#how everything grew twisted and decayed

[galedekarios]

pentiment + the evolution of andreas’s mind palace

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes. 

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 

That's why he calls this place purgatory. 

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human... 

He wonders if she's even real. 

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 

And then the angel turns her head. 

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 

His angel is lonely and trapped too. 

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 

Has someone claimed her already…? 

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night. 

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 

No. 

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 

He wants all of that. 

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

[cryptidcorners]

Gardenia - Josh Futturman x M!Reader

Description: Being Josh's childhood friend, you never would have expected to see him appear by your doorstep after a month of radio silence. Though, in this particular visit, he's desperate to air out his true feelings before traveling through time. Unknowing if he'll ever come back to see you again.

Media: Future Man!Show

Character: Josh Futturman

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Childhood Friends, Catching Up, Confessions, Light Angst to Fluff, Kissing, Romantic, Comfort, Sweet Stuff

Warnings: Arguing (+ about Josh ghosting reader), Foul Language, Mental Breakdown/Depression Mentions

read my TOS + Josh Futturman Masterlist

Dread twisted in your stomach like rusted wire, and your constant stirring on your mattress was robbing you of any justice of getting any variant of rest. Your eyes grew heavy, dangerously puffy from expelling your grief several dark hours ago. Though, it had only felt like seconds to you. Your thoughts raced like a wild flock of puzzled birds, breath hitching along with it as you slowly fell into decay.

Your gaze was fixed to your glowing digital screen, eyes fixed on your messages with your old friend, Josh Futturman. It had been weeks of endless radio silence, along with your desperate texts. You were more worried than upset if anything. You went to his house to drop off a game you had finished, but his parents said he wasn't there. Along with all the other days you had made excuses to stand at his doorstep.

His parents weren't liars, and they wouldn't deny you. They knew Josh and you were close. You even remembered Diane saying you were helping him in ways they had struggled to for years. Your lip quivered, so why would he leave?

You two only argued once during a blue moon, you shared so much in common and you swore every second was sincere with him. It had always been him, and it had always been you. Ever since you were kids you were inseparable, to the point others figured you were his boyfriend due to how close you were. It was ridiculous.

Yet, here you were, hunched over and dry with internal pain, thoughts still clinging onto the thought of Josh. You were starved to see him again. He understood everything about you, even with the design of your mind being incredibly complicated. Had you done something wrong? Had you offended him? Had he grown tired of you? Did he even like you?

Then, you heard your doorbell. The familiar tune caught you off guard, but it had made you fix up your wrecked expression promptly and sluggishly fix your clothes. You raced downstairs while catching your breath. You were too out of it to care who it was, but you weren't stupid enough to open it at random. You rested your forehead against the door, "Who is it?" you asked weakly.

"Josh," a familiar voice answered. Muffled, and seemingly distressed as well. You jolted up and needily worked your hands to unlock the door. Your face was brimmed with shock. It was him, but covered in bruises and sweat. His curls were lazy and messy, his eyes were wide and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Still, his gentle tone made you weak, relieved. But also incredibly angry. "Hey." He said, "Long time no see?"

You struggled to collect your thoughts. "Yeah." Your eyes narrowed, "Do you want to come inside?"

"Please." Josh stated. You didn't say anything, and gestured for him to walk toward. As soon as you shut the door, he immediately opened his mouth and began rambling, "Look, I'm—, I'm so sorry I didn't talk to you." His eyes met yours, "Trust me, I didn't mean to leave you for so long." Josh stammered, "I was just, so wrapped up in something. And, I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't, please, I didn't–"

You sucked your teeth, "Where were you Josh?"

"I–" his hands landed heavily at his sides, his face slightly appalled at himself. As if he were a dumbfounded audience. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" You grew agitated, spilling out your gallons of binded frustration. "Why did you ghost me for over a month? Where . . . Where were you?" You breathed heavily, "I thought you hated me, or something terrible happened to you. God, your parents didn't even know where you were!"

Josh choked out a cry, "You don't understand. I didn't want to hurt you,"

"But you did!" You interrupted. "Josh, why did you leave? What happened?"

