as your legs fell open for him. Thick fingers slid between your folds to find you wet already.

Marc would lazily roll your clit between his thumb and finger -that sensation alone elicited lust filled moans that would make him instantly hard. You were already coming by the time he slid inside you, cupping your mound - pushing you down into his upward thrust.

This is how he fucked you for the last time. You whimpered and moaned and begged for more. So he gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you up on all fours. Standing on his knees, he slammed into you from behind, but you wanted it harder. Harder.

You came again, blinding hot pleasure making you shriek as your back arched and your cunt gushed hot and wet all over him. He gathered you close as you murmured his name, begging him to stay inside you until he was hard again.

You fell asleep hot and wet and joined, and he slowly, deeply fucked you awake as the sun rose for your last day on Earth.

So maybe this was heaven.

You heard Marc calling your name once more.

“Sorry…I was remembering again.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he choked out. Looking down at him, there on the edge of the bed, you realized his cheeks were flushed and he shifted with the slight discomfort of a man with an erection.

“You were talking about the last time we were in bed together. In detail. Like...writer's detail.” His dark eyebrows shifted curiously. “You don’t remember?”

“I…said all that out loud?” If you had an actual face, it would feel hot right now. “Shit - I’m sorry. I guess I was just wondering if a place with so many good memories could be…heaven.”

This sobered Marc a little. Pushing off the bed, he…readjusted himself before raking a hand through his hair. He paced over to the window, giving you a delicious view from behind, before he whirled on his heel, back to you. “Lot of good memories, yeah.”

You eased over to him, reaching out. All you wanted was to feel his arms around you. When you came up empty, you saw his beautiful eyes moisten as his throat bobbed.

How could this be heaven if Marc was sad? And how could you share any more of those precious or salacious moments if you couldn’t touch him?

You just gave him an erection, for fucks sake.

"I'm happy, you know," he said softly, "if you drift to a good memory instead of the dark. It's...not something you need to apologize for. I'm glad for it."

"But you're sad," you whispered fervently. "I'm hurting you. Just by existing, I - "

"No," he hissed. "Don't say it's better if you're gone. Please just...don't fucking say it."

"But, Marc, I - "

The way his eyes flashed gave you pause.

"I better not list the house for sale," he murmured, mostly to himself. He ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully before finding your gaze once more. "I'm not gonna leave you here."

A breath you would never actually breathe caught in your chest, where your lungs should be. "You were going to sell the house?"

His head dropped, almost shamefully. "Babe, I...I'm not like them - Steven and Jake. I don't...adjust to things. I can't look at your pictures the way they do, or even talk about you..." He sniffed as his voice cracked with emotion. "This house isn't the same without you in it and I thought...I thought I would just - "

"Run," you interjected. "You thought you would run. Because Marc Spector thinks he can run faster than his pain, or punch it out of someone else."

He physically withdrew as your words stung him. It was delivered with more candor than you intended.

"I don't mean to judge you, Marc. I'm sorry, I..."

"No, you're right," he admitted. Marc knew what he was. He was just...made wrong. "Steven loves it here. It's his home. And Jake's at home anywhere his car is. Or we are. Steven and me. But I...I can't...can't seem to get myself together. Shit."

He shook his head, tearing his fingers through his hair. "Listen to me. What the hell am I even talking about when you're the one who..."

"You're grieving," you spoke softly. Sweetly. "There's no right way to do it. You're not wrong to need a change. You're not wrong to be angry. I know I am."

Marc nodded, feeling awful for somehow making this issue you were having about his pain. Pathetic. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. What can I do?"

"Marc, hey...look at me?" You wanted him to stop for a second and just be with you. He complied, the pain he felt pulling the corners of his mouth down. The wrinkle you used to smooth away with your fingers appeared between his thick eyebrows.

"Take it easy on yourself? For me?"

Easier said than done.

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

You nodded, certain you could feel a warm reassurance washing over you. "Thank you. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Always."

Next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[twdeadfanfic]

So...I've started writing a fic and I hope to keep working on it during winter break. I'll post it if you're interested.

This is the first (unfinished and unedited) scene that I wrote today:

*

You cursed as you hit the crowbar into a walker’s head, before swinging for another. You’d rather not die for a pack of gum and some bags of chips in questionable condition, the only haul you’d found on the small gas-station that you’d checked.

You were not an idiot, you’d checked that there weren’t wakers in the gas-station or around, but it seemed that somehow, during the few minutes you’d been looking for supplies and food inside the place, some walkers had somehow stumbled to the outside, you didn’t know where they came from.

The skull of the walker gave in with a crack but there was another approaching. Out of breath, you swang at it, but you didn’t hit its head hard enough to kill it. Your arms tired easily of swinging the crowbar, it wasn’t like you were used to do it before the world went to hell, and the blisters that you had in your palms and fingers from using the crowbar had reopened, but you ignored the pain, grunting as you kept hitting the monster’s head until it gave in, making sure to stay out of reach.

You wanted to cry out of frustration when you saw that yet another walker was approaching, but then, something whistled through the air and the walker dropped dead with an arrow embedded into its head. You looked around, startled, and saw a man who also seemed to have come out of nowhere, recharging a crossbow.

You didn’t have time to stand there in surprise, though, you had to swing at another walker, and then another arrow was flying past you, killing what thankfully seemed to be the last walker.

Once that threat seemed to be over, you looked at the man, wondering if he might be another threat, despite having helped you. Men were trouble for a women alone in the world as it was before, and you knew that now it was much worse.

He wasn’t walking closer to you, though, and his crossbow was uncharged. That was a relief, but still, he looked dangerous. He was wearing what seemed like a shirt with the sleeves torn off, a leather vest on top of it. The fabric of the shirt that the vest wasn’t covering seemed to have some old blood-stains, and you had to wonder, uneasy, if those were from walkers or people.

His arms were bare, with strong muscles, and you were sure you wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he wanted to attack you, unless you could outrun him without him putting an arrow on you, if he happened to want to attack you.

His face wasn’t friendly, he was frowning as he looked at you with piercing blue eyes and a gaze that seemed equal parts wary and curious, as he seemed to study you. No, it was not a friendly face… but he did not seem threatening either. Still, you knew that you had to be on alert.

The man wasn’t saying anything and you both just looked at each other. You were the first to speak.

“Thanks,” you said, waving a hand toward the dead walkers without taking your eyes from the man, your other hand still gripping the crowbar despite the open and bleeding blisters. The man just nodded. “I, uh…I’ll be on my way…” You knew it was unwise to be alone with a strange, kind of dangerous looking man, even if he had helped you. You didn’t know how to leave without turning your back to him, though, and you knew that doing so would be unwise too.

“Ya hurt?” The man asked, looking you over.

You blinked at him. Was that real concern, just polite conversation, or was he just trying to make you lower your guard. You settled for it being polite conversation, the post-apocalyptic equivalent of talking about the weather with a stranger on an elevator. A stranger who just helped you not get eaten by monsters.

“I'm good, thanks.”

The man nodded again, his eyes going from you to the gas-station behind you. “Ya checked that place?”

“Yes…there was nothing in it, not really,” you added, in case the man may decide to rob you. “Just some small bags of chips and a pack of mint gum…” You were pretty frustrated with your haul.

The man’s face seemed to fall at that, before he looked at you again, and he bit his lower lip before he spoke again, before you could try to walk away without turning your back to him.

“Ya, uh…ya got food?”

You took a step back at his question, uneasy, and held your crowbar more tightly. You were not selfish, you’d share with someone in need, but you did not want to be robbed. The man seemed to realize what you were thinking.

“I ain’t gonna rob ya,” he told you, shouldering his crossbow as if trying to show you he didn’t want to attack you…as if you couldn’t see he’d be dangerous without it anyway. “I can trade, it’s just…I’m with some people, and we got a kid and also his mom is pregnant…” He bit his lip again. “We ain’t doin’ great on food…”

You looked at him, wondering if he was being honest.

*

It's not much but it's more than I've written in months.

[crustless-toast]

Screaming Your Name

Here is Chapter 1 to Screaming Your Name! An Oc x Daryl Dixon story! I'm gonna really try to not make the story too cringy and if I am please let me know so I can fix it lol. I hope you enjoy it either way!

I'm a little new to posting on Tumblr so I hope to be able to link all the chapter together properly as I post them. Until then, Enjoy!!

Raven was like any normal person. She worked a boring retail job that paid close to nothing. Just to go home to an empty house, pay bills, eat and sleep. Nothing exciting really happened in her life. She was just different than the average person. She enjoyed the little things. She was more of a glass half full kind of gal. Always enjoying the little things in the world. Unfortunately, the world came to an end. She wasn’t the athletic type but when monsters are chasing you down to eat you alive the only thing you can do is run. Running is what led her to her new life with people she never thought would enter it. She found friends, family, and love. She learned to fight, to face her fears, and to keep pushing forward even through the dark times. Out of everything all she wanted was to get one man to open up to her more. To show him the good that was left in the world. For Daryl Dixon to see there is still hope in the world. That life is still good. 

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

Gripping my blanket closer to my body, I shiver as cold sweats soak my body. I don’t know how much more I can handle this. My cold that I've had from the start of this, has turned into something much worse.

 What medicine I did have is gone. Finding medicine is close to impossible nowadays. A few Advil here and there, as well as a bag of cough drops can only get you so far. Everywhere I’ve looked has already been picked through. The more populated areas are hard to look through. Too many of the dead filling those areas. I can't look through them on my own. It’s close to impossible. 

The summer heat had no effect on my cold body. The warmth just feels like the blanket. The slight breeze just makes me shiver more. If it was a normal day in the old world, people would think I was insane having a thick blanket wrapped around me with the sun beating down on me. But in the old world I’d have medicine and I'd be fine in a few days.

The sound of the dead was behind me and there was nowhere to go. No place to hide. I looked around to maybe find something, but there was only an empty road surrounded by woods. I grip my knife, deciding my only option was the woods. 

My legs were getting so heavy. I was having a hard time staying ahead of them. I needed to keep moving but I had to stop. My throat was burning from the sickness and the heat. I need to stop and to drink some of my water. Quickly getting back up. The sun was starting to set and it was getting too dark to see. 

I was getting too tired to keep going. My eyes feeling like someone is pushing them closed. I drop my bag, dropping to my knees but I kept a tight grip on my knife. Taking deep breaths that end with me coughing. I covered my mouth with my blanket, needing to keep quiet incase any of the dead were near. 

I jump at the snap of a twig not that far from behind me. Looking around, seeing if there was anything up ahead. I didn’t see much, but there was something ahead of me. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. But what light was left I could see something reflecting. Like a window.

