#he went from space dad to apocalypse dad

[scootkiddo]

pedro pascal as joel is one of the castings of all time. I cannot express enough how this man is gonna EAT and leave no crumbs. pedro’s screen presence as joel miller will elicit enough force for my screen to shatter. this is one of the castings of all time

[whatsnewalycat]

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint 

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

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———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember. 

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category. 

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did. 

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center. 

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN. 

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says. 

You think it might be more than that, though. 

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October. 

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different. 

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn. 

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now. 

Some people refuse to accept this. 

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.” 

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does. 

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him. 

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall. 

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!” 

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him. 

“Hey—watch it, asshole!” 

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely. 

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline. 

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through you. 

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass. 

“Mom home?” 

“No.” 

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you. 

“When’s she gonna be home?” 

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention. 

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real. 

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away. 

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does. 

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods. 

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?” 

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop. 

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow. 

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is. 

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does. 

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning. 

Joel is a meticulous planner. 

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite. 

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure. 

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot. 

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers. 

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.” 

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside. 

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.  

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission. 

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts. 

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?” 

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head. 

“Why not?” 

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat. 

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response. 

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz. 

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond. 

The apartment door swings open. 

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother. 

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day. 

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water. 

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower. 

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already. 

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. 

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep. 

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores. 

Then, you hear it. 

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps. 

Their bedroom door squeaking open. 

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another. 

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him. 

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness. 

Still, you pretend. 

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside. 

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin. 

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.” 

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks. 

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper. 

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head. 

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap. 

This faltering self-discipline compels you. 

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included. 

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for. 

So do you want him, or do you need him? 

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting? 

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway. 

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him. 

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact. 

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious. 

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.” 

“Curious why?” 

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth. 

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper. 

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?” 

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg. 

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—” 

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust. 

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?” 

“It was wrong—” 

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you. 

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit. 

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm. 

“You need to be quiet. Understand?” 

The command liquifies your bones. 

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.” 

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.” 

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway. 

“I thought it was wrong.”  

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?” 

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod. 

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.” 

“Yes.” 

“Say yes please.” 

“Yes please.” 

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.” 

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall. 

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips. 

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. 

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together. 

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold. 

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle. 

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him. 

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?” 

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—” 

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—” 

Too loud. 

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp. 

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back. 

“Look at me.” 

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked. 

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I’ll come if I do.” 

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.” 

You do. 

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing. 

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?” 

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—” 

“Will you be quiet?” 

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically. 

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape. 

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?” 

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—” 

“Do you wanna come again?” 

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock. 

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

You snap them open and meet his. 

“Good girl.” 

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends. 

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more. 

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.” 

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—” 

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—” 

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.” 

“Joel—” 

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely. 

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you. 

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine. 

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away. 

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you. 

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow. 

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.” 

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.” 

You shake your head. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.” 

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves. 

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.” 

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock. 

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder. 

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both. 

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”  

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.” 

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?” 

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face. 

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.” 

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?” 

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?” 

“You like it.” 

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat. 

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?” 

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?” 

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?” 

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful. 

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.” 

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring. 

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions. 

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now. 

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath. 

“Do it again.” 

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” 

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room. 

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him. 

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.” 

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.” 

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.” 

“Please can I have some more, daddy?” 

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control. 

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him. 

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around. 

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine. 

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress. 

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance. 

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop. 

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle. 

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers. 

Then your mom snores in the other room. 

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air. 

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—” 

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—” 

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit. 

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.” 

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips. 

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over. 

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath. 

“That’s it, baby, let go.” 

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread. 

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop. 

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.” 

He studies you, nodding. 

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer.  So instead, you give him his out. 

“Is this goodnight, then?” 

“Suppose it is.” 

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tuck me in?” 

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor. 

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?” 

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.” 

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.” 

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can. 

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

[tricksterlatte]

New story idea: We begin with the son of famous athlete Tom Brady, years after the NFL player himself went missing. Our protag, let’s call him Tom Brady Jr., is now a beloved sportsball player in his own right, but always lives in his father’s shadow. As a result, Tom Jr. resents him. One day, his home stadium and city are attacked by a space whale mid-match, and as a result he is isekai’d to another world.

There he finds out technology is mostly forbidden, and cultic religion reigns supreme, but football is still real! Everything is okay because ball is life. He meets new friends and overhears that a local girl, the daughter of Jesus the 84th, is about to embark on a race to become Jesus the 85th. So he tags along. They grow closer and closer with every passing day, forming a bond because they both understand growing up in your father’s shadow.

Then our football loving son finds out Tom Brady is this world’s evil space whale, who keeps destroying every city in his wake, though Tom Jr. has no clue why. After this, the Pope is assassinated and replaced by an incel Pope, who wants to marry Jesus the 85th so they can perish together. So they all kill the incel Pope, and later they kill him two more times just to be sure! Tom Jr. finds out Jesus the 85th will be dying for everyone’s sins and he doesn’t like that, but later finds out this will accomplish nothing in the long run. Their dads and friends prepared them for this! They kill the concept of sin, and also god, and a bunch of other gods, and now Jesus the 85th is just some girl again.

Unfortunately, Tom Brady Jr. was a Bible fanfic character all along, written into existence after the apocalypse wiped out computers and everything except football. As a result, he fades from existence, because god kinda kept him alive. He fades away, along with his samurai godfather, after jumping off the top of an airplane, and Jesus the 85th is left behind with her goth best friend, another football player who helped kill the pope with his favorite football, a furry, and her cousin.

Anyways I love Final Fantasy X.

[probably-not-a-rutabaga]

Ok- so i don’t know if you have been asked this before and I apologize if you have and that I’m probably bothering you but-

I just re-watched the like “apocalypse” multi-episode of 2012 and saw chompy and I was wondering if (you’ve seen the episode), what would mutant chompy look like in that like “apocalypse” setting?

Would we stay with Mikey like he does in the show or like go try to find his dad? And what would he look like 🤩

(BTW - love your AU and art <3 please make sure you are drinking water!!)

i accidentally redesigned all of them 🤪

more ideas abt this under the cut

chompy was closest to mikey when the mutagen bomb went off, protects him from the blast (shell gets damaged due to that)

he was unable to find raph, donnie, or leo, so he gets mikey to safety (later returns for ice cream kitty)

since chompy can't get back to space and there's no reason for him to anyways, he just ends up getting huge

stays with mikey/ick because he wants to protect the only family he has left

raph doesn't remember chompy at first

donnie's mind was transferred to metalhead's body, and essentially replaces his son's mind (not his choice, but metalhead's)

the mutagen bomb not only permanently disfigured leo and altered his mind, but also caused her leg injury to act up... amputation 👍

[luckykittens198]

When Your Dad is a Pillar of the Universe

The world is cyclical. No matter how one tries to prevent the apocalypse, it will come eventually. And new life forms will be born from the ashes. Those lifeforms eventually will form civilizations, and those civilization will be destroyed again.

Over and over and over again.

And so, Klein Moretti, the Lord of the Mysteries, King of Space and Time, decided to sleep.

If the world is cyclical, why does he have to watch everything? His miniscule amount of humanity couldn't stand the destruction of everything he knew. Over and over again. His divinity, just felt tired and indifferent at how every civilizations just repeat their predecessor's mistakes.

So he sleeps. Following the footsteps of his fellows Great Old Ones that went to slumber long before him.

Many eons have passed. Many cycles have passed. The world keeps on expanding.

One day, 'His' conciousness was stirred. A stray soul entered 'His' divine kingdom. Half awake, the Lord of the Mysteries stretched a tentacle to grab it.

"How curious," 'He' sleepily commented.

"Your fate showed that you shouldn't be a stray. Why are you here? How do you reach this place?" This intriguing matter aroused 'His' curiousity. Slowly, 'He' started to fully awaken.

As 'He' woke up, he noticed the smidgen of taint in the stray soul. It seems to be a remnant of a curse.

"A curse it seems? A leftover curse? From the death pathway?" The Being poked at the curse remnant with 'His' tentacle.

Suddenly, the mirror at his side started to glow.

"GREAT MASTER! Welcome back!" A great amount of fireworks appeat on the mirror's surface.

"Only for a little while Arrodes. Now, could you tell me where this curse remnant on this stray come from?"

"Yes, great master!" Slowly, the words on the mirror disappear and another scene came to be.

The scene in the mirror showed 2 beings. One, a human male and the other, a white female dragon. They made a vow, and with that vow they invoke a curse.

"Ho, the curse of reincarnation and denial of peace. What an interesting curse," 'He' leaned back on his throne. Behind 'Him', 'His' tentacle played with the stray soul.

With a twitch, one of the tentacle brought the soul to 'Him'. "It seems that your original body has been stolen by that cursed person. Now, what to do with you?" The Being hmmed.

The mirror, Arrodes, flashed again. "Great master, may this humble servant give you a suggestion?"

"You may."

"Great master, why don't you let this soul be reborn in another world or planet? That way it will have another chance at life and you don't have to be bothered by it."

The Lord of the Mysteries hummed. As 'He' was thinking, he took notes of the condition of 'His' humanity. As 'He' expected, the lack of true anchor is truly detrimental for 'His' humanity.

"Yes, that is a good idea. But you are mistaken about something Arrodes. I think, I will raise this soul."

"Pardon me?"

"You are pardoned. I will raise this soul. Arrodes, which country will be the best place to raise this one?"

"Great master, the best country to raise that soul currently is South Korea. I don't think raising that soul befits your station."

"Haha, this is just my whim, Arrodes. The whim of a bored deity, you could say."

The deity slowly stood up. The soul rested in 'His' hand. With a snap, 'He' stole the curse remnant from the soul and graft it on a paper man.

'His' cane slammed down and a brilliant illusory door showed up.

"Unfortunately, a deity at my level can't directly intefere with mortal realm. But I suppose a fragment of me can do something." With that, 'He' threw the soul and some of 'His' worms of spirit into the door.

"Let's see. For that soul's name, Rok Soo would be good. Hm?"

"Is something wrong, great master?" The mirror asked.

"It seems I accidentally gave it some blessings. Ah well. I suppose I will have to stay awake to watch over them. What do you think would happen, Arrodes?"

"This humble servant thinks that they will live an interesting life, Great Master."

"Now, that is a terrible curse, Arrodes. But we'll see."