"I can't fucking tell you!" Josh shouted. "You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated!" You grabbed him by the shoulder before he could turn around, "No, I don't think you understand. How could you just go with no explanation? You look terrible. What are you running away from?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you." Josh winced, "I'm sorry, okay? Please, I had no choice. I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't do it because I hated you or anything like that, okay?" His breaths were unraveling, "Do you know how much I care about you? You know me. You're my best friend," a low whimper escaped your lips as you stated at him. The tension shifted, and you both gazed at each other longingly. "I love you."

"Josh." You released your grip. "Please, I, don't have much time. I love you, so much. I would never, ever, hurt you." His hands found your face, "I need you to know this." Something grew in your chest, and you brought your head forward. "I love you too."

You don't know who fell first, but you felt relieved once Josh kissed you. His hands scavenged across your back, and you dug your fingers into his hair. He hummed, body relaxing at the feel of you. Once his palm found its way under your shirt, you both collapsed onto your couch.

You were both crosslegged and smothered in each other, skin blazing as your love untangled. His hands found your sides and you were eagerly grabbing his collar to pull him closer. You swear you could see stars once he pulled away, trying to catch his breath. Josh held you close, face still red from the passion you had inflicted just a few seconds ago.

"Hey, I'm sorry." You whispered.

"For what?"

"For getting so angry." You frowned, "I shouldn't have gotten so pissed at something personal happening to you."

Josh cupped your face. You swore you could drown in his eyes, "Don't say that. You deserve to be mad at me, I left you. And it's okay, just . . . stay here with me." You cuddled up next to him with a sleepy exhale, smiling softly. "Stay."

Josh whispered, "I promise I'll make it up to you. In any way I can,"

[rise-my-angel]

Past Retribution

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 17.7k

Warnings: Violence, angst with happy ending, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, keeping secrets

Notes: I don't know what happened with the length im so sorry. Can be read as a sequel to Confused Warmth and Distracted Mistakes, but also can be read as a standalone. Follow up Haunted Anguish.

It all felt somehow so familiar, despite how many years it had been. The stinging pain radiating through your body as the world around you seemed to spin ever so slightly. The humid air gave way to a cold you know didn’t really exist, a coldness in your bones that contrasted with the warmth around the worst of the pain. The putrid, almost moldy smell of decay mixed uncomfortably with the smell of blood. 

Blood seemed to be everywhere, his all over your face, and yours pouring from your body as you sat in the puddle it was creating. The heavy smell of blood was overwhelming, so much so you could almost taste that rusted stench it gave off. Your head was leaned back against the concrete behind you, your back propped up against it as you looked at the body right in front of you. It’s unmoving silence almost worse now that it was dead, because now you could see it so clearly. 

The cracked skin mixed with whatever grew all over their bodies, the colours of their skin turned along with it as what was left of the human shape disappeared. The scariest of the infection, their mutated heads twisted into nothing but a vessel for the cordyceps to spread further. If you could focus on anything but the cold dizzy world around you, maybe you could still feel it’s teeth sinking in. 

Maybe you should have felt more scared. Seeing time and time again what this infection turns you into, and how much quicker it works on you if it enters from your bloodstream. But right now, your bloodstream was currently dripping out onto the floor, so it didn’t matter. If you didn’t stop the bleeding you’d be dead regardless. Just last night everything was so different, so normal. This strange feeling of family you had found with Joel and Ellie fading away the more your vision faded. Maybe you’d be more scared if your last memory of them wasn’t so comforting. 

In that memory, you weren’t leaning up against a wall bleeding out. No, it was Joel's warm, protective chest that you felt behind you. His large hands held firmly against your hips as you both stood in the evening air looking out into nothing. His deep voice rumbling in your ear with stories about his own youth, “I’m not kidding, it’s almost pathetic thinking about how attractive I thought I must have been to girls. My long ass arms with zero muscle, and there I was trying to show off in a tank top like I was actually cool.” 