Grabbing my bag, I moved ahead, dragging my bag next to me. Not having the strength to pick it up. As I got closer, I could see it was a cabin of some kind right in the center of an open field. Abandoned before the world ended. 

Growling was behind me. Staying here was my only option. 

Throwing my bag on my shoulder, almost making me fall. I raised my knife and slowly made my way to the cabin. I head up to the steps of the porch, listening closly to see if I could hear anything. So far nothing. 

I closed the door behind me, locking it with its old rusty padlock and placed a chair in front of it that was close by. Moving forward once my eyes were adjusted to the darkness. There was another door in front of me that led to the other side of the cabin. I drop my bag, heading to the door to close it as well as put a chair in front of it. In case something comes in I could hear it first.

To my left looked to be some kind of dining room with a table flipped over and chairs thrown all over. As well as the kitchen that appeared to be cleared out with every cabinet opened wide.. To my right I think it was a living room. It was empty with only a couch that looked so comfortable. The livingroom appeared to have a small hall that lead to other rooms. Each was empty with nothing in them but some old furniture that was rusted and destroyed. 

Grabbing my bag I made my way to the couch. My body relaxed as I sunk into it. Not caring about the dust. Exhausted from having to run all day. 

Reaching in my bag I grabbed my water, but it was empty. Just my luck. I didn’t realize I drank it all already. 