Next

[possumsarenice]

Mutant Mashup HCs

Mutant Mashup AU by me and @sillyandquest

Simoni convinces Casey Jr. to play Minecraft. Home boy was so confused about everything at first. But now they do it on weekends regularly. Jr. has made statues for the future turtles in all the worlds he play in

All of the turtles love Jupiter Jim, even if Sanzio tries to deny it. Although only DaVinci and Blue are huge fans of Space Heroes. It’s their thing

Yoshi trained all the turtles, including the Rise kids. Lou (due to his mental state and Yoshi considering him a disgrace) wasn’t too involved with the training, but showed them all his movies so they all have picked up some things from those movies

Simoni has an electric based nippō

Purple and Sanzio are secretly running a bunch of cons in the hidden city

May (2012 April) managed to tame a kraang dog and the beginning of the apocalypse, so Casey Jr. grew up with a kraang dog. When he gets sent back, May manages to tame it again and it stays alive after the Rise kraang leave. So Casey Jr. gets his pet back :D

I imagine there’s plots that didn’t exist in either Rise or 2012 solely because characters now exist in the same world. (Example: The 2012 Purple Dragons somehow get into Big Mama’s debt, Meatsweats attacks Mr. Murakami because “nO ONe’s AlLOwEd To MAkE bETTeR FOod tHEn ME *crying baby auto tune*”, or Foot Recruit and Miwa/2012 Karai being girlbosses together, etc)

Of course we have Medic Blue, but I haven’t seen too much on the general fanon on who’s the medic in 2012. So my personal HC is that it’s Raph. Source: He literally gives Donnie a tourniquet in that one ep. Anyways Blue and Sanzio are ✨the medic duo✨ Yoshi is both the hardest on Blue because he’s afraid of him turning out like Lou, and joke with him the most because they’re both trolls and play around like that. Sanzio will absolutely kill bitch if they touch Purple’s shell without permission. The fact that’s so vulnerable compared to everyone else’s freaks him out a bit. Why is it so easy to break???

On a related note: Sanzio physically fights Purple the lest due to his Soft-Shell Privileges. Does Not stop him from verbal attacks at all, which they do the most out of everyone

Lou holds resentment to Yoshi for seemingly being unaffected by their mother leaving them. He also lost contact with Shredder before he gots too bad and is still a little in shock about his turn.

Baron Draxum created the ooze that mutated Yoshi and the 2012 turtles, so they all get the Draxum Clutch™️ as well.

Hueso went to Mr. Murakami‘s restaurant as per the turtles request, and now he’s a regular. Mr. Murakami knows he’s a skeleton but just casually accepts he’s serving to a bunch of creatures. As long as they behave he doesn’t mind

Casey Jr. was very close to his uncle Casey (2012) but doesn’t really know how to approach him in the present. He’s so different. At least the kraang dog is more or less the same.

Yoshi forbade all the turtles from going outside, but they all snuck out around the time Orange was 3-4ish. Lou know but has been letting them do it in a “haha don’t tell your dad/uncle or we’re all in trouble” move

[little-reader]

“The Son of A Monster” Ch.3

Masterlist

Carl grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings; Death, blood, Slow-burn Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie apocalypse

Rick wasn’t there, nor was Aaron. You found a place where Iris could stay. The woman you met last time, Olivia. She looked slightly scared again once you got into view. You left Iris alone to unpack.

You moved your bat off the couch and onto the carpet floor, sitting down as your dad was talking to Olivia. “Dad!” You said, eyes wide when you heard the words come out of his mouth. A hard smack across the face echoed throughout the room when Olivia slapped him. Your dad only flirted back. “Jesus.” You muttered. 

Olivia left to make lemonade, forcibly, and you got up so you could have a “Grand House tour”. “Dad, you don't have to touch everything.” You muttered, walking around as he took off his shoes. “And that's gross.”

Carl only stayed silent and watched as Negan played around with everything. A “heater” ended up being a baby in the last room. Your dad instantly picked her up. You touched her hair as she looked at you. “Haven’t seen one since… what 2 years ago.” You said, taking your hand away. Your dad only nodded as he took the kid outside.

The sunlight flicked as the trees shook, and the breeze was light from the window in the room. You looked around the bedroom that Iris stayed in. Small, but comfortable, away from others like your dad. You laid back as you looked at the books across the room. You were mainly giving the place a nice glance over. You wanted Iris to be safe and sound, with no threats around her. 

“I’m done.” She said, coming into the room with wet hair and a towel. You hummed as she closed the door and sat on the bed, drying her hair. 

“What ya’ wearing?” You asked, looking at the suitcase and back. She shrugged and looked over. “You don’t know? What about ragged jeans? You know the cool hippie ones?” You joked. She slapped your knee and sighed, taking the towel off and looking through the suitcase for the “perfect outfit”. “Niceee.” You hummed. She scoffed and started changing. 

Sitting up, you sighed and stood. “I’ve got to be there when Rick gets back.” kissing her head, you went to the door. “Stay in here until I tell you to come out, I don't want anyone pestering you.” She only nodded as you closed the door and left down the stairs. Your guessing you didn’t miss anything, because the trucks at the gate were still there, along with the men.

You walked past the street, into the other patch of grass where Negan stood talking to a man. A pool table on the road, and a stick in his hand. Your dad smiled, but fury set in his eyes. The small crowd around watched them talk as you got closer. Negan sat the stick down. “The guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick’s place.” A small pause, you took a second, and looked over at him, then at the man. Fuck. “So I gotta ask – If you wanna take over, why not kill Rick yourself and just take over?” He asked, now in his face as the man shuddered.

“Dad.” You said, only for him to raise his hand in your direction.

“You know what I’m thinking? Cause I got a guess.” He said, leaning back, and then getting back in his face. “It’s because you got” A small pause. “no guts.” He whispered.

“Dad!” You yelled as the man was sliced open by the stomach. The man fell to his knees, holding his organs in his hands. You stared wide-eyed at the man, taking a step forward before he pushed you back. 

“Ohh, how embarrassing!” he went on. You spaced out, looking at the man, and how his blood dripped out. Not that you haven’t seen it before, but it only proved that your dad was getting worse. 

Negan started waving the bat around asking if they wanted to finish the game. 

A loud shot rang, then another, you were dazed, your eyes even wider than before as you looked at your father, the bullet didn’t hit him, but his bat, which was twice as worse as hitting him. You felt the blood trickle down your face, it was cut but only a small scrape. “Aw, fuck.” You muttered, touching your face. That is when he started to yell. Rosita was slammed to the ground, and a knife was pressed to her cheek. 

Your dad carefully examined the bullet. It was hand-made, and not like the ones you took a few days ago. 

You don't feel like being here when another person dies. “I’m gonna go… inside.” You said, tripping over your foot a bit. Negan only grabbed you, checking your face before sending you on your way. Which wasn’t far, you heard their voices as you entered the Grimes home and sat on the couch, another gunshot, You sighed and left to the bathroom to clean your wound and stitch it up. 

You didn’t see Carl until the morning, very early in the morning. He was sneaking around, putting his shoes on, and leaving. You groaned as you sat up, pulling your shoes on your feet and taking a cigarette out. You grabbed your tank top and pulled it on before heading back out, slowly shutting the door without a sound. You looked back and forth. You could see him moving around the streets. 

You followed him, staying out of the light, and into the other side of the town, where the solar panels sat. You looked around, but there wasn’t anything to see. He probably wandered to another place, and you didn’t exactly enjoy following him around… kind of.

You sighed, turned around, and started walking. You ended up in front of the gate. “Hey!” There was a shadow on the post, looking down at you. “You can’t go out there.” They yelled, then Shown a light in your face.

You covered your face, looking at them with one eye. “C’mon Rosita, Just a drive?” You said, waving your knife around with a grin. She only paused, then sat the light down and climbed the latter down. 

“If you get bit,., I’m not letting you in, I don’t give a shit who you are.” She said, opening the gate as you walked out. 

“Eh, I think I’ll be fine. Have a nice day, doll.” You said, leaving out into the street. You could barely see, but there was no noise. No shuffling of bushes, the break of a stick, or your dad scolding you. 

You hummed, closing your eyes and breathing in the air. You were about half a mile out by now, and the sun was starting to rise. You could see a small clearing of the sky through the leaves of the trees. “Fuck.” You muttered, looking at the small group of ten biters down the road. You jumped the ditch and headed into the woods. You ran farther into the trees, only almost falling into more walkers before finally resting against a tree and onto the ground. 

“Jesus fuck.” Your side hurt, with the cuts on your torso bursting with rage and your legs wanting to kill you right now, you decided to rest there for a bit, until you could walk forty minutes back home.

—-- Carl’s POV—--

Carl woke up early. He sat in his room staring at the ceiling for more than an hour until he got bored and got up. He grabbed his flannel and pants, before leaving downstairs. He turned on the flashlight, tip-toeing past his parent's room and towards the stairs. Shining the flashlight in the living room where You slept, he walked in, checking the time. 5 am. He looked at you. You didn’t sleep with a blanket, just a pillow and pants. Your face was covered by hair, but he could see your eyes and the way you slowly breathed. He could tell, just by looking at you, that you could be a value to someone, like a bodyguard.

He shuffled back, hitting the coffee table then looking back at you, hearing you grunt. He let out a breath before going around the couch to the door, grabbing his shoes, and setting down the flashlight. He stood on one foot, trying to balance as he put his shoe on. He heard you shuffle around on the couch before he left out the door.

Carl sighed as he walked down the stairs and turned the flashlight off. He checked his side, making sure the knife still stayed on his hip. He made his way through the solar panels and ran to the wall, climbing over it before landing on the ground, brushing off the leaves as he headed into the woods.

He didn’t know where he was going, he wasn’t even supposed to be out. But he felt. Good. Being out the walls, away from Negan and his son. He killed a few walkers on his way. The light peering in allowed him to see the ground and around the trees. He stood for a second, in and out, before walking again. It was quiet, or maybe he was out of it. Because as he walked, there was no sound whatsoever.

He was deep in the woods when he encountered a large group of walkers that he could not take alone. He felt like with every turn he took they multiplied as he ran. 

“FUCK!” You yelled, getting slammed into and crashing to the ground. “What the fuck-” You looked over to see Carl trying to stand, then looked over to the large crowd. “Oh fuck.” You breathed. You grabbed Carl, pushed him to your chest, and rolled into the trench beside you, getting into the hollow part.

Your back was out and Carl was pressed against the wall of the cave, his back was covered. You put your finger up to your lips as they passed above you. “Fuck, that hurt.” You whispered

He looked confused. His bright eyes looked into yours. You examined his face. He had small freckles at the edge of his face, along with a bit of stubble on his chin. His eyes were blue as blue could be, with even darker around the edges. “You know, your nice quiet.” You whispered with a laugh.

He only rolled his eyes and looked away from you, taking his knife out of his pocket. “Shit. I need you to grab mine.” Your hand was currently occupied, one on the roof of the cave, not sure if it would stay up, the second around and under Carl’s torso. 

He sat his knife on your side and reached down, feeling around your shirt. “Where is it?” He whispered back. “In the front, or on my side.” You said, looking back behind you, you groaned. “Fuck.”