You laughed, and you could feel the vibration in your body as Joel chuckled alongside you. “Anything would have impressed me at that point. I don’t even think I knew what a boy was yet, spent way too much time with my head in the clouds.” 

Joel moved one hand from your hip to slide around your stomach, gently tugging you back into him just a tad more tightly. “So you’re basically saying nothing’s changed.” He felt your eye roll even without seeing it, laughing once more as you huffed. 

“Laugh all you want, but I’m willing to bet you were the type of kid who thought pulling hair or bumping into in you in the hall was how you were supposed to show a girl you liked her.” A tiny yelp left you as Joel tugged at a strand of your hair without a seconds hesitation. His lips pressed into the top of your head no doubt in the form of a smirk. 

“Yeah go ahead and tell me you don’t like when I do that.” He had the audacity to tug again, so you playfully nudged your elbow into his stomach behind you, pursing your lips to hide your own smile threatening to slip through. 

“I hate you so much.” Your breathy laugh finally broke through. 

Joel leaned in to catch your cheek with his lips, brushing over the skin as he mocked. “Definitely what you were saying this morning,” your elbow pushed him a little harder this time, an oof from his mouth coming out as you laughed and slipped free of his grasp. Turning to lean against the wooden railing. 

You could hear Ellie somewhere in the distance approaching the house, and the sight in front of you, Joel rubbing his hand over his stomach, warm brown eyes watching you gently.  He had gotten used to you being here, spending more time and more nights at his house. Living out this quiet little life out you all had wanted, but spending more of it together. It had been so long since either of you felt anything like this, that it almost seemed strange to you both. Out of place to feel like you had a house and a family to come home too at the end of the day. 

You tried not to think about the word family. Still worried that you were intruding too much on Joel’s life with Ellie. As if your very presence got in the way of their growing bond as father and daughter, neither had said as much, but it felt that way to you. The feeling coming up once more as Joel’s attention shifted to the girl bounding up to the front of the house. “I don’t understand how she still has so much energy this late.” Ellie’s voice sounding exasperated and tired. 

Joel raised an eyebrow playfully as his arms crossed in front of him. “If you actually went to bed before the sun comes up when you know you gotta get up early, you’d have that energy too.” Ellie rolled her eyes playfully, disappearing inside with a “Yeah, yeah.” Joel gently shoving at her back with barley a touch as she passed him. 

That was the real family. Not you playing the imposter in their quiet lives. At least you wouldn’t be that way for long, not anymore. That false hope of normalcy shattered just days before at the mere sight of an old face wandering into town. The second they saw you, it was only a matter of time and just earlier today your fears were confirmed. A threat found it’s way to you, with clear instructions attached. It was either your safety, or Joels, that was the choice given to you. You weren’t going to put his life in jeopardy for something he couldn’t possibly know about. 

His warm hand cupped your cheek as your face was pulled to look into his, brows furrowed as he looked at you with concern. “Hey,” his face leaned in to brush his nose against yours. “Don’t go disappearing on me, again.” This wasn’t the first time Joel caught your mind wandering off in the past week. 

It tugged painfully at your heart, but you couldn’t show it. He’d stop you. He’d convince you otherwise, and you know you’d let him if he tried. His gentle embrace and quiet whispers too enticing to resist and he knew it. So you smiled, put a hand on the wrist holding you, while the other found the back of his neck. “Never.” 

Pulling him the remaining distance into a kiss, his hands finding new homes on your body the more it deepened. Just as Joel teased your lips to let him in, he pulled back and moved the kiss to your forehead. The hand that found your lower back moving you to follow inside. “C’mon, it’s getting late.” 

Promised him what you wouldn’t keep, and you didn’t even give him the mercy of not tricking him into thinking he would still wake up beside you tomorrow. 

The night was normal on the surface. Indulging in Ellie wanting to spend increasing amounts of time with you, feeling Joel’s consistent need to have his touch find it’s way back to you. All covered in the dread of losing this, the weight of wondering if you ever even deserved it. You knew one way or the other what was about to happen to you, and as you were pressed against the wall right before Joel’s bedroom door, his mouth against your neck, thigh pressed up between your legs, your mind wandered back to if you deserved to let what happened years ago just happen then and there. 