My body was so cold. I could see the bottle shaking in my hands. I dropped it, not caring where it went. Gripping my blanket even tighter around me as I lay down, my knife still in my hand. Finally being able to rest my head on something that wasn’t a hard floor. I don’t care that I can feel the springs in the cushions. I was so tired and sick. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more. No matter how hard I fought it. I needed rest so I let myself sleep.

~~~~~~~

A loud bang woke me from my sleep, but I couldn't move. My body was so heavy. I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to see if it was one of the dead or not. I was still shaking to the point where it hurt even more. My bones are sore from, well, everything. My knife was no longer in my hand. I must have dropped it in my sleep.

I could hear footsteps getting closer to me. I opened my eyes just enough to see the sun was up, shining through the windows. A figure walked into the door frame. I can barely make out a man holding something. It was pointed at me. 

“You bit?!” The voice was stern, southern and loud. 

I close my eyes, not able to keep them opened any longer. “N-no. Sick.” 

“Sick, how?” 

My lips quiver as I try to speak, “Fr-from a cold. I-i had fr-from the begin-beginning.” 

“Is it just you?” He was demanding an answer. 

I nod, too tired to answer. 

I felt a hand being placed on my forehead. His fingers were cold and rough. 

“Ya burin up.” 

I grip my blanket closer, “So-so cold.” 

I hear things moving around. I couldn't tell if he was taking my stuff or looking around the place. I didn’t care either way. 

“My camp has a Doctor. ‘M take ya to him,” Before I could answer him, I could feel his arms snaking under me. He grabs my arm and places it over his shoulder. Picking me up from the couch. With my blanket still gripped in my hands, I wrapped my arms tighter around him. Scared to fall. 

“Gonna make me hot,” He says in my ears.

He started to walk. I opened my eyes enough to see who this man was. His face was a little dirty, with some facial hair around his mouth. His hair was short and filled with sweat. His eyes were sharp, looking at everything around him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

He looked down at me for a second, and his eyes were a sharp blue that when the sun was shining just right, it made them shine a beautiful sky blue. 

My eyelids were getting heavy again so I closed them and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the morning birds chirping.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Is that Sophia?!” A women screams, waking me up just enough to hear whats going on around me.

“Nah, just some girl I found. She sick.” I hear from above me. The man that was caring me.  

“Bit?” Another man spoke.

“Said it’s some cold.” He held onto me tight as he got closer to the people

“Bring her inside. I’ll take a look at her.” 

I was still too tired to speak. I fell back into my deep sleep. To a place that was safe. 

[melded-galaxy]

Ultimis Richtofen: Throughout the years

Part 2 of 3: Shit Gets Wacky

Call of the dead: After the teleporter malfunctions, Richtofen and the gang get stuck in a pitch-black closet. Shenanigans ensue. While waiting for the team of unfortunate celebrities to retrieve what he needs, Richtofen sexually assaults Dempsey twice, gets everybody hammered to distract them from any pesky resurfacing traumatic memories, designates potty areas and schemes.

Not much to say about this one, err, Richtofen's extremely horny and making it everyone else's problem, I guess? There we go.

Shangri La: Somehow, Richtofen is hornier.

The doctor is attracted to the statue of himself the natives built. He's constantly hitting on Nikolai in the jungle and makes incredibly sus remarks about the spike trap and the water gaiser. Clearly, the sexual frustration is real.

Richtofen's childlike tendencies also get even more exaggerated in this map. 'Weee!! My shoes go squeaky squeaky!' '*gasps* Spectre! It almost sounds like doctor!' 'Ah the beer of the root! Aha, I said root...'

It's implied Edward's mother used to scold him for playing with toys meant for girls and for frequently masturbating. 'Mother said I shouldn't play with dolls... or myself, but I don't always do what mother likes.'

Furthermore, he becomes enraged when mentioning his upbringing. 'this reminds me of my childhood-STOP TALKING TO ME!!'

Richtofen is becoming a better marksman through much practice. 'Either their heads are getting bigger, or I'm getting better!' 'Sniping's an art of which I am a master!'

Curiously, Edward doesn't remember his time ruling the natives, only remarking that the temple seems familiar to him and that he likes the scenery. Element 115-induced memory loss strikes again.

Plotwise, Richtofen manages to get his hands on the focusing stone and is about to teleport to the moon, when Dempsey yet again fires a wonder weapon inside of the teleporter. This causes the machine to malfunction and the gang make an unplanned trip to the Pentagon. 

Classified: Classified is a bit of a confusing and abrupt entry, as it was added in bo4 to a story that took place all the way back in bo1, but a really interesting one.

Richtofen is quite a bit calmer here than in previous maps. His voice is also lower pitched for the most part. Out of universe, I think Nolan North said that he struggled to reach the same pitch as he had before, possibly because of both time passing and how used he got to voicing the much calmer Primis version of the character, but I'm not 100 percent sure. In universe, this is probably just because Ricky's tired and has less energy in this map, lol. He just got done fighting countless hordes in Shangri-la after all. Old man needs a nap.

He's starting to get impatient when it comes to fulfilling his plan to take over the MPD. 'One day, I won't HAVE to perform such menial tasks.' 'Are we on the moon yet?' 'Mock me all you want, one day soon I will be the one doing all the mocking!'

Dempsey hilariously mocks Richtofen's high-pitched voice in this map lol. 'What's wrong Richtofen? You scared? I thought I heard a little *Aaah!*'

When reviving Dempsey, Richtofen claims the man owes him a 'favour'. What that entails is (thankfully) never elaborated on. 'I hope you remember this, Dempsey. I shall want a favour in return.'

Edward alludes to Germany and Japan's alliance in WW2 when Takeo revives him. 'Ah I knew I could count on you, Axis old buddy old pal!'

Richtofen's getting better at hitting them headshots. 'I wasn't even trying! Hard.' 'I think that might be my tenth headshot of the day. Hooray!'

Samantha reveals to Edward that she's seen everything he will do if he manages to gain control of the MPD. She also warns him that they cannot use the aether, it will use them. 'Oh, SO brave, Teddy! You come all this way, just to possess the aether's powers! What was it you wanted? Oh ja, to find Agartha! As if it will somehow solve all your problems! How...childish. Do you want to know, Edward? What I've learned about this place? The aether is not for us. Not me. Not you. Not anyone. We do not use it. It uses us!' 'If you acquire this power, I know what you will do. I have seen everything. Do not worry, Teddy, I won't ruin the big surprise! It would make your sad little head explode! Besides, it doesn't matter because I won't let you take it!'

Hypocritically, he complains about Samantha's voice and screaming, despite, well... everything.

Classified's hidden logs reveal that after ww2 ended, Richtofen cut a deal with both the Americans and Russians to split Group 935's employees and research. Richtofen also revealed to both governments that Griffin Station was on the moon, which helped to ignite the space race. 

A personal log Richtofen recorded reveals he did this on October 10th 1945. The friendship between Richtofen and Doctor Schuster appeared to be waning, no doubt due to Richtofen's unhinged mental state. When Schuster protests about dividing Group 935's staff and resources amongst the Americans and Russians, Richtofen tells him that: 'Everything Group 935 stood for died the day Maxis made that infernal deal with the Reichstag. You und I both know this to be true. Listen to me und understand. Our technological development with 115 has the envy of the entire world! These agreements guarantee our work will continue in America und Russia, and that they will continue with our scientists at the helm! I am sorry... but for our work to live on, Group 935 must come to an end. Oh cheer up Doctor Schuster, I have asked that you go to the Americans, it'll be good for your... softer side.'

So, weirdly enough, Richtofen still hated the deal Maxis made with the Nazis, even long after he was corrupted by the apothicons. He's also still fond enough of Schuster to bother guaranteeing the man's safe well-being with the Americans rather than the Russians, as he would no doubt be treated better by them.

Later on in the same log, Schuster pleads with Richtofen to tell him the truth about why he's doing all of this and what he's planning. Edward only laughs and tells him that he will be 'well taken care of.'

On a passing note, I recommend checking out all of Classified's logs/phone messages/punch cards if you haven't already. They contain a ton of fascinating lore about pretty much the entire storyline. Seriously, go do it, it's great stuff.

Moon: Here we are, at the finale of Bo1's zombie storyline! As we all know, this is the map that Richtofen finally completes his grand scheme to take over the MPD and subsequently the world. He does this by swapping bodies with Samantha and then attempts to kill Sam and the rest of Ultimis 'But! Not before we continue the game'. Maxis also comes into play, via being absorbed into Griffin Station's computer systems, and succeeds in weakening Richtofen's connection to the aether by blowing the Earth up with missiles with help from Samantha, Dempsey, Takeo and Nikolai. As revealed much later on in the story, Samantha and Ultimis don't die, rather they eventually manage to teleport back to Area 51 where they are subsequently captured and experimented on by the Americans.

Richtofen's getting laughably bad at hiding secrets. It almost feels like he's mocking the rest of Ultimis for their naivety. 'Wow, look at this place! A place I've never ever been before... ever. Someone turn on the power.' 'FINALLY IT WILL BE MINE! I mean, hey I think we're in space!'

He claims to be a very good hacker. 'My mad haxor skills are only eclipsed by my mad scientist skills. And it's very close.'

He seems to not know the English word 'excavator', or has forgotten it. 'That big diggy thingy is going to FUCK US UP!' 'Hm, it seems the big diggy thingy is going to mess up this rig.'

The doc also hints that he may know about alternative realities, something that comes into effect much later on in the story. 'Nothing happened... at least in this reality.'

He ponders turning Griffin Station into a thrill park if his plan to take over the MPD fails (based and thrill pilled): 'If this plan fails, I should build a thrill park here!'

Unsurprisingly, he seems to harbour a dislike for American women. This could also double as a leaning on the fourth wall moment, lol. 'What is with Groph's obsession with American women? All they ever do is PLAY GAMES!'

Interestingly, or perhaps terrifyingly, Edward shows interest in having children of his own. 'I hope this drink doesn't affect my fertility. Oh, the thought of little doctors!'

More of Richtofen being a huge hypocrite; he mocks Maxis's German accent despite having an even stronger German accent that's more exaggerated.

Hope you guys are enjoying this analysis so far! Part 3 might take a bit longer, quite a bit to get through. I'm really enjoying researching all of this, even if it's taking a shit ton of time lol. I'm sure there's still stuff i've missed or forgotten to mention, so feel free to add anything of note in replies/tags!

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 1 - Girl on a mission

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 1 (current chapter) - Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - Girl on a mission

chapter word count: 4.1k words

~1 year and 6 months before Present Day~

"Find and kill CB97."

"That's impossible."

"It's not, if you wanna get out of here."

"Fuck you."

"Shut your fucking mouth. Don't forget who you're fucking speaking to, bitch!" Boss said, while pointing his loaded gun at me. "I'm giving you two options here. You either kill him, or you leave this place dead."

"I don't even know what he looks like or what his real name is!" I whined.

"Look, that's not my fucking problem. I think I'm giving you a pretty good offer here. Most don't get to leave this place alive at all. So, you either do what I'm asking, or you don't and suffer the consequences. You know the rules!" He screamed harshly.

I knew he was right. Leaving a mafia wasn't as simple as submitting a resignation letter when you got tired of your job.

You couldn't simply leave a mafia.

Someone who's outside is a risk to the others' safety. Anyone who's out becomes a target, a way for our rivals to get data on us.

However, my gang - The Scarlet Rose - is a bit different. Here, the rules state that, if you do wish to leave, you have the leisure to do so, providing you complete the mission Boss gives you.

More often than not, though, the mission proves itself to be simply impossible. Some give up on leaving altogether, others get killed while attempting to do so.

I believe no one's ever managed to complete it. There are only rumours that some people have, but there's no actual proof. And as they say – only believe what's in front of your eyes.

So, why would I want to go through this just to leave, you might ask?

It's pretty simple: this gang's rules no longer coincide with my life views. In fact, they never have, but even more so lately. My boss makes me take innocent lives. I am forced to kill families, children... I don't want to do this anymore.

I don't mind killing bastards as long as they deserve it, but I'm drawing the line at infants who can't even speak, let alone be guilty of anything.

~

Three weeks after the pretty chat with my boss, I've heard through the grapevine that SKZ Mafia will be hosting a party at their house and made some plans on how to get in.