“What?” He asked, pausing. You laughed, turning back to him, and you got closer to his body, pressing against him, your head close to his ear. “What are you doing-”

“One, They’ll see me if I don't get closer, 2,” You said, looking at him with one eye. “Let's just say you weren’t just grabbing my knife.” He quickly pulled his hand away with a weird look and gave you his knife. 

You could feel his breath on your neck, how sometimes it would stop and pause, then continue. You could feel his chest move, and his legs shift against yours. You could tell you’d be here for a while. And hopefully, none of them will wander down here, but if you got out now, you both would be trapped with them down here.

You could feel your stomach growl and turn, “Shit, you got anything to eat?” You asked. He hummed and reached down again, digging in his pocket. He handed you a protein bar, it was already opened but barely eaten. You pushed yourself back, face to face once again. Then you broke the bar in half. “Here, eat some.”

“I’m not-” You cut him off. “It's barely been eaten, I'm sure you haven't eaten since last night.” You said he took it, taking a bite out of it. You huffed, still hearing the groans of the dead. You got in the same position as earlier. “I hope you know this is not me being nice.” You said. 

“I never said it was,” Carl replied back. He shifted once again, this time his hips. His legs were now mostly between yours, his arms to his chest and head against your neck. “Don’t tell my dad either, he’ll get a person to guard the walls, not just the front.”

“Fine, don’t tell mine either, he’ll think I came out here for cigs and looking for old stashes of drugs.” You said, sighing. “It's dangerous! Y/n, what is wrong with you? Why can’t you just follow the rules?” You mocked your dad's voice. “Trust me, he can suck a slim-jim.” You muttered. ‘

You felt Carl's chest bouncing. “Are you laughing?” You asked, smirking. He coughed a bit and shook his head slightly. You hummed and closed your eyes. “You're a badass grimes.” You stated. “Shoving me off a goddamn truck, then killing a bunch of men. I liked one of them you know…” 

A hand covered your mouth, hushing you. “They can hear you know?” He said sarcastically. You only nodded and took his hand off your mouth. 

“I ramble on when I’m with people, I don’t do good with silence.” You whispered. 

About ten minutes later, you peered behind yourself. “I’m gonna look out, I don't hear them anymore.” You said, sliding out of the shallow trench. You stood, then turned. “Shit.” You said, ducking, putting your finger to your lips and a hand out. “Shut up and stay there.”

Carl looked at you with narrowed eyes and backed into the hollow part even more. You passed his knife back to him and stood, looking above him and climbing the trench. It went quiet for a few seconds, you could hear him moving around, the leaves crunching with each step. “Please help!” You yelled, then fell to the ground, face first.

Voices soon started to come closer. 

They were laughing. Two men. That's when he heard you groan. 

“He’s alive? Hey pal, you good?” One of the men asked. Shuffling was heard again. “Hey, aw look at his face V.” 

You smirked, and in a quick move, you stabbed the man in his neck and kicked the other down, “You little shit!” You were shoved into the trench, landing on your arm. You looked at Carl, a sarcastic wink his way and putting a finger to your lips. 

The man jumped down, sliding slightly, before standing straight, “C’mere ya’ brat.” You were grabbed by the neck and thrown back down. You laughed, coughing as you did, and grabbed your knife, hitting him right in the calf and moving over. He screamed in pain and charged toward you. You swung at him, and your hand made contact with his face, but only for him to yank you by it, and moved to him. 

He dug his knee into your back and threw the knife out of your reach. You struggled and he laughed. “Now look at you! Weak.” He said, punching you in the stomach, and face, and kicking you repeatedly. You groaned as he got off of you. You closed your eyes. Your whole body felt like fire, you’ve felt the pain many times before, but it Hurt. 

Carl swung his knife over, hitting the man's farm but only grazing it. “That's why he did that, e was protecting you,” The man said in a baby voice. “What is he? Your brother?” He asked. Carl stayed quiet. 

You opened your eyes, looking at the man. He was much larger than Carl, and Carl had a smaller knife that could barely go into a chicken bone. You slowly got up, watching them fight, and it was more in slow motion for you. As you moved more, the pain slowly decreased and you came back into reality. 

You breathed in and ran for it, pulling the man down with you and turning him over, sitting on him. You threw a punch, then another, and another, and another, it felt like forever before you stopped. 

Carl watched you cave the man's head in, his blood spewing everywhere, on your face, clothes, and hair. Everywhere.

You got off the man. Well, now a man with no head. You shook your hand and stepped away, turning around and examining your knuckles. You then looked up, pacing Towards Carl and grabbing him by the collar. 

“I told you not to come out.” You shook him. “I told you to be quiet and stay.” You only got angrier. You threw him down.

“Fuck you too. I was helping your ass,” Carl said, pissed. You laughed and turned, grabbing your knife.

“Yeah fuck me.” You said.

It was about 7 in the morning by then. You both climbed the trench, helping each other before finding a road. When you finally reached the gate, you were met by Rick, Rosita, and Michonne. You waved and walked past them. “Scold him, not me,” You said. 

“You can just wander off like that,” Rick said, taking your appearance in. “What the hell happened?” He asked, then looked at Carl.

“I saved your son's ass, your welcome.” You said. “Tell him not to sneak out.” You mumbled and left down the street and into Olivia's house, now your wife's home. You walked up the stairs and knocked on her bedroom door. 

“Y/n… Jesus.” She said, looking up and down. 

“Like what you see?” You laughed, she only took your hand and laid you down. “Fuck… How’s…” You paused and pointed to her stomach.

“Hm, they're fine.” She said, taking out a few things from the cabinet. “I think, though, I’m sure they miss their dad.” She laughed, and you jokingly scoffed, pulling her over. “I have to clean you up, stop.” 

You hummed. “I’m so tired.” You said. “C’mon bestie, you don’t need to be so mean.” You whined as she pulled away and hit your thigh. You fell asleep as she took care of you.

Chapter 4

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (04x07)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 4 Episode 07: My Ride or Die

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of the housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: that there is no fluff content...just an ominous sound of some mystery

Word Count: I know it’s a small chapter but I wanted to wish @tarithenurse a happy birthday and thought of putting this up as a birthday gift? I hope you like it Tari. I love you!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera recorded the silence looming in the private jet with all the Avengers present in that small space. One could hear the clinking of ice with the glass that Ned held in his hand with his pinky out. Half of them slept; Pepper and Tony enjoying a cat nap while holding hands, Bucky snoring in his seat at the back, Wanda dozing off on Vision's shoulder, Bruce murmuring something in his sleep while Natasha softly patted his head with what one would dare say was a hint of a soft smile. Scott and Pietro were out cold, never even budging when the jet hit a little ten-second turbulence. Clint slept like a 'dad'. Arms crossed, head bobbing in and out of sleep, popping his eyes open at any foreign sound.

The other half were busy in their own world. Peter and Ned were sipping their ice water with their headphones on, binging the latest episodes of One Piece. Vision watched Cocomelon. Natasha put on a crime documentary. Steve kept looking out of the window and clicking pictures of whichever cloud he fancied. Sam was lost in his copy of They All Fall Down by Rachel Howzell Hall.  And you. You were reading something on your phone. The null expression on your face was not giving away anything. Nada. Zilch. Loki sat next to you, finally getting to adjust his legs, sliding down in his seat and letting out a big sigh before closing his eyes. The camera seemed to settle just there, with you and Loki in the frame, as if waiting for something. You would wriggle your nose, take a deep breath in between and adjust yourself in your seat, scratch an itch on your arm or neck, but you never looked up from your phone. The camera panned in a little. Loki's arm, supporting his chin, went limp and fell in his lap. His head kept shifting to his right to fall on your shoulder eventually. Your body jerked just the slightest. You looked away from your phone and into the camera lens with eyes a bit surprised. You did not move even an inch, frozen in that position in your seat, your face looking like it was trying its best not to scream. Or cry.

Half Hour Later- On the Airport A shriek of 'Oh My Fu****g God!' came out of the ladies' washroom and a minute later you walked out from that direction, refreshed. Your legs did seem a little wobbly though.  The camera pans out and zooms in on a very shaken Steve standing in the back with a hint of worry.

The SUVs all had their dashboard cameras recording the avengers getting in. The vehicle you were in had Scott, Loki, Peter and Sam- who was still buried in his book. All three cars left the airport for a scenic view back home. Your face was stuck on the window, smiling at something only you knew.  "Oh-" your eyes caught something outside, "a big wheel!" Everyone turned in the direction you were looking. "Must be a local fair," Ned chimed in, looking at the big wheel and balloons floating in the air. You hummed. "I've never been to one of those." Without wasting a second, Scott leaned forward and switched a button. "Hey, Tony. Y/N says she's never been to a local fair."  A screech of tires came from the front before the cars in front started to turn towards the fairgrounds.  "Everybody go stretch their legs. We'll leave in about an hour or so." Tony had not finished talking when the camera caught Scott running past him. "I call dibs on the bumper car driver seat!!" he yelled, still running straight for the gate. You, Peter, Ned, Bucky, Pietro and Wanda looked at each other for barely a second before dashing in Scott's direction, giggling and screaming. The camera focused back on Tony, who was disappointed but not surprised.  "Oh, come on! That's not fair!!!" the camera could hear Scott yell in the background.  Tony looked straight at the camera while Natasha joined him. "Tony, I don't think they know they have to buy tickets."

Inside the Fair Grounds The grounds were relatively quiet, giving the people present there a sight to remember- the avengers walking about casually, wondering which game to play first.  You squealed, running towards a stall with toy guns kept on the counter and three sections made at the back. One with balloons, the other made of moving animated targets and the last one a pinwheel with a bunch of heroes and villains painted on them. "I want to try this one," you stated excitedly, taking the toy rifle in your palms. "What do I win and how do I win it?" The camera saw Loki and Clint follow you towards the stall, standing behind you as the man at the counter explained you'll win a stuffed animal for making seven shots out of ten. You nodded with sheer thrill before tilting your head a little. "And how do I shoot from this?"  The camera saw Clint breathe in to start with his in-built instruction manual to help teach you a thing or two about guns.  "Aw, let me teach you, babygirl." A voice came from next to you, beating Clint to it. A well-built white boy with a snarky smile showing unsettlingly white teeth took a step towards you and grabbed the rifle from your hands. "Just know that you're learning from the best marksman here," he chuckled and moved closer to you. You looked in confusion towards Clint, mouthing 'best marksman?'. Before he could plant himself behind you, the camera caught Loki grabbing the back of your shirt and pulling you away from the boy and towards himself, letting Clint gladly take your place. "Come," Clint declared with a smile, wrapping his hands around the rifle and never looking away from that boy's stunned face, "I'll be your baby girl."