Not to tease you with this loving warmth in the same addicting way Joel’s hands teased you thumbs stroking the skin above the top of your pants. Your own hands searching blindly for the buttons on his shirt, barley letting them all come undone before you greedily traced the skin of his chest. Tracing your fingers down before brushing past his nipples and pushing your palms up against them grasping at the surrounding skin. 

Joel pulled away from your neck with a hiss, his mouth brushing against your smug one as he bites against your bottom lip. “Now you’ve done it.” Pulling you inside, door closing behind him, he recaptures your lips as he positions you in the middle of his room. Shredding off the red flannel, it dropped onto the ground where he stood before he moved to tilt your head up with both hands on your jaw, one thumb tracing over your lips. “Always teasing me, aren’t you sweetheart?” 

Wanting to undress him more, Joel didn’t let you. Pulling your shirt up and over your head, your bra following shortly after. His dark eyes raked slowly down from your face to your chest, his hands sliding against the sides of your chest, and down to undo your pants. Kissing you as he does so, a softer one but no less commanding. Your own lips tried to follow as he pulled away, but Joel knelt down instead, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough pull and tossing them to the side. “Always trying to rile me up.” He kisses the skin of your stomach, pushing your hands back to your sides when you reached for his hair. 

Holding your thighs for leverage, Joel sunk lower pressing his lips to your mound, “This sweet pussy always begging me to take care of it, the needy fucking thing it is.” His name leaving your mouth with a gasp as he licks right from your clit down to your entrance, wasting little time as his tongue works it’s way inside you pulling moan and whine after whine. His hands moving once again to hold yours against your sides before sliding down to rub at your clit. 

You couldn’t tell if it was him or you that kept pushing your legs further and further open for him, but his mouth pulled you closer and closer to the edge. Pulling away as his other hand took his place and teased inside of you, a string of spit still connected before snapping as he looked up to your head thrown back. Your fingers clenched at your sides, his thick fingers refusing to fill you. “What do you need, sweet girl?” 

His voice gruff as needy, listening to you whine out, “You. Just you,” 

Standing with a grumble vibrating in his chest, Joel slipped his two teasing fingers right inside your tight pussy slick with your own arousal they slid right in with ease. His mouth bite and kissed into yours as you gasped what seemed like the start of his name, thumb rubbing your clit as his other hand was free to grasp at your body turning you to the bed. 

He didn’t lay you out, instead he sat you on the edge separating from you entirely, the only touch left was his now slick covered fingers shamelessly tilting the bottom of your chin up. “You need me?” All you could do was nod, and if Joel wasn’t so worked up he may have smiled. “Come on then, you can take all of me.” 

Tracing his jean belt but not undoing it. No, he was making you do it. Part of you wanted to look up into his eyes as you tugged his cock out, but you refused to look way from it. Thick and threatening to start leaking from the tip, you pulled his jeans down just enough so you could hold onto his skin. 

Joel gripped his cock, even his large hand giving away how girthy it was, he teased his cock pressing and stroking lightly against your lips. “Open up, sweetheart. There we go- fuck, that’s it.” His cock siding into your mouth you had no choice in what you took. Joel fed you as much cock as he knew you could take and held himself there. Not moving, not asking or begging for you to suck him, just keeping his cock tucked away inside your mouth letting the spit accumulate until it threatened to drool out. 

Your own hands siding up to his hips and squeezing the softer plushness, Joel tsked at you condescendingly. “No? You still need more?” The nod of your head shocking Joel enough to grip the back of your hair suddenly, he met your eyes, hints of watering the longer he tested how deep you could hold him for so long. “Greedy little thing,” Your fingers dug into his skin just as he pulled your head slowly off of him. “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you.” 

He raked your hair lovingly once as he pulled you off just to his tip, groaning at your tongue brushing him, soaking it with the saliva built up in copium. Finally he pushed on your head again. Sliding your head back and forth against his cock for you. Sometimes he’d let you suck him at your own pace, other times his patience wore out and he fucked into your mouth in desperation. But this was utterly purposeful. 