I've faked my identity, posing as a millionaire's wife, and entered the premises quite easily. Red lips, wearing a classy but slutty long black dress, under which I've hidden a dagger, strapped to the back of my thigh, and I was ready to make my way through.

The plan for tonight was to use my good looks to find out who exactly CB97 was, at least. If I'm lucky, I could also attempt seducing him and taking him to bed to kill him when he's most vulnerable. This shouldn't be too hard, right? He's just a man... Like all Mafia leaders, this CB97 is probably an old degenerate, sex maniac psychopath.

Unless the 97 comes from his birth year or something.

Nah, that can't be it. I chuckled to the dumb possibility that this guy would be my age.

Anyway, the success rate for this plan is dim, though, maybe 30% on a lucky day, since this guy's been so secretive about himself all this time.

However, I felt pretty lucky today.

May the odds be in my favour, as they always are.

~

I was two hours in, when suddenly I got approached by someone.

"Bored?" the mysterious man said, placing his hand gently on my lower back.

I smirked cunningly seeing the man in front of me and thought that maybe I could get some information from him if I flirted a bit. He was also hot as fuck, and a little fun never hurt anyone, did it?

"Not at all. Just enjoying the wine and taking in the atmosphere. This place looks amazing. Just to my taste." I looked him from head to toe and gave him a suggestive look.

"Thank you."

"What for?" I raised an eyebrow curiously.

"For the compliments on my mansion, of course."

"CB97, then? I didn't expect you to be so young." I replied, genuinely surprised by this.

Shit, so 97 was his birth year after all!

Should I continue with the plan, or should I just get out of here quietly? I found out what he looks like, after all...

"You didn't expect me to me so hot." He whispered in my ear, which made my cheeks turn red. Thanks god for make-up. "I noticed you've been fucking me with your eyes from the moment you saw me."

Nah, he fell right into my trap. This might still work.

"Are you always so cheeky?" I turned to face him and put one arm over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt and pulling his body closer.

"Are you always so bold?" he returned my question and brought his face closer to mine, our lips almost touching.

"Mhm. I am. So how about we take this upstairs?" CB97 chuckled hearing my proposal.

"Wouldn't your millionaire husband have something to say about that?"

"Like I give a shit about what he thinks." I scoffed. "Look at you." I flirted and bit my bottom lip playfully, eyeing him from under my long eyelashes.

CB97 showed me his teeth through a sly smile and grabbed my hand in his, guiding me up the stairs.

"Let's get going, then. The night's still young."

~

He led me to an exquisite room that had a master bed with fresh linen on top.

Without missing a beat, CB97 pushed me on the bed and kissed me hard. I don't know if the wine was getting to my head, but his plum lips tasted so sweet, almost addictive; I was mesmerised by how good he felt on top of me.

CB97 licked my upper lip, as if asking for permission, so I bravely stuck out my tongue a bit, touching his.

He was quick to respond, sucking on my tongue and continuing to kiss me deeper and deeper.

Don't forget why you're here, Emilia.

I put my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer, if that was even possible. His kisses were making me drunk, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth.

All of a sudden, he pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

"Just wanted to let you know that I like it a little rough." He said with a stern face, taking my hands in his and putting them above my head, locking them in place with one hand, while he took off his belt with the other.

He was so strong, I couldn't move from his grip.

I didn't have any time to protest as he skilfully tied the belt tightly around my wrists. He then stood up on the bed and grabbed my body, turning me around, so that my face was buried in the sheets.

This is dangerous.

"I'd prefer if I had more control." I chuckled, hoping the man would release me, and turned my head to the right to look at him, resting my left cheek on the bed.

His eyes were dark, but his face showed a blank expression. He looked at me coldly, as he pressed his whole weight on top of me, his crotch pressing firmly on my ass, and moved my hair to free my neck. There was a powerful contrast between his action and his words. He kissed my neck gently, but what he whispered in my ear made my skin crawl.

"Why, so you could kill me, Emilia?"

My heart rose up my throat. How does he know my real name?

I swallowed my saliva and tried to calm down. My chest started hurting, as my heart beat faster and faster.

Fear.

That's how I felt.

I was scared.

CB97 traced his hand on the length of my leg and felt the dagger on my thigh.

"Is this what you wanted to use to kill me?" he asked mockingly, taking the dagger out, admiring it, and pressing its' blade firmly on my neck, not strong enough to pierce my skin, but enough to feel its coldness. "I like your style."

"Nice dagger, huh?" I tried hiding how I was really feeling behind this stupid joke.

Who betrayed me?

"Indeed. But damn, you really are bold, coming into my house like you own the place and planning to kill me in my own bed."

Fuck.

I am genuinely scared.

I will die.

What should I do?

"So, why kill me, babygirl?"

I scoffed at his choice of nickname and smirked.

"What, didn't your informant give you all the details?" I mocked.

"Oh, baby, he did. Just wanted to check if the stories matched."

When I stayed silent, he continued.

"Cause if they do, I feel sorry for you. You've been sent to the wolf's lair, only for the wolf to be informed that you're coming for his neck."

"... Who told you?"

Chan smirked. "Your boss."

"WHAT?!" I asked surprised, trying to turn around, but CB97 kept me in place with his body.

"Sit tight, will you?"

I sighed.

"It must hurt horribly to be sold out like that by your family." Chan whispered in my ear.

"What family? Those bastards aren't my family."

Even if I didn't consider them so, as they say you should once you join a mafia, CB97 was right. Betrayal did hurt like hell.

Feeling some stubborn tears forming in the corners of my eyes, I turned my head, so that my face would be buried in the sheets.

It wasn't the first time I've been close to dying.

No, far from that, actually.

But it was the first time I've been so... helpless.

It was the first time no one was coming to help.

Boss wanted to get rid of me, so he sent me here to die.

All hope is lost.

I will die.

I started shaking under CB97 as I tried to control the tears.

Fuck, this is not the time to be emotional, Emilia.

I cleared my throat and tried to think of something else, to divert my attention from the feelings of betrayal and from fear, as my last moments were approaching.

"Hey, since I'm going to die soon anyway, what's your real name?"

"Curious?" CB97 replied. Although I couldn't see his face, I was sure the fucker smirked.

"Mhm." I nodded.

"They say curiosity killed the cat, you know?"

"But satisfaction brought it back." I smirked.

"Hah. Fair point, love."

"You know mine, might as well let me know yours as well. I'll quite literally take it to my grave, so it doesn't matter to you either way. It won't hurt you." I replied defeated.

CB97 got off me and turned me around again, so that my back was firmly pressed against the mattress. He got on top of me and caressed my face with his thumbs, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

I hated this.

He will see my tears. He will see how weak I am.

"Say please?"

"Pff. As if I would." I rolled my eyes so far back, I almost saw my brain for a second.

"No longer curious?"

"Just wanted to put a name to your pretty face before you kill me, that's all."

Repeating it out loud, the realisation that I was going to die hit me again.

I tried to swallow back the tears, but I couldn't stop them. They started flowing, rolling off my face uncontrollably.

"Shhh, don't cry, baby." CB97 said soothingly, as he continued to brush his hands on my face and wipe off the tears that wouldn't stop falling.

He was giving me fake comfort, I knew, but I allowed myself to get relaxed under his touch and pretend that everything would be alright.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, searching my face for the truth.

"No."

"Even though I'm about to kill you?"

I tensed at his words.

"I don't hate you." I answered truthfully. "I hate the situation I put myself in, that got me in your bed tonight. But I don't hate you, CB97."

"Bang Chan."

"Huh?"

"Bang Chan. That's my name."

"Bang Chan... okay." I nodded softly. "Turns out my key to freedom will be my demise." I smiled sadly and looked into his eyes. "Your name has a nice ring to it. It suits you."

"Yours too."

"Please do me a favour and finish me off quickly, hm?" I continued and closed my eyes, waiting for Bang Chan to take my life.

Instead, I was met with a soft peck on my lips.

"I can still be your key to freedom." He said, trailing soft kissing down my neck, sucking small bruises on it, making me whimper.

I clenched my thighs under his touch, feeling intoxicated by him. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I was on my death bed, but I was dripping wet just from his whispers and touches.

"What, if I let you fuck me, you'll let me go?" I laughed sarcastically.

"Let me fuck you? Babygirl, I don't need you to let me do anything. I know you want it as much as me." As he said this, he traced two of his fingers on my slit, through my panties, feeling my horniness. I was mad at my body for betraying me like this, but he was right the second time this night. I was lusting over his body.

He didn't remove my panties, but he pressed two fingers firmly on my clit, applying pressure, before rubbing it a little, causing me to moan.

"See what I mean? I'm not blind, Emilia." he whispered more in my ear, licking my earlobe, sending me into overdrive.

"However, if you don't want it, I won't touch you any further." He got off of me and freed my arms, pulling me in a seated position and handing me my dagger. "That's also not what I meant. I'm not looking for a fuckdoll. But I can still be your key to freedom if you choose to follow me."

I took the dagger from his hand unsurely and thought for a bit.

Follow him? Does he think I'm stupid?

I can't kill him. He is way more powerful than me.

And even if I managed to strike him down, the other members probably know we were inside and watching us closely.

Even if I somehow escaped this mansion, Boss wanted me dead. It wouldn't matter if I'd free myself from him.

I'm dead, either way.

And the only way to make sure I die on my terms is...

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and quickly pointed the dagger to my throat, sending my arm as powerfully as I could towards my carotid artery.

Penetrating this artery would most likely result in a quick death. I would bleed out quickly, it would only hurt for a few minutes.

~

"What the fuck?!" I heard Bang Chan's voice loud and clear, and although I braced myself for the blade's fury, I could only feel my hand being held back forcefully.

I opened my eyes, shaking.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." was the only thing I could blurt out, as Chan took the dagger out of my hand.

"What the actual fuck, Emilia. That was a test to see if I can trust you not to kill me, but I wasn't expecting you to try and commit suicide. For fuck's sake." He spit out.

"I'm... sorry?" I said, unsure of what just happened and why he's stopped me. Quite annoyed, I ranted "Why did you stop me? Just kill me already! I'm ready to die!" tears streaming down my face once again.

"I don't want to kill you. It'd be a waste of talent. So how about we make a deal? Follow me, join SKZ, and let's get revenge on that old bastard together. I've always hated his guts, you wanted to leave his mafia anyway. He'll think you died; we'll have enough time to plan his death."

"Wh-"

"So, what do you say?"

"I – I don't know. I mean, yes, but, how can you trust me? Aren't you taking a big risk here?"

"You should learn to keep your pretty mouth shut sometimes; it might make some overthink their decisions if you plant doubt like that." He caressed my cheek. "Not me, though, my intuition tells me to trust you."

"O-okay. But, I want to be free to choose things for myself. I don't want to be a bird in a cage if I choose to... join you."

"No one in SKZ is here forcefully. My only request is to kill that bastard, but other than that, you're free to do whatever you please. Once he's dead, you can start a new life somewhere else, for all I care, or you can continue to stay here. Whichever you want."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"But why?"

"Your questions are getting annoying."

"Then... how should we seal the deal?" I asked, Chan picking up on my underlying question.

"So you do want my body tonight, huh?" he smirked, closing the distance between our lips and laying me on the bed again.

Our kisses were even more intense than before, both of us hungry for the other's touch.

"Fuck, you're hot." I mouthed in between the wet kisses we were sharing.

Chan moaned at that and stopped, looking me straight in the eyes.

"Fuck, you're beautiful. I want you so much, I could break you."

I felt myself blush at his sudden confession, before unconsciously tensing.

"Everything all right? We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I do want it, but..."

"But?" he raised a brow.

"Don't laugh."

Chan was now even more confused, but he nodded in agreement, so I took a deep breath and confessed, quietly.

"I, uhm... it's my first time."

"WHAT? How the fuck, when you look like that?" he asked, surprised.

"It's just... no one's made me feel horny before. But you, fuck, I want you." I cursed, looking at the bulge in his pants and feeling my legs clenching again. "Please take care of me."

"Such a needy girl." He praised and caressed my head gently, before kissing me again, his tongue deeper than before. "Baby, I might be a monster to most, but tonight, I'll be a gentleman to you, I promise."

He quickly took off his shirt, exposing his toned abs, and continued leaving wet trails on my neck.