The Roller Coaster "I'll pay you seven dollars to whoever rides this coaster with me," Ned declared at the entry gate of the ride. Scott high-fived him and walked in with Bucky right behind him. Sam followed, the book still in his hand as he seated himself in between the two.  "I'll take it!" you announced. "Woah!" Peter tried to stop you. "I thought you suffered from nausea whenever you got on one of these." You nodded and smiled. "But I need seven dollars to visit the ghost house and buy a laser pointer." Peter blinked and stared at you with disbelief before looking at the camera. 

Peter: You are the daughter of a Billionaire, Y/N!! *raises his hands in disbelief* The camera pans out to show you standing right behind him. Y/N: *whispers close to Peter's ear* Tell that to my traumatised childhood  *Peter lets out a shrill scream before jumping away from you*

Four Hours Later Your cackle filled the Facility grounds as everyone walked through the concrete path to get to the building. "Yeah, I think Bucky enjoyed the Pendulum the most," Natasha declared. The camera cut to the footage of Bucky screaming in the pendulum, calling out for Steve as the teens sitting next to him looked at him in awkward silence. Everyone burst out laughing. "No-" Clint tried to complete his sentence through chuckles- "but he got nothing on Scott in the haunted house." Another footage plays of Scott jumping into Vision's arms when the Nun from the Conjuring franchise jumps out at him. The ant-man proceeds to cry for a few seconds. "Should we go back, Scott?" Vision asks. "No," Scott wails, "keep walking. I want that candy at the end of this house." The guffaws and giggles echoed through the night sky. Javier's camera noticed you pressing an inevitable smile as you looked at the God walk at the very back of the pack, smiling with the others. "Now, now, Natasha. That does not mean we'll forget you almost burned down the Chilli Station," Loki purred and everyone else howled. Wanda nodded and high-fived Loki for reminding everyone of that incident.  The camera caught your smile again.

You: How was today? *tilt your head* *smirk* Surprising. The footage of Loki falling asleep on your shoulder plays. Thrilling too, I'd say...

The frame cuts to Loki sitting next to you on the roller coaster and letting out curses the moment your ride reached the top of the track. "You okay?" you ask him in a whisper.  He is breathless at this point. "Loki?" You put your hand on his knee, jerking him out of a trance. "Huh? Yeah. I'm fine. It's just that I forgot how much I despise heights and...and falling down." Without giving it much thought, you shook his sweaty hand away from the support in front of him and wrapped your fingers around his. "Hey...I'm here with you. If at any point you feel like it's not going well just teleport your way to the ground. Easy as-" "And leave you in this death machine alone? I'd rather die," the God objected in a single breath, stopping yours for a moment there.  The rest of the ride seemed to go in slow motion as everyone screamed and cried around you, as Loki cursed the Norns and the Midgardians; and you just looked at the face of the entity who made sure to rest a hand at your end of the cart to prevent you from falling off (if that ever were to happen).

And...um...it was beautiful too *you licked your lips*

Javier's camera saw you waste fifty dollars on the rifle game to finally win the biggest plushie on that counter- Ice Bear from Bare Bears- and sneak to the back of the stalls and text someone.  A few seconds later, Loki came to your spot, only to be handed the Ice Bear to him. "Hug him, you'll feel better," you advised, pushing the plush into his arms before running away to join Wanda for a ring toss game. Loki stood there, perplexed.

The frame came back to you sitting in the recording room trying to hold back moisture in your eyes by smiling and cursing a bit. You: *rubbing your face with your hands* I can't hold it in, Javi. I have got too much love bubbling inside me now. *inhale* *lock eyes with the camera* I'm...I'm gonna confess my feelings to him, Javier. A sound comes from behind the camera. The lens captures your expression going from a tender lovestruck fool to a concerned friend. "What's wrong?" you seemed to be looking behind the camera in Javier's direction, tilting your head to get a better look at him. A sniff can be heard now. You are slowly getting up from your seat, brows furrowed with concern. "Javi, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Late Night Snores of tired Avengers could be heard from the dorms to the Lounge. Friday's lounge clock tick sweetly on the wall while one single camera sat on the kitchenette island and recorded Sam sitting on the sofa turning to the last page of the book. His bloodshot eyes bore into the final page, reading the lines over and over again till he seemed to absorb whatever emotions they were meant to tickle in him. Closing the book, he gently kept it on the coffee table and brought his palms to his lips, sitting there like that for the next three minutes before finally letting out a crackled, "Holy f*****g shit!"

[sweetsmalldog]

Qsmp zombie apocalypse au:

The apocalypse started out of nowhere, one night the dead rose and started chasing and eating the living. Maxo was bringing his son to school when the apocalypse started, they was running late so he hadn’t had time to watch the news. They were ambushed and his son died. Maxo escaped and found an empty house in the middle of nowhere, a house with broken radio equipment, a whole radio tower, and additions made of concrete and cinderblocks. The whole thing fenced off.

A few days later Badboyhalo, Dapper, and Ramón arrive. Bad had been hosting a sleepover for the two when the apocalypse went down and had been unable to find Fit, they were hoping the tower was operational and that they could try to contact him with it. Maxo sees two boys around the same age as his son and can’t turn them away.

The next day Phil, Chayanne, and Tallulah arrive, they’d been hoping to try to contact Missa and Wilbur. As a group they all go to a nearby hardware store to get materials to both fit the equipment and reenforce the house. During the supply run Dapper suggests they take some seeds, soil, and pots backs so they can grow their own food. Bad also saves Tallulah’s life after she gets separated from the group.

They agree that they shouldn’t bring the kids out again, they weren’t planning on it but all three of them were needed to move the materials and they didn’t want to leave the kids alone. The next day Phil and Bad take Maxo’s old truck for a supply run to a small grocery store while Maxo fixes up the machines and watches the kids.

As they finish fixing the radio equipment, Cellbit, Pac, Mike, Forever, and Richarlyson show up also hoping to use the radio tower. They’re trying to find Felps. Bad and Cellbit recognize each other from they’re time as soldiers together and they’re all brought into the fold.

After they get the radio tower up and running they end up making contact with Roier, Jaiden, and Bobby who are trying to find somewhere safe. The three have a camping trailer as the three had been coming back from a camping trip when the apocalypse started, which is very helpful with their limited space.

They fall into a route after that with the adults going on supply runs in small groups while the kids helping the remaining adults with chores (watering the plants, keeping lookout, feeding the chickens they managed to find, etc). Maxo stays on the radio incase they get contacted by the team. On one of these runs Bad and Cellbit call in telling Maxo that they’re both injured. When the truck pulls up Phil brings the kids upstairs while the rest run out to both unload the car and help Bad and Cellbit into the house. Which so good as the two of them have lost a lot of blood (the fact that Bad managed to drive them back is a minor miracle).

They explain that while looting they saw a group of people in bright white hazmat suits. And when the people saw them they tried to injure them and drag them off somewhere. Cellbit shot one in the head and Bad hit one with the car but there’s still more. They got a good look at the one Cellbit shot too, there was a bear face painted on the front of his hazmat suit.

After the two are stable and resting Dapper and Richalyson are allowed in to see their respective dads. They had jerryrigged one of the weird cinderblock additions into a small sickbay. The other adults hold a meeting after sending the kids to bed about what to do with that information, unaware of the 4 nervous ears listening from the staircase. (Bobby sleeps in his parent’s trailer and Tallulah actually went to sleep).

[snapewife-divorce-lawyer]

Whats your favorite Non-MLP Media?

Would it crossover well with MLP?

SPACE BATTLESHIP FUCKING YAMATO

of course the horribly americanized version i watched was called “Star Blazers”. but as an adult i have watched a sub.

now i am not nearly that old. i had a very sheltered, homeschooled childhood. so most of the tv i watched was tv from my dad’s childhood that he burned onto dvds. which meant a lot of loonytoons and fucking gijoe. and the old astroboy. not the old old astroboy, just the old one. my favorite thing we were allowed to watch was star blazers.

it’s an old as balls scifi anime. the earth gets nuked by aliens until there’s only a few million humans living underground. some different alien sends down spaceship blueprints and says if you come pick it up, i have a cool machine that will turn your planet back to normal. so humans build a spaceship out of a sunken wwii ship and travel to the other side of the galaxy fighting aliens the whole way.

it’s full of a bunch of cool spaceship fights and military porn that kinda? counts as? dieselpunk? the whole story resonates with me so awesomely. and the characters are stuck in my brain. even tho it’s a bit misogynistic. i wanted to BE the female lead. long before i knew what that meant. and they went hard with the music.

sadly, fandom spaces for this show are full of military diehards, and the sort of people who collect figurines of the characters half naked. either that or they’re just super old. so i’ve pretty much given up on having any kind of fandom experience

i do not recommend this show lol. i’ve revisited it several times and it simply is not as good as i remembered. don’t get me wrong i still love it, but i love it the way i love an aging pet who sleeps most of the day

you know what is as good as i remember it being is THE REBOOT

2199 is everything i remember the original being as a child. its so cool and fun and the characters are amazing and they fixed a lot of the misogyny. and its beautiful and the music is amazing and i love it so much and honestly yeah i do recommend this. if you like apocalypse scifi

my little pony might honestly be the first time my siblings and i were allowed to just watch tv. and of course i got a smart phone around that time too so that was the end of the TV famine. before that it really was just stuff that dad had burned on DVDs. There was like a year or two that we sort of watched Nickelodeon? But there were several shows we weren’t allowed to watch and we stopped getting cable after that year or two was over. also, there were several Disney TV shows that we could watch on the family computer like Zack and Cody and Kim Possible but I don’t think we were actually allowed to watch those? And they didn’t have all of the show online. 

Space Battleship yamato is followed closely by Nichijou, and the Homestarrunner cartoons. to which i owe the majority of my sense of humor. i recommend nichijou to anyone. it’s only one season long and its non stop quality. it’s an absurdist comedy from japan. i recommend homestarrunner, but its much harder to get started on that. there’s just so much of it and im not even fully convinced ive managed to see all of it. various factors such as the death of flash have made it hard to access. kinda like homestuck

as for how well they would crossover with my little pony, I will MAKE them crossover with my little pony. I honestly want to do more crossovers. I’ve already done Star Wars and Star Trek, but I’d like to do some more of my favorites. And even more stuff that I like. Like let’s get some girly shows on there too. I really want to do strawberry shortcake. I also think it would be fun to do kim possible or Winx club. my sibling actually designed a bunch of ponified Percy Jackson characters, and I’ve been wanting to draw those. god if i weren’t about to head to work

[toodleoorblx]

Fractured Persona

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Word count: 3,318

Summary: Rio's a phytologists, a scientist who specializes in plants. Or, she was a phytologist. After the outbreak (that she may or may not have caused) happened, everything went downhill.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - /?

Warnings: Violence, cursing.