Pushing and pulling you along his cock sucking and soaking him, not moving a bit but still controlling every move of your head. As if you were doing the work, but at his total command. But it would never last long, you begun to moan with every swipe of your tongue against him and Joel’s hips slowly matched the pace he pulled you onto him with a thrust. Your moan turned to a muffled whine, and he hissed out throwing his head back, mumbling nonsense, just terms of endearment in the form of needy rambling. 

It was almost too much, he filled your mouth so much that his cock felt everywhere inside of you. You let him use your mouth, eyes sliding shut as your cunt pulsed with need. One hand wrapping around his thigh for leverage, the other slid behind to grasp at his ass with your fingertips. Joel stuttered a whine out and his grip on you tightened almost painfully. “That’s my girl, that’s it, letting me fill your tiny little throat.” 

He wasn’t even looking at you, you couldn’t even see, the tears building up as all you could feel was the pressure of his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into your mouth. His teeth gritted as his pelvis tensed up in need, “Gonna swallow me, sweet girl? Drink up everything I fill in your mouth?” 

Your own hold on him pulled him closer, forcing his cock even deeper, almost too deep. Joel gasped out at the sudden move and his thrusts became so shallow, refusing to give up your warm wet mouth. He stuttered out your name between moans, readjusting his grip onto your hair as his voice just barley cracked out, “Fuck, baby-” before his orgasm hit him. His cum spilling into you as he held your head tight against his hips, feeling the coarse hair there on your own skin as he fills your mouth up with his seed. Needy groans gasping out as you tightened your throat around him with every try at a swallow. 

Letting you milk his cock as much as he could give you, Joel finally pulled out of you. Only able to get a single breathe in before he leaned down to kiss you, finally moving you onto the bed properly. Joel laid his head against the pillows, his legs spread wide as he helped you on top of him, his cock still half hard between your legs. 

For a while he refused to let you go, your hands all over the others body as he kept kissing you like a man possessed with desire. You were more than happy to keep his lips occupied, but Joel ignored his once again hardening cock to stop himself. Hoping the love he poured into your mouth would be enough to keep it contained. Reasoning with himself not to admit it during sex, not now. You might not believe he means it if he only tells you when you’re naked on top of him, remnants of his cum still painted on your lips as he mixes it with whats left of your own on his. 

You could feel his cock teasing you between your legs, the more you two moved against each other the more you felt it swipe along your entrance or press up against your ass as Joel grabbed at you roughly. His hair curling the more he sweat. Luscious curls you raked your fingers through as he leaned up suddenly, holding you propped up against his knees as his mouth worked your breasts. Groping as much of a handful as he could get, biting at one nipple and teasing the other with his had before swapping. 

You could read him like a clock, it happened every time you sucked his cock. Feeling your mouth around him only would make him more desperate to sink it into your cunt, and while he lets his cock recover he works himself up more. Losing himself in your body, and by the time he’s ready to fuck you his energy and need is peaking once more. 

His mouth lets go of your nipple and grips the back of your neck, looking up at your wide eyes before tilting you down to watch him. Gripping his cock as he runs it along you, sometimes pushing enough that his tip prods inside before he pulls it back. His gentle kiss is a stark contrast to his rough hold, but so are his eyes. “Ask me,” 

Your hands falling to his neck, you whine as his tip prods your entrance once again. “Please,” It was barley a whisper but he heard it. 

Not enough though. His nose nudges yours, “C’mon. Ask me properly, sweetheart.” Another thing he did often, his touch and fuck was rough but he spoke soft and prompting. Getting you to talk to him, check in and make sure his roughness hasn’t made you drop too far down. His lips press against you again as he whispers your name. 

Holding his neck and another on his shoulder you leaned your forehead against his. “Please fuck me, Joel?” There was the smile. Joel pulled your lips back and fall backward onto the bed spread once more, your body following as he finally pushes inside you. 

