#god this show really knows how to kick itself off

[kitkatwinchester]

WHAT AN OPENING!!

Oh Season 4 is gonna be a RIDE, let's f*cking GO!

Hi!

I know, I know, it's been a bit again, 'cause I got caught up in what I thought was gonna be some awesome writing inspiration, and then my word document remained as blank as ever. XD

THAT SAID!

WE BAAAACK, and Season 4 is coming in STRONG, dude.

First of all, Stydia is literally the best, I love them so much. Every time they're doing things together, the sassy affection they have for each other is just amazing, and the brainpower between the two of them makes anything possible.

That said, no freaking clue how this new hunter lady that keeps popping up (that is apparently Chris's mother, if the "mijo" from several episodes ago really means anything) managed to get Derek all the way to Mexico, and how our pack managed to follow him to Mexico, with $50,000 no less, is an even crazier mystery, but I'm sure it'll all get explained, and I kind of don't care because of how bad*ss that whole thing was.

Like, this show is stellar at pulling you in to a new season right away, and this is certainly no exception.

AND THE WAY THEY INTRODUCED THE NEW PACK LIKE!

"Not smart to come alone."

And then everything in Stiles's face just shifts to utter bad*ss confidence with:

"What makes you think we came alone?"

And then they show MALIA and KIRA with their little colored eyes, AND put them in the NEW INTRO (!!!! I am such a sucker for intros that change every season and I totally blame Supernatural lol), which TOTALLY makes them OFFICIALLY part of the pack and I am SOOO down for that!!

AND THEN!!!

"You brought a wolf into my home?"

And the way Lydia just looks over at Stiles with that bad*ss smirk like "you wanna tell her, or should I?" to give us:

"We brought an Alpha."

AND THEN FREAKING SCOTT IN THE CORNER WITH HIS ALPHA EYES AND I JUST--

Bruh I don't even NEED context. This scene is AWESOME.

As far as plans go, Lydia, I don't know if this is your worst, 'cause this seems like a PRETTY FREAKING BAD*SS PLAN to me!!! <3 <3 <3

I LOVE OUR PACK!!!

WHAT AN OPENING!

WHAT A WAY TO INTRODUCE THE NEW SEASON AND THE NEW PACK MEMBERS AND THE NEW DYNAMICS!!

I AM SO HERE FOR IT!!

Season 4, Episode 1.

Let's gooooooo.

(THAT WAS JUST SO FREAKING PERFECT I CANNOT!! <3 <3 <3 <3)

Update: Having now re-watched that scene five times, I can officially say that this is the best opening to a season (and maybe to an episode, tbh) this show has had so far. I can also officially say that the Season 4 intro is my favorite so far (although the Season 3b intro is a very close second).

Update Part 2: Sorry not sorry, but while Scira is still second only to Stydia, that dance scene is already making me ship Malira. And I know that's not gonna go anywhere, and I'm okay with that, but holy f*ck did Malia and Kira have IMMEDIATE on-screen chemistry omg.

Update Part 3 (next update I'll just make a new post lol): Okay so maybe she has no actual biological relation to Chris, because she called Lydia "mija" and Lydia definitely has no relation to them, so...

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[deer-diary-from-hell]

Redesigned all of the Dandy world (+my take on the game)

”But Liam/deer didn’t you alr posted these-“

you didn’t see anything.

HEADCANONING TIME WWOOOOO

I like to think that ALMOST all of the toons just think they’re just playing a game of tag while collecting ichor like it’s a “capture the flag” thing. It’s in their blood (or ichor) to just be a bunch of childish and playful creatures, they are MADE for kids so it’s not really out of character of them to NOT think that twisteds are dangerous let alone kill them which cause them to see things differently (literally)

(still talking about this👆) If you start the game at first it’s all bright and colorful like something you would see out of a kid’s show, there’s happy music playing in the background all fun and games! Until you get hit by a twisted and lose a heart. Thats when the reality kicks in. Music stops as the colors slowly go back to the sad reality of an abandoned studio/daycare. These twisteds weren’t playing.. they were trying to kill you. This effect is irreversible even if you go back to full health. The shine in their eyes are gone. They aren’t laughing anymore, this isn’t funny. They’re scared.

(Note to self, each toon will have a traumatized look on their face after getting injured and will stay traumatized even after being healed+also applies to a toon when they witness a death of another toon)

I like to think that the twisted are like a “Failed” version of a toon, a toon that wasn’t the exact replica of itself so, it was locked away in the underground as it contorts into it’s biggest flaw(s) might design the twisteds if I feel like it.

If a toon witnessed another toon getting hit they’ll still be oblivious but concerned for their fellow friend

The twisteds prob growls and snarls due to their throats being filled with nothing but ichor, constantly leaking from their mouths as they try to kill you out of jealousy that YOU don’t get to be thrown away like a broken toy and instead cherished by children while they were called a mistake and now you’re going to experience the same pain they went through.

on a lighter note, the toons stole the clothes they’re wearing from the lost and found shortly after being abandoned and threw away their old clothes.

dandy needs those tapes so he doesn’t turn into a twisted. He wants to protect his friends from himself.

Ichor while being dangerous can be used to bring back a dead toon, only dandy knows this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the toon doesn’t remember how they died after being revived

All toons are asexual. (Gets booed off the stage)

Do you think toons are desperate for interactions after being abandoned for god knows how long.

Astro, Vee and Shelly are the ones who don’t have the “fake reality” sight going on and knows that they’re actually in danger although for Shelly she’s sorta in denial (and ig Teagan and Rodger too? But the both of them just thinks that the twisteds aren’t really that dangerous and thought they wont kill their fellow toons)

might add more hcs soon but prob in later posts

Guys please ask for hcs for any toons you like please I’m begging on my knees I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING.

[hihomeghere]

megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous. 

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’. 

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

-

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother. 

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him. 

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him. 

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong. 

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line. 

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief. 

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach. 

-

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

 He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this. 

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand. 

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 7 (a day late bc sunday errands got a lil out of control)

this is a sneak peek of an upcoming fic (vibe is slow burn TV co-stars Steddie feat. denial of feelings, a betrayal, and chaotic misuse of social media) and I am Very Excited (that being said pls don't ask about a timeline bc I don't have a clue 😅)

tags: modern day, famous au, actor!steve, actor/singer!eddie, pre-relationship, fake dating (kind of)

The real point of no return in all this, Eddie knows, was the call with PR.

It – as in, having a little fun with the ridiculous dating rumors about him and Steve that had started floating around early on during the press tour for the TV show they'd filmed together last year – was all just a fun little joke until he woke up to a GCal invite in his inbox from the studio’s PR team and ended up on a thirty minute call where a bunch of random suits with fake-ass smiles laughed and said wouldn’t it be funny – wouldn’t it be a goddamn laugh-riot – if you guys played into the rumors? Just for the press tour?

(Just while we can profit off it?)

Yeah. Eddie knows the real motive here but his sense of self-preservation is, like, broken or something (defective at the very least) and he’s always down for a spectacle, so the second he sees Steve nodding his agreement, he agrees too.

It takes less than an hour for PR to send out an updated press schedule, one that now had Eddie paired with Steve at basically every opportunity, which…Eddie feels torn two ways about because, like, it’s an ensemble show. He’d actually really like to do some of this press stuff with Robin and Nancy too. On the other hand, all jokes aside, Eddie does have a pretty pathetic crush on Steve Harrington, so he sort of wants to clock all the hours with him as he can before the show comes out and all this comes to an end, when their paths will separate once again and remain that way probably forever (or until the show gets renewed for a second season, but that’ll be up in the air for a while).

And yes, Eddie sees the irony in the situation. Look – it’s not like he wanted to have a crush on this guy.

Their characters are practically brothers, and Eddie had been on enough sets to know that coming off a project even just being friends with castmates isn’t a walk in the park in and of itself.

Sure, Harrington’s cute – Eddie had noticed it the second they met, but he’d noticed it in kind of a clinical, detached way, like how he could hold an opinion on how good-looking one girl is from the next even if it didn’t do anything for him. He knew that Steve’s a good-looking dude, but more importantly, he’s an honest-to-god good person. Eddie wasn’t even thinking about being anything other than Steve’s friend because he could recognize the kind of privilege that alone is.

So, yeah. No crush on Steve Harrington in sight – not in the beginning, anyway, and not during the entire filming process. Then they started to film all the promo material, and the press tour had kicked off with an eight hour press junket, and after that very first interview (a fifteen minute sit-down with an entertainment talk show), Eddie had turned and asked Steve if he’d fucked up at all (because this is first time on a project big enough to have a real press tour and, seriously, he had no goddamn context for how any of this shit was supposed to go). Steve had just smiled and kicked his ankle and told him he did good and to stop worrying.

And something about that – the little kick to his ankle – had Eddie’s heart turning over like he was part of those trashy romance novels he outright refused to pick up (even though he’d put in a fair bit of time ogling the men on the covers as a horny, closeted teenager).

Oh, fuck, he’d remembered thinking.

Stop it, he’d tried to tell his heart or his brain or whoever else could be responsible for the feelings that were creeping in.

But it was already too late.

It only took a couple hours after the call with PR for Eddie to wonder if he might have made a mistake.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked after scrolling through a thread of comments on a clip of an interview that made its way over to TikTok (the thread started with i’ve never seen steve look at anyone like that before and he stopped scrolling after won’t waste my time watching now with an anxious feeling swirling in his gut).

“Huh?” Steve blinked at him.

“I mean,” he paused, “Not every straight guy would be cool with the whole world thinking there’s something going on between him and his gay coworker.”

And Steve had merely shrugged.

“I really don’t think the whole world is tuning into the press tour for some nerdy doomsday show,” he had replied, and then he’d added, “And whoever said I’m straight?”

As if that hadn’t blown Eddie’s whole goddamn mind.

So…fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen?

[auspicioustidings]

We talk a lot about Ghost teaching Soap. But Soap makes Captain right? So Price teaching Soap? Price teaching Soap how to take care of his ‘belongings’. Price showing Soap how to treat you right? 👀🤷🏻‍♀️ maybe? Maybe not? I dunno 🤷🏻‍♀️

First off read this immediately because it serves these vibes way better than I ever could like truly Bunny is God's gift to thirsty PriceSoap girlies.

I cannot prepare a dish quite as satisfying but here is a short little tease anyway! Sorry I cannot actually write smut rn, I'm ill and pathetic about it.

Affirm

Words: 700

CWs: light bdsm

“Right, the two of you in my office now.”

You bristled. How was it that you were getting into trouble here? This was all stupid Soap's fault. It was him that started it. 

The two of you were constantly at each other's throats these days. Wasn't really professional but then you hated that he kept talking down to you. The way the word corporal came out of his damn mouth was always with a smug arrogance that made you want to go for blood. 

It wasn't like you bit back during an actual op, you both knew better than that. But he pushed and pushed and pushed whenever you had down time at base and you weren't about to let it go unanswered. Fucking asshole. And now he was getting you into trouble with the Captain? God he was the worst.

“Captain he-”

“Don't want to hear it Corporal.”

“Aye too fucking right, dinnae want te-”

“You can shut the fuck up as well. Pair of absolute muppets.”

Price ripped open one of his desk drawers and produced a bottle of Scotch, pouring himself a glass and sitting in his chair regarding the two of you across the table. Both of you knew you were in for it, standing at attention and keeping your mouths shut while he took a languid sip.

“Cannot believe I've been put in this situation again. Did you know I had Ghost and Gaz standing right where you are now? Before either of you joined. They just couldn't get along.”

That was a surprise. Ghost and Gaz got along just fine now. You couldn't really imagine a world in which they fought the way you and Johnny did. Sure they might have some little arguments, but whenever it happened they would go off and have a chat and come back settled. There was no way you and Johnny being alone would settle anything.

“You know why they get along Sergeant?”

“Gaz kens who's in charge.”

Johnny sounded almost resigned? Something was happening, he knew something you didn't. You hated that, you hated how Price spoke to him as if you weren't even in the room.

“Hm. And who's in charge between the two of you then?”

You felt a shiver run up your spine at how Price said it, his voice in a low purr that spoke to some primal part of your brain. What the fuck? Why did you feel suddenly like this was a dangerous situation? You considered speaking up but could only yelp in surprise when Johnny kicked one of your legs to put you off balance and bent you over the desk.

Your heart was liable to beat itself into an early grave. You looked at your Captain and found he only watched, sipping his drink. You twisted to look at Johnny who was holding both of your wrists in one of his hands. 

“I'm in charge. Affirm corporal.”

Oh God, you didn't think you had ever heard Soap with that level of authority in his voice. Only all it made you want was to get him to do it again. You needed him to do it again, to put you in your place.

“Fuck you."

The first smack to your ass was hard enough that you jolted forward and your hip bone smashed into the desk. 

“Affirm corporal. Ye ken who's In charge, now say it.”

Oh this was several shades of fucked up but my God if you didn't crave more. You needed it, you needed him to break you into pieces so he could put them back together. You needed the freedom that came with being shattered.

You fought against him until Price finally guided him to be harder with you, to really let you have it. And he had. He had destroyed you fully, left you a boneless raw mess. Then Price had guided him to bring you back. 

It settled you. For weeks you and Johnny existed in peace with one another, calm. And when you started to butt heads again? Well, Johnny had learned exactly how to handle that.

[grandlinedreams]

I always see strawhat!reader x law stories all over the place, so can I request a kid pirate!reader x law? Where, specifically the reader is Kid’s younger sister (or killer’s, I mean a sister of one is basically the sister of the other)?

YES oh my god I didn't know I needed this til I wrote it and I hope that you like it too!! I think having Kid as a big brother would either be the best or worst thing in the world ㅡ set somewhere in timeline idk maybe around Stampede

[Heads up!: afab/fem aligned reader, some cursing, shovel talk from kid, established relationship]

Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother in and of itself is a little odd. Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother when he's the captain makes it a little odder, you suppose. At least to those who only see it at a glance, brief glimpses rather than seeing the whole picture.

You don't mind, not really. Most older brothers would probably have tried to talk their younger sister from becoming a pirate ㅡ but all Kid had done was stare at you and then scoff. "I'm not your damn babysitter, I won't stop you."

And that was that ㅡ if there'd been dissent when you joined, Kid put a swift stop to it with a fierce glare and well-described threats about what would happen if they laid a finger on you. But you're strong in your own right, and the one or two who continued to push the matter learned it the hard way.

And truth be told, Kid doesn't treat you like his little sister. He's your older brother yes, and there are hints of it here and there when you know where to look, but it's Killer who takes on the softer aspects of being an older brother to you when you need it.

Which is what makes this so surprising that it's Kid who's staring down the man you've been dating behind his back.

"So." Crimson eyes lock with gold. "You and my sister, huh." His attention shifts to you for a moment. "How long has that been going on?"

"Not longㅡ"

"A while."

If Law can feel your furious look aimed for him, he doesn't show it. Kid looks far from thrilled at the differing answers, scowling as he refocuses on Law.

"Guess it doesn't matter how long it's been going on, becauseㅡ"

"Because I'm a grownass adult, Kid!" You snap, frustrated with your brother who looks like he'd like nothing more to swing a fist at Law. He turns on you, and you match his glare for its intensity. "I'm not going to let you ruin something good for me because you decided to pull the older sibling card for once."

You know Kid cares, you know he loves you ㅡ and you love him just as much, because at the end of the day, he's your brother.

Kid stares at you for several long moments before he scoffs. "Fine. Do what you want. But you're not leaving us for that shitty crew of his."