A/N: So I was gonna post this tomorrow but i got excited. So here's my new Zombie Apocalypse AU! I got inspired while watching The Walking Dead. This will be uploaded to Ao3 once I finish writing chapter 5 for Natural order. Enjoy <3

Zombie apocalypse AU

Chapter 1

Rio traverses the dense forest, with the daylight piercing through the canopy of trees above. Every sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves fills her with deep unease. It’s been several months since the outbreak, and since her father's passing; and a few weeks since she managed to escape.

Prior to the outbreak, she was conducting experiments with her dad at the SHIELDS laboratory. The virus originated from a plant they were studying called arctic-fall. This flora only emerges during winter, hence the name. Its spores release a zombifying disease. Rio was the scientist who uncovered it, along with her father, who was one of the first to fall victim to the infection. The spores infiltrated the ventilation system, spreading and claiming the lives of all the workers and guards, only for them to rise again.

When the virus initially spread, it rapidly engulfed Washington. There were fires blazing, people screaming, sirens wailing, helicopters circling, cars colliding, and gunshots ringing out.

Curtis noticed that Rio had been bitten during the initial outbreak. She hadn't even realized she had been bitten until Curtis pointed it out.

_____

Curtis ushers Rio into a small, secluded office tucked away near the back of the building. The room feels forgotten, the only light source being a flickering light bulb. With only a single window offering a view of a scaffold outside. The space is sparsely furnished, dominated by old filing cabinets and empty paint buckets.

With urgency in his movements, Curtis pushes one of the filing cabinets in front of the door, barricading them from whatever chaos raged beyond. Outside, the air is filled with the cacophony of alarms blaring and sprinklers hissing, while distant gunshots echo from the lower levels. They’re currently on level two.

Curtis's labored breaths fill the room, punctuated by occasional grunts as he frantically searches for anything sharp amidst the sparse surroundings. Rio's grip tightens on her white lab coat, her gaze darting around the room, avoiding the blood splatters that stained the fabric. It’s a grim realization that washes over her, sinking deep into the pit of her stomach.

Trapped in the confined space with her best friend, Rio feels a wave of dread wash over her. The only semblance of defense they have is a rusted pocket knife, its age surpassing even her own, and the feeble barrier of an empty filing cabinet—the only thing standing between them and the relentless horde outside.

Great… Fuck her life.

Before Curtis found her, she watched one of her associates get pinned to the ground by what looked like a herd of them, they tore her open like she was made of paper. Clawing at her and chewing on her flailing limbs, actively losing mobility. She saw the pain and agony on full display on her colleagues face, before it got mauled.

Rio’s senses felt assaulted, she couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak or yell, she just… watched. Watched  in horror. She felt frozen, maybe it was shock, maybe it was the fact she felt like if she moved she’d be next. But luckily Curtis swept in just in time. She felt two pairs of hands grip her, two warm strong hands on her left arm, and two bonier hands grip her right arm, with a harsh force. They felt cold and… lifeless. One pair of hands led her to safety… or so she thought.

"Alright, I-I think we're safe in here," Curtis mutters, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he paces back and forth before Rio. Her once tidy brown hair now hung disheveled, streaked with blood and viscera from the gruesome scene they had just narrowly escaped. Rio's eyes track Curtis's movements, her own gaze clouded with shock and exhaustion.

"Vidal," Curtis sighs heavily, his hand coming to rest on his hip while the other raked through his short brown hair. His lab coat, once pristine, now a macabre tapestry of blood and gore. "I don't- fuck, I don’t know what to do!" he confesses, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. "I don't know what went wrong, but you were there. You know. You and your dad were both in the advanced lab, working on experiment-3.” he licks his lips and huffs a mirthless laugh. “What. Happened."

Rio remains silent, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt. She longs to explain herself, to provide some semblance of clarity in the chaos that surrounded them. But the words elude her, trapped within the confines of her mind like caged birds taunting her with their elusive freedom. All she can do is stare at Curtis with hollow eyes.

It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t her fault.

She didn't even realize she had said anything verbally til Curtis pushed her back with one strong motion. His expression is warped with anger and confusion.

Curtis's laughter rings out, but there was no joy in it, only a hollow desperation that echoed through the tense air. Tears well up in his eyes as he speaks, his voice trembling with emotion. "It's not your fault? It's not your fault!?" He chokes on his words, his laughter turning into a mixture of anguish and disbelief. "You and your father were the only people in the room, hell, the vicinity! And you're telling me that whatever happened in there wasn't your fault?!"

“Yes.” Rio's voice is barely a whisper, her head bowed as tears drip from her hidden face, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Curtis huffs, his frustration evident as he points an accusatory finger at Rio. "You…" His voice trails off, prompting Rio to slowly lift her head. What she saw is unexpected—a pair of wide blue eyes, filled with fear, staring into her very soul.

"...W-what?" Rio stammers, her voice barely above a whisper as she tries to comprehend Curtis's apprehension.

Curtis's hand hovers over his pocket knife, his movements slow and deliberate as he takes a few cautious steps back. His eyes remain fixed on Rio, filled with a mix of uncertainty and suspicion.

Before Rio could respond, the deafening roar of gunfire shatters the tense silence, sending both of them instinctively diving for cover. A bullet tears through the wooden door, grazing Rio's right shoulder with a searing pain that elicits a sharp cry from her lips. She recoils slightly from the impact, her hands instinctively pressing against the wound to stem the flow of blood, staining her once pristine white coat crimson.

Glancing up through the haze of pain, Rio meets Curtis's gaze, expecting to see concern or at least a hint of action. But to her dismay, he remains rooted in place, his eyes fixed on her as if waiting for some sign or revelation. Rio can’t lie, that stung. Him not moving an inch when she’s literally bleeding out!

She wants to flick him off, but the pain and shock leaves her immobilized, her world reduced to the agony pulsating through her wounded shoulder.

The gunfire slows slightly and the moans of the monsters quiet more and more. Curtis slowly rises up from his hunched position.

“HELP, SHE'S BEEN BITTEN AND SHE'S NOT CHANGING!” Curtis yells without takinging his wide eyes off of her. 

Rio's brows furrowed in confusion, her mind racing with a whirlwind of disbelief. Changing? But she hadn't been bitten… had she?

With trembling breath, Rio slowly lowers her gaze to her arms, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. And there, on her right wrist, she saw it—a bite mark, its not too deep, but it penetrated her skin. The irritated bite is crimson against her tan skin. A wave of nausea washes over her as the reality of her situation sank in.

Her complexion pales as she feels her heart skip a beat, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she shakily inspects the wound. How had she not felt it? The adrenaline coursing through her veins must have dulled her senses, but that offers little comfort in the face of the looming threat.

What troubles Rio even more was the absence of any signs of transformation. She knows little about the process or how long it took to turn, but she is certain she shouldn't be feeling completely fine aside from her gunshot wound. The uncertainty gnaws at her, a knot of fear tightening in her chest

"I feel fine, Curt. I'm- I'm still me. Your friend," Rio reassures Curtis, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation.

But Curtis shakes his head erratically, his breathing ragged as he struggles to contain his emotions. He tightens his grip on the pocket knife until his knuckles turn white, his gaze darting nervously to the approaching footsteps and the  sound of guns being cocked.

"Rio," Curtis begins, his voice barely above a whisper as he shifts uneasily on his feet, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for wh-"

Rio's words are cut short as Curtis swiftly moves the filing cabinet away from the door. Before she can react, the door bursts open, revealing a man clad in a military suit, rifle in hand, with several others standing behind him.

The military man's gaze locks onto Rio's arm, his expression darkening at the sight of the bite mark. The rapid rise and fall of his chest betrays his displeasure as he raises his rifle, causing Rio's heart to lurch in her chest. She freezes once again, her body tensing as she braces herself. Dammit.

"Take her back to base. Strucker will know what to do with her," the man commands, his tone slow and cautious, betraying the gravity of the situation.

"Take me where?!" Rio manages to mutter, her voice filled with confusion and fear. But her attention was so consumed by trying to comprehend her situation that she failed to notice one of the military men handing Curtis a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid.

Before Rio can react, Curtis grabs her shoulder with a harsh grip, eliciting a pained yelp from her lips. She feels a sharp prick as the needle pierces her skin, injecting the mysterious serum into her neck. A wave of dizziness washes over her, and she collapses to the ground, her vision fading to black as unconsciousness claims her.

_____

After that, Rio was subjected to a series of grueling experiments, the location shrouded in mystery but the duration lasting at least a few weeks. It seemed unlikely that they had enough time to achieve their objective, whatever it may have been—perhaps a search for a cure, though Rio could only speculate.

The only information Rio gleaned from her captors is that she’s immune. Immune to their spores, bites, and scratches, as evidenced by the multiple scars that marre her skin. With the threat of infection seemingly nullified, Rio's vigilance waned, and she grew a little sloppy in defending herself.

The days blurred together as they poked and prodded her, manipulating her blood in a desperate quest to uncover the secret of her immunity. But despite their efforts, they failed to crack the code. Rio scoffs at their incompetence, confident that given the opportunity, she could have deciphered the mystery herself.

Sedated for much of her captivity, Rio's memories of the ordeal were fragmented at best, if they existed at all. The passage of time became a haze, punctuated only by moments of pain and disorientation

Rio’s eyelids grow heavy, she's exhausted. And the soothing sounds of nature aren't helping at all; she almost dropped her M16, her weary muscles protesting with each step. She's so tired. She needs shelter, somewhere safe to sleep and evaluate.

She could try to find a tree with a big enough burrow in it. But that's pretty compromising. Granit, the crawlers can't run, but they can sneak up on you, and start clawing at you if they can smell you. It was a bad idea to begin with. 

Rio sighs heavily as she comes to a halt, taking a moment to survey her surroundings. To her surprise, there’s no crawlers in sight, nor any signs of wildlife.

Strange.

Rio doesnt know how deep exactly she is in the forest, but she figures she's deep enough to see wildlife somewhere. Though she does see tons of edible plants.

Turning to her left, Rio sees something in the distance. About half a mile away. She squints as she uses her hands as a visor, hiding her eyes from the bright sunset. Rio’s eyes widen in surprise as she catches sight of a small cabin nestled amidst the trees. A surge of relief floods through her, infusing her with renewed energy despite the encroaching darkness.

Feeling a newfound sense of hope, Rio readjusts the weight of her supplies on her back and tightens her grip on her M16. With determined steps, she makes her way towards the cabin, her heart pounding with anticipation at the prospect of finding shelter for the night.

_____

The door creaks open, the home is adorned with chipped and rotting wood. She takes a deep breath and walks in with great caution. As Rio cautiously steps through the creaking door, she’s greeted by the sight of a humble interior, bathed in the soft glow of twilight filtering through the grimy windows. The walls are adorned with peeling wallpaper and patches of chipped paint.

Furniture, worn and weathered with age, dot the room—a threadbare couch nestled against one wall, its cushions sagging with use; a rickety table cluttered with discarded books and trinkets; a rusted stove standing sentinel in the corner, its once-shining surface now dulled by neglect.