Each time his lips grazed my skin, I could feel myself burning, and I moaned with pleasure under his every touch.

He made me stand up so he could take off my dress, leaving my body bare in front of him.

"Damn." He muttered under his breath, as he pulled me closer, his hands touching me everywhere.

His mouth was going lower and lower, and I whined in anticipation. I wanted his tongue connecting to my core, but instead, he decided to tease me, not touching me where I needed him most.

He kissed my thighs, sometimes his teeth grazing my soft skin and making me moan again and again.

"Please, touch me."

Chan chuckled. "Where?"

I groaned. I couldn't wait anymore, so I grabbed a chunk of his hair and pointed his head to my crotch.

"You're lucky this is your first time, otherwise I would've punished you like hell for this."

Even though his tone was harsh, Chan complied and gently licked my core.

The pleasure was too much, my knees growing weaker, and soon enough I fell on the bed.

"Can't handle it, baby? We just started."

He pushed me further on the bed and made sure we both sat comfortably, before he started eating me out again. His tongue drew circles on my clit, sending waves of pleasure.

Kissing his way up my lips again and initiating another passionate kiss, he quickly moved his mouth and focused on my neck again, pushing two fingers into my mouth.

"Suck." He commanded, and I listened and sucked on them to the best of my ability.

"Good girl." He praised, before his lips met mine again.

He took the two fingers to my slit and started rubbing me slowly. I couldn't even kiss him right because I moaned each time he moved.

"Never did this before, baby?"

I shook my head.

"Then you're gonna love this."

As he said that, he slowly inserted his index finger, his mouth moving to my right breast, sucking on my nipple gently.

He was moving the finger in and out, and when he noticed I've relaxed more, he asked:

"Think you can handle one more?"

As the words left his mouth, he put his middle finger inside as well, earning another small moan from me.

His hand movements were slow, but he was hitting all the right spots, making me pant for air and put my arms around his neck, pointing his mouth to my neck, place he gladly took as he began to kiss my neck gently.

Just as I was reaching my high, he pulled his fingers out.

"Wh-" I looked at him with doe eyes, not understanding why he stopped.

"You're so needy." Chan chuckled. "Soon, baby."

Chan unbuckled his belt, his bulge even more obvious through his underwear, which he was quick to cast aside.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He looked so hot, his body toned and his member... quite impressive.

"Like what you see?"

I licked my lips and stood up a bit, pulling him above me and kissing him. His tip was now aligned with my entrance, and he groaned as he slowly started to push in.

It was painful enough to make me dug my nails in his back. Small tears formed in the corner of my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Chan asked. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"Mhm. It does."

"Want me to stop?"

"No, baby, keep going." I replied, hearing him groan at the nickname.

He caressed my face with his thumbs as he continued to push in me, in an attempt to comfort me.

I whimpered as he worked his whole length inside.

"Shh, I know, baby." He comforted me again. "Just relax, it will feel better soon, I promise."

He picked up the pace, stretching my walls, and I could feel the pain being replaced with something different. A new kind of pleasure.

"You fit me so well, baby. You're so good." Chan praised me, moans escaping his lips.

Instead of hovering over me, he changed positions and stood on his knees, taking my legs and placing them on his shoulders, supporting my body weight as my bum was no longer touching the sheets.

Like this, he was reaching even deeper than before, touching a very sweet spot inside of me.

"Fuck, you're doing amazing. Right there, baby. Please keep it up." I praised him as well, watching as his face contorted with pleasure.

Just a few more thrusts made me reach a powerful climax and grab the sheets under me powerfully, moaning Chan's name over and over.

His movements were quick to become sloppy, and without warning, he pushed one last time inside before releasing himself in me.

His eyes became big, as he started to frantically apologise.

"Shit. Fuck. I wasn't supposed to... Fuck. I'm so sorry. I couldn't control it. Damn, this never happened before."

"That's okay... I'm on BC."

"On Bang Chan?" he joked and winked, making me slap his hand playfully. "Why are you on birth control though, if you aren't having any sex? Or weren't, I guess."

"Menstrual issues."

"I see." He nodded.

After losing my virginity, I suddenly felt the need to receive some after care and attention.

Fucking hormones, I thought, realising how dumb it was to expect Chan, essentially a cold-hearted mafia leader, to comfort me and make me feel loved.

And what a dumb word this was, love.

I looked down at my hands and an involuntary sigh left my lips.

As I tried to get up in an attempt to find my clothes and get the hell out of this room, my feet gave in, and I fell back down on the bed.

"Where are you going, hm?" Chan asked softly, his hand gripping my arm and pulling me next to him, his body engulfing me in a hug.

"I just thought-"

"Let's sleep for now and think tomorrow, okay?"

I allowed myself to relax in his arms and closed my eyes, falling asleep quickly.

---

Chapter 2

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

The latest issue of the Obi-Wan comic has me wanting to write SO MUCH STUFF ABOUT IT it’s insane - but I’d have to brush up on Heart of Darkness, Apocalypse Now and Shatterpoint to be halfway coherent about it!! 

But!!!!

There’s this imagery of going up the river into the jungle to confront and probably kill a man tortured by death and war into a demented agent of death - with the risk of becoming the very same thing, and with the line between hunted and hunter blurring. It’s all swamp and mist and shadow and night! It’s that classic structure that has already been used in Star Wars so well! (In Shatterpoint, which was heavily inspired by Apocalypse Now and follows the same beats and atmosphere.)

We have that same insight into the pov character's struggle with the idea of killing a comrade who has lost their way, while questioning whether adherence to peace is even possible, or if it wasn't just denial and hopeless naivety.

Going up the river is a grotesque parade of dead bodies that chills the soul - and the living share the characteristics of the dead. The person looming over the story now inspires cult-like devotion in the other lost souls. It's SUCH an effective storytelling trope and one of my favorite explorations of war! Compare this to the previous issue.

This was the 'classic' examination of war: fairly straightfoward violence with clear goals that you either achieve or die trying, followed by the contemplation of how hollow and bitter victory feels.

This is the next step - there's no longer anything to fight for or against. Violence and death have become the very fabric of the world rather than an anomaly that can be rectified. Moral considerations have no weight and actions have no effect. The road is a river - you can't stray from it, and it only leads to one place, death (whether you want it or not. Anakin didn't want to kill Mekedrix, but he does). As Mekedrix says:

There's no point in virtue or honor or courage anymore, as all roads lead to death.

And the only way to escape this apocalyptic and perilous night and go back to the sunrise of the last issue (the sunrise that Obi-Wan kept seeking) is even more death.

It's so bleak but SO POWERFUL and effective. I'm not kidding, as means of conveying a tragedy go it's next to the perfect trope.

Going back to the cult-like aspect, with people being warped into symbols...

(I wish they'd make Shatterpoint into a movie just for this comparison. THE COMIC STRIP LOOKS LIKE ACTUAL FOOTAGE)

I'm going insane over these personifications of the outcome of war, shrouded in shadows and stripped of personhood that you find in desecrated old Temples.

People who can't connect to their names anymore or are robbed of their faces by the shadows or robbed of their health or cannot talk at all anymore (Shatterpoint). Obi-Wan keeps trying to remind Mekedrix that identity and life are what give nature and death meaning, but THE NIGHT IS JUST TOO DARK.

The art is SO GOOD. THIS IS THE FACE OBI-WAN MAKES WHEN HE KNOWS SOMEBODY IS LOST

From the very beginning of the story he KNOWS he won't save Mekedrix just like everybody who goes up the river into the Temple KNOWS what they'll find will be far beyond any hope of rescue. The question with that trope is never - will we bring this person home? - but what will we be when we come back?

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THAT WHAT DEFINES OBI-WAN IS THAT HE'S DEMONSTRABLY INSANELY RESILIENT TO THIS FORM OF HORROR. The original trope has the pov character coming back irreparably tainted. The variation in Shatterpoint has Mace's faith hanging by a string - by the end, he's beaten, bruised, exhausted and thoroughly tired of it all, and it costs him incredible pain and every last reserve of strength he has to make it through. But in this comic, Obi-Wan's crisis was last issue, when he could still see the sun, more so than in this one.

In this issue he's Anakin's rock and he's more focused on Mekedrix's despair than his own. HE'S CENTERED AND MOTIVATED BY THE THOUGHT OF PULLING PEOPLE OUT OF THE DARKNESS WHEN NOBODY CAN SEE THE LIGHT.

I don't even know where I'm going with all of this except that!!!!! The parallels and contrasts between William and Mace and Obi-Wan!!!! And Kurtz and Kar Vastor and Depa and Mekedrix!!!!!! The ART!!!!! THE POV CHARACTER NARRATING HIS JOURNEY UP THE RIVER INTO THE JUNGLE!!!!! THE IDEA OF A STORY ABOUT SEEKING A PERSON THAT TELLS YOU MORE ABOUT THE SEEKER THAN THE PERSON SOUGHT!!!!!!!! I just. It's good.

[lokisprettygirl]

The Night Screams at The Slumber Island (Loki x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (Dark) (Au) (18+)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: You enter the Slumber Island and meet your new neighbour.

Warning: Mentions of recurring nightmare and trauma, spooky stuff

The sound of the ferry horn woke you up from the nightmare you were in, the same old nightmare again, but it happened to you and it was your reality just a few months ago. You had fallen asleep at your seat, the woman in front of you was staring at you so you smiled at her. 

"You off to the Slumber?" She had an accent of sorts as she spoke and you shook your head,

"No I just, I haven't slept in two days" you told her politely.

"I mean the Island, the Slumber Island, you goin ther to live?" You nodded your head as you understood what she meant, it would take a bit getting used to living in a place that has the word slumber in its name.

"Well that's a one way ticket" she mumbled and you raised your brow, you didn't want to indulge in one more conversation so you just nodded and smiled. At the port you grabbed the two suitcases you had with you and looked around. It looked gloomy..even at 2 pm the island looked sad and dead, there was no sunlight, it was cold and the clouds seemed heavy, you walked away from the port, your realtor Tony had told you that there would be a taxi to drop you straight to the house.

"Hello can you uhh drop me to this address" you gave the address slip to the driver and he smiled. 

"Get in mam, you are the new resident of the Minola house right?" You looked at him surprised as he said that, but then it was a small island so you should have expected it.

"Yes..I ..uhh how did you know" you chuckled nervously and he smiled, he had a kind smile but for some reason you couldn't trust him.

"I'm one of the people in the selection committee, we approve who gets to board here, by the way it's Phil" you smiled as he introduced himself, on the way he kept talking to you and you hummed in response to not come across as rude. He dropped you a few meters away from your house and it made you confused,

"I have two bags, can you drop me in front of the house please?" You asked him politely but he denied and turned the taxi around to leave. 

"What the hell..Great welcome jeez" you cursed under your breath as you felt extremely annoyed.

"Need assistance darling?" You jumped on your spot as you heard the voice, then you turned around to look at the man, he had a maroon oversized shirt on with a wife beater underneath? Who wears a wife beater still? The black pant was snugged around his legs, his long below the shoulder length raven hair was scruffy but not in a dirty way but more like I didn't condition after shampooing way. 

"Hii sorry..I got..umm spooked" you mumbled so he walked towards you and grabbed both of your trolley bags,

"Well you better get used to that on this island, the name is Loki" he raised his hand forward, removing it from the handle of the trolley. Pretty veiny hands. No stop, the whole reason you got here is to escape them. Men like him. He had an accent, probably English, he seemed too good looking to live on an island like this. His green eyes bore into you as you didn't respond to the gesture, 

"Uhhh hii..it's y/n" 

"I know" 

"Are you on the committee too?" You chuckled and he smiled, he was a perfect specimen for the peak male beauty you couldn't deny that.

"Something like that" As you reached the door, you took out the keys from the purse and fumbled with it. 

"You live nearby?" You asked him and he hummed.

"Right in front of you, we are neighbors darling" 

"I'm not your darling, stop calling me that" you got agitated all of a sudden and you could tell he was confused by your reaction. He helped you and you didn't want to doubt his intentions but you couldn't help it either.

"I'm sorry I am just..very tired, thank you for the help..I really appreciate it" you smiled at him and he returned it but there was one thing that still bothered you "I was told there were no other houses in one mile radius from here" you told him and he raised his brow in response,

"That's weird because I'm right here with my house" he pointed towards his house and you chuckled, 