"I wasn't planning on it, asshole! Somebody's gotta help Killer keep your dumb ass alive!"

"Don't yell at me, I'm still your older brother!" Kid glares at you and you match his gaze for its intensity before he rounds on Law. "If you hurt her, I'll let her kick your ass first, and then I'll finish the job."

Law meets his glare, his expression carefully blank. "I wasn't planning to."

Kid scoffs before he shifts his attention back to you. "I'm giving you two minutes to do whatever you need to before we leave, with or without you."

"And here you said I wasn't allowed to join their crew." Your eyes gleam. "Doesn't give me much choice if you leave me here."

Kid scowls before he stalks off, mumbling loud enough that you can hear his complaints of "dumbass little sister" and "been a pain in my ass since you were born" before it fades completely.

"That went about as well as I expected," you sigh before you approach Law. "He's nowhere near as scary as everyone thinks when you have as much blackmail as I do."

"He doesn't scare me." Law glances at you. "It's still surprising that you're related."

You raise an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment." Stepping closer, you lean up to press your lips against his in a short, chaste kiss. "I should go. Don't need him figuring out that we've done more than just kiss."

[renren-006]

SkyScraper | Peter Parker (AG) x Fem Reader

plot: peter or more so spiderman saved your life...you got curious as to whos under the mask

warning: violance, fluff

word count: 949

a/n: heyyyyyy!!! going to be trying out some new story ideas and please don't feel afraid to ask for request or to comment!! i want to hear if you guys want more of these characters!

Peter had always had a crush on you, but because he thought you walked on sunshine, he never told you or said anything to you. He always watched you in the halls and admired you in class, but he never got the courage to talk to you until he saved you one night. Although it wasn't Peter, she thanked him.

“Oh my god, your Spider-Man” you said, clutching whatever it was in your arms. Your dress was flowing in the wind but you felt so hot underneath the masked stare. 

“You alright miss?” Spiderman, Peter, asked you. His thoughts were running wild; wanting to take you home, go beat the guys up that got their hands on you, and kiss that scared look off you. 

“I am now,” you said, shaking.

“You want me to walk you home,” he asked you; a nod was all he got in return. He proceeded to let you lead the way as he strolled behind you, making sure no one else dared walk up to you. No one did, of course, and you felt entirely safe with Spider-Man's presence behind you. He felt familiar, like a boy you knew who watched you in the hallways. You finally turned to see him again when you reached your door. 

‘Thank you…Spider-Man,” you told him; he nodded his head and was about to launch back into the New York neighborhood when you asked. “You remind me of someone I know.”

“I'm sure I do” He said. He sounded nervous. 

“His names peter….” you said, “‘Peter Parker. I know he watches me, and that he likes me. I also know he lives close by” telling him these things made the masked man shiver. How you knew, he wouldn't ever know unless he asked

“Well goodnight Y/N” he said and swung back to the skies of New York. you watched the boy swing away, wondering how he in fact knew your name. Unless this masked hero was in fact Peter Parker. 

The next day Peter showed up with a bruise on the side of his face and a busted lip. The more you started paying attention to the boy in front of you the more the identity of the masked web slinger became more clear. That entire week the number of unexplained injuries started adding up. The naps in class were more regular this week compared to the ;ast and his watchful eyes on you were less frequent.

Friday came around, and you decided that sneaking out of your house to find Peter or Spider-Man was a good plan; you didn't realize how wrong you would be. You walked around the streets of New York in jeans and one of your good jackets, keeping the chilly breeze off your skin. You didn't notice the three guys following you until one of them kicked a can, and you whipped around to find them only a few feet behind you. You ran, you refused to scream hoping to lose them. You kept zigzagging in and out of different alleyways when you made the mistake of running into a dead end. Seeing you stuck, the three men turned down your ally and smirked. However, they didn't get far before a web attacked itself, the wall beside you, and Spider-Man swung down. 

“Ya know, running after a girl into a dark alley is really rude of you guys” he said, before they started charging at him. “Wow you guys cant even punch” the fight ended soon after that and he walked over to you.

“And what are you doing out here?” He asked you. 

“I know,Peter,” you told him. He stumbled over his feet when he walked over to you. 

“I don't know what…” he started to say before you walked over hands outstretched towards his mask which he didn't stop until he grabbed you and launched to the roof of the building. Once you landed you stubbled away. 

“Don't do that” you told him, clutching your chest. 

“Im sorry, Im sorry” he said walking over, you put your arm out.

“If you're not Peter and I'm an idiot, just tell me. Don't make this…” You stopped, not really knowing where to continue. You didn't want to feel like a fool thinking Spider-Man was Peter, but the signs kept adding up. “You're not,” he said, shedding the mask and revealing that it was Peter underneath. He had scratches down his face, probably from some other fight. You moved towards him; the beating in your heart had calmed down from the launch but was now racing from seeing Peter's face. You brushed a hand over his cheek. 

“Does anyone else know?” you asked him. 

“Just you” he said, still watching your face Pete walked back. You were forced to separate your hand from his cheek. “How did you figure it out?”

“You're not the only one that can watch their crush Peter” you told him. “The naps in class, the busted lips or the black eyes, or even the lips when you walk around school” 

“You noticed?” He asked walking back over getting closer and closer to you. “You have a crush on me?” “I was worried about you. Yea I do”  you told him. 

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long have you had a crush on me?”

“A few years” you told him. “You were the bad boy nerd in my class who never listened when told not to skateboard and who always pissed off Flash for no reason. You intrigued me, and you were cute”

“Well, I'm glad I intrigued you,” he said, leaning into that tall building in his Spider-Man suit and kissing you.

[sxffrxn]

When love strikes OP81

An Oscar Piastri x reader, enemies to lovers story

Part One Part Two

Summary: Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N have a long-lasting feud, nobody knows why. Do they themselves know why?

Warnings: swearing, Oscar and Y/N literally act like children, grammar mistakes, messy

Word Count: 1.4k

~~

Arriving back at home was like a blessing from the Gods. As soon as Y/N stepped foot in her apartment, her coat was thrown off as she leaped onto her bed, luggage forgotten. That night, she had the best sleep she had in a very long time, despite still being in her travelling clothes.

When she woke up and checked her phone she found her instagram was blowing up. Panic coursed itself through her body. Was she cancelled online? Has someone made up some bullshit to spread about her?

But, alas, it was her interview. It had gone viral. Some people were speculating about Oscar and Y/N’s relationship, and some had compiled an entire 30 minute video of the pair being downright unpleasant to each other. Although Y/N did in fact watch the whole video - in 3x speed, she wasn’t watching a 30 minute long video - she has to admit some of these were a stretch, I mean there was one scene where they simply walked past each other, opposite sides of the walkway may I add.

Both Lamborghini and Mclaren’s PR teams were going to have a field day with this one.

About an hour later, Y/N got a call from her assistant, Gemma,

“What have you done Y/N, the internet is in shambles!” she started.

“No, Hi how are you? Are you well rested? Why yes I am thank you for asking.” Y/N replied.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand the severity of this. We have had Mclaren on the phone all morning trying to sort this mess out.”

“Gem, I replied the way I was supposed to, I can’t think of another way I could have handled that without it turning into a brawl!” Y/N answered in a less polite tone than she should have used.

“Y/N” she started, “I know you handled it the best way you could. I’m sorry this is just so stressful. I don't know how to say this..”

“Say what? Surely it's not that bad. I mean they’re not kicking me off the team are they? I’ve only done one race an-“ she was cut off by Gemma again.

“They want you to act as though you are civil. Friends even. And I’m not talking, not sending glares at the other. I mean they want you to do all sorts of things with him.” Y/N’s heart dropped, she could not do this. Did this tiny altercation have to resort to this? No. But was Y/N a petty bitch? Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Gem, I’m not pretending to date him or anything like that, I’ve read a lot of books with that in and I hate it.”

“No, Y/N, you do not have to pretend to date Oscar Piastri,” she let out a sigh of relief, “You will, however, have to go to many events with him to show you guys are really just friends off track and rivals on.”

“Ughhhhh. Do I have to? Like what’s the significance of this?” Y/N tried to bargain.

“The significance is,” Gemma started, “not fucking up the internet more than you have - and yes, again, I know it’s not your fault for the interviewer’s question but we need to uphold the reputation of this team. Unfortunately women are always the problem in the media’s eyes.”

Y/N sighed rolling around on her bed and taking a big sip of water,

“Fine, but don’t expect me to apologise to anyone for anything. I hardly did anything wrong!” Maybe the last part was a little fib but Y/N stood her ground.

—

It was media day for the Saudi Arabian grand prix. Y/N sat in her hotel room completing a round of sudoku on her phone - her newest favourite past-time. She was waiting for a knock at her door from Gemma to explain the plan of action for today. Today commenced the ‘sort shit out with Oscar bloody Piastri’ plan, she was given minute details about how they would be miraculously saving each of their reputations. I mean, Y/N could hardly see the problem with rivalry on track, I mean look at Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon, they had some issues - Y/N thinks so anyway - and nobody batted an eye, well I guess they weren’t as hostile with each other as Piastri and Y/N are.

A knock resounded through Y/N hotel room.

“Coming!” she went to the door and was met with the smiley face of Gemma,

“Gem you’re,” she checked her watch, “20 minutes early!”

“Yet you are all ready, what happened to ‘Little Miss constantly 10 minutes late’?” Gemma responded.

“Shitting bricks Gem.” Y/N patted Gemma on the back as she stepped out of her room and locked the door, “Let’s get this over and done with, yeah?”

Gemma filled Y/N in on the plan for the start of the day, Y/N would meet Oscar in the foyer of the hotel, have a few laughs and then head to the paddock, they would re-evaluate from there.

Y/N could feel herself gagging as she stepped into the main entrance, yes she was being very dramatic, but this was more stressful than telling her mum she had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer to defrost when specifically asked to. Oscar turned and scowled as Y/N walked up to him, this was going to be way harder than he thought. Gemma gave Y/N a firm pat on the back to usher her towards the aussie. They had fake paparazzi stationed just outside the hotel to get the best angles of their positive encounter. When Y/N felt a hand on her back, it was like a switch had been flicked and she grinned at Oscar as though they were best friends, she really channelled the 9 in her drama GCSE for this one moment.

She waved at Oscar as she got closer and he got the memo to sort himself out and act. They began walking out the door and to the shared car they would be taking (Y/N screamed into her hands and nearly punched a hole in the lift door when she found out they'd be car sharing), Oscar opened the door for Y/N to climb into the back seat before he got in. Both Oscar and Y/N had practically begged Gemma to be the peacekeeper and sit between them, but she claimed that she ‘needed to sit in the front because she gets motion sickness’ Y/N called out her shit and said that they had spent millions of car rides together in the back.

It was hard to not grab Oscar by the throat and throttle him into next week but Y/N kept her composure - and kept her hands to herself. It was almost peaceful at first, if you ignore the massive amounts of tension between the two, but that all soon changed as soon as Oscar opened his mouth,

“Do you know how long the car ride is?” he asked, directed to literally anyone in the car who could give him an answer.

“Longer than your F1 debut race” Y/N muttered under her breath, she did mean for him to hear it as she thought it was a pretty good joke. Turns out, it's probably not best to joke about race finishes - in this case, race not finishes - with someone who despises you.

“What the fuck, that’s not funny” he said turning to her.

Y/N stayed staring at her phone but let out a little giggle at his response. Oscar huffed and practically threw himself back into his seat.

“It’s about a 45 minute drive, Oscar” The driver, Kim (also Oscar’s performance coach) answered for him.

‘45 minutes with this bellend’ Y/N said in her mind before rolling her eyes and rotating her phone to watch a show on Netflix.

Oscar was in the same boat ‘No fucking way am I spending 45 minutes with her’ he thought to himself.

A loud ding sound echoed through the back of the car,

“Are you playing sudoku? What are you a fucking child?” Oscar commented. Y/N just scowled at him and stuck her tongue out. Oscar gave her a pointed look, then she realised, huffed, and pushed herself further into her seat.

This was going to be one hell of a car ride.

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the late update, I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. I’ve been so stressed out with schoolwork recently so updates will be scarce 😬 Thank you guys for all the support on the first part I literally love you all!!! Still working out the ropes to tumblr but i promise I will get there in the end.

Taglist: @chiliwhore (comment or lmk to be added i guess!!)

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Dan: Atlas, you’re a smart guy. 

Atlas: … I am?

Dan: But sometimes, your timing is the absolute worst. 

Atlas: Is this about the trick from earlier? Because I know- Ohhh you meant in regards to this. 

Dan: I just think there are a lot of moving pieces and I think things need to settle before anything happens. Maybe an apology would help?

Atlas: I could do that but she looked so pissed. She probably wants nothing to do with me. I just- GOD why did I mess everything up?

Dan: I think the idea of something good sounded enticing. Taryn is such a kind person. She’s always been like that even as kids. 

Atlas: And I’m not. 

Dan: I didn’t say that. 

Atlas: But I’m not a good person. I hardly like myself, I can barely deal with my emotions. Like how could I honestly give myself to someone as perfect as that? It’s like dropping off a soggy, useless box and saying yeah, good enough. 

Dan: Now you’re just being mean to yourself. Look, you’ve had a rough couple of years between your dad, the issues in high school and Rowan. Give yourself some breathing room. 

Atlas: I- Can we not talk about him?

Dan: My bad.

Atlas: It’s alright.

Dan: What I’m trying to say is, take some time for yourself first and foremost. Maybe things will sort itself out in the future. 

Atlas: That would be cool.

Dan: Other than that, are you doing okay, really?

Atlas: Mm… Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. 

Dan: Atlas, are you being honest with me?

Atlas: Dan, I’d never lie to you. Swear. I’ve been preoccupied with work, that’s all. Speaking of which, I might invite my parents to the arts festival.

Dan: You sure you wanna do that?

Atlas: I feel like it would show Toni what I can do. 

Dan: If things go to shit, do I have permission to kick him out?

Atlas: [ chuckles ] Sure, Dan. 

Dan: I’ve been working on my right hook, wanna see.

Atlas: [ smack! ] Not bad, not bad.

[kayleighwinchester]

Long Story

((Oh my god, I meant to post something on the 3rd and the 4th for @artyandink's Jensen-a-Thon and life just said 'mmm, no' - but here we are, my second entry! Another Dean x Reader! This can be read separately of Rocks and Rom Coms, but does follow the same reader insert, so they can definitely be read together! More coming soon! I swear to God, if this turns into an actual series... TW for mild mentions of injuries/blood.))

He had a key to your house.

Dean Winchester was one of three people (besides yourself, of course) that had a key: your mother, who lived across the country, over a day’s drive away in sunny, humid Florida; your best friend, who only really came over to your place for your once-monthly girls’ night; and Dean Winchester, who never, ever actually used the thing, preferring, god only knew why (he claimed it was more “romantic, or somethin’”, his exact words, not yours), to come in your bedroom window.

It was stupid, and maybe even a little dangerous – the half-dead tree he used to actually get up to the second story was one good thunderstorm away from falling, and the house itself was so old that you swore it was held together with duct tape and way too many instances of you calling your grandfather, who had built the house before your mother was even born, for advice and willing the house to stay in one piece.

With that in mind, you were thoroughly confused when, in the middle of the night, as you were making yourself a snack in the kitchen, you heard a key in the lock – or, well, the key missing the lock and hitting the door several times, and then finally making its way into the lock properly.