Rio turns around to find a quaint kitchen, dull blue paint coats the cabinets and counters. A scentless candle is lit, illuminating the kitchen. Rio narrows her eyes in distrust.

Wait.

Before Rio can turn around she feels something quick and hard hit the back of her head, she whimpers in pain before her vision goes black.

As Rio slowly blinks, her vision struggles to focus, her head throbbing with each heartbeat. A sharp pang of pain shoots through her skull, and she winces.

Groggily, Rio surveys her surroundings, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of what appears to be a basement. Its abandoned, overrun with moss and tangled vines, the air heavy with the musty scent of neglect. Cracked pillars loom in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the damp stone floor.

There are no windows to offer respite from the darkness, only a solitary lantern perched on a vintage table, its feeble light barely penetrating the gloom. And there, upon the table, lays all her belongings—her gun, pocket knife, damascus kukri and bag. They sit there untouched, almost taunting her. 

Regret floods Rio's mind as she realizes her mistake in coming there. How could she have known someone lived here? It looked completely abandoned!

With a frustrated sigh, Rio attempts to rise, only to nearly trip and fall as she discovers her wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. Panic wells up inside her as she squirms and struggles against the restraints, but her efforts only result in raw irritation and a sharp pain as the zip tie digs into her skin.

"Is anybody there?" Rio's voice echoes through the dimly lit basement, raspy and dry from disuse. How long had she been unconscious? Furrowing her brows, she scans the room for any sign of life, but finds none.

Lovely.

As the stairs creak ominously, Rio's heart races with fear, her mind racing with possibilities of what—or who—might be approaching. The tension in the air is palpable as she braces herself for the unknown, her muscles tense and ready to (try) to spring into action if necessary.

With each echoing footstep, Rio's anxiety mounts, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she presses herself against the cold wall, eyes wide with apprehension.

Finally, the figure emerges into view, and Rio's breath catches in her throat. It's a woman, her presence commanding and her gaze as cold as ice, the color of her eyes is piercing blue. Her wild, curly raven hair frames her face, a bold streak of white cutting through the dark locks, hinting at her age. Fine lines crease her features. She looks to be in her forties.

The woman wears black combat boots, a dark green thermal jacket, and a gray tank top, her dark jeans completing the ensemble. Around her neck, a necklace adorned with a brooch glinted in the dim light.

As the woman's sneer pierces Rio's defenses, she can't help but feel a wave of dread wash over her.

"Why did you come here?" The older woman's demand cuts through the tense silence, her voice a surprising contrast to the chaos Rio’s grown accustomed to. It's like a breath of fresh air, soothing and unsettling in its calmness. Rio's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of the woman crossing her arms, a dagger held firmly in one hand. The sight sends a shiver down her spine.

"I didn't mean to intrude, lady.” Rio scoffs. “I just wanted shelter. I didn't know anybody was home." Her words came out steady and monotone. (Though she's freaking out internally.)

The woman huffs, her expression unreadable as she licks her dry lips and closes the distance between them. Rio's heart pounds in her chest as the woman crouches down next to her, her hands fidgeting with the dagger as her intense gaze bores into Rio's.

"Then tell me, sweetheart," her voice is low and steady. "Why should I not kill you right now, hm?"

Rio's eyebrows furrow at the unexpected threat, caught off guard by the woman's directness. (How humanity has fallen.) She hesitates, chewing nervously on her lip as she watches the older woman's gaze flicker down to her lips before meeting her own confused eyes.

With a resigned sigh, Rio gathers her thoughts. "I can help. If you let me stay," she offers, her voice steadying more and more as she speaks. "I know how to navigate forests, I know what plants are edible and which are deadly. I've noticed that wildlife is scarce outside," she continues, observing the slight faltering in the woman's stoic expression. "Something tells me that canned food will only last for so long. I can keep us fed."

For a tense moment, the woman remains silent, her gaze piercing through Rio's. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she relents with a reluctant sigh. "I... suppose," she concedes, kneeling down to grasp Rio's wrists. Rio's breath hitches in her throat as the woman's bruised hands brush against her skin, their touch simultaneously soft yet strong. The woman is leaning in front of her, the smell of vanilla and lavender invade her nose. She tries to ignore the goosebumps that erupt on her arms as the woman deftly cuts through the zip ties binding her wrists and ankles. “Have you been bitten?”

Rio doesnt know what to tell her. Yes she's been bitten numerous times but none of which have had any effect on her. She decides to keep her immunity a secret. For now. “No. No, I haven't been bitten.”She shakes her head.

Agatha’s eyes turn to slits, she huffs in skepticism. But thankfully leaves the matter alone. "Agatha Harkness," the woman introduces herself with a quiet and begrudging tone.

Agatha. Rio repeats in her head. 

The older woman stands up and with a swift motion, she sheaths her knife in her thigh holster before taking a few steps back, crossing her arms defensively. A small sneer tugs at the corners of her lips.

Rio can’t help but find amusement in Agatha's demeanor, she sounds like a child being forced to share a toy. Suppressing the urge to laugh, Rio offers a warm smile in response.

"Rio Vidal."

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

Okay @hazawatsugu @splatoonfan88

Here I have an idea. What if the Einherjars went against gods that weren't the ROR gods or at least other gods.

In order of rounds and reasons.

Kaito vs Athena 'Of steady hand and still blade I shall strike you down.'

Paradox vs Kali 'the living apocalypse who fights to protect his family vs the berserker warrior goddess who will do anything for her husband Shiva'

Tsugu vs Tyr 'the righteous god of war and justice vs the most innocent and pure of the mortal champions'

Bun vs Azazael 'you and I have suffered for the mistakes and sins of others. I'm so sorry I wished we met under and other circumstances. So do I.' (You chose who says what)

Derail vs Hel 'a king who lived to save and serve his people a just and kind ruler? Please Lady Hel I'm just human as anyone else just like you are truly a benevolent queen.'

Sunblood vs Isis (yes that's her name) 'Both gods connected to many things. Sunblood despite being a science God is also connected wisdom knowledge medicine Foresight hindsight and more while Isis is a healing magic fertility and moon despite normally being seen as the motherhood and family goddess both getting several powers through outside means [Sunblood through worship and getting the titles of various gods he helped overthrow and Isis through getting Ra's secret name/part of his soul that gave him most of his power.] Both are the head god outside of primordial gods and abstract ones. (Isis is the goddess of the cosmos in some tales and Sunblood is second only to the abstract god of space and primordial goddess of the void.) Plus unlike other head gods both are good and caring deities

Mai VS The Jade Emperor 'the fallen Angel who rebelled against heaven's gods for the sake of her sisters' Children vs the god who rules over the gods and mortals with an iron fist poorly painted Jade green'

Garou vs Zagryus 'the human monster who fought for underdogs everywhere while misguided till his final moments vs the god before being accepted by Greece he was originally the terrifying god of rebirth and madness who was taking in the outcasts and who's worshipers were the margalined people of Greece [slaves women and non citizens]'

Bonus fights.

Naruko vs Daji 'both foxy vixens but the difference is one accidentally made a harem of lovely and skilled people she genuinely cares for vs the empress destroying temptress who takes men as her slaves or die by her hand.'

Pico vs Hou Yi 'the mercenary solider who became the world's strongest sharpshooter/gunman who was wrongly portrayed as a villain for too long who eventually loved a Angel and a demon gaining pseudo-immortality vs the devine archer who was exiled from heaven for doing something he was ordered to do and was sent to earth as a mortal who eventually obtained a elixir of immortality that could've given him regular immortality with him unable to gain it and growing to enjoying mortal life.' [bonus both were betrayed which ended in their deaths in my AU Pico was betrayed and killed by his greedy friends and his employers who wanted him to assassinated his partners [gf's dad wanted bf dead and bf's dad wanted gf dead and his friends killed him after blowing off a hand and cutting out an eye before he got killed by them a year later while Hou depending on the myth had his wife selfishly down the elixir and become a goddess only to find out she's still exiled with him getting killed by an apprentice later or the more preferred ending neither he nor her took the elixir and his apprentice finds out about tries to steal it only for Hou's wife Chang'E to down it to stop him from becoming an immortal and greedy god to which Hou Yi still dies a mortal but is STILL betrayed by his apprentice]

[midnightexpressproductions]

Derek Campbell | The Hero - Playlist

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

The living personification of the sun itself. Derek is the most cheerful person you've met, their sunny disposition not having been dampened during the apocalypse. They're more of a 'leap-before-you-think' kind of person, making it a bad habit to put themselves in situations that they didn't need to be in. He is the mood maker of the group, picking up everyone's spirits with a well-placed joke or a much needed hug. Even though they seem like an ever constant ball of energy, Derek appreciates the quiet moments. He seeks out time to be by himself, though he's not opposed to sharing his space with others. He likes to show off his skills, however this isn't because he's bragging. He's confident in his abilities and he lets that show through his actions. They don't hesitate to support others, believing that encouragement can bring out the best in people.

Fun Facts:

They grew up in California with their dad.

Derek went to UC Berkeley and he played for the Golden Bears. After he graduated, he was scouted to play for the NY Giants.

Derek loves dogs. They can be found playing with Pa and Ma Hazel or sneaking them treats when the others aren't looking.

They also love kids.

He's a quick learner which makes Derek proficient in other sports. He doesn't even need to practice, he can pretty much understand the rules for any sport within a few hours.

Derek can't handle spicy foods. That doesn't stop them from eating it however.

They wake up early so they can watch the sun rise.

[kingkennny10]

Please Please Please

SP Apocalypse AU

Pt. 2 Safe Space

gotta have a good established background, you gotta know what their lives were like before right? i love nickels, hes based off my real life cat, cept his name aint nickels, i love butters an kennys friendship in this, almost as much as the next friendship ill post after this.

cw! talks of abuse! blood! bad parenting in general 🤷

Maybe like a year and a half after we graduated, Butters parents signed over their house to butters and moved to Hawaii for “retirement”. I remember the night after they left he called me in a panic tellin’ me how worried he was about livin’ alone, an how he doesn’t know how to own a house. I had to come over an help him figure out a plan to pay for everything. The house was all his, nothin’ to pay for except property tax once a year which covered sewage and lastly electric. After he heard that he calmed down a lot. The rest of the week he was still a mess, so I would stay over on random days. On his pay day that week we went food shopping which was the happiest I’d seen him all week.

Me being at his house was nothing out of the ordinary from then on, after a month he ended up helpin’ me find a stable job in town, he got me a congratulations gift. It was the most beautiful butterfly knife I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Silver blade and hinges an the rest is black, it’s the coolest damn thing I own. Towards the end of that year I kept getting into real bad fights with my parents, they’d kick me out an I’d go stay with Butters. Usually after being away for 2 days they’d ask me to come back, which i always did. Until Butters asked me to move in with him.