"Yeahhhh I'd invite you in for a coffee as thank you but..I need to settle in, thanks anyways" you told him as you stepped inside quickly to not engage with him any further.

"No worries dear, if you need anything you can always knock on my door" 

He winked at you as he made his way towards his place and you closed the door. It was dark in there so you turned on the light. There were two rooms, one kitchen, two bathrooms, it looked different in the picture, cleaner, there was a portrait of a woman hanging above the fireplace and she seemed to be staring right into your soul so you walked towards it. 

"Well I have a roomie it seems..hey there" you read the name at the bottom of the portrait and it registered as the name the taxi driver Phil said.

"Minola Wright" maybe this house belonged to her at some point. You went on your day cleaning and stocking up, there was a fruit and vegetable market that ran from 8-10 am in the morning and if you didn't get there on time you would have to get to the mainland for shopping, for milk and meat there was a vendor named Steve who had a small shop by the beach. 

Life seemed here as if it was pushed back fifty years but maybe that's exactly what you needed because you were done with the life in the city. 

After cleaning up your room and having dinner you got showered and ready for the bed, you ingested your sleeping pill and waited for it to knock you down but it took its own sweet time. 

You had a cellphone but there was no reception on the island expect the main cellular service, you had saved your favorite songs and movies in there to watch if you feel like it, opening the photo gallery your eyes teared up as you found a picture of yourself on your 26th birthday two years ago, taken at a club in NYC, you looked happy and drunk, surrounded by your friends and him. 

You turned your phone off before you could dwell in deep, that's not why you came here.

You fell asleep soon after but it didn't last long because you woke up to the sound of a woman screaming and it scared the life out of you. 

At first you thought you were experiencing a hypnagogic jerk or an exploding head syndrome but you were wide awake and you heard it again, it sounded like it came from a farther distance but the sound kept getting closer and closer with every passing minute.

You got off the bed, turned the lights on and it didn't make you feel any better because you could still hear the sound of a woman wailing. She sounded distressed. You can't be imagining this right?

You got to the living room as your heart sped up with fear and anxiety, then you looked at the portrait and Minola seemed weird, something different. Her eyes, she wasn't looking at you anymore, she was looking to the side. 

"No no no that's just, fuck you're tired y/n" you closed your eyes to rub your temples and when you opened it, Minola was staring at you again. 

Living alone on an island didn't seem like such a good idea now. 

You walked towards the door and set aside the curtain on the window next to the door. The neighbor's house was all lit up, so you did what he asked you to do.

You knocked on his door. 

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

Taglist @mcufan72 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fraoid3 @wheredafandomat @michelleleewise @daddylokisqueen @123forgottherest @usagishira @elegantcheesecakecrown @sashas-recs @lukira1337 @vickie5446 @spageddyhoes @witchypandamonium @javagirl328 @slpnbty2001 @mochi661 @lovingchoices14 @annoyingsweetsstranger

[inconmess]

I really want to write a character study of the people in the Crimson Mirror but I am more fixed on Oscar and Cosmo at the moment cuz it has revived my interest on immortal figures and how they cope. SO back to the Grimm boys. (gonna tag all these speculations under Grimm theories if you want to look up) Also, a continuation of this post is right up here

Again, warning, long rant post.

You know… With the way it is revealed that over 87 years, Oscar has died 7 times prior to Tide and Bone, I wonder how many times he died and came back to life before Candela caught onto him cuz let's face it, no way is anyone going to know immediately after the ship incident about the side effects of the ritual. Maybe Candela does approach Cosmo and Oscar as the survivors of the ritual to know the deets but that should be about it. Even if Oscar died in the shipwreck, only Cosmo would know and the first death can be brushed off as a hallucination or close call because they are at sea.

It is during the second death that either of them knows that something is fishy but let's say due to some convenient shit it is not as easy to suspect it. Another death brushed off. But now it's a little obvious that Oscar does not come out unaffected as he starts forgetting things.

The third time is the charm and this time, his death and coming back from it was totally unexplainable because it should not be possible for him to survive the thing because let's say he was crushed to death or something more severe, but he did. That is when they actually look into what the fuck is going on more in detail because now it is obvious that something is going on in the background and that Oscar is coming back from the dead and missing memories as a consequence every single time.

It is this that sends Cosmo on full gear to research more about why this is happening and what actually happened in the ritual and how to stop this from happening because by this point, everyone has started to notice that Oscar is not aging also since the accident. (I'm placing the third death to be roundabout 10-15 years after the ship incident) I would say Candela catches onto this in his 3rd or 4th death because he comes back to life after a really impossible death situation and also isn't aging a day older from the incident, and Candela have been keeping tabs on them since the moment they mentioned a ritual, so even if Cosmo and Oscar don't tell them their discovery of Oscar and his revivification, they knock on their doors about it.

Dying 4 times over 2-3 decades have notified people that something is wrong but the 5-6 decades after with no answers kinda increases Oscar's recklessness and makes him less hopeful that he's actually going to die, that he'll live on forever without peace, Cosmo, while he's happy to have his father around him also is tired of all the lies and stories he has to spin to keep Oscar close and keeping Candela away from experimenting on the man and trying to figure out answers he can't get...

And Candela's increasing scrutiny at the fact that Oscar can't die and them using it to their advantage cuz a man who can't die sent into a undercover mission to collect information with the guarantee that he won't die? Who wouldn't want that? Or who wouldn't want to keep a close eye on an immortal man who has the secrets to unlocking how not to die?

Cosmo also essentially becomes his own inside man in Candela, making connections to keep an eye on what the higher-ups think about Oscar and what they plan to do with him in order to shield Oscar from whatever experiment they might plan to do with him.

The difficulties of having an immortal parent as you yourself grow old, afraid of leaving the parent under the shitty hands of an organization which doesn't really have a moral code when it comes to figuring out stuff and doing what they want to do and just feeling so tired and done of all the secrets you can't tell people...

And the parent in turn feeling shitty as they need to be taken care of by the child as they aren't aging and have to blend in, and even if they are tired oflife, they can't feel their age and time and again and again you hope you will die and stop being a burden, but it never happens. I wouldn't be surprised if Oscar had tried to take his own life in all this mess and it was one of his 7 deaths. I feel for both of them

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || The Bridge

Previous

The next day, Rick, Michonne, Natalia and Daryl travelled to The Hilltop, Rick and Michonne had rode on horse back whilst Natalia had managed to convince Daryl that she was okay to ride with him on the bike, she wasn't safer with anyone more than him.

Maggie had greeted them, as the horses were dealt with, a mark was on her upper cheek, and she looked tired, her eye was bruised.

Natalia was angry when Maggie had told them what Gregory had done the night before, preying on an sobered alcoholic, who had just lost his son, to kill Maggie, so that he could take her place.

Rick had gone to talk to her, but also to talk to Maggie about help with the bridge, that he'd also managed to rope Daryl into joining.

Natalia had volunteered to watch Hershel as they talked, explaining that she needed to catch as much baby fever as she could, and no one was better at that, than little Rhee, one of the most adorable babies known to man.

"See, you're great with them, they love you." Michonne said, as she bounced the baby on her knee. "Now just imagine two of them."

"Michonne, you're killing it." She warned, closing her eyes and trying to get back into the mood of being excited for a baby.

"It don't matter If you get it or not, we're having them either way." Daryl said, as the pair watched the woman.

Natalia pouted, turning the baby to face her.

"Why, Hershel, why does bad things happen to me?"

He cooed in response, grabbing at her hair.

"Who am I kidding, you're so cute." She hugged him to her.

Maggie had decided that Gregory was to be publicly hung for his crimes against their leader, but also for causing Enid to face injuries so severe that the poor girl was resting in a wheelchair.

It was being held after all the children had been put to beds, torches were lit as the people were stood around, and Daryl was the person who had been asked to set the ordeal up.

Tammy-Rose and Earl were stood behind him, he was handcuffed, and looked disgusted with himself for his actions, Earl was a kind man, who had been influenced into making a horrible mistake.

"I don't want to do this." Maggie started, talking to the people. "But people need to understand that at Hilltop, the punishment fits the crime. Do you have any final words?" She asked the man sat on top of a horse, a noose around his neck.

"What you're doing isn't right. Somebody stop this, please. Killing me In the dead of night because you're ashamed." Gregory sobbed.

"You're wrong. I'm not ashamed." She told him, before nodding to Daryl.

"Stop this! Please! Now, for the love of God, stop it!"

Two children had wondered out, looking at what was happening.

"Maggie, stop!" Michonne cried, catching Natalia's attention as Rick held her, stopping her from running ahead.

Daryl hit the horse hard, it let out a whine as it marched ahead, causing Gregory's body to fly in the air, his neck snapping at the force.

"Get the children back in bed." Maggie ordered. "I made this decision. But this is not the beginning of something. I don't want to go through it again."

A wave of Nausea came over Natalia as she watched Gregory's dead body swing through the air, like a depressing pinata.

She jogged away, a hand over her mouth as the bile rose.

Michonne raced after, to help her friend.

A month had passed since the hanging.

Natalia was four months pregnant, and she was already growing bigger than her clothes could handle, everyone had been pretty heavy on her case about letting it go for so long, the signs were all there and she tried her damned hardest to ignore it.

She had started living in dungarees.

Daryl was pissed that he'd already missed a chunk of it, well, of what they were aware of, Rick had everyone working hard at the bridge, camping out, and her husband was the one in charge of keeping the Saviours in order, as they were doing most of the work, once again dragged away from his wife and kid.

Natalia was in Sully's old bedroom, they were converting it into the nursery, or Natalia was, to keep herself busy, considering no one would let her do anything, she was the first person to carry twins since the world fell apart, and currently the only pregnant person, and the people took the saying "It takes a village..." Very seriously. She also wanted to get it done before she was too big to finish it.

She was sad that she had to decorate the room, she missed him terribly, she missed her old life, her old family, the pregnancy was reminding her a lot of the start of everything, what she had gone through by herself, that she'd lost two babies to the world, the universe must've thought this was some cruel joke.

"Mom! Uncle Rick's here." Evie called from downstairs, she was doing some school work in the kitchen, before bed.

"Tell him I'm up here." She called down, Natalia had just finished painting the room, choosing pastel colours, they were going to be finding out the genders soon, though Natalia had betted on girls, she had a dream about it, she was certain it was girls, but Siddiq was busy at the camp, he hadn't been able to do the scan yet, she'd have to wait until he got back, she'd be ready in about two weeks anyway, the "official time".

"Hey." Rick greeted, standing in the doorway of the nursery.

Natalia was sat in front of a pile of wood, attempting to start the build of the crib, she had decided that they were going to have one big one, she heard once that twins didn't like being separated.

"Hi." She let out a sigh, sitting up as she looked at him, offering a smile.

"You getting on alright?" He gestured to the wood.

"We've known each other long enough, that it would just be rude to lie to you, right?"

"Lemme take a look." He entered the room, "The colour looks nice."

"Thanks, Daryl said I could do whatever I wanted in here, he's been too busy to, y'know." She raised her brows.

Rick sat down beside her.

"I want you to join me, tomorrow." He said. "I want you to see what we're up to, the bridge, you should see the building process, the future we're building for these ones." He looked at her bulging stomach.

"You sure that's a good idea, little weak delicate me on a building site in the middle of the woods?"

"Nat." He eyed her. "There ain't nothing weak or delicate about you, we've known each other long enough to know that."

She chuckled.

"Thanks, Rick."

"Also, I'm gonna ask Siddiq to come home, to help out with, y'know."

A bug was going around, so Natalia had been on house arrest anyway, until it passed, in hopes that she didn't catch it.