Even drunk, your best friend would have called first, even though, with how much of a struggle it had clearly been to get the key into the lock, she was your first thought. Your mother had just sent you vacation photos from her trip to California, which was even further from you than Florida. That left Dean – and the fact that he was using the front door at all left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. It was a clear break from a routine you’d established and held to for almost a year now, no matter what the weather was when he showed up at your window.

You turned, let your weight rest against the kitchen counter for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, and then pushed off of it, moving for the entryway. 

“Y/N? You home?” Dean sounded decidedly not good, and you picked up your pace just slightly, rounding the side of the staircase, and – oh. Dean looked decidedly not good too, though as he saw you he stubbornly straightened up, tried to smile (it looked far more like a grimace) and kicked the door closed behind him. He wasn’t entirely able to hide the way his weight pressed back against it.

“What happened to you?” You breathed out as you drew closer. You didn’t know much about what Dean did when he wasn’t with you – you assumed he had some kind of job, even if it seemed like a pretty shitty one – he showed up bruised and sore and stiff more often than not, but this was far worse than that. There was a bruise already turning a deep shade of purple above his eyebrow, and there was a slightly distant, foggy look on his face. You were willing to bet money he was concussed.

“Long story.” Was all he offered in response, slowly pushing himself off of the door. You didn’t pry – you never did – just reaching out to steady him. There was a mild limp in his gait, one that favored his left side, and you offered a grimace of your own. You weren’t sure he’d make it up the stairs, so you half-dragged him to the couch instead. He dropped down to the cushions with a groan, green eyes closing – if you couldn't see the pain he was in, it might have almost seemed cute, like he was just sinking down into a particularly comfortable seat. You knew better, in any case – the couch was easily the least comfortable piece of furniture you'd had the misfortune of owning. The couch wasn’t comfortable – he was just hurting. You knew that feeling well enough – the point where anything mostly horizontal and not entirely covered in bees was comfortable enough.

He didn’t stay down for long though – in fact, he was only sitting for the span of time it took you to return to the kitchen for the glass of wine you’d poured yourself and to pour him one as well – before you could hear him moving around again, and his voice was still distinctly not okay as he called out, from the general direction of the half-bath under the staircase, “You don’t happen to have any floss lyin’ around, do you?”

Floss?

“What?” Is the only answer you could think to reply with as you rounded the staircase again, glasses of wine still in hand, the bottle carefully tucked into your elbow. He peeked around the doorframe at you, somehow managing to look oh-so-charming, even now. 

“Y’know. Floss.” He motioned to his mouth, but you caught a glimpse of just a bit of exhausted exasperation, like he was explaining something incredibly obvious. 

“In the – in the hall closet, I think; why do you need floss?” 

He was looking at you like you were a little slow on the uptake, and you were staring at him like he’d gone insane, and it took a few heartbeats for him to seemingly process that his request was decidedly not normal. He made those, now and then, or said things, or asked things, that just didn’t quite make sense – this was one of them. You couldn’t tell if he was planning on actually answering your question – it didn’t seem like he was, at least not yet, because he moved for the hall closet, continuing his search.

“Dean,” You started, “you want to tell me why you need –...” Your eyes landed on his hip. The gray material of his tee-shirt and the upper portion of his jeans were soaked through in a dark, dark red, and for a moment, you felt a little queasy. “You don’t need dental floss, Dean, you need a hospital.” You informed him.

“Nah.” God, you hated it when he said that, because it was almost always followed up by something completely stupid. “I got you.” Yep. It all processed rather quickly after that. He needed dental floss for stitches. He couldn’t reach it himself – he had you. He had you, the nursing student, and he wanted you to stitch him up with dental floss. You set the glasses of wine and the bottle down on the side table before you could drop them. 

“You want me to stitch you up.” You clarified. “With dental floss.” He finally found what he was looking for - the unopened multi-pack of little travel-sized flosses - and waved it triumphantly next to his head, finally turning around to look at you. You were struck again by how tired he looked – you could practically see the headache pulsing behind his eyes, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that the cheerful, charismatic smile he was putting on was incredibly forced.

“It’s easy!” He promised quickly, with the tone of someone who knew what he was asking was most certainly not easy. “I’ve been doin’ it since I was a kid. Had to stitch my Dad up all the time.” He caught your eye, giving a sheepish grin as he saw the horror on your face. “Long story.”

That was quickly becoming one of your least favorite phrases.

[tparker48]

Request for awesomebqg

stadium was vibrant as its  lights shined on the field. Players scattered from their huddles to their assigned positions, waiting for the chance to chase after the checkered ball across the yard as the opposing side derailed their assault.  Declan approached from the left side of the offensive team, eyeing the soccer ball as it zigged and zagged between players’ legs. Hot on the heels of one of the flanks, he blitzed between two players as he pounced on the ball, taking it from the opposing team’s clutches as he kicked it into the net. 

The crowd roared in a fierce beat, sending a buzz of electricity through his body as he raised an arm. "Please please, It was only a goal. No please I..no no, I do.”

His feet swept from under him as was placed on a pedestal of his team’s shoulders, ushering him around as if he were a royal in a place. The sound of cheers roaring in the air, the weight of his team on his back, it was moments like these that made him enjoy the true feel of soccer

After minutes of parading the middle field,  the team merged into one as they entered  the narrow pathway between the bleachers. Before long, the cemented floor kissed beneath his cleats, the soft pats and shakes fading from his teammates fading as the team dispersed into their own section of the locker rooms. Declan made his way down the middle path, stopping at a locker on the end of the path as he unlatched his lock.

He wiped a towel along his drenched neck. "Another game, another victory." he wiped down his back, losing himself in the chatter of passing members as they made their way to their lockers.

But a distant voice began to make itself known, tearing through the vocal flow like an anti chord as it reached his ears. He barely had the chance to turn before a thin mass tackled him into the locker, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He squirmed beneath its weight, catching a glimpse of a lean man resting on his shoulders blades.

"For the love of-..who puts a jockstrap in the middle of the floor?" They pressed into Declan's shoulder, causing him to release a stern grunt. "Hm? Oh shit, how'd you get down there?"

"I was on my feet, until someone knocked me over."

"Ah..was wondering what where that arm pit smell was coming from. like opening a fresh bag of chips." the man sniffed the air, his fingers sliding beneath Declan's arms. "Name's Roy, I'm sort of...new around."

How formal. He eyed the man as his fingers slid out from his pits, easing to his feet. "Declan, I'm-"

"Declan?! Like, the Declan Rice?!"

“Is.. there a problem?”

“None at all, I’m your number one fan!” Roy gasped, shaking his hand vigorously. “ Oh man, it's a pleasure to meet a legend in person!!"

Declan arms jerked with the man’s force, as if it were about to pop out of its very socket. "The pleasure’s..Mine!!"

"Oh no, it’s all mine! It’s not everyday you get to see your celebrities. Surprised I didn’t see..Ah God I’m such a dunce! I tackled into Declan Rice!" Roy crumbled to his knees, clutching Declan's palm in a choke hold as if he were a beggar. “I am so sorry! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me!”

"It's fine, it's fine! It's no big deal."

"Really?" Roy asked, sighing to himself. "Thank goodness. I don't know what I'd do if I hurt you before the project."

"Er..project?" Declan asked.

"Nah, classic Roy, I forgot to tell that part." He palmed himself. "I meant to ask you if you could help me with a filming shot I'm working on. Come be the first and see the true legends at work on the fields. They'll show you why they put the 'So' in soccer."

"That sounds..like a documentary!"

"Yeah I'm still working on the trademark." Roy admitted. "But it's missing the most important thing, a sponsor! You could be that sponsor to kick it off!"

Ah, another sponsor asking for a contract. "Sorry but I don't do advertisements for free, if you wanna make a business offer, you can talk with my manager." He dusted flakes of dandruff from his shorts, reaching for his clothes folded in the locker.

"Ah, you're right. It wouldn't be right to have you help out my project without compensation." Roy dug his fingers through  his side pocket, drawing out a phone. He tapped at the screen for a moment, pulling up a website with a graph flowing toward the upper right corner of the screen. "This is the following I have on the project, at least for the past week."

Declan eyed the lining of the graph, numbers adding to the digits along the corner of the screen. "Those are all viewers?"

"Uh huh," Roy lowered his phone back into his pocket. "And they could all be following you. Just imagine, with your support behind my project, we could make it soar through the ratings. New deals, new sponsorships, and most importantly, more exposure!"

Declan blinked as Roy searched his phone, coiling a finger along his chin. More exposure could be effective, it could boost his rating,no, it could boost his very career if he went up for it. But would the team allow that? Would the coach?

He turned towards the opening of the hallway for the coach to hear his insight, but stopped in his tracks. Why should he consult the team like this, they'd suck up all of the exposure and leave him with the crumbs. He couldn't live with himself if he fumbled that big of an opportunity. No, it opened up to him first, and to him, he will ensure that it will remain to him alone.

"So?" Roy said, his cheery tone seething in his voice. "We got a deal?"

Declan shuttered at the chance this would be, reminiscing over the future achievement that spun around his mind. He turned towards Roy, nodding at the question. "It's a deal. so, where's-"

"Sweet! Trust me, you won't regret it!"

 Palms clutched  his shoulders as Roy ushered the two of them down the pathway, cutting the corner to the other side of the locker room. The deeper they went, the amount of players withered down as the once filled corridors became empty. They reach the end of the exit of the locker room before Roy stopped in his tracks, patting frantically at his pockets.

"Oh damn it, I forgot my water bottle, I must've dropped it. but where did..Oh!" He moved towards one of the side doors of the pathway, slinking past the frame as he disappeared into the darkness. "Oh! here it is! it's under this object!"

"Well, best get it before it gets lost again."

Shuffling lingered in the dark abyss, metal rattling together as Roy grunted. "I would..But it seems to be stuck on something in here." Roy said. "This is embarrassing to ask, but can you give me a hand?"

"For a bottle?"

"Please? It’s stuck tight."

This is starting to seem like a hassle rather than an opportunity. "Fine, I'm coming.”

He opened the door as wind dispersed into the locker, darkness staring back from its mouth. He squinted to the metal walls a few feet away, their handles the only thing barely visible, but no Roy.He placed a rock against the corner of the door as he ventured deeper, holding a hand out to guide as it brushed against the smooth metal pipes.

 "Alright, Im in.” Declan said. “Where are you?"

"Just a little further, Just in the next room."

The next room? How deep did he go just for a bottle? The cold walls met the bottom of his palm as its metallic texture morphed into cement. The solid hum of a heater filling the air  like a sonar.

"Okay, now what? I don't see you any-" His words were cut off as a sharp pain sunk into the side of his neck. It spread to the rest of his body as it lurched to the hardened floor, the sounds of steps echoing behind him as the tip of shoes prodded against his arm.

"I can't believe that worked, I guess you really can lure a soccer player."

"Roy?..what are.."

"I wouldn't try to talk too much Declan, you’ll get a headache that way. " Roy replied, a needle sensation searing his neck. "Why don't you go ahead and take a nice long nap."

Declan gritted as he slumped to his feet, Roy backpedaling as the soccer player reached a palm outward. The stinging sensation from the injection began to spread as it climbed his neck, his ears starting to ring as his vision grew hazy. Soon hisnwhole body began to throb, and he fell to the floor, darkness swallowing him as everything faded to black.

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

A deep hum rang in Reclan's ears, a blistering pain throbbing through his head as it laid against a plastic floor. "What happened? Where..am I?"

Through his hazed vision, he sat up as he scanned the area. He found himself inside of a plastic cage on a desk, a single fan looming above. Its size dwarfed his, looming overhead like a giant windmill up as its cold gusts blew against the translucent wall.

But it wasn't just the fan that was big, the whole room morphed before his eyes, stretching to far horizon like a great plain as light danced a twirled from the windows

“Roy..that bastard, what the hell kind of drug did he put in me? It’s making me hallucinate."

"On the contrary," A second voiced said, streaking through the air like thunder. "This is no hallucination."

The ground shook as the bottle wobbled beneath him, the plastic bottle darkened by a shadow as an unbuttoned shirt swaying into view. Standing before him was Roy, looming overhead like a giant gazing upon an ant hill. 

"Glad to see you’re finally woken up,"  Roy added. "and here I thought you'd sleep through the best part."

"Roy? What is the meaning of this? What did you do?!"

"Nothing really!" He replied, picking up the bottle between his fingers. "Just made you a little more manageable is all."

Declan tumbled as he raced to regain his balance, Roy’s palm dwindling along the curvatures of the bottle. With a simple tilt, gravity shifted as the plastic cap slammed against his back, lurching the other way as he rolled back to the center.

Roy giggled as he aligned the bottle with his eyes. "Gotta say I like this version of you, pal. like having a little ship in a bottle."

Declan floundered as the bottle see-sawed between his palms, spreading his arms and legs to keep him from falling. "You call this supporting your heroes?!"

"Watcha mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a number one fan? You told me you wanted help with a project, to help bring light to soccer!"

"Oooh that?" Roy said, shrugging his shoulders. "That was just something to get you to follow through."

Declan's heart tightened at the man's words. "You..were lying?"

"You got me! I have to admit I did have second thoughts about it." He tossed the palm from palm to palm as if it were a hacky sack. "I thought I'd give a sob story of some charity bullshit, but I knew you'd see right through that." Declan pin balled from wall to wall, his body pulsing upon each impact. Before long, He fell to the bottom of the bottle, just as Roy's beaming smile returned. 

"Liar!" Declan hurled his fist into the wall, its blow absorbed into its plastic. "When I get out of this you'll be dead meat!"

"Such fiery spirit, guess it's true when they say soccer player’s are known for their resilience." Roy chuckled. "I may have told a little fib about the whole fan thing, but I wasn't lying about having you for a project."

The bottle spun toward the desk, sending a blistering pain radiating Declan's rear. Roy strolled the room to his backpack along one of the wooden chairs against the wall, unzipping the middle as he pulled a  camera and a pair of metal legs. setting them up before placing them near a torn projector along the wall.

Roy's spun backpack against the side of the desk, sending the bottle in a tailspin as Declan held his stomach. "Careful where you swing that thing!" 

"Oh ho, that's the least of your worries pal." he heard Roy say, sensing anticipation in his voice. He opened one of the side pockets pulling out a clear vile as he brought to his eye level.

Declan eyed the small bottle as it sloshed between its fingers. "What..what is that?"

"Lube of course! And a nice portion to get you nice and slick for your long trip." He held the bottle close to his waist, his crotch cushioning against the glass like a sponge. "Afterall, I can't just squeeze just anything in my balls."

Declan's heart skipped a beat. "Your...balls?!"

"Yup yup, you're going down the good old slide of life." Roy said, a giggle seething from his lips. 

He untwisted both bottles before  lowering his cage to the table, hovering the bottle of lube overhead as its clear liquid lurched to the opening. Its lukewarm substance poured from the bottle like a waterfall, coating his feet in a puddle as it filled the bottle. Declan pounded against the plastic, tackling its walls in hopes to knock it over the edge.

Skin skidded against the wall as Roy laid his phallus against, a single throb forcing the bottle back. "Ah ah ah, can't let you do that, Decy."

The waterfall tilted as it showered Declan, coating him head to toe as the puddle climbed to his waist. When the last drop fell, the bottle was cast away, the cap sealing.  Roy picked up the container as he tilted it sideways, see-sawing it on its axis. It was as if Declan was thrown into a washer machine, each tilt sending a tide of lube as he slipped and glided across the walls.