Butters woke up to knocking on his front door, he fell asleep on the sofa watching some random late night tv show. Checking the time he seen it was close to 1:30 in the morning. Getting up he mentally prepared by telling himself, ‘it’s either Ken or the police.’ Hoping its the former he opened his door wide. It was Kenny, he pulled the hoodie from his head. Butters quickly noticed the blood coming from his nose and his left eye which was partially swollen shut and starting to bruise.

“Ken oh my gosh! What the heck happened!?” Butters questioned standing out of the way to let his friend in and out of the cold. He closed and locked the door behind him and darted off to the kitchen to grab some paper towels and an ice pack from the freezer. Kenny pulled his hoodie off fully and took his sneakers off at the door then made his way to sit on the couch.

“I got into it real bad with my dad. Got thrown out again.” Butters came back and tossed the small ice pack to Kenny and sat next to him starting to wipe the blood with the paper towels. “I’m just glad Karen wasn’t there to see it.” Ken let a sad chuckle leave from him. Butters could only frown in response.

“Ken you need to get outta there, you can’t keep goin back and lettin’ this happen to ya.” Butters said and gave the paper towels to Kenny. “Just come move in with me.” Kenny’s eyes widened and he quickly began to look over his friends features carefully.

“You’re serious?” Kenny asked shoving paper towels up his nose. Butters simply nodded. “I- Leo, I don’t know if i could do that. . .” Kenny trailed off, seeming to weigh his options.

“If it’s Karen you’re worried about she can come too. You work too so we can definitely have enough food on the table for all of us!” Butters made a very convincing point, but kenny just shook his head. “What?” Leo asked confused at Kenny’s response.

“She isn’t the one with the problems in that house, the fights would just move here cause she’s their princess.” Kenny explained, Butters began to rub his knuckles together thinking there was nothing he could do to help. “I hate to leave her but I just can’t do it no more, I can’t keep fighting with them anymore.” Kenny said and Butters jumped up excitedly causing Kenny to laugh at him.

“WE’RE ROOMMATES!!” Butters yelled from excitement. Kenny just kept laughing. “You better tell Karen she can come visit as much as she wants, she’s my lil sister too y’know.” Kenny had a big smile plastered on his face as his friend spoke. “She can even have her own key if she wants!” Butters added. Kenny’s eyes widened.

“Don’t say that, she’ll eat us out of house an home if you let her.” This time Butters cracked up at his words. “Alright, I’m assuming I’m takin my usual room then?” It was a rhetorical question but Butters took it completely serious.

“Well if you want the master you can have it, I don’t mind.” Butters smiled at Kenny sitting back down on the couch.

“No, no, no ai was just saying, you can keep the masters Leo, this is your house!” Kenny laughed and Butters shrugged.

“Maybe we can just get a bunk bed and share, then make the other room to a gaming room!” Butters Happily said, his eyes were practically sparkling at the idea. Kenny was just happy that his friend was happy.

After I moved in with Butters everything became smooth, I was free, no more fighting, just having fun with my best friend. We even got a cat together, he was a bad ass cat. We saw him roaming the neighborhood, Butters didn’t want him so I made it my mission to convince him. Eventually i did, when I told him his name it changed his whole look on him. His name was Nickels.

“BUTTERS LOOK WHO I BROUGHT HOME!” Kenny yelled shutting the door behind him as he came in. He kicked off his shoes and walked towards the kitchen where Butters was cooking some dinner. “Look look look!!”

“What? OH MY GOSH! Ken how did you catch it!?” Butters asked confused and shocked at the same time that there was a cat in the house. “We can’t keep it Ken, it’ll tear up the house!” Kenny exaggerated a pout and held the cat out to Butters. He reluctantly grabbed the cat from him looking into its yellow eyes. “It sure is pretty but Kenny we can’t just grab cats off the street, what if it belongs to someone?” Kenny crossed his arms and looked at Butters again.

“One, hes been roaming the streets for like a week, two, who cares he’s mine now, three, i already named him and he loves me!” Kenny said holding a finger out for each point and then grabbed the cat back. “Wanna know his name?” Kenny asked petting under the cats chin making him purr. Butters eyes softened hearing the cat purr and lean into Kennys hand.

“Yes.” Butters said quietly trying to hide his growing excitement for the adorable grey cat in his friends arms. Kenny giggled and held the cat closer.

“His name is nickels!” Kenny said happily with more childish giggles of excitement. Butters reached his hand over letting nickels sniff him and then began scratching under his chin hearing him purr more.

“I’m convinced, give me my son.” Butters said and reached around the cat to steal him from Kenny. He giggled as nickels rubbed his head under his chin reaching his paws over Butters shoulder.

“I’m glad you love him cause I already bought all his stuff on the way home.” Butters didn’t catch what Kenny said, he was too busy swaying around with nickels falling asleep in his arms.

Sometimes I wonder if I could’ve saved them both, what if I didn’t go. But then I think about how I wouldn’t have made it here with you two. I couldn’t trade you both for anything else.

here we go, your Wednesday post!! i love karen in px3 shes so chaotic yet sweet ☺️ also i really love nickels, enjoy him while you can!! my other favorite character will be in the next chapter, hes just a hilarious lil dude

[soupsspoons]

13. All Smiles

"This is--" Carol said softly, with an air of ingenuine hesitance, "Well, there's no other word for it, this is terrifying. All of it."

Her eyes were wide as she spoke, looking around the living room where most of Alexandria's residents stood. By now, Hannah had been able to pick up on Carol's game, the act of innocence she had put on. Ever since their conversation about Pete, Hannah knew there was more to the woman than anyone knew. She didn't blame her though, it made sense to pretend. By acting as though she knew nothing, she ensured that she could know everything.

Rick and Deanna told everyone to meet at her house in order to discuss what to do about the horde of walkers. Hannah was always confused when they called the creatures walkers. She liked her word, roamers, but they were all saying the same thing in the end. Walkers. Roamers. Creatures. It didn't matter, because either way, they were all running from the same evil.

Hannah wasn't technically supposed to be at the meeting, it's not like she could have helped them, but after begging Deanna, she was allowed to listen in. Things like this had always interested Hannah, she wanted to know what it was like to lead. As Carol spoke, she noticed Carter, a taller, balding man, silently disagreeing with everything that was said.

"But it doesn't sound like there's any other way." Carol finished speaking.

Carter immediately spoke when the woman went silent, "Maybe there is." He seemed nervous to speak, "I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I--I could write up the plan. I worked on the wall with Reg." He glanced over to Deanna. "The construction crew-- We could all try to make it safe." He spoke with desperation in his voice.

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day." Rick cut him off, shaking his head, "Building up the exits can't change that."

The room was silent, no one quite sure who to listen to.

"We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out." Deanna finally added, keeping her eyes glued to the window she stood in front of.

And so, they began to assemble a group of volunteers.

---

Part of the plan that Rick had come up with was to build a wall. Hannah, Carl, Enid, and Ron had all been dispersed throughout the area, only allowed to help with simple tasks. Hannah didn't necessarily mind the restriction, at least she was doing something. But, she could see in Carl's face that he wanted to be more helpful, he wanted to take action.

Hannah was helping to lean sheets of metal against their posts, readying them to be nailed in. She and Rosita carried a sheet from the truck, each one taking a different side. Hannah hadn't talked to Rosita much, but she had always been intrigued by the woman. She was so strong and so smart. She was fearless.

As the two carried the sheets, Hannah glanced toward Carl, who was helping another group dig up the dirt surrounding the new wall. She hadn't spoken to him since everything happened with his dad. She didn't want to overstep anything, so she decided to give him space. But as they worked, Hannah couldn't help but watch the boy. He was talking with Enid, both smiling at whatever they had said. Carl was so good at confusing Hannah. She couldn't tell what his feelings for Enid were. Did he like her? Did she like him? And how did that make Hannah feel? Hannah knew Ron and Enid were together, but what does it mean to date in the apocalypse?

She didn't want to think about it anymore.

Hannah turned back to her work. Rosita had left to help Maggie with something, so she was left on her own. Hannah really wanted to help the community, but she wasn't entirely sure how. Hannah guessed that working on the wall was good, but was it good enough?

"Hey, kid" A low, gruff voice spoke from behind Hannah. She turned, startled by the noise, to see Daryl standing across from her. He held a box of nails in his hand, his bow slung over his back. Hannah didn't know what to say. If being around Rosita made her nervous, she couldn't imagine having a conversation with Daryl.

Hannah knew the man wasn't dangerous, the was apparent early on. However, he would always intimidate her.

"Hi," she said.

"Uh, Rosita sent me over to see if ya'll needed some help with the wall."

"Oh, well I'm sure we could use it," Hannah told the man. She expected him to leave her, most likely going off to work with someone from his group. However, he dropped the box to the ground and began to pick up a sheet of metal. Hannah looked at him, silently asking what he was doing. Daryl didn't look at the girl, but simply said, "We gotta build this up higher, who knows if them things can climb."

Hannah and Daryl worked for about twenty minutes in comfortable silence. They had built up about six feet of the wall, moving over slowly as they went. Carol had come around, passing out small styrofoam cups of water to each of the workers. Once Hannah grabbed her drink, she immediately sat on the grass, leaning against the wall they had just put up. She was exhausted from the work, even if it didn't feel like enough. The sun had been out all day, unhindered by clouds. Hannah sipped the water, tasting the plastic materials from the cup swim over her tongue. The water wasn't cold, but she didn't expect it to be. It was simply refreshing.

Soon after she sat, Daryl slowly crouched to the ground. Hannah didn't say anything as he pulled off his bow, placing it to the side farthest from her. They both sat, quietly sipping their water.

"You nervous?" Daryl asked randomly. He didn't look at Hannah, only staring ahead of him as he spoke. Everyone in his group loved to do that.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you nervous about the horde? I know some of the other kids are." Hannah once again didn't know how to respond. Apparently everyone, Maggie, Carl, and now Daryl, thought she was incredibly weak.

"I mean, I guess," Hannah shrugged, "Are you?"

"I guess" Daryl copied her words. This took Hannah by surprise. How was Daryl, the man who walked around with a crossbow and a scowl, scared?

"Really?" Hannah asked, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah." Daryl turned to Hannah, who looked at him with confusion, "What? You don't think I could be scared?" Daryl laughed lightly.

"I don't know" Hannah laughed with him. " You guys are all just— well I don't know." Hannah thought for a moment, unsure of how to describe the group. Daryl stayed quiet, letting her figure out what to say. "I just can't imagine you scared"

"We all get scared sometimes"

---

Eventually, Hannah became much too tired to continue working on the wall, and although she insisted she could stay, Maggie wouldn't take no for an answer. As she packed up her things, Hannah looked around the lot, wondering who else was left. Carol had gone home about an hour ago, and Daryl had left to talk to Rick not long after. She also noticed that Carl had slipped away a while ago, leaving Enid to talk with Maggie.