Moans covering the sounds up at first, Joel rumbles to himself about how good you feel. Slow thrusts as his cock drags along your walls, you can hear how wet you are and how soaked you’ve made him as it almost squelches when he thrusts back in. The slow pace keeps as Joel tucks his face into your neck, taking a deep breathe as if needing to ground himself before looking back up to your hovering face. “Feel so fucking good, don’t you?” 

It was embarrassing how loud the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy was, but your nodding prompted him further as he started to pick the speed up more and more. “You always need me to fill your pussy up so badly.” Harder he thrusted as he moved to let you sit up more on top of him, giving you more room to meet his cock back. “Such a good girl, letting me take you over and over.” 

You shake your head yes fervently, the sweat on your skin heating you up the faster you fucked, your hands holding him tightly. Joel shifted his angle ever so slightly and hit that sweet spot pulling a gasp from you, watching your head tilt back, your tits flaunting his vision as you did so. Over and over he worked that spot inside of you, addicted to the moans and needy sounds it granted him. Your eyes squeezed shut too overwhelmed to even realize as you bounced back against his cock. Missing the bright loving look Joel watched you with as he fucked you. 

“God, Joel. Your cock-” Almost unable to speak you were so overwhelmed by the coiling burn inside you, winding you up the more of his length you took. “It’s so, you’re- fuck,” Big you wanted to say. How ridiculously thick his cock was, and how small your cunt felt in comparison, it was all you could really think about anymore. Whimpering out all you could, “S-so thick, you feel so fucking good,” 

Now leaning back down, needing to be closer, even just so you could feel his breathe on the skin of your cheek. One of Joel’s hands moved to grasp at your ass, holding onto a cheek and pushing you deep so your cunt took as much of his cock as it could take, you calling his name out so loud his only option was to let you moan into his mouth. 

Shallow thrusts, Joel picked up the pace, taking the work over and fucking up into you faster and faster. The slap of his skin against yours echoed through the room, the loud smacking that he needed. Quick fucks would never truly be enough for Joel, he needed to hear your skin slapping together as he sinks his cock deep. “Open up, baby.” Joel muttered against your lips, his tongue tracing yours and in and out as you kissed, much like the in and out of your pussy. Gripping your ass so tight you knew his hand would be marked if not bruised into it.

It never took much to bruise for you, and Joel never let that go to waste, keeping reminders of his love on your body at all times even just for him to see. Adoring that you craved his marks as much as he craved leaving them. 

Your neck stung in tandem with the burning hot pleasure between your legs, your hips angled perfectly so your clit brushed against the hair framing his cock, leaving a sting almost like the one his scruff and his moustache left on your neck. You could feel his cock throbbing, and you clenched tightly around him making him moan your name out. Nudging his nose at your cheek, “Gonna let me cum all over this beautiful ass, sweet girl?” He smiled as you nodded, his hand not quite slapping it, but definitely giving the cheek he held a smack loud enough to ring in your ears as he re affirms his grip, causing the walls of your cunt to hold him even tighter. 

Joels own moans growing higher and higher in pitch, need whining from his breaths as he thrusted short but pounding fast. The jostle of your body against his rubbing your clit enough to catch your breathe. “Please, please...” Kissing him you finally wound up enough and let go. 

Soaking his cock ever more, Joels jaw clenched as he finally reached his own. Your orgasm tensing every limb and the pleasure flowing through your veins, you cried as he pulled out of you. Gripping his cock up against the middle of your ass as he came. Painting it with his cum, his hand moved you back and forth slightly to let his cock rub between the cheeks as he spurted the last of his seed. Muttering into your lips “I’ve got you,” over and over. 

You didn’t move, his hands finally rubbed against your back and hip while yours caressed his chest and waist. His heavy cock softening finally, resting on your cum painted ass as you both came down. 

Not realizing it, but both of you deeply lost in thought as you held each other in your arms, nuzzling the other gently. Joel holding it back, telling himself not to say it. Not to blurt it out, not to rush it. He occupied his lips, on your own, on your neck, on the top of your head. Anything to keep him from scaring you off before you were ready. 