 Roy giggled at Declan's floundering like a child with a ship in a bottle, watching the waves toppled and overwhelmed him. He stirred the bottle for a few more times before he finally let up, Declan splashing against the cap before sloshing to the bottle.

 "There it is, nice and slick. You'll slide right in." He said.

Declan wobbled to his feet, clinging to the wall for support. "The hell is wrong with you! You're treating this like it's some sick game!"

"A game? I'd hardly call this a game. More like..playing with my toys. Yeah, that's it!"

"Whatever the hell you want to call it, it's crazy! You can’t think that this is okay!"

"Aww what, is the big time soccer player trying to talk me out of it." Roy cooed, holding one of his testicles against the glass.  "That's just adorable. Pathetic, but adorable."

Declan grimaced as the clammed skin skidded against the bottle, shielding his gaze with an arm in hope to erase the view. Palms wrapped around the frame as it lifted into Roy’s abdomen, his balls still plastered to the glass as their round spheres undulated along his thigh. He sat down in a wooden chair in front of the camera, adjusting the lens until he filled the projector on the screen.

Roy untwisted the cap, flicking it to the floor. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Gravity lurched as the lube fell out of the opening, dragging Declan with its current as he fell from the plastic. He bounced off the pudgy shaft, just as a thumb pressured into his foot. Roy stirred the remaining lube over his shaft, drizzling over his glans as if he were pouring syrup on flapjacks before he discarded it.

He choked his girth and lathered the substance into his skin. "Mmm, just a little more twist and..There, the rocket is nice and ready." He unlatched his palm from his glistening cock. "Now it just needs its daring astronaut."

Pressure increased as he was hoisted to the air,  smacking against the cock's oily skin as it lathered his torso. He slid higher as Roy's navel rippled into view, undulating as Roy chuckled at his flailing display. Declan struck the fingers holding his foot, but his blow barely caused damage, bouncing off their forms as if he were hitting them with a wet noodle.

"That's it, keep that fire going, my guy." Roy massaged his phallus. "I wanna feel every bit of it when you're in my knockers."

Declan's head hung above the rising shaft, its length flexing to life as it smacked against Roy's abdomen. He  grimaced at the fingers massaging the sides of the cockhead, the slitted orifice stretching and closing as its soggy lips smeared together.

"I'm not going in there, you sick bastard." Declan continued his assault, gritting as a sting crawled along his heel. "Put me down!"

"If you insist." Roy’s hand lowered as it hurtled toward his throbbing shaft. He pinched the corners of the head, and the slit yawned opened.

"No! that what I mean-" His words were snuffed as his head plunged into the mouth of the cock, the orifice sending wet squelches into his ears before clamping around his neck.

"It wasn't? Huh, imagine that." Roy replied, listening to the soccer player's muted protests.

Declan pawed against the sponged flesh, his palms slipping under the loose foreskin as it coiled its juices into his fingers. He felt the fingers climb to his waist, corkscrewing the rest of his body into the gummy orifice.

The fleshy chamber squeezed at his body, muscular ripples battering into his sides like waves as he slithered deeper inside. "Mmm, It's like my body's giving ya a great big hug isn't it?" Roy cooed, "Hope you like it, cause it's only gonna get tighter from here on out."

Declan grice as the orifice climbed over his legs, drooling greedily as they were sucked inside. His feet bobbed against the tip of the head, its spongy form suckling his entire body as if he were a ring pop. With a mere flick from Roy's finger, his feet tilted as they sunk inside, slurping past the clammed lips as they sealed shut.

The world he once knew was replaced by dark pink walls, coated in Roy's salt and musk as creamy fluid lathered the crevices. Pull after pull, he was dragged deeper into the urethra, carried by Peristalsis as the gargantuan cock devoured him whole. 

A lump punched into his gut, a finger trailing on the other side. "Lumpy lumpy nice and jumpy." Roy chuckled. "You certainly aren't gonna like what comes next."

He wheezed as the finger pushed down, hastening his pace through the shriveled walls as cum parted the folds like webs. The bottom of the barrel rushed into view as it quivered, welcoming Declan with a messy kiss before taking him past its ring and into the labyrinth of Roy's insides. 

It clenched as he was deposited into the tender bean in the core of Roy’s body, Flesh snagging along his arms and legs as fluid filling the crevices lathered against him. If he doesn't do something he'll..No, he's not letting himself end up as this bastard's pastime fun. He scaveaged the walls for the hole he came in, Punching every corner he could manage as he pawed against the firm tissue. It was gone, hidden away somewhere in the chamber, but where?

The chamber jostled with his captives' laughter. "Sorry pal, can't have ya trying to walk out on the fun."

"Let me out of here, you piece of-"

"Woah woah, language. Is this how you soccer players treat one of their 'fans' ?"

"That's not the only thing you'll be treated to once when I get out here."

"keep telling yourself that. But looking at how that little lump is all squeezed up in my prostate, I don't really see that happening." Roy said. "Speaking of squeeze, you might wanna hold your breath."

The muscular bean became alive, salted seed oozing from the walls. A fold pushed beneath him as he skyrocketed into a meat pocket, and his head was jammed into a hole no bigger than himself. It yawned over his head, separating the rest of his body as succumbed to the whim of the other chamber. 

Seed belched from the tight tunnel as it spilled into the prostate, a heavy suction pulling him inside. "Its corrosive! It's getting into my mou-"

"Told ya to hold your breath." Roy giggled, his voice fading into the sounds of his body.

The valve around his neck yanked at his body, his shoulders slipping past the small ring as it chewed down to his legs. Its warm texture coiled his toes, ejecting him from the prostate and into the unknown of Roy's body. He dragged through the muscular labyrinth at  snail's pace, looping around steep curve as the walls siphoned tighter.

After almost minutes passed, gravity shifted as plonking arose below, sloshing deeply as if it were underwater. A tight orifice crowned his head as he was expunged from the tube, his body curling against a soft layer of tissue as it spooned him against a round boulder of flesh.

"Welcome to my balls! Your home away from home!" Roy said.

Declan tried to turn his head, gritting at the stinging pain building in his neck. "I can't..move!" 

"Of course you can't goofball, it's not some bubble you can just stand in." Roy fondled his left nut, watching its swollen underbelly throb with its new guest. "Gotta say though, you're a lot tighter than I thought you'd be, almost looks like a tattoo out here."

"Bastard!" Declan gritted, "Your ass is getting the beating of a lifetime when I go get of-"

“Again with the whens? Honestly buddy you’re like a broken record. But I suppose you can only bark up threats when you're swinging between my legs.”

Declan's face soured his words, straining against the soft tissue to lift the meaty ball spooning his back. 

He stopped when an odd sensation resonated from his fingers. He could feel them there, but it was hollow, as if they were phantom limbs. He pulled his arm from underneath a meaty fold, and his eyes widened. His middle finger was drenched in goo, dripping into the fleshy crevices. When it returned, there was nothing in the middle, not even as seed spilled in the middle of his palm. the numbness began to spread to his other fingers, and his heart started to race.

"My hand! What's going on with my hand?!"

"Ooh shit, I forgot to mention another thing." Roy said. "See ‘when’ you do come back out, you'll kinda be well...melted."

"What?!"

"Yeah! crazy right? But don't worry, I'll build you back together good as new. Better than new in fact!"

"You're not putting shit back! And you're not melting me!" The siphoned chamber bucked as Declan thrashed about, causing the bulging nut to throb. "Let me out of here! I..I'm not ending up as some bastard's seed."

Oh, but you are, you just need time to bake.”

The spongy testicle pressed the side of his face, fingers prodding along his back as the chamber jostled vigorously. He lurched against gravity before another soft layer draped over his back,  the sound of a zipper streaking the walls as pressure hugged his sides. Roy's steps boomed as the hollow atmosphere changed, distant whistles and chatter lingering in the distance. Is he really..no, he can;t leave him in here like this..

Declan writhed to free himself from the weight of the testicle, causing Roy to giggle. "Hey, keep it down in there" A deep pound echoed from above. “Don’t want me to bust a nut in front of the crowd now do you? Once you;re melted you ripple and shake all you want in there."

Declan gritted at the man's words, his heart shuttering at the individual word: melted. He looked beneath a fold covering his arms, seed spilling from its corners. He pulled his forearm from underneath, revealing its drenched form. He couldn't feel his hand anymore, its clumpy form slid from his wrist like fresh clay, melting with the rest of the mush as it dispersed to corner of the sac's tubes.

An hour passed as Declan swayed inside Roy’s balls, the numbness traveling through the rest of his arm as it withered away as if it were sugar in water. With each voice he heard pass by, shouted for their attention, to allow him the chance to be seen before it was too late. But his efforts fell on deaf ears as they faded in the distance, adding to his captive entertainment as his cock throb with pleasure.

As time withered farther, Declan became more restless,  punched as hard as he could against the soft wall, but it only absorbed every blow that was dished its way. In his fit of panic, the whistles drew closer as Roy's balls undulated, the sound of a roaring crowd muted but the suffocating walls. 

"Oo, cotton candy! Perfect for the occasion."  Roy said, the chamber to twist and rotate as he moved freely outside.

"Roy! you bastard! Don't treat me like your.." 

the side of his face grew numb, his view blurred as milky ooze seered from his cheek. As its tingly sensation climbed higher, his nose slanted as it slid from his face and into the increasing pool. The walls throbbed as waves rippled the chamber, scooped the loose seed into the center. it climbed to his neck, siphoned the last of the space as his lips danced against the sphincter. 

He soon lost his lips in a wave of cum, the last of his face sinking into the mush. "R..Roy....S..sto.."

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

"Buddy....buuddy..." A palm tapped at declan's head. "wakey wakey."

Declan stirred at the call. "W..wha?"

"There you are! You sagged in my sac for the whole game I thought you kicked the bucket."

"Christ it's you..." He groaned at the sound of his captive’s voices. 

"Aww, you still mad about the whole being balled thing, I promised I'd get you out didn't I?"

"That still doesn't make being in there any better." His winced as his head throbbed, his left side still liquified. "God my head hurts. Its feels like my whole spine's a fucking cactus tree."

"Yeah..heh, funny you should say that. When I jacked you out, let's just say I had some hard trajectories."

"Trajectories? What the hell are you-" he tilted his head when a prickled surface nudged the back of his head, wincing at another poked near his cheek. 

He wiggled for the rest of his body, his spine twisting normally, but he couldn’t feel his legs, or even his balls. He looked down as spiked leaves sprouted from his waist, rooting from a pot of soil was stationed along a table.

Declan's eyes grew white. "What the hell happened to my body?!"

"Well it turns out the game was a complete bust so I had to rub one out. Found a good spot behind a tree and went to town." Roy said, scratching nonchalantly at his head. "You were so gunked up, you splattered all over the tree."

"You ejaculated me onto a tree?!"

"Yeah, crazy right!" Roy shrugged. "I was aiming for the grass but hey, I managed to get some of you off the bark." 

"You didn't have the decency to use a fucking cup?! My legs are a freaking plant!" Declan yelled.

He thrashed his head around, causing the pottery to rotate on its sides. It leered to the edge of the table, dirt splashing along papers as he spun out of control. The pot tilted as gravity pulled at Declan's head, but Roy caught its side midway.

"Easy there, can't go trying to knock yourself off."

"You better fix me right this second!"

"I already told you, I could only manage to find most of you. Bet the seed’s already dried up at the field by now."

Already dried? Wait, does that mean that he's stuck like this?! His heart gripped in his chest, his career flashing in his mind. the games, the fans. "No, I'm not remaining stuck like this! There's..There's gotta be a way to reverse it!"

"Reverse? I can't just uncum and bring you back." Roy shook his head. "But look on the bright side, all that soccering stick is all in the past now. But not to worry, your old pal Roy's gonna take care of you." he drawed a camera from his back and aligned it near the edge of the table. Declan eyed him cautiously.

"What? You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you take care of me!"

"I can't? Huh, well shoot I guess I should just let you go. just hop off the table and..oh wait."

"You cocky son of a-" Declan head's bucked against a prickly leaf, cutting his words. "Just let me come to close that ugly mug of yours!"

"Aww, don't be so butt hurt, and smile for the camera!"

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force• ch 1

Chapter 1- DARK PHENOMENON

Jake x reader (we'll get there... I promise)

Words: 10.5k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

Warnings: Dystopian Horror Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Alcohol, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Hunting, Violence (mention of firearms), Looting, Kidnapping, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Burials, Lying, Deceit, Sadness

enjoy my dabbling in the sci-fi world

•

Cheatham County, Tennessee 2030

Y/N

It feels like only yesterday that I noticed that the hillside beside my garden seemed as if it had taken on a different shape, the sycamore tree perched at the foot of it tilted and stretching way lower than it normally did. I squinted in question at the sight, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. The day was chilly and windy but the sun still shone, casting late-evening shadows across the garden ground. ‘Strange,’ I’d thought to myself as I realized. ‘A sinkhole?’ 

I stood from my knelt position, wiping my hands against one another as I cleared the dirt from them.

I wasn’t wrong, the ground was sunken and almost rutted, almost as if it had quietly shrunken itself down five or six feet sometime throughout the day. When my toes poked up to the edge of it, I backed away quickly, realizing that the ground could potentially give way again at any second, and take me right along with it. The wind had picked up as I skipped backward, putting as much distance as I could between it and me. A strange type of fear had taken over my body, one that I’d never felt before. ‘Sinkholes don’t happen here, do they? Don’t they normally occur in sea-level land, or near river beds where the bedrock is weakest?’

Hell, I didn’t know for sure. I’d never seen a sinkhole in real life before, nor had I ever really done much research on them. I made my way back inside as a light drizzle began to coat my face, letting the door slam behind me with the vacuum pull of the wind mixed with my open windows. I sat down at my kitchen table, pulling my phone from the charger as I searched up my grandfather’s contact. 

I pulled the phone to my ear and listened to the tone ring out, and his gruff voice greet me on the other end. 

“Evening, youngin’! What are you wastin’ time with today?” he joked. 

A smile cracked across my face. “Nothing, Papaw… was just cleaning up the dead weeds from the garden. Hey, I noticed something out in the yard, I think I have a sinkhole…”

I heard him inhale his cigarette smoke. “A sinkhole? How in god’s name…? You sure, youngin’?”

“I’m positive. Look, I’ll send you a picture.” I turned my phone and snapped a quick few photos out the kitchen window, showing the land he knew just as well as I did, and how it now sat very, very differently. “There. Should be coming through, now.”

I listened as he puffed his cigarette again and clicked around on the screen of his phone, still very uncomfortable with the thing, and why it was really necessary in his life. “Hell’s fire, you’re right. When’d you notice it?” he asked. 

I sat back down in my kitchen chair, crossing one leg over the other as I peered up at the ceiling. “Just… Now…” My voice trailed off as I inspected the ceiling and wall in front of me, seeing that a giant crack had formed right along the load-bearing wall in the center of my small home. “Damn, Paps, there’s a crack in my wall, too…”

Suddenly, I felt panicked, standing up to run my hand along the fracture. It was big, almost a centimeter thick, all the way from the floor to the ceiling. 

“You’re kiddin’ me. Go downstairs, go to the basement, see if there is a crack there…” he ordered, so I did. I kicked the old paint cans to the side as I rounded off the bottom step of my basement, trying to make sense of where the floor would line up with the walls above me. Sure enough, there it was, the old stone foundation that was holding up the footers of my little home had begun to collapse, sinking down into the ground right in the center of it all. 