Hannah made her way home, carrying a light sweater that she had brought to the sight in case it got cold. She was only walking for a couple of minutes before the wind began to pick up and she was forced to put on the sweater. It was a blue knit cardigan, something Aaron had brought back from a run. The heat from the sweater helped her stay warm, but she was excited to get home and into bed. Hannah passed by the Grimes' house, only glancing at it as she walked. On the porch, Hannah could see Carl sitting on the wooden bench, a baby tucked into his arms. Judith was wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket, her head completely covered by the fabric.

Hannah stopped walking. It was the blanket she had given the family when they first came to Alexandria. Carl was using her blanket.

"Hey."

Hannah looked up to see Carl waving softly at her. She hadn't realized he could see her.

"Hi"

Carl watched her for a moment, and he seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

"It's cold tonight," Was all he said.

Hannah nodded at the boy. In an act of courage, she moved closer to the porch, now leaning on the rail in front of Carl. He didn't seem to mind. Carl noticed her movement and slowly moved over on the bench, creating a space for her to sit.

Hannah smiled, climbing up the steps onto the porch.

When she sat down, Hannah noticed Judith stir in her sleep, most likely annoyed at the new movement. Hannah's body went stiff, hoping not to wake the baby.

"She really likes the blanket," Carl spoke, ignoring the movements from Judith.

"I'm glad," Hannah told him.

"The whole thing was pretty cool, the basket."

Hannah chuckled lightly, "Really?"

"Oh yeah, it's really the only reason we stayed," Carl over-exaggerated. He smiled at Hannah as he spoke, waiting for her to catch on.

Hannah laughed harder than she meant to, quickly quieting herself so as not to wake Judith. She watched her in Carl's hands, delighted by the way she was snuggled into the blue blanket.

"Well, I got one when I first got here, so, you know." Hannah trailed off.

Carl rocked slightly on the bench, his arm brushing slightly against Hannah's own. He was warm, Hannah noticed, and she could feel him even through her sweater. She was comfortable next to him.

"Thank you," Carl told Hannah, though he was looking at Judith.

"For what?" Hannah asked.

"Just for everything, I guess." Carl looked at Hannah now. His dark eyes were soft as they looked into hers and there was a wonderful cool breeze that rushed over the two of them.

"You don't need to say 'thank you'." Hannah spoke without looking away, "We're friends, that's what friends do"

Carl's smile grew and he looked down at Judith in his arms.

"I'm glad to have a friend here."

---

The next day, Hannah saw Carl talking to Gabriel. She didn't want to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she couldn't help but wonder why they would be talking, especially after everything that had happened. She watched for a moment as Carl pulled a machete off of a table next to them, moving it around as if to show Gabriel something. Hannah realized, Carl was showing Gabriel how to use it. He was helping him. The sight made Hannah smile. She watched Carl explain different movements with the weapon, and then, she saw him very carefully hand it to the man.

Hannah didn't like Gabriel, and yet she was happy about what Carl was doing. The only reason Gabriel said what he did was because he was scared. He is scared. But rather than continue to shun him, Carl decided to help him learn how not to be scared.

Hannah thought back to the night before. He was so kind to her, so happy. She almost laughed at how much he had changed, how they all had changed.

All of this reminded Hannah of her plan, her 'learn how to be strong' plan. The next step would be to actually learn, and there was only one person she trusted to teach her that.

"I want you to teach me how to use your bow," Hannah said to Daryl, her voice unwavering. They were standing by the fence, Daryl looking down at her with a blank stare, showing no sign of what his answer might be. Hannah had found him working by the fence and knew this was her chance.

"Why?" He asked curtly.

"I want to protect myself." Hannah continued, matching his tone. He seemed to think about her request, considering what it would mean for him. His face was still bare and Hannah shuffled back and forth on her feet, waiting for Daryl's answer.

She began to doubt her decision to ask. Sure they had talked at the wall, but that didn't make them friends. She let her eyes fall to the ground as she waited for the response.

"When I get back. When the horde is gone." Daryl said simply.

Hannah's head shot up. Daryl gave her a small yet genuine nod before walking away and Hannah smiled bigger than she had all day. She was going to learn to be strong.

---

Hannah needed to walk after her conversation with Daryl. She didn't know why, but she knew she needed to move. Hannah walked to the gazebo, then to the infirmary, and then back to the center of town. She was too happy to care how late it was. As Hannah walked, the sun began to set around her, leaving the sky a beautiful pinkish orange, speckled with smudges of purple.

As she finally reached her house, Hannah was met with a man. He was standing by her door, his back facing her. He was hunched and she couldn't see his face, but Hannah smiled, knowing it was Ron.

"What are you doing?" Hannah asked, walking up to the boy. It was odd for him to be here this late, but Hannah wasn't going to turn him away.

Ron quickly turned, as if he didn't expect her to be anywhere near her own home. When he fully turned, Hannah could see his face was pink and his cheeks were stained with tears. Quickly, she moved closer to him, her face turning concerned.

"Ron, what happened?" Hannah asked, "What are you doing?"

But Ron didn't look her in the eye.

"I saw you with Carl."

Hannah stopped.

"What?"

"I saw you talking to Carl earlier," Ron said it like it was obvious.

"Yeah?" Hannah still didn't understand what the boy meant. She stepped closer to him, reaching her arm out slightly. He moved back, pulling his arm out of reach. Hannah's face fell deeper.

Ron's eyes met hers, "How could you do that?"

"Do what, Ron? Me and Carl?" Ron said nothing, "We were talking about Judith, Ron."

"His dad killed my dad!" Ron screamed at her and Hannah could see the tears forming back in his eyes. She gasped and stepped back, stumbling on the step of her porch.

"Ron--" Hannah tried.

"No, Hannah, forget it. You don't get it."

"Ron, it's not Carl's fault. It's not anyone's fault." Hannah knew that was a lie.

Ron's nose flared and he looked away from Hannah. It was like he couldn't even look at her.

"Of course, you take his side," Ron mumbled.

"His side-- Ron!" she stepped closer again, "Pete was hurting you. He was hurting all of you!" Hannah snapped and Ron turned back to her. Hannah could feel her eyes become glossy, and she balled her fists, begging the tears not to fall. She had cried in front of Ron before, but never because of him.

Ron's face was hard as he spoke, "It doesn't matter."

"It does," She spoke softly.

Before Hannah could stop him, Ron left his spot on the porch, leaving her alone.

Hannah took in a deep breath, unable to comprehend what has just happened. She leaned against her door taking in shaky breaths.

What just happened?

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Hiiiii Loveliesssss! omg I kinda love and hate this chapter, idk? But either way, it's definitely one of my longer chapters so yayy. I'm so happy with the Carl moment and I've literally been planning it for so long. I'm still kind of worried that Hannah and Ron's relationship might be coming off differently than I want but oh well. I'm also so happy we finally got a Daryl and Hannah scene!! If you couldn't tell I've been planning that too. I hope you all enjoyed!!

p.s I'm sorry this is coming out so late in the day I was busy watching The Last Vampire On Earth (You have to watch it it's so funny)

Thanks for Reading!

[questionablepastries]

Armored core 6 spoiler posting ! This time for the ng+ run and the ending I did, and my thoughts on ng3 thus far:

This time the ending I got for my second run was “the fires of raven”

Pretty hardcore name for recreating the apocalypse and simply leaving the planet, but I get why Walter and Carla wanted it done. They’re the kind of people where the ends justifies the means. Eliminating all life on this planet, for the sake of containing and destroying an organic energy fuel substance that was on its way of leaking out to the space, spreading to other planets, more corporate wars fought for this fuel, and in the end leading to more fires of ibis situations on other planets

Or would it?

The game intentionally never (or at least hasn’t) explained WHY the first fires of ibis happened, and I’m just gonna go ahead and guess allmind is behind this, the group that’s been the most IN GAME but with the least story impact, and my second guess is the group that the original raven is from, killed that lil bitch twice don’t show your face around me again unless u wanna talk >:|

I doubt it’s ravens group tho. A mission I did on the side made it sound like the original raven leaked the information about coral LEADING to the corporations even knowing about rubricon. And it’s giving government leak/Edward Snowden vibes which to ME is a good guy position, now ALLMIND…..

They got some scary descriptions for the allmind arena. Yeah, AllMind exists for mercenaries (aka me) but.. the descriptions include stuff talking about fusing mech with the human mind to make some sort of link, make the body of the mech feel like the body of the pilot? Weird stuff, Also the allmind lady called me a “humanoid”, what’s that about???? Rusty seems to know my true identity since the second he met me (Walter suggests this), and Ayre suggests we’ve met before? So I’m thinking 621 was involved in the fires of ibis situation somehowwww

Then there’s all the hidden notes about these 2 scientists? And their sons that pick up that their scientist dads are losing their minds? There’s a lot im not piecing together at the moment, but there’s a lot of things that haven’t been explained fully, not that they need to, but I can feel an “aha” moment coming. I’m taking a break from the game tho I speed ran the game to get the second ending over with for this upcoming ng+ 3 run that I started (😭 I’m tired)

Back to the ending tho

SO GLAD I GOT TO KILL AYRE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ ayre fans im only slightly sorry

She was SOOOOO annoying the whole run. I’m so bugged by her doting girlfriend, yelling at me to survive WHILE all I’m doing IS surviving, her character is shoved on you, she hardly has offers any insight into coral other than coral is alive (you call them your brothers and sisters but can you get the mechs powered by coral to stop killing me????), ayre get a life!!! I hate mascot characters and I hate bitches (whiny girls) SHOVED ON YOU in any game, sorry!!! And u know what? she did actually get a life, I was so happy she fucked off, got in a robot herself, and started doing shit for herself even if it meant the first thing she did upon gaining autonomy was going in to kill me. Go girl!!!!! now what hurt was putting down rusty, but I killed him too fast, so fast that my monkey brain outsped the sad feeling I was supposed to associate with doing that, and I was glad they gave him two health bars.. because the first one I kinda mowed down and I felt semi bad about it and then when he got back up I (in full video game enjoying mode) went all chuuni and yelled “I LIKE THAT AMBITION OF YOURS RUSTY” and Then mowed him down again. So now I’ve gotta go to YouTube bc I didn’t save the fight to fully process what Rusty was yelling at me because when I’m under high stress I don’t hear anymore I just get the job done 😫

Gotta take a break tho, ng3 gave me a mission that wasn’t in my first 2 runs of the game and in that mission they shoved in those wheel skeletons from ds1 on me (😡😡😡) and THAT was the hardest mission I’d had in a while, so much so that it drained me of wanting to play after that (that and I had been doing nothing but play the game for the past 2 maybe 3 days) 💤