"Alright, let's see if we can manage this." He rubbed his hands together, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, that reminds me."

He looked behind him, grabbing the two things he had sat on. "Found these, wanted you have 'em for the twins, a gift from their Uncle Rick."

He handed her two teddy bunnies, one was a soft green, the other a baby blue.

"Thought they'd go with Sully's that Evie keeps in her room." He explained as she stared at them, her heart melting.

"Rick, thank you." She turned, wrapping her arms around him as she hugged her friend, the man she had first grown close to in this world, the first person to take her in after so long alone.

"Okay. We got this." Rick said, when she pulled away, picking up a piece of wood. "God, when me and Lori were putting Carls crib together, we both ended up in tears." He smiled.

"I bet he's laughing at me right now, the little twerp put a curse on me" She laughed, reminding herself what was in the letter in the drawer of her bedside table. "You know, if one of them turns out to be a boy, I've been contracted to name them CJ." She told Rick, who smiled, but it hadn't reached his eyes all the way.

It had taken the pair most of the night to put it together, Evie had ended up taking herself to bed considering both adults were stressed and frustrated at the furniture, but they successfully managed it.

Natalia placed the two teddies in the crib, ready for the next five months.

"Pregnant lady coming through, back up, make way." Rick told the people as he guided Natalia through.

She was dressed in a light wash, blue pair of jean dungarees, a white tank top underneath, one advantage she found, was her boobs were getting bigger, too.

"Rick, people can clearly see what I am, A and B are more than enough of a obvious sign." She gestured to her swelled abdomen, as people backed away.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Daryl had dropped the stuff that was in his hands staring at Natalia.

"I asked Nat to come." Rick took the heat from the ill-tempered archer, who was only growing more impatient the bigger his wife was getting, more protective and obsessive over her well being, as well.

"Nat." Aaron greeted. "Good to see you." He hugged his friend, minding out for the bump. "And you guys, too." He said to her stomach. "Lil Erin and lil Aaron."

"Hey, how's it going, you boys hard at work?" She grinned, Rick patted her shoulder as he went off to get updates from everybody else.

"Of course." Jerry came over, "Aarons just been telling us all horror stories about Gracie, that means double the trouble for you pair, with these munchkins."

"Alright, alright, get your paws off 'er." Daryl nudged the gathering people away, pulling Natalia towards him. "How long you staying?"

"Only a couple days, Rick wanted me to see every body in action, and to get some fresh air, away from all the sick people." She reached up, kissing his cheek. "And I missed you."

He scrunched the side of his face up, embarrassed of the PDA around everyone, especially the Saviours.

"Missed ya, too, an' Evie."

"Oh, she's still supplying baby names, Carol was wrong about her feeling left out, that girl won't shut up about having baby brothers and sisters, poor Judith's the one who's gotta listen to it all day."

"Come on, Imma get you a seat, sit in the sunshine whilst we get back to work." He told her, taking her hand and leading her towards his tent.

"Do you have to go back so soon, I just got here." She held his waist as he picked up a camping chair.

"Sorry, baby, gotta get that bridge down, so I can get home." He grabbed her hand again, leading her towards the construction.

Daryl had sat Natalia far away from the work, the tree's and anywhere she could find danger, but so that she was in his sights at all times, he'd even left her a canteen full of fresh clean water and a few snacks, that she tried refusing at their short amount, he'd also coaxed Carol into keeping the woman company, Rosita popped in from time to time, so had Tara, they had to pull Eugene away when he had started making the woman uncomfortable with his "Pregnancy facts."

"You thought about names, yet?" Carol asked, stood beside her.

"We don't even know the genders yet, gotta wait two more weeks, but me and Rick got a lot done in the nursery last night, he came over and helped me, when he offered about coming here." She explained.

"Awe, little Dixon babies, I can't wait." Carol let out a tiny squeal as her hands balled up into fists, shaking in excitement. "How are you feeling about it, compared to last month."

"Better." Natalia admitted. "I guess that's mostly down to the fact that I had to accept it, and had no other choice, I'm still shit scared, I just... I keep thinking about Lori, and what Carl and Maggie had to do, if something like that were to happen..."

"Natalia, stop. It's not going to, that was a completely different time, a very unfortunate setting, we have medicine, and we have the right equipment, and Siddiq's been training Enid as well as Evie, so she's gonna be there as well, if anything goes wrong, it'll still be okay, I promise you." Carol layed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Carol." She smiled up at the woman.

Henry had been on water duty, in charge that each person only had one cup each, that was until Justin got greedy, pushing the kid to the ground as he drank out of the tap.

Natalia jumped from her seat as everyone else looked at him.

Henry got to his feet, taking his stick as he knocked the man to the ground.

"Back off!" He told him.

"Hey man, it's cool, I got my ass handed to me by a kid one time, too." Another Saviour, Jed laughed at him. "Of course, I was 6 at the time."

Natalia headed over as Justin got to his feet.

"What the hell is your problem?" She called after him grabbing his arm, as he went for the boy, who went about his business.

"Stay out of it, bitch." He brushed her off, harshly, sending her falling to her ass.

Aaron ran to help her as Daryl grabbed Justin.

Laura and Carol had got to her as well, making sure she was okay.

"Hey! Leave 'em alone. Get back to work." He ordered.

"I don't need your people telling me what to do." Justin replied. "You're not my babysitter anymore, go deal with your whore of a wife."

He turned to walk away, but Daryl grabbed a hold of him again, causing Justin to turn and throw a fist, but Daryl managed to dodge it, throwing his own into the man's face, sending him flying into a large pile of sand.

He grabbed a handful of sand, chucking it into Daryl's face, temporarily blinding him, giving him the advantage he needed to push him to the ground.

The men began fighting as the Saviours gathered around, chanting.

When Aaron left Laura and Carol to assist Natalia, going to aid Daryl, the man who had teased Justin, threw his fists at him, dragging him into a fight.

"Hey! Hey! Break it up!" Rick shouted, running over with Eugene, pushing people out of the way. "Get back."

Rick grabbed Justin, pulling him away as Daryl tried to get past him, to throw another punch.

"I said enough. Enough." He turned on Daryl, as Justin was being restrained.

Daryl wiped at his nose, spitting blood as he went in search for Natalia.

"Thanks." She muttered to Laura, who had taken over fully as Carol went to check Henry.

"You alright, he hurt you?" Daryl asked her, checking her over.

"I'm fine, I'm more worried about you." Natalia replied, leading Daryl away and back to the camp, Rick had followed them.

"So, that asshole just gets a free pass? Is that it?" Daryl questioned when Rick had come to talk to him in the tent. "He pushed Nat!"

"It's just a few more days." Rick pressed. "I don't like it, either, but we're in a rush to get that work done. He's strong. The Saviours are over half the workforce, and we've had too many walk off's already."

"Yeah. 'Cause that's who they are." He turned back around. "Some of them ain't ever gonna fall in line just 'cause you say so."

"Daryl's right." Carol backed him up, Natalia was sat down, watching the three like a tennis match, her hand rubbed her stomach, the denim was covered in dust from getting pushed to the ground. "These people have never had to live together. And we can't expect them to just forget what's happened."

"It hasn't been easy. I know. It won't be, not for a while, but it's not about forgetting. It's about moving ahead, all of us, together. We keep doing that, they'll see we're all on the same side." Rick pushed.

"Are we, though?" Daryl questioned. "Are we on the same side, Rick?"

"Well, you tell me."

"Thing is, man, I've been tryin' to. But you don't seem to want to hear it. Nat, come on, you're gonna stay in my tent till you're going home." He helped her up. "I ain't wanna be on the same side as anyone who has it in their right mind to push a kid and a pregnant woman over, but guess that's just you." He told Rick, leading Natalia out of the tent.

"Daryl." Rick called, but they both ignored him.

"That was so hot, baby. The way you were defending my honour." Natalia looped her arm in his, leaning her head against his arm.

"What you after?" He looked down at her.

She smiled up at him, batting her lashes.

"Come on, grub time." He told her, leading her to the food tent, Natalia groaned, hitting her head against his bicep.

"Mood killer." She grumbled. "Where's Rosita, haven't seen her in a while."

"Out making noise for the herds with Arat." He answered.

"Oh, ditched me for the rat." She said, bitterly, even though she'd been talked out of killing the woman, she was still holding a grudge, a lot worse than the one she had on Laura.

Aaron and Daryl had been moved to work away from Justin, working on cutting up the tree's and storing them.

Natalia had stayed with them, watching as she ate up her food, and Daryl's, and Aarons, even though he wanted her in the tent, he was never able to deny the woman.

The horses were beginning to get spooked as they went about their work, walkers were approaching.

"I got it." Natalia sighed, picking up her knife that was beside her as she got to her feet.

"Stay." Daryl ordered, picking up a small branch and stabbing it into a walkers head, before turning for the other, but Natalia beat him to it, plunging her knife into the second walkers head, dropping it to the ground.

"I told you to stay" He fumed, pointing at her.

"And I told you I got it, which I did."

"Uh, guys!" one of the workers called, a herd was heading right for them.

"A herd's coming, bug out, now!" Daryl told the others.

Against Daryl's protests, Natalia had helped take down the closest walkers as the others evacuated.

One of the saviours had dropped the rope that was supporting a large trunk, letting it fall as he jumped from the stack.

Aaron had pushed the man helping him, away, letting it land and crush his own arm, screaming at the agonising pain.

"Aaron!" Natalia cried, dropping her latest walker kill and running for him.

"Get them mules out here!" Daryl pointed, following. "You, get over here right now!" He shouted at the Saviour responsible, as he got ready to lift the heavy log.

"Alright, it's gonna be alright, Aaron, you're okay." Natalia rambled.

"Go. Get out of here!" Aaron told them, as the walkers approached.

Natalia ran forward, taking the closest ones to them out, so they could continue helping the injured man.

"Come on. Get up. Get up!" Daryl encouraged, when Aaron was set free. "Natalia, come on!"

She was too preoccupied.

A walker had grabbed a hold of Daryl, attempting to take a bite out of his shoulder before an arrow shot through its head, from Beatrice.

The others had gathered, helping with the walkers.

"What the hell is Nat doing?" Rick asked, as she kicked a walker down.

"What the hell does it look like?" She turned to him.

"We got this, get him back to camp!" He decided, turning to Daryl and Aaron.

When they had got back to the camp, Carol and Rick had started chewing Natalia out for her recklessness, before she had brought up that someone was slacking on their job, turning their anger away from her, and onto Justin.

Carol had been the one to have it out with him, he was her responsibility after all.

"Daryl?" Natalia asked, when he stormed out of the infirmary, his arm dripping in blood, that wasn't his.

He ignored her, marching to the tent Carol and Justin were in, and then not even a minute later, Justin came tumbling out, Daryl on his trail as he shook his fist.

He punched him against a tree, then picked up a copper pan, smacking it against his head, hard.

"Daryl, stop!" Carol called.

Natalia felt like she stepped in enough, she was too caught up admiring the show.

Daryl grabbed Justin by his shirt, throwing his fist at the mans face, repeatedly.

"Daryl!" Carol grabbed, him stopping him from hitting the man again. "Daryl. I said stop." She hissed. "We'll deal with him, but not like this."

"There's only one way to deal with these assholes." He walked back to the infirmary, and Natalia followed, wanting to check on Aaron, who had recently got his arm amputated by trainee, Enid, who had to follow a tutorial from her book.

"How's he doing?" Natalia asked.

"Well, just be thankful Evie's too young to do this kinda stuff." Enid said. "Luckily he's just asleep, breathing."

"You done a good job." Daryl told her, taking the seat beside the bed.

"You want me to check you and the babies over, you've had a pretty hectic day." Enid offered, as Natalia let Daryl guide her to sit on his lap, as they watched over Aaron.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine, A and B are as well." She smiled as Daryl rubbed a soothing hand over her bump, like he was trying to calm himself down from the fight. "Doctor Enid."

"You gonna call them A and B the whole time?" Enid laughed.

"That's what they are, this one is A" She pointed to her left. "And this one is B. Oh shit, or was it the other way around."

Enid laughed as Daryl tried to figure which was which as well.

"What do you think they are?"

Natalia looked at Daryl, wanting him to answer first, running her fingers through his hair

He shrugged.

"Long as they're alive an' breathing, I don't give a shit." He said. "But, one of each would be fine, be easier to tell the difference."

"I think they're gonna both be girls." Natalia said.

"How'd you know?" Daryl looked at her.

"Saw it in a dream."