“Shit, it’s here, too. It’s bad, Paps, what do I do?!” I panicked, looking around for something as if I could prop it all back up. 

“Get everything that you can, all your valuables, sis. Pack it all up and come here. Come stay with me and your Gran. Don’t be afraid, just be aware. I’ll call your Daddy and tell him what’s happened. Me and him and your brother will come out and assess it once’t this rain passes.”

I felt as though my chest was starting to heave, the sudden mind-bending fear that my whole home was going to cave in on itself and crush me now scaring me more than anything I’d felt in a long, long time. “Okay, okay I’ll be there soon. Thanks, Paps,” I said as I hung up the phone, making sure to snap another few quick photos before I dashed back up the stairs in search of my suitcase. 

Little did I know that that would be the last time I would ever set foot in my tiny little cottage, the first home I ever had after I moved from my parents’ in Nashville after college. I’d bounced from apartment to apartment before I finally moved back out to the country to be near my grandparents. The cottage was tiny, and it wasn’t much, but it was mine. I’d stayed single for the majority of my life, never settling on any one man, finding flaws in damn near all of them that I brought home with me. I was 32 at the time, and settling down into a relationship or marriage was the absolute furthest thing from my mind. I’d cherished that home, filling it with antiques and spice racks and multicolored lace curtains… transforming it into the home I had always wanted while maintaining my steady work-from-home career. 

I remember my head spinning like a top as I packed up my valuables… my laptop and my important paperwork, my toiletries that would last me a few days, along with a few practical outfits that would keep me warm with the changing season. Surely I didn’t need to pack for more than a few days, long enough for my dad and brother to come and see if they could fix the footer under my house and allow me to grab a few more things.

But I was so, so sadly mistaken.

I never got to set foot in my little cottage again. That home eventually got eaten up in what turned out to be the first sinkhole in Tennessee. Well, not the very first, obviously. But the first one that would spawn a series of many more across the state of Tennessee, and Kentucky, and all the way down into Alabama and into Mississippi. 

That was so long ago, now, and the way of life I knew and loved changed forever that day, as the world as we knew it tilted itself on its axis, never to be the same again. 

That day, that very day, the Earth had decided that she was going to rid herself of these heartless beings that someone had decided would inhabit her, stretching and breaking and destroying everything in her power to extinguish all of mankind and all that mankind had created in spite of her. The Earth didn’t need us anymore, and though we were all completely reliant on her, we had also created an invisible force of a blend of scientific knowledge and powerful mechanics that, inevitably, had drained her completely dry of her natural resources. 

No one believed it was the end of days, there was no giant announcement that came across our radio waves and on our phone alert systems. There was no dark, biblical occurrence or seven plagues like those who believed in such things had predicted… it just… happened. 

One day I was weeding my garden, and the next, I was coming to terms with the fact that I had no choice but to thrust myself into full on survival mode. Living with nothing more than what I had at that very moment, and watching as everything in my life dwindled down more quickly than anyone could even fathom. 

Earthquakes shook the planet. The rivers all over the world had begun to overflow, the trees began to uproot themselves and fall like timber. Animals would be dead on the side of the roads, even animals that seemingly had absolutely nothing wrong with them. Birds, bears, wolves… lying and littering the hillsides as if they had just laid down to go to sleep.

Even the sun wasn’t the same. It just felt different. The normal heat that fell onto your skin seemed to sear it now instead of warm it. The wind, when it did blow, made a hissing noise as it’d pass by. The sinkholes continued, even some as big as lakes, swallowing up unsuspecting neighborhoods and taking everything with them in their wake. 

In the weeks following that day, my father had forced my grandparents and I to come back to Nashville, given that there hadn’t been any disturbances in the land there, yet. So the three of us packed up what we needed, saying goodbye to the home that my grandparents had lived in since marriage, and loading everything into their old pickup truck. We made the short drive back home to my parents’ where they had prepared the guestroom and my old bedroom for our arrival. 

My younger brother James still lived at home with them, still young but never having the want to move out and be on his own. He was eight years my junior, twenty-four years old and working on his master’s degree in engineering and technology. Truly, he was too smart for his own good. My parents had allowed him to live at home as he was a very quiet creature, devoting most of his life to his studies instead of being any type of social butterfly. He was strong, though, and never hesitated to be the one to come and pick me up after I’d had one too many drinks at the bar. 

“Hey, sis. Sorry your house got swallowed up,” he’d said as he took me in his bear-hug embrace, patting the back of my head with his giant hand. 

Though my body was reeling with fear of the unknown, James was the one to bring me back down to earth with his overwhelmingly warm embrace and matter-of-fact way of speaking. My only sibling, though much younger, always knew exactly what I needed, right when I needed it. “Thanks, pipsqueak. Kinda fuckin’ sucks, actually,” I’d replied with a defeated lilt. “Didn’t think I’d be living back at Mom and Dad’s during the apocalypse,” I joked. 

I still remembered how his face had contorted hearing that word, still a shock to the system to hear it said out loud. It shocked me too, even as I said it. The two of us retreated to the living room as my parents assisted my grandparents in getting their room unpacked, which at the time seemed like nothing more than a menial task to mask the reality of what was happening around us. Menial actions to make the situation feel less threatening and more like something we could ignore. 

“Is this shit really happening, Y/N? Like are we really going to have to–”

“Yes, James. You saw my house, you’ve heard the talks on the News… it’s happening. And it’s happening fast. Everywhere.” I was always a very straightforward person, getting right to the point of things instead of beating around the bush. I always thought it was a waste of time, ignoring the reality of things. 

“Fuck,” he’d mumbled under his breath, his leg bouncing up and down as he hugged one of Mom’s old decorative pillows on his lap. My little James, always wearing his heart on his sleeve and possessing the inability to hide his emotions. Though his stature was monstrous, his personality never mirrored it. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I pondered him, feeling that strange aura that only siblings share bouncing right off of him. “What is it, James? What’s wrong?” I’d asked, now really getting worried as I watched his eyes scan the room aimlessly. 

He sniffed hard through his nose, scooting closer in the chair. He held his giant hands out to me, palms down, his knee still bouncing furiously. “What?!” I asked. “I’m confused… What is it?”

He swallowed and finally flipped his hands over, revealing to me something that I had never seen on him before. His palms and fingers were covered with some type of bruise-like rash, marks that resembled heavy birthmarks but a very deep purple as opposed to a light pink. “What happened? Did you burn yourself?” I’d asked, taking his wrists in my hands to observe him.

He shook his head. “No, they just… it just appeared a few days ago. It started out like weird bumps, then it’s turned to this. And it’s spreading, sis. I don’t–” his voice trailed off as my eyes met his, full of worry. 

“Does it hurt?” I asked, not prepared to hear the truth. 

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel good… I’ve been hiding it from Mom and Dad, I don’t want them to worry any more than they already are, ya know?” 

I shook my head in agreement as I let my fingertips brush over the strange marks. “Anywhere else on your body?” I asked. 

“No. Not yet, at least…”

“Care if I take a photo, just so we can try and look it up? I’d make you an appointment, I just don’t think…” I trailed off again as the same thought process flew through both of our heads. There won’t be any more going to the doctor.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he muttered as he exhaled and I snapped the photo, my recent album now no longer full of my lavish boardwalk lunches and blurry nights out with friends, but instead screenshots of international news articles and how to tie paracord.

We’d holed up there with my parents for a month or so before our next greatest fear came crashing down over us. Suddenly, like a blackout in a storm, every piece of technology as we knew it ceased to do its job.

The big stuff went first– internet telecommunications and hubs… then went the cell phone towers and television broadcasts, little by little it all began to fail, thus cutting off communication between us and the rest of the world completely. There was no such thing as using your cell phone anymore, and those who still had landlines only were able to get them to work some of the time. Wind turbines, hydroelectrics, newer vehicles… all of it simply just stopped performing. Though the most intelligent scientists and blue-collar employees on earth tried as they might, nothing worked. Nothing held up. It was like all technology had forgotten its only purpose, the only reason it was created in the first place.

We knew things were bad when we caught word that the major hospitals had closed down and had already begun resorting to old medicine. A new sadness fell upon us as we realized that my grandma would no longer be able to just run out to the pharmacy for her medications, and the realization of that was almost harder to swallow than knowing that James’ hands were being eaten alive by something inside him.

But I would find them. I would venture out and get them for her, no matter what it would take. None of us had really bothered to leave the confines of our home, knowing that anything past our neighborhood was probably a warzone of greed and looting. Or worse, full of more sinkholes. We truly had no way of knowing, except for the quiet and quick conversations held with our trusted neighbors over the fence line. Everyone was simply terrified.

We’d already started to notice a strange amount of people walking the streets by my parents’ house; the normally calm and quiet neighborhood full of retired musicians and elementary school teachers was now teeming with sketchy foot traffic. My dad and grandfather wasted no time in resorting to armed protection, pulling out my dad’s arsenal of weaponry he kept locked away in the basement since my childhood. Never did he think he would actually think about using it.

The days were long, and the nights were even longer. Each day brought a new fear to us, a new way of questioning how we were going to survive, if we were going to survive. It was almost like we were sitting around waiting for someone to tell us what to do next. And when we expected to hear something from our government, all we got was silence. It was like they had left us all for dead, never once giving us even a sliver of advice.

There were days when my mother would have a complete mental breakdown, her fearful tears turning into full-on panic attacks that would leave her exhausted and still, my sweet father and grandfather by her side whether she needed them or not. 

Next came the fall of electricity as a whole. The whole world, shrouded in darkness as panic fell upon everyone surrounding us. No longer did we have the simple luxury of being able to turn the lights on and off. Hot water had to be heated manually, and we learned to cook over a small campfire in the back yard. 

One night, as the weather began to cool, the six of us gathered in our living room, cooking over a propane stove Papaw had thought about packing last minute. The wind was blowing a lot colder, now, but we managed to keep warm as the season began to change over into winter. Luckily, the almanac had said this was to be a mild winter, and we still had enough supplies to last us through, but my grandfather and I had noticed that it would be necessary to venture out for food, soon. 

He and I were always on that same wavelength, speaking to and through one another and making decisions far ahead of time. We were both doers, and pretty smart ones, at that. 

“We’ve got to go back,” I whispered to him after supper that evening as we did our best to clean the dishes. “You know that, right?”

His crows feet became more prominent as he winced at me. “I know we do. But the question is when? And how will we convince them that we need to retreat back to Cheatham?” It’d become obvious to me in the past week or so that it was time to go back out into the country to my grandparents’ home, away from the middle of the city where the dangers were creeping in around us at a quicker pace.

“There will be an argument, I’m sure. I know your mother won’t want to leave her home, and she will say that the city can give us more supplies than my farm could,” he whispered. What my grandfather and I both understood was that while that much was true, the supplies would only last so long before they’d be all gone, forcing us all to retreat anyway. Not to mention the stores have probably all been looted clean, by now. 

“Dad and James and I will go into the city for last minute supplies. Gran’s medications and anything else we can get our hands on,” I decided as he dropped his dish, grabbing my wrist firmly in his, holding it steady. 

“You’ll do no such thing, youngin’. I’ll go. You stay here, with your mother and grandmother.” His voice was stern, and though I was a full-grown adult, I knew better than to argue with my elders. 

“But Paps, you’re… no spring chicken,” I said with a hint of warmth in my voice. One last attempt to make him stay, and let me go. He may have been old, but he was still stronger than any man I had encountered in the past few years. 

“No matter. You’re stayin’ with them,” he said, picking up his dropped dish and rubbing the cloth over it again. Deep down, I knew it was because if it really was as dangerous as they said it was out there in the new public, he’d selflessly choose to put himself in the middle of it if it meant saving my life. 

I sighed. “First we’ve got to convince them to leave.” And that was going to be the hardest part.

+++

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my grandmother shrieking in pain. It woke all of us, actually. My family and I met in the hallway of the freezing cold home, all of us rushing to my grandparents’ bedroom to see what was happening. 

We pushed the door open to find them both in the floor, my grandfather hunched over my grandmother’s body in the fetal position, her hands gripping at her chest. 

“Dad, Dad what’s wrong with her?!” my father yelled as we all fell to the floor with them in a panic. “Is it another heart attack?!”

“No,” my sweet and timid grandmother was able to choke out. “My skin, it’s– it’s burning so–” just as her words stopped, her body lurched backward, her muscles tightening so rigidly that my grandfather had no choice but to catch her. Her hands still gripped at her chest, her fingers now scratching  and ripping her pajama top off, the buttons flying all across the room. “It burns!” she cried.

My father and I crept closer, my brother helping my grandfather to hold her body. I ordered my mother to grab a flashlight, and when she returned, we shone the light on the area that my grandmother was grasping so tightly. And there on her chest, right below her breastbone, right where her heart was, was the exact same bruised rash that had overtaken the skin of my brother’s hands. 

My eyes shot to him, both of us falling into pure panic as we simultaneously realized what we were seeing. 

“Is it a heart attack, Jane, are you–”

“NO!” she cried. “My skin is on fire, right there, right here–” she pointed, and another look to my brother told me that the fire sensation was the exact same that he had been experiencing on his hands. Suddenly he shot up, rushing into the living room while the rest of us tried to console my grandmother in the pale darkness of the morning. He returned quickly with a cloth in his hands, soaking wet and sopped with water. 

“Here, Gran. Let me… this will help,” he begged, kneeling beside her as he flattened the cloth over her rash. She yelped in pain again, her hands and legs growing stiff at the reaction as he forced the cloth to her. But after only just a few seconds, she relaxed, her once screwed-shut eyes finally opening to look at us.

A tiny cry of relief left her thinning lips as her muscles fell limp, obviously feeling somewhat free of the pain. 

“James, how did you– How did you know that would help her?” my grandfather asked as we all stayed sat in the bedroom floor. 

I watched as James swallowed, finally sitting up enough to bring his hands into the barely-there glow of the rising sun through the window. He slowly turned his giant palms upright, showing my family the wounds that he had been secretly hiding from them for some time, now. Except since he showed them to me last, they’d doubled in size. Exact same color, exact same shapes as the bruises on my grandmother’s chest. 

“James, what on earth is that?” my mother cried, rushing to his side to hold his hands and inspect them more. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Couldn’t worry you more, Mom, I just couldn’t add to the…” James shook his head, unable to finish. 

“Do they hurt, son? Like Jane’s…?” my grandfather asked him. 

James nodded, swallowing harshly. “Yeah, and they’re only getting worse.”

+++

A bit later that same morning, James found me in the hallway, bringing his face close to mine as he spoke quietly. “It was her pacemaker,” he mumbled.

His eyes avoided mine as they shot around, his words catching me off guard. “What?”

“Her pacemaker. In her heart,” he said. James had always been a man of few words, but right then was a time when I needed him to explain to me his thoughts in grave detail. 

“Yes, James, but what do you mean? How do you know that?” I pressed, trying not to upset him.

“Think about it,” he said, grabbing my arm and twisting me away from earshot of the family. “My hands… All I’ve done my entire adult life is touch technology. Hold it, work with it… hell, I build computers, sis. I held my phone day in and day out. My laptop… My entire life was spent on them. And Gran, her pacemaker, right at the skin above her heart…” 

His words didn’t make sense to me at first, and they honestly confused me even more for a few seconds, until he turned his hands over to me again. The rashes had begun to centralize over his fingertips, the places on his hands that made direct contact with the technology he worked with. 

“James, you don’t think…?” I breathed, my heart suddenly falling. He maneuvered his hands to mimic holding a cell phone and how his fingers would hit the screen, the rashes sitting exactly where the phone would have touched his hands most. Then again, he moved them as if he was typing on a keyboard.

“Radioactivity?” I asked, still shocked and confused. 

He shrugged. “I dunno, maybe. But, does it not kind of make sense?” he asked, leaving me unable to answer. “If I had to bet, I would say that Mom and Dad will be next.”

My heart had gone from swimming in my stomach to sitting in my throat, making my breathing chopped and anxious. My father had climbed cell phone towers and repaired them, and my mother was an x-ray technician. 

“Fuck, James,” I said, crossing my arms. “It can’t be, what about me? Why haven’t I gotten any rashes, I’m around technology, too,” I argued.

He shrugged again. “Not really, though. Not as much as we are. Hell, Y/N, you spend more time in your garden and with a book in your hands than you do anything else. You lose your phone fifty times a day, you never even watch TV for Christ’s sake,” he blubbered, his voice also becoming pained. 

I was left stunned, unable to disagree with him. But still, shouldn’t my parents and I be showing signs of the rash, if James’ suspicion was true? He pushed past me, grabbing his winter jacket from the hook on the wall as he carefully slipped his arms through the sleeves. 

“We’re going into town. Stay here with Mom and Gran. We’ll be back tonight. Don’t come looking for us if we don’t make it back by dark,” James said. 

“James, no! I will go! It’s too dangerous! Paps needs to stay here, plus your hands–”

“Fuck my hands, sis,” he growled, his face close to mine again as his jaw clenched. I could tell he was in pain. He rounded the corner and plucked his shotgun from its place against the wall. “We’ll be fine. Take care of them.”

JAKE

I’d never seen my twin look at me that way, before. We’d shared everything… every first, every win, loss, every new experience and every happy moment, we shared them all, together. Feeling the exact same emotions at the exact same time because our shared DNA told us that we had to. In our 33 years, I’d never seen his eyes so full of fear, so full of uncertainty that I was sure if I didn’t act, my chest was going to collapse. 

And he’d only glanced at me for a second, maybe two.

We’d been preparing to wrap up the tour of our fifth album when the world shut down. Yeah, we’d all been through the whole Covid thing, but that was no match for this. A drop in the bucket compared to the entire earth as we know it ceasing to work alongside us anymore. It’d begun giving up on us, pushing us out as if it didn’t even know we inhabited it. Mother nature was fucking us, and there was nothing we could do about it.

Just those short ten-odd years ago, the four of us had gathered in that cabin out in the mountains to write what would come to be The Battle at Garden's Gate… running away from the infected world and hiding away from the virus to drown ourselves in our instruments and sound. The uncertainty was wild then, but now, fuck. This… this is something more wicked than any of us could have ever anticipated. 

Josh’s eyes bored into mine, speaking a thousand words before he downcast them, then looked back onto the hands and arms of our sound engineer. Completely covered in purple bruises and blisters, his fingers swollen to the point that they looked like they may explode. He was the first one we saw with the rash. 

We’d canceled the last half of our tour as shit went south, not like we’d have been able to do anything anyway, as all the technology falling to shit would have held us to strictly little acoustic sets. But we were stupid to even think about doing that. We were naive to think we could even go on. That anyone would even show up for the shows. There wasn’t even any point.

We’d heard the rumors about the rash, but we hadn’t seen one first-hand yet, until that day. It was the same day that our mother called and said our aunt and uncle’s home had been swallowed by one of the sinkholes. We were all terrified, no one even had any clue what to do. Where do we go? Back home? Do we stay together? Do we run?

I knew why Josh’s eyes were so cripplingly fearful that day. Not because of what was happening around us, not because of the bewilderment of being faced with a thousand situations at once, but because he was scared I would be next. I knew that, because after his eyes left mine, they shot directly to my hands. 

Our sound engineer had only gotten on board with us less than a year ago, but he’d been in the business longer than any of us had been alive. Our hearts broke for him, as he explained his pain to us and how he wished he could stay along with us, helping to play around with our sound as we distracted ourselves from the world falling apart. 

But we knew it was all for nothing. Things were only getting worse.

+++

“Tell me you don’t have any rashes. Tell me right the fuck now that none of you have anything on your hands…” Josh barked at Sam, Danny and I as we shut the van doors behind us, enclosing the four of us. We’d decided on doing the same thing we’d done a decade ago- retreating to the wilderness to write. Or, whatever the fuck. There was hardly any electricity… how I thought I could finalize anything without an electric guitar was beyond me. Shit was so fucked.

Sam and I glanced at one another from the two backseats, shaking our heads quickly as we both understood we’d be the ones most likely to show signs first, our instruments being ones with the most electricity pulsing through them. “No,” we both muttered, holding our hands up. “Nothing.”

“Good. Daniel?”

Danny mirrored our actions, holding his hands up after buckling his seatbelt. “No, I’m clean so far,” he said quietly from the passenger seat. 

Josh put the old van in reverse, taking a deep breath as he backed from the space of the parking lot. Our decision to retreat like this was a quick one, none of us really knowing what the best route of action was. Everyone around us had dissipated, gone back to their homes and families, and apparently the outside world had truly begun to crumble. We’d been a little hidden away from it all, having just returned from a leg of touring in Greece where things hadn't hit too hard, yet. Things in the US were apparently much, much worse. And when we returned home, we found it to be absolutely true.

Luckily, our families had all decided to meet us there, and hunker down together as a unit. We were all we had left, at this point.

“The first sign of any of it, we tell each other. Got it? I don’t care if you think it’s nothing. If you see it, share it,” he commanded of us. We all nodded and agreed, knowing that if the rumors were true, the three of us would most likely be the ones to see it first thanks to our constant use of our instruments.

It was quiet in the van as we drove through the looted and abandoned city we once loved, people roaming the streets aimlessly as the pure confusion began to set in. There were no stop lights, no heavy traffic, hell, there weren't even any storefronts open. Luckily we’d filled up fuel tanks at one of the last remaining gas stations before the electricity had shut down, and hit the road running North, back home to Michigan to gather our families and go to Yankee Springs. Anything was better than nothing, and where better to be than away from the looting and rioting and hide in a secluded few cabins, able to fend for ourselves and worry about nothing more than taking care of one another. 

+++

Naive, naive. 

Little did we know that our rations would run out quickly. Little did we know that we’d quite literally have to live off the land. Fish for food. Mom had to re-teach herself to can. Dad and Sam caught fish and killed squirrels with his old BB gun. 

There was no time to write. Fuck, there was no time to even play. We spent our time surviving. We’d had almost no contact with the outside world in almost a month. It was then that a few other families had gotten the same idea as us and joined us there, breaking into cabins and preparing winter camps.

We warmed ourselves with the fireplace, and we boiled our water to drink. We collected tools and stashed them away, and we hid every bit of food we brought deep in the basement of the cabin. Many nights were spent gathered around the fire talking and telling stories, trying our best to keep some type of normalcy about ourselves. But most nights we were all too exhausted to even care, crashing into our beds that we considered ourselves fortunate to still have.

I was scared. Of course I was scared. Things had happened so fast that three months felt like the blink of an eye. I hardly even kept up with what day it was. We'd gone from traveling the world and playing shows for thousands to hiding away in unmarked cabins in the woods, praying that we'd survive into the next day. I remember my mind being in a constant state of buzzing awareness, while at the same time feeling so numb and unable to grasp the fact that the world was ending that I could hardly see straight. 

Ending? No, maybe not. I’d read enough books and was educated enough to know that the Earth goes through her changes. She doesn’t care for the fact that we’re here. She’s going to go through it whether we are here, or not. Her job isn’t to protect us. Her job is to stabilize herself through her ages, making sure she doesn’t implode from the inside out and return to stardust to join the other millions of stars of our universe as she’s simply unable to keep the life that lives on her, alive.

The Ice Age, the Pleistocene, Quarternary… all of it happened, and is happening. We’re just here to witness this one it as it does, and record it in history books. 

“Holy fucking shit, man,” Danny exclaimed as we all had reclined on a hillside that night, passing around a bottle of Irish whisky. The wind was absolutely freezing, but luckily, we’d all become acclimated to it again. “Wait, are you saying… wait.” Danny sat up, his curls a mess as he’d long forgotten about his hair routine. “Josh, did you write…?”

I’d been drunkenly sharing my wise words and hypotheses about this supposed ‘end of the world’ with them all evening, accentuating my tales with my grandiose words to make them seem more intriguing. Just like I always did. Just to fit the bit.

“Did I write Age of Machine to go along with the literal historical changes that the earth makes? Yes, I did,” Josh replied matter-of-factly. “Though I wrote it to be inflicted by humans and not the Earth itself, but…”

“...Did you not know that, Daniel? Really?” Sam butted in with a slur.

Danny leaned back on his elbows. “I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda remember you explaining it as you wrote it, but god, that was ten years ago. And if I remember correctly, Sam and Jake were the ones that put in the work for that one because I had smoked a bit too much that night. But yeah, I guess I never really put two and two together…”

I smiled at Danny’s realization, and the fact that it took him nearly a decade to understand what Josh’s lyrics to that song had meant. And how eerily terrifying and ominous they were even still. I would have explained my hypotheses more in-depth had I known that Danny hadn’t ever put everything together.

A silence had fallen over us again as we watched the only constant in our lives these days– the moon gliding and rolling on her backdrop of stars. Without the filter of light pollution, every single one was visible, now. 

“How did you know, Josh?” Danny finally whispered.

“How did I know what?” Josh replied, and I could tell there was a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to talk about this. 

“That song… everything literally fucking happened, is happening… how did you…?”

“I didn’t, Daniel. Of course I didn’t fucking know this was going to happen,” Josh argued with venom in his voice. “Not in our lifetimes, at least.”

I heard Sam swallow hard. Finally, it was out on the table. The one thing we’d all been thinking, all too scared to bring it into the light. Except Danny, I guess. That damned haunting song we wrote ten years ago, somehow predicting the near future almost to a tee.

“Wait,” Danny rolled to his stomach to look at us. “This is insane… man, we… we wrote a song about this, about this exact shit happening… how in the fuck did we do that?”

Just then, a bright white and purple light lit up the dark night sky, a giant ball of exploding flashes so close it made us all jump to our feet in fear. It made no sound, of course, but the streaks of light burned bright as the sun for just a few seconds before fading away, the light burning down into blackness again.

“What the fuck was that?!” I yelled, looking to my brothers for confirmation. 

“Satellite,” Sam said. “It exploded…”

We all stood for a few seconds and watched to see if anything else was going to happen, and I remember my heart was beating so hard that I swore everyone could hear it. There’s no time to fall into fear, Jake. Embers of burning metal fell into the atmosphere, floating in space to maybe one day hit the earth. A contraption created by man and thrust out into the universe to give us knowledge of things we couldn’t see, exploded and died right in front of our eyes.

Just then I watched as Danny lowered his head, turning toward Josh to shove the bottle into his hand. “God machine… really malfunctioned and blew, hm?”

Y/N

My mother’s rashes came next. Deep purple bruises and red blisters began covering her entire body, centralizing over her hands mostly, too. They ate away at her, sending her into an almost comatose state as her body shook and vibrated in pain. We tried to keep her in a cold bath, and it brought some relief, but the rashes spread so quickly that we were nearly unable to keep up with them. We found that basic Ibuprofen did help with their pain control, but as the rashes worsened, the drug was little help. 

My father and grandfather and I were beginning to reach a point of helplessness as we were caring for my mother round the clock, my Gran and James doing whatever they could to help us, while still suffering with their own pain, too. 

We talked to the neighbors, and they all had begun to experience the same thing. Some had even made contact with health care professionals in their families, all reporting the exact same things, with no care plan in sight. The government apparently was still silent about it all, causing riots in the streets and parades onto our public law buildings. People looking for answers, guidance. Anything to help us. There was no such thing as seeing police patrolling the streets anymore. No ambulance wails heard in the distance. Nothing. We were helpless. Confused, lost, and utterly at our wit’s end. 

The day my mother finally succumbed to her rash was quite literally the worst day of my life. We all sat gathered in the bathroom, letting her body try and be soothed by the freezing cold water we’d submerged her in. We held her hands as gently as we could as she cried out in pain, my father nearly inconsolable as he crouched in the floor beside her. 

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry… If I could take this pain away from you, I would. I’d take it in a heartbeat,” he’d cried as his head fell onto the side of the tub. 

I’d gone numb. I was unable to maintain and regulate my emotions as life had begun happening so fast. I cried into my pillow the day she finally passed, trying not to let my screams be heard by the rest of the family. I could do nothing. My father, my grandfather… none of us. The house sat silent for hours.

James had sat on the back porch steps as he was unable to grip a shovel handle, watching as Paps and I dug a hole in the frost-dusted ground of the back yard. None of us spoke. Hell, none of us really even breathed. Dad carried out the body of his beloved, his face straight and emotionless as he dropped her lifeless body into the cold ground. I tried not to think too much about the action I was performing, knowing if I did I would surely lose what little food I'd eaten the past few days. 

The loss of my mother sat heavily on us as a few neighbors brought over what rations that they had barely been able to prepare, themselves. We allowed ourselves a few days to mourn her as the weather grew colder, and James’ rash spread to his arms. 

It was a week later that James had become unable to care for himself any more, and a week after that that a rash appeared on my father’s chest and hands. Both of them, being eaten alive by the ravishing blisters, leaving my grandparents and I in a mental state so disconnected from reality that we were hardly surviving. No longer did we care for ourselves. No longer did we enjoy the simplicities that came with life. Round the clock care, constantly. Ice baths, unending doses of pain killers, preparing scrap meals, and trying to get them to eat and drink while they all were being blinded with pain. 

Most of our neighbors had left. The street was nearly empty. Packs of wild dogs rummaged through homes that had been deserted, and what few people had stayed behind hid away in their homes in fear. Our plan of retreating back to the country had been put on the backburner when my Mother passed. And by some act of god, or maybe of sheer luck, my grandfather and I showed no signs of the rash, at all. My grandmother’s was spreading, of course, but at a much slower pace as everyone else’s, and her pain wasn’t nearly as horrific. James and I knew it was because she wasn’t exposed to technology, as much. His prediction had come true. 

First we buried James, and then we buried my father. Right there in the backyard, next to the garden that was now a pile of old, dead weeds that we hadn’t bothered to clear from the soil as Autumn turned to Winter. 

My grandfather cared for my grandmother as best he could, and I in turn cared for them both. Somehow, some way, I was able to compartmentalize it all, my brain going into overdrive as a trauma response, I guessed. I was the protector, now. The young and able one, stepping into the role of caretaker of my elderly grandparents. Truly, I had no other choice. 

I packed up my hiking bag with everything that I could, and convinced my grandparents to do the same. Paps agreed, it was time to retreat. There wasn’t anything here for us, anymore. 

There, we’d at least have a wood stove and firewood. Gran’s cellar full of canned vegetables, and a fenced-in yard with a barn where we could capture chickens and goats that were most likely still roaming the countryside of neighboring farms. Why we had ever agreed to come to the city in the first place was beyond me. Thought it would be easier, I guessed. Bigger house, close to the city and resources. Never did we think that things would get this bad. Never did we think that my grandparents’ homestead would have been the better option. But then again, never did we think we would lose three of our family in a matter of a month.

But now, as a cold and blistering wind blew across the shutters and creaked the house on its foundation, I made the executive decision to move my grandparents back to Cheatham County. Back to their farm, back to what they knew, in the house that they’d built. 