He scoffed at that.

"No, I actually read that, that during pregnancy, mothers can actually predict stuff like that, but apparently you can tell as well, by the size or something."

Later in the night, Cyndi had come in for her hand, that Enid had to fix, she sliced it whilst peeling potato's, or so she said.

When she had left, Rick entered.

"Well done." He whispered to Enid, as Aaron continued to sleep. "He's gonna be all right?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "If we can keep the wound from getting infected. But he's still in a lot of pain."

"He's holding on, though." Daryl told him.

"One tough son of a bitch." Natalia repeated one of Daryl's most used phrases.

"Damn right I am." Aaron whispered.

Daryl patted Natalia's leg, signalling for her to get up so that Rick could take their chair.

Natalia did, kissing Aaron's cheek, before her and Daryl let Rick sit down.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you." He told the man. "We were all supposed to be working together. I thought we were."

"You couldn't have known." Aaron reassured him.

"I've been pushing everybody hard. I know I have. I put this project first. And you paid the price. Hell, Nat, she's been all over it as well."

"Remember when you said I wasn't weak and delicate." She mentioned.

"It was worth it." Aaron said. "When the dead started to rise... I thought I was seeing the end of everything. But you changed all of that, Rick. It's not the end of the world anymore. It's the start of a whole new one. I'll always be glad I was here to be a part of that. Anyway I gotta be around to see the mini Dixons wreck just as much havoc as their parents, too." He joked.

"Don't worry, gonna hire you as a full time babysitter if they're anything like their dad." Natalia teased, grinning wide.

"You got it." He nodded, his own smile on his face, even through his pain.

Daryl had encouraged Natalia to go back with Rick during the night, if she refused to go with him, Daryl would've taken her back, himself, today was enough to scare him back into putting her on lockdown, again.

"Hurry up and get this bridge done, so you can come home, Siddiq's back so we can have that scan pretty soon, and I can prove that dreams do mean something." She told Daryl, cupping his face as she kissed his lips throughout her sentence.

"Trust me, I'd rather be at home with you, Evie, A and B" He poked her sides. "Over anything, ya giving me leverage to not beat the shit outta another one of those pricks."

"I love you" She kissed him again.

"Love ya, too."

"Alright, are we gonna get goodbyes too, or are ya wasting them all on him?" Rosita asked.

"Yeah, I want a goodbye kiss from the pregnant lady that went up against a herd." Tara joined in.

"I too would like that, if you're offering." Eugene raised his hand.

"Ain't nobody getting any kisses off of Nat, 'Cept me." Daryl told them, he was attempting to come off more threatening than he did, but a grown man getting jealous and saying the word "kisses." Wasn't as imitating as he thought.

Natalia hugged her friends goodbye, a long line of people who came to love and care for her.

"Was pretty cool what you did, today." Laura told her, as she walked past her. "A bunch of these pussies could borrow some of your bravery." She looked around at the Saviour men.

"Thanks." She offered a half smile. "And for the bridge, Keep an eye on Daryl for me, trust you a lot more than I trust them, I'm gonna need his help pretty soon."

"You got it." She nodded.

"Hey, I'm glad-"

Natalia walked away from Arat, completely ignoring her existence.

"She killed my dog." Natalia muttered, when Rick gave her a look as they set off.

"You went up against a herd of walkers, like that?" Michonne asked, they were in the Grimes kitchen, something had happened at camp the next day, and Rick had gone back to deal with it, Evie was occupying Judith, she wasn't allowed into "work" just in case she passed the bug onto Natalia.

"What was I supposed to do? Aaron was hurt."

"How'd Daryl handle it, he go berserk like usual?"

"He was actually more mad I fought off one, it was Rick and Carol that shouted at me. Maggie fought in a war and I can't take out a few walkers?"

"Maggie wasn't eating for three, you're bigger now, than what she was throughout most of her pregnancy." Michonne tried to put it gently.

"Still, I got a few months left in me before I'm totally useless."

Next

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Not Alone

Prev

Clay Masterlist

Warning: angst, swearing, mention of death and suicidal thoughts

Summary: Part 3 of Doesn't Even Matter. Chapter inspired by the song - Lullaby by Nickelback. In your darkest hour, you're offered a friendly hand from one of the most unlikely person in the group.

Staring at the gun in your hands, you take one last gulp from the whiskey bottle as you cocked it. With a finger on the trigger, you exhale one last breathe and raise the barrel to your side temple.

"Time to go..." you breath out, slowly beginning to put pressure on the trigger.

"What-the-fuck?!" you cry out when the gun was suddenly ripped out your hands.

"Roque...?" you frown as he steps in front of you.

*

Well, I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge And there ain't no healing From cutting yourself with the jagged edge

I'm telling you that, it's never that bad Take it from someone who's been where you're at Laid out on the floor And you're not sure, you can take this anymore

So just give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio If you can hear me now I'm reaching out To let you know that you're not alone

And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell 'Cause I can't get you on the telephone So just close your eyes (close your eyes) Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby Your very own lullaby

"It ain't worth it, Kid..." Roque states frowning at you in displeasure.

"He ain't worth it."

"You know?" you stare at him in shock.

"How?"

"Saw him coming out your room the morning" Roque answers.

"You must think I'm an idiot..." you sigh, dropping your head in defeat.

"Nah, surprised it didn't happen sooner" Roque remarks causing you to snicker.

"Besides, we all knew you've secretly in love him like forever."

"Everyone, except him, you mean..." you scoff out in disgust.

"Clay's always thought with his dick" Roque responds nodding.

"We hoped... I hoped that it would be different with you."

"It wasn't. Started treating me like shit immediately after. He hates me and made it perfectly clear."

"He doesn't hate you" Roque responds.

*

Well, please let me take you Out of the darkness and into the light 'Cause I have faith in you That you're gonna make it through another night

Stop thinking about the easy way out There's no need to go and blow the candle out Because you're not done You're far too young And the best is yet to come

So just give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio If you can hear me now I'm reaching out To let you know that you're not alone

And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell 'Cause I can't get you on the telephone So just close your eyes (close your eyes) Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby Your very own lullaby

"He bluntly told me that he wished I had been on that chopper when it went down!"

"He didn't mean it" Roque attempts to reassure you.

"For fucks sake, Roque! He meant every word he said!" you whimper out as tears begin to form in your eyes.

"We both know he did!"

"Clay's an asshole, that I will admit... but I don't believe he wants you dead."

"Doesn't matter in any case" you take another gulp from the whiskey bottle, whipping the back of your hand across your mouth.

"I'm done. So, either you hand me back that gun or do it for me."

"No, you're not" Roque shakes his head, making sure to keep the gun out of reach.

"You still have your whole life ahead of you."

"What life?" you snort, taking another gulp from the bottle.

"We're dead, in case you forgotten. Didn't even have anyone to receive my flag."

"Kid..." Roque sighs, staring at you in pity.

You shrug at his response.

"Dead already, this just makes it the truth."

"You ain't ending your story like this" Roque states.

"Not on my watch."

"Then hand me back the gun and walk away, Old Man" you respond, reaching your hand out for it.

*

Well, everybody's hit the bottom Everybody's been forgotten When everybody's tired of being alone Yeah, everybody's been abandoned And left a little empty handed So, if you're out there barely hanging on

Just give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio If you can hear me now I'm reaching out To let you know that you're not alone

And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell 'Cause I can't get you on the telephone So just close your eyes (close your eyes)

Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby Your very own lullaby Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby Your very own lullaby

Roque stare at it in his hand silently for a moment, then back up at you.

"I'm gonna offer you something and I hope to God, you take it."

You silently frown at Roque's remark, sitting up straight to listen to what he had to say.

"How'd you like to start over? Brand new life, wherever, however you like, with none of this crap. Most of all, no Clay."

Curious of what Roque was getting at, you place the whiskey bottle on the ground.

"I'm listening..."

"I have a plan" Roque explains.

"One that'll get us our freedom back and involves enough money to start a completely new life far away from Clay's shitty ideas. You in?"

"You had me at, money and away from Clay" you state nodding in agreement.

Roque smirks at your response.

"Ok, here's the plan..." 

NXT

[bonesandthebees]

PHIL’S POV!!!

I’m gonna cry. The carriage story. How fast his brain works. The stone cold worry for his son’s safety. The threats! His son will be found and the person who did this will pay. Oh and this line single handle destroyed me: [But now, for the first time in his whole life, Wilbur was too far for Phil to reach.] He loves the boy so much, Bee. I can’t handle this amount of love. These are just words on a page. Yet I can feel all the grief and love and worry and anger and sorrow. (Not the mention the constant tension I felt knowing what he was about to be told, just waiting for the anvil to drop).

Also, Wilbur being unable to sleep on carriages is much more of an important plot point than I expected it to be. He falls asleep faster/easier than Tomys because he couldn’t rest on the way there. He must be so tired even his panic can’t keep him awake. (Tbf, the panic attack would probably seep energy too). And then we know both Niki and Phil know him well enough to know he can’t sleep on a moving vehicle. And there’s already so much love stored in Phil deciding to let Wilbur rest first because his son truly is the most important thing to him.

[and Wilbur would jerk his head up with a sharp gasp. For a moment, his eyes would be filled with fear. Then, he would see Phil sitting above him, and all the tension and terror in his small shoulders would drain away as he laid his head back down.] given everything else, I think stabbing me might have hurt less than reading this.

We also know how Niki and Phil know this, which is when they visited Summerdam. And I am, so soft. Phil not sleeping but keeping an eye on his kid and then his kid can’t sleep because things keep waking him up and he gets so upset that his little boy can’t sleep (also the self-control he had then is getting thrown into the wind when his child is in actual danger).

Side note: this is your usual technique of hitting us with the fluff to make the angst hit that much harder. I can’t cope with the fact that Phil forgets to breathe. And he’s so protective, but the one time he lets his son out of his sight / sends him away on his own, something happens to him.

Lastly (because there’s so much in this single section, not to mention everything else, I can’t possible get it all yet, I am still skipping over So Many Things) Phil’s brain works so damn fast. He subconsciously knows the second the turns around and sees Sneeg (though hearing him already kinda sets off the alarms). And then everything else quickly falls into place. He knows something happened to his son and he knows it was foul play and whoever responsible better pray that Wilbur returns alive because there will be no mercy (there will be no mercy at him returning with a broken leg either).

P.s. poor Sneeg who knows this man and who much he loves his son so well (because of now confirmed constant surveillance of said beloved child) and has to be the one to tell him his son might be dead.

-🌲

HE LOVES HIS SON SO MUCH!!! I literally added that carriage story to show everyone how much phil loves that boy. he's not the best at showing it but the love is there. and I wanted to show that while phil does like getting his answers fast and prioritizes information, he would rather let wilbur rest and catch up on his sleep before asking him what happened at L'mannes. he's doing all of this for wilbur, so his wellbeing comes first and foremost

love that you felt like you were stabbed. that's how I felt writing it. I did this to myself but oh my goddddd

he just wanted wilbur to sleep on the carriage ride but he just couldn't relax and he'd be so scared when he was startled awake until he saw his dad and he was so little spruce he was only ten years old and phil just wanted his little boy to get some rest aaaaa

it's so funny when you point out that technique of mine because I don't even always do it intentionally. with this I didn't sit there going "oh I'm going to add this fluff scene specifically to make everything that follows worse" I added it bc I wanted to show the depth of how much phil loves wilbur. it just also has the bonus effect of making everything so much worse

yes phil's mind works so quickly because he's incredibly smart. he knows how these things work. not to mention there's also parental instinct at work here because the second he sees sneeg he can feel that something has gone wrong. and he's going to get revenge on whoever hurt his son.

poor fucking sneeg man is just here for a paycheck and now he's gotta tell the consil that his beloved son is missing will probably be presumed dead if they don't find him soon