At dawn that next morning, the three of us stashed as much as we could into my Paps’ old pickup truck, and filled the tank to the brim with the diesel fuel my dad had stowed away in the garage. We prayed that their house wasn’t eaten by a sinkhole, and we prayed that everything would be just as we had left it. The three of us bundled up and clambered into the bench seat of the truck, and I mentally prepared myself to see the city I once knew and loved in a state that was going to be no less than jarring. 

I stuck the key into the ignition, hearing the old gears roaring to life. The sound was truly like music to my ears, a noise that none of us had heard in what felt like years. I pressed my foot to the gas pedal, revving the cold engine to come to life even more. We can do this… We can run away…

The sound of the engine ignited something deep in my chest, giving me an urge that I hadn’t felt in so long. It was the feeling of freeing myself, running away from all of the horrific scenes that my parent’s house had just been witness to. It was time to run. 

“You ready for this?” I asked my Gran as my fingers sat on the gear shift, ready to thrust it into drive.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she replied, her gaze downcast on the street ahead of us. 

“Paps?” I asked. 

“Hit the gas, sweetheart.”

He rolled the crank window down and let a cold gust of air fill the cab as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one up as I pulled out onto the street, completely unknowing of what we were about to encounter. The smell of his smoke lit a new fire inside me, filling me with a newfound encouragement. And for the first time in months, I saw a glimmer of hope in my grandfather’s eyes. 

JAKE

Josh hadn’t spoken to us in days. Only the necessary words needed to get us through the motions of preparing meals, cutting firewood, and the like. Danny had questioned him about it again, the same conversation that had happened a few nights ago, when we watched the satellite explode. Danny didn’t intend to piss him off or whatever, but he had just had time to sit and think back on it, and dig a little deeper into the caves of Josh’s mind while we wrote that damn record. 

“This is the fucking New Age Crisis, isn’t it?! The one you wrote about?” Danny had said as mom cleaned up the dinner table one night. “You wrote about the fucking age of machine way back when we were writing Black Smoke, man!”

“Why in the fuck are you just putting all of this together, Daniel? Huh? Those words have been written for over a fucking decade, and you’re just now figuring all this out?!” Josh had retaliated, leaning his body across the table.

“No, I fucking knew it all, Josh! But don’t you think the fact that it’s kind of all coming true isn’t a little fucking weird?!” Danny replied, raising his voice. In the days since that first conversation, Danny had done nothing but appear to be in a constant state of thought. Deep thought. “It’s like you told the fucking future! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg!”

“God damnit Daniel,” Josh said as he shoved his chair under the table. “I’m not going on about this anymore, you don’t see anybody else caring about it.”

Danny looked my way. “Do you not think this is fucking weird, Jake? Seriously.”

I opened my mouth to speak, not wanting to further their argument. “I–I don’t think it’s that serious, I mean, there are similarities but…” I said calmly, running my nervous hand through my hair that hadn’t seen a wash in days. “Josh isn’t like, psychic or some shit…”

Danny slammed a fist onto the table, startling us all. “Why the fuck did you tell the video directors to make the whole Age of Machine video spin, hm? Did you want it to look like the viewer was being hypnotized? Just like you wrote about in Brave New World fucking years before? We fucking did what the literal lyrics said the other night, Josh. Outside, looking at the dark night sky and watching a satellite or a power of lies fucking die, just like you said. Kill fear. It all happened!”

“Daniel! Calm it the fuck down,” Sam said. “You’ve known this, we’ve all known this… he intertwines all his lyrics, he always has… why is this such news to you?”

Danny lurched himself to Sam’s face. “Because it’s coming fucking true Sam!” he spat, yelling in his best friend’s face. I raised my hand up between them, hoping to calm them before anything got out of hand. This was way out of character for Danny. 

Danny stood quickly from his chair, shoving it backward as the rest of our families came storming into the dark, candle-lit room to see what all the fuss was about. “I’m not fucking stupid, Josh. I know you know what the hell is going on. And I want nothing to fucking do with it,” Danny grit his teeth as he spoke, pointing his finger into Josh’s face before turning and retreating up the stairs of the cabin. 

“What in the hell is going on here?!” my mom asked, coming to Josh’s side.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Danny’s mom followed him up the stairs. 

“I don’t think there’s any getting through to him,” I stopped her. I hadn’t said anything, but I wholeheartedly had picked up on Danny’s strange, obsessive behavior lately. “I think he’s…” I swallowed. 

“He’s what, Jake?” she asked.

I slowly brought my finger to my temple, poking at it. “Getting in his head, a little,” I said gently. She gave me a sideways glare before her lips turned into a half-smile, and she finished rushing up the stairs. 

Yeah, Josh hadn’t talked to any of us since then. And neither had Danny, really. He spent his days locked away in his room, practically freezing himself to death and ignoring all our knocks as he sat at his desk with a notepad and pen. It was so strange of him. Completely out of character and it honestly started to worry us. 

One morning I woke and walked out onto the porch that faced the lake, looking out as a few random folks checked their fish nets and began their treks toward the woods to hunt. It had gotten significantly colder, and I could see my breath in the air. As I gazed out, something on the lake caught my eye. 

It was Josh, out on the John boat, paddling further out around the bend of the water. 

“Josh!” I yelled, signaling for him to turn around and come and pick me up. I needed to talk to him; Sam and I were going crazy without the two of them speaking to us. I bounded down the porch steps, rickety and soft from their old weathered age. “Josh!” I yelled again. Finally, I caught his ear. “Come here! Come get me!”

His shoulders dropped but he listened, paddling slowly back to the shore until the side of his boat tapped the grass. “What?” he asked. 

“I wanna go too,” I said, kicking my leg around to step into the boat. The misty fog was just settling over the calm water as Josh huffed a breath. 

“Why?” he asked as I made myself comfortable. 

“Because, you won’t talk to me, and I don’t like it. Figured I gotta resort to forcing you,” I replied with a smirk. I could feel the tip of my nose getting cold. 

Josh stayed silent but began paddling again, pushing us back out into the open water. We faced one another in the boat, my fingers interlaced as I watched him go stroke for stroke. Once we got to the middle of the water, he finally stopped, resting the paddle across his knees. I would wait for him to speak. No one could hear us out here. Just him and me. 

“It was all based on a dream, you know,” he said solemnly, his eyes cast out across the water. 

“What was?” I asked, already knowing the answer but wanting him to tell me more. 

“All of that shit, all the stupid fucking lyrics. I had a dream when I was like, what, 15? A nightmare, actually. A bunch of them. It was like I had… built this world in my sleep-state, like once a month I would have another one that built on top of the last. I wrote them all down, as soon as I woke up. I’d go to these other worlds that felt real in my head, as I dreamed them. I created so much while I was asleep. And the fucking weed and booze didn’t help the matter,” he went on, using his hands to talk, now. 

I was having trouble understanding. “...But, we all kinda helped write that stuff, Josh. Like, a lot of it…”

“Yeah but how do you think I was able to expand on that weird fucking world we built? You guys putting your two cents in, making me think so hard about it all, then going to sleep that night and having the most realistic dreams about it. Then waking up, and turning it into music,” he explained, biting his cheeks in as he gave me a devious smile. “Danny’s fucking right. All of it is happening. Maybe not really in the same context, or the same order, but. It’s happening. We’re watching it. I dreamed about the video we made for that fucking song. The setting, the context, all the weird props and shit…” 

“The drugging?” I asked, remembering jumping from my skin as we filmed those scenes of saline being dropped into our eyes.

“Yeah. The fucking drugging. The big white building. The cots, us being held hostage there by someone… it’s exactly how it all happened in my dream. I made sure of it. And I’m fucking scared, Jake…” he said, leaning across the boat and pulling on the collar of my coat. 

I looked into his eyes and swallowed. I knew why he was scared. If things kept going the way they were, the only thing that would come next would be an entity coming in and taking us… using us for some experimental bullshit like we’d had them do in the video. 

“Starcatcher was a little bit of a break from the norm of my nightmare worlds… I tied it all in, but I really based it off of one of those side-story ideas that you and Sam got that one night. Cults and blind faith and all that shit,” he whispered, rocking the boat a little. “But this last album…”

This last album. 

The one we didn’t even get to finish touring. We’d managed to fit one in right after Starcatcher had wrapped, continuing on with the world we’d built all those years ago. The world that I guess, now, came straight from Josh’s dreams. That one concentrated a little more heavily on love and romance and the freeing of oneself through intimacy, but this latest one, it was some of our darkest work, yet.

“Danny wasn’t kidding when he said that was only the tip of the iceberg. Shit got a little fucking dark with this last one, didn’t it?” he muttered, reminding me of all the lyrics we’d stayed up late writing just a couple of years ago. 

Lies, deception, control, death… we really did get a little heavy with it. We wound lyrics into symbolism with governmental control and all that. We really tapped back in to lyrically beating around the bush. And unfortunately, things seemed to be moving right on par with life as we fucking knew it, right then. 

“Yeah, it really did,” I agreed. “But listen, you don’t need to put that on yourself. Danny’s just… going through something I think. Getting in his mind too much. We’re isolated out here, Josh. Our lives just fucking stopped, now we’re out hunting to feed ourselves?! I think we all deserve to give ourselves a little grace right now, don’t you think?” I tried to reason with him as I felt my toes freezing in my boots. 

He sat almost emotionless, staring at the water beside us as he tapped the oar in his hands. “I wish you could see into my mind,” he breathed, almost soundless. “My nightmares… Danny’s right." He sighed heavily. "It's only going to get worse."

"How the fuck do you know that, huh? How do you know that shit won't go back to completely normal tomorrow?" I pressed, trying to fight an unending battle.

Josh's face turned green. "Did you not hear me just now? I said I wished you could see into my mind...see those dreams that I had." His voice was raising, chopping up with enraged tears. "It's like I'm fucking watching it all come to life. Every bit of it."

He leaned in closer to me on the bench of the boat. "Remember those damned symbols we put on Garden's Gate? I'd stayed up late one night reading through old symbology books and finding runes and shit just because I thought they looked cool... I picked out the ones I thought might go along with what we had for the album. Hell, I didn't think it would ever end up like this..."

"Like what?!" I squealed, raising my hands into the air.

"I don't know, Jake. I swear, it feels like I knew this was going to happen before it ever even did. And that sounds crazy, but I swear on everything, I thought I was just writing about my nightmares. Using them as fuel for lyricism. Never did I think I'd watch it all play out in real time..."

My heart hurt for him. I could tell he was truly internally struggling. He looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. But this notion that he had seen all of this happen before? No. It made absolutely no sense.

"You can't feel responsible for this..." I muttered.

"No. I don't. But I do feel like I had a hand in perpetuating it. Like I could have stopped it or--"

"Stopped the fucking apocalypse? Yeah..."

He dropped his head into his hands. "Shit, this is all so fucked up."

I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he shuddered through deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to make sense of what was happening in his mind.

"So you know more?"

He lifted his head, his eyes swollen and dripping with tears that weren't there for sadness. He was terrified.

"Yeah. I know more."

+++

It was three nights later that all hell broke loose. I was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door crashing open, and loud, heavy footsteps barging across the hardwood floor. In my half-asleep state, I thought it was maybe Sam trudging back inside after a late-night smoke, knocking the snow off of his boots, but when my gut felt that feeling of uneasiness, I shot up from my bed. I threw my sweatpants and a sweatshirt on, shoving my door open to rush down the stairs of the cabin. 

I was met with Josh already at my side as he had heard the commotion, too, and then we were met with the sound of my dad’s voice yelling and echoing off the wood walls. 

My dad’s voice had always carried, and he tended to be a very lighthearted man, but we all knew the way his voice sounded when he was serious. Scared. 

It was pitch black, but luckily I knew that cabin like the back of my hand, and Josh and I undoubtedly could navigate it even with our eyes closed. My shoulder was touching his as we finally hit the landing, my stomach churning with nerves to see what the hell was going on. 

I was met with a scene that I was sure I had seen in a movie before– silhouettes of tall men in dark clothing, black masks covering their faces as the weapons they held illuminated the space with tiny red laser lights. One had his boot across my father’s chest as he lied on his back on the floor. My mom was shrieking, pushing against one of the men as they held her back from getting to my dad.

“What in the fuck is going on?! Who are you? Get the hell out of here!” I yelled as I pushed my way through in the darkness, tripping over chairs and rugs and Josh’s feet as I moved to shove myself into the man holding my father down. All I remember was chaos. Fists, yelling, darkness… my mind wanting to protect my family and Danny’s family but also wanting to protect myself. It felt as if there were six other people in the cabin with us. And looking back, I think my count was about right, though I could hardly see a thing. 

I heard the sound of breaking glass, or maybe a plate or something as I caught a shadowed visual of Danny breaking a heavy ashtray across one of the men’s heads, but Danny was promptly thrown onto the floor, himself.

I felt the butt of a gun smack across the back of my head, knocking me forward to land in what I learned to be Sam’s arms, stumbling back as he caught my weight. It hurt, and I instantly felt a rush of blood to my skull and a metallic taste in my mouth. The red laser lights flitted around the room, only illuminating objects and people here and there. My vision was blurred and I felt like I could vomit; I saw quick flashes of Danny and my mom… Josh and Danny’s dad… But I couldn’t tell you a damn thing that happened from then on. The rush of confusion was blinding, my body on auto-pilot.

Some time thereafter, I woke up in the back of what felt like a truck, the walls high and metal around me. My arms were bound at my back, and my mouth was taped shut. I could hardly breathe, my head was pounding, and I could feel dried blood resting at the crook of my neck. The vehicle roared beneath me and I could hear the tires screeching around every turn. 

Yes, definitely in a vehicle.

When I had finally gotten my wits about me again, I tried my best to look around and get my bearings, and all I saw were the painted black walls of the truck, and the rugged rusty metal of the bed of it below me. I was enclosed. I screamed from behind my taped lips, unable to make hardly a sound as my chest and lungs felt deprived of air. I looked, I searched- nothing. No one. I was by myself. My mind raced back to what had happened at the cabin, and my memory only gave me that same blurred chaos. Six men. Weapons. No words, violence. 

And then, for the next hour, I was alone.

•

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka

[deathmetalunicorn1]

i have an aot inspired request that i had in mind for a while to ask for (i didn’t watch aot so excuse me for used not so accurate facts lol)

fem!reader was born into a poor family of 4 (parents, her and her older brother) in paradise island, her father often abused her till he kicked her out at 4 years old to survive alone, she fell into massive tree like ymir but instead of giving her titan powers or something similar, Source of all living matter had fused with her body-almost like making reader its vessel, a visible mark was on her upper body. visual it like a modern abstract tattoo or struck by lightning (or just like it had shown in anime), but it is red color and it’s permanent till it departs from her (at it will), she soon finds a way to sneaks on a Marley, scouts find her and levi adopts her (didn’t immediately but on papers were his last name). She was of great help during the very much entire main event since you can’t kill or hurt her physically so she was putting on traps and getting information and after it all finished she was growing to be a main soldier and captain like Levi, she died later from a some diseases (could be pneumonia (i don’t know if it have a medicine for it in aot so let’s pretend it doesn’t)), she gets known for her flexibility and speed, good with almost every kind of weapons (from pistol and rifle to snipers and swords and grenades) and since she couldn’t die from any physical harm she was getting herself in different places where she could be killed by titans and enemies so she got known as “fake death” or “troublemaker” for one close to her (levi, scouts and such) because she’s quite playful when comfortable with someone and almost reckless…

To actual request itself, how would Hades, Hermes and Apollo react to her and her story, she’s fighting for humanity and she frights against a god and she wins since she still have powers from Source of all living matter in her with a mark and everything, she wins again a god and don’t kill them since she promised to never kill anybody else again at her death bed, so what will happen then? What will be gods reaction to her story? who wanted to sway her off her feet? or who will just stay in their line and maybe try to befriend reader?

-There were many gods who didn’t know you, who didn’t know what you could do, the power you held in your body, many called it the Source of All, a boundless amount of energy that you obtained when you were still young and alive on earth.

-This power, which you initially thought was a curse, as the mark it put on your body, looking like a bolt of scattered lightning which would glow when you used your strength, which people thought was unnatural, you grew to adore and appreciate. You had saved so many people using this power.

-You used this to fight alongside other warriors, beating back your enemies, earning your nickname, Trickster, as you would play dead, letting them get close, only to strike quickly and brutally.

-It wasn’t until you died, young unfortunately, from pneumonia of all things, that you realized how fragile life really was, and as you took your last breaths, you had vowed to never kill another again.

-When you came to Valhalla you met so many other strong warriors, and while you were against killing, you loved training with strong people, humans and gods you didn’t have to hold back against, showing your true strength.

-Your power- your strength is what made Brunnhilde approach you about fighting in Ragnarok. You were initially against it- you flat out told Brunnhilde that you weren’t going to kill anyone else, and you only agreed to fight if you could leave your opponent alive.

-The gods were quick to underestimate you, seeing that you were so young, thinking you would be an easy win. As your powers flared, the mark on your body flaring to life, glowing brightly, Odin could only gawk, seeing the power you held in your body.

-You charged in, showing your combat skills, showing everyone that just because you were young, you weren’t a pushover.

-Heimdall spilled all your secrets, telling everyone about you- how you had been abused by your father until you were four, when you found the Source of All, then you became the vessel for that power, and you grew into a powerful warrior on your own, being taken in by other warriors, adopted by one of the most powerful ones, Levi (sorry I don’t know AOT).

-Your strength was legendary, as not even the strongest of titans and enemies could hurt you, as your power was keeping you safe from harm, and that was apparent here, as your opponent wasn’t doing much against you.

-Many of the gods were stunned to see you fighting so hard, to protect humanity, despite facing so much pain in your short life- it was humbling to see someone fighting so hard for those who had been so cruel to you, at least some of the people.

-As you stood over your opponent at the end of the match, the clear winner, you sheathed your weapon, a short sword. Many were yelling at you, telling you to finish the job.

-Your eyes were sharp, narrowed in anger as you spoke up at them, “Unless you’re going to get down here and fight me too- then you don’t get to make any demands of me. I refuse to kill another. Life is precious as it is fragile. Don’t call for the death of others unless if you’re going to fight as well.”

-You were quick to shut everyone up and you even helped your opponent up and dragged him backstage, holding his arms over your shoulders, dragging him behind you as you weren’t the tallest of people, and you took him all the way to the infirmary.

-When he asked you, while getting patched up, why you didn’t kill him, you just beamed brightly, looking like the teenager you truly were, “Life’s too precious to just kill someone just because. I’m not going to kill someone when you’re fighting just like I am.”

-You were an oddball, but he wasn’t going to look this gift of not losing his life in the mouth.

-Hades- He was surprised by your words, that you refused to kill, despite the gods wanting to destroy humanity, and while he wasn’t complaining, he was just confused, after you had killed so many enemies while you were alive, why were things so different now. He asked you while you sat beside him, keeping him company and you couldn’t help but send him a playful wink, “You should know better than most gods on how fragile life is. I didn’t realize that myself until I died, getting sick of all things. If I was the one killing others, ending their lives so easily- it made me… I-I just never want to kill again.” You were a kindhearted person, your words resonating with him, as he knew that well, after seeing his brother and his nephew dying. He reached out his hand for you to take and you took his without hesitation, “You’re a kind person Y/N.” you beamed brightly, thanking him for his words, which made him smile softly.

-Hermes- He agreed with your words, he knew how fragile the lives of others were, after watching so many die, both humans and gods, and he had to respect your decision not to kill him- he was alive because of that decision. You had the power to easily take him on in combat- you could probably take on any of the gods with your power. He could see the marks on your body, up close now, and they looked like a scar, like when someone would get hit by lightning, it looked like it would be painful and he reached out, taking one of your hands in his own, surprising you. He looked at your scar, a sad look on his face, “Does it hurt?” you were surprised by his words, but you grinned, “I remember it hurting when I first got it, as my body had to get used to it- but not anymore, it’s just hot!” You were so bright, so full of life, he didn’t want to snuff that life out, he didn’t want to snuff any of it out.

-Apollo- He could only stare at you, seeing you smiling so warmly at him, explaining yourself. You were so… so true- you were unapologetically you, and you looked so beautiful, inside and out. He was grateful you had spared his life, getting to live another day, but to see that you were such a lovely person on top of it was even more humbling. Apollo reached a hand towards you, and you took it, holding it with both of yours and he had to smile, feeling how warm your hands were, “You are an amazing person Y/N. I’m grateful to have met you.” You were surprised by his words, and he couldn’t help but smile as your cheeks turned a bit red, a little embarrassed by his praise, showing that you wore your emotions on your sleeve. You were a very complex person, but he wanted to know more about you as you made him feel so happy.

[jkl-fff]

Obsession in a Good Cause

Since I finally watched Season 4 of "Lego Monkie Kid" today (MAGNIFICENT!), I feel the need to extol and ramble a bit about something deeper I noticed. A profound, recurring theme that really elevates the series in yet another way I wasn't expecting from silly lego people having magic, kung fu adventures with monkeys and such (gods damn, this show really has no business being this good).

And it's how characters with noble intentions and even kind hearts repeatedly fall to an obsession to make things *better* in some way. They can never leave well enough alone, they can never settle for good. And then ... in pursuit of making things *better*, they end up succumbing to a mentality of "The Ends Justify The Means" that winds up making things so much worse AND costing them everything they held dear.

Spoilers below.

Season 1 starts off with Demon Bull King, an archetypal bad guy, especially for a cartoon; he's big and strong, he wants to rule the world, he wants revenge for being trapped under a mountain, he's even cruel to his son. But a funny thing happens after his Season 1 finale butt-kicking: He spends some time bonding with his son (who he now sees grew up without him yet still only wants his love and approval) and worrying about his absent wife (while also being pretty sure his kickass wife can kick the ass of anyone who comes after her). Then, after being saved by people he ought to consider his enemies, he just ... goes home and mellows, watches some cooking shows, and spends more time with his family. Just being happy with them.

Everything we learn about DBK after that is practically a flashback to his pre-imprisonment days at minimum more than 500 years ago. And it makes one thing clear: he loved his family with a fierceness that would face down armies. Literally. He fought the Celestial Realm with his sworn brothers ... and I'm pretty sure he tried to conquer the Mortal Realm originally to build what he would consider a fitting kingdom for his wife and son. (Before he became obsessed with conquest itself, thanks in part to Lady Bone Demon's influence--obsessed enough even to lash out at the two people he was doing it for). That last one, I admit, is speculation, but I think it fits with how tenderly he was shown to love his family in the past and how mellow and domestic he becomes after letting go of conquest and just deciding to live in the moment. It was principally for them, like a father who spends too much time at work to provide for his family. Arguably a noble cause, but he became so obsessed with it that he lost 500 years of his life (and nearly the rest of his life) with them.

(Princess Iron Fan and Red Son both demonstrate it to a lesser degree, I reckon. Their relationship was not really loving at the start of the series, probably having suffered as a result of their obsessive drive to free DBK at any cost. Then to please him after his return. At least until he crossed a line--under LBD's influence--and lashed out physically at them, prompting them to leave him ... until he came back to them.)

Next there's Lady Bone Demon ... She's as terrifying and seemingly inevitable as death itself (fittingly, even Sun Wukong is scared of her), and her goal isn't to conquer the universe, but to destroy it.

Why, though? To make a better, perfect world free of the pain that plagues this one. Because she sees this world as fundamentally imperfect, and that imperfection at its very heart is the reason for all the pain in the world. From a certain perspective, she champions a very noble cause ... It's simply unfortunate that the world and everyone in it needs to be mercy-killed for her plan to work. But what's a little pain now to prevent greater pain later, right? It'll be over quickly, and then everything will be better for everyone ... somehow. Never mind the pleasure and happiness and joy people find in their lives despite (or even because of) the world's imperfect nature; she knows better so she will make things better, even if she must make everything worse first.

(Likewise for Spider Queen. She's so obsessed with reclaiming power she once held, that she loses the good thing she has left with her three loyal subjects. Instead of moving on and starting over and living a good if humbler life ... she dies.)

Then we come to Azure Lion and Yellowtusk (not so much Peng, as he seems to have always been more self-serving, but whatever). Two former warriors of the Celestial Realm who rebelled after seeing its corruption and indifference to mortal suffering. Where LBD was cold and nihilistic, they are warm and reformative. Their ideological position is that the flaw isn't with the world itself, but with those in power who care more about their own wealth, position, glory, and appetites than the needs of the common people. Replace the current leaders with ones who actually care about good governance--who have compassion for mortals--and they believe things *must* get better.

And GODS DAMN that's a sympathetic cause. How do you argue against it, given everything that's shown of the Celestial Realm's inactivity and isolationism? How do you argue against it when that's the story of real world politics? How do you not admire their courage and perseverance to try a second time after getting beaten down?

But it isn't enough for Azure Lion to reunite with Yellowtusk and Peng, just like it wasn't enough to form his own utopic kingdom where he could make a real difference (Note: A region they seemingly drained of life to form?). He could've had a good thing and walked away, but it wasn't enough. He was obsessed with casting down the Jade Emperor and replacing him to make *everything* better, so it was worth every dishonorable act he had to commit along the way. Lie to MK and Mei, let the others suffer through the scroll, imprison a sworn brother (and his family) when he chooses not to join yoir fight, slay a celestial army (and it seems a good deal of the palace staff), and risk the cosmos tearing itself apart? Strike preemptively at a potential threat even to the point of levelling mountains and slaying innocent mortals? All justified to keep his power, because he's the only one who will use that power responsibly and honorably. Ironic and tragic.

Finally ... Sun Wukong himself. What I love about Season 4 is how we see him before and druing that pivotal Journey to the West. And we get the perspective of several people who were very close to him before it--his sworn brothers. Azure and Yellowtusk admired how deeply SWK cared for his monkey subjects enough to be inspired to rebellion against the Celestial Realm, and even enough to choose SWK as their original replacement for the Jade Emperor. Macaque arguably loved him as more than a brother (if you interpret their interactions that way) and was prepared to follow along despite believing SWK should just stay on Flower Fruit Mountain and live happily ever after.

But Macaque gives us a fascinating insight into SWK's character before even that--insight into why SWK went to train with Madter Bodhi and raided the peaches and pills of immortality and so on. He feared death, he feared the good times ending, he never felt secure enough. He always needed more immortality, more power, more of a guarantee that things would stay wonderful for himself and those he cared about. Which eventually saw him imprisoned under a mountain, alone; which eventually saw him indentured to Tang Sanzang and forced to combat his sworn brothers; which eventually put him right back on Flower Fruit Mountain without any of his old or new friends. He was obsessed with things being *better* than they were ... and that inevitably cost him in the past, and threatens what happiness he does have in the present.

Thankfully, like DBK, he is capable of learning to move on. Hopefully, he'll be able to do so (and can help MK learn to do the same) before it's too late.

[xerith-42]

Dante hesdcanons pls pls pls pls pls

I'll admit, I haven't given blue hair and pronouns enough love, so let's give it to him.

Dante was like 18 fresh out of the guard academy when Aph met him, compared to Garroth and Laurance who are in their mid to late twenties, and he was kind of just a little feral. Dante is just used to being a bewildering presence for people and he loves it. Like "Yes, I am basically a very tall child (5'7) and yes I will kick your ass." He likes confusing people, but he also really likes that Aph isn't thrown off by him. She treats him the way she would treat any guard she got roped into helping on a mission.

Dante's favorite color is magenta. Don't ask me why.

Dante carries on the honored tradition started by Gene of being a completely disastrous bisexual. Then again, with Garroth, Aph, and Laurance as his other role models, he really didn't stand a chance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of just being with Nana and Nicole at the same time. He knows it's impossible, they've already pushed the situation past the point of no return because of his and Nicole's refusal to communicate, and he can't even begin to fathom how he'd explain it to the kids if Nana and Nicole even agreed to it.

Dante's favorite sweet that Nana makes is strawberry tarts. Strawberries are just his favorite fruits and Nana is always able to make something delicious with them.

This is basically canon but I want to turn up Dante's "I love my wife so god damn much!!" energy to 11. Like even if there's problems with Nicole, especially after they're resolved, he's so in love with Nana it's ridiculous. Y'know the way Maes Hughes is in Fullmetal Alchemist about his wife and kid? That's how Dante is.

And nobody can even really be mad at him because he's so earnest and loving and especially his mentors are so proud of him for really finding love and learning to cherish it. But there is more than a few times when Dante is gushing about his wife to Laurance while they're sparring and Laurance just groans and rolls his eyes. "Dante, I literally knew your wife before you did." "But you don't understand how she makes me feel Laurance! She's so brilliant, and beautiful--" "I've already heard you go on this rant before!"

There are some days where he's sort of distant. They became more and more frequent after Aph and everyone disappeared. Sometimes he would just go out to the gates of Phoenix Drop where he waited for them, or to that spot in the forest where they were last seen. He doesn't really say a lot, just stares at those spots, letting his brain feeling the crushing loneliness of missing almost everyone important to him. History has repeated itself. Due to forces that were honestly largely out of Dante's control, he's lost his entire family.

When Nana told him she was pregnant, Dante started crying. Tears of joy, relief, terror, grief, adoration, hopefulness. He just falls to his knees while holding her hand and cries. And Nana kneels down and comforts him. She knows what this means to him, how important and yet twisted Dante's relationship to having a family is. But neither one of them doubt that the other wants this. Dante wants this more than anything.

Oh my Irene he must have been a MESS after finding out about Dmitri. I know the show gave us some of this, but he probably hid a lot of it from Aph because she hasn't been around for so long, and he saw the kind of relationship bull shit she is still kind of getting up to, so he doesn't want to burden her with this. But when everyone's gone home for the night and it's just Nana and Dante in their bed together?

Needless to say a lot of tears were shed, apologies were stumbled through, and Dante ultimately resolves that he wants to be an even better father than he is to make up for not being there for Dmitri. And Nana assures him he's already a great father (because he is), but adores how dedicated her husband is to making up for his past mistakes in a very substantial way.

It takes a very long time for Dante to forgive Nicole. He still loves her, he never won't love her honestly, but he can't forgive her for hiding Dmitri from him. Even if they weren't together when he was born, he still would have done anything Nicole needed. Whether that was keeping Dmitri in his home for a few weeks, or just giving Nicole monthly payments, Dante would have taken what he could get. He's heartbroken that after all the time they spent together Nicole didn't realize that about him. Even if he'd "moved on".

I don't think Dante is capable of moving on. He's a character who constantly gets stuck in the past and shoulders the consequences of not only his own mistakes, but the mistakes of many others around him. Even when he tries to move forward, his past keeps coming back to bite him in the ass.