You on the other hand, focused on the feeling of his body. How large he was, yet his skin soft and even plush at times made to fit you perfectly. How warm he was and how much you depended on it during cold nights. You had to remember, because you’d lose it no matter what. 

This man right here, was what was at stake. Either you were selfish and refused to give in, and he would rip Joel away from you, away from Ellie. Or you left and let him and Ellie live their quiet lives in peace without your burden. It was better this way. 

You drifted in and out of sleep that night. Each time you woke, you and Joel turned into a new position, never quite letting the other go. Just until the sun just pokes it’s head out. You stayed in his embrace until then, slowly untangling yourself not to wake him. 

You sat for a moment at the edge of the bed, looking at his handsome face, peacefully asleep. Maybe that peace would be good enough to hold onto. As you quietly packed a bag, you felt the guilt of not saying anything. Not telling them what had happened, where and why you were leaving, it made you feel like a coward. 

Too stuck onto the fear of what others had done to get to someone like you, and too afraid of how these two people you care so deeply about would feel. Shame you for not handing your own life over for the possibility of saving others? Would Joel and Ellie treat you that way, or was this just your own guilt trying to cope with running away in the early hours of the morning with no goodbye. 

You paused at the door, fingers holding onto the frame tight as your eyes shut tightly. Don’t look back at him, all it would make you do is want to climb back into bed. Heart beating faster, you shut the door quietly and looked towards Ellie’s closed bedroom door. More guilt. You couldn’t linger in their house, it was surrounding you with temptation and it was just too much. 

Finding your way onto the steps outside, the crisp morning air felt refreshing compared to the stuffy overwhelming inside. The sun finally starting to shine light onto Jackson, illuminating the empty streets. Bracing your hands on the railing, all you could do was stare down at the wood. You and Joel wrapped up in this very spot last night as if you were two normal people, but it was also the same spot you stood when he approached you and ruined everything about this small life you tried to find here. 

Willing yourself too look from the wood, you only got as far as your arm. Pulling the red sleeve up, you laid our forearm out on the banister, the normally hidden underneath facing up. Eyes baring down on the scarred tissue in a mocking tone. You could still see the metal pressed up against it, the burning heat forced down as you bit down on something to keep your cries of pain muffled. The healed scarring now covering what you didn’t want anyone to know about, but it seemed it didn’t matter. No one here questioned it, but that days events still found their way back to you. 

Movement in the far distance caught your eye, head shooting up as the sleeve fell back down your arm. Squinting too see through the sun shining on her directly, you saw blonde hair attached to a pretty figure. Maria. 

Always up early as hell, always trying to get ahead of the mountains of work she took on, but also not the woman you wanted to speak too.  She was friendly, good at making people feel comfortable but the guilt eating away at your insides wanted nothing to do with comfort. You knew she could see the bag at your feet and would say something if she suspected something was wrong. So you took a deep breathe through your nose, picked up the bag and slung it over one shoulder as you approached her. 

Getting away from the one place you felt welcome in. You stood a good few feet away from her, shifting one foot to the other in awkwardness that she hopefully read as your natural disposition to not be chatty. “You’re up early, not sure I’ve ever seen you awake at this time before.” 

Nodding, you looked briefly away from her face before turning back with an indifferent shrug. “Didn’t sleep well, figured I’d just make myself useful.”

“Would you like some help-” 

You answered too fast. “No.” Back peddle, don’t be defensive towards Maria she’ll probe your further. “No, I’m good, not much for company this early.” Maria just nodded silently looking you over with an intention you didn’t quite catch. “Nothing personal.” 

It was her time to act indifferent. “Didn’t take it that way.” There was a stark silence between you as your heart once again picked up the pace. “Well, I won’t keep you.” You nodded back and pivoted to start leaving when she called your name. “Remind Joel about coming over for dinner tomorrow would you?“.

Trying to will away the memory of his touch your hand gripping the straps of your bag tightened enough to sting. “Yeah, don’t worry I will.” 

Maria squinted at you in what seemed to be distrust, if you weren’t too cowardly to look her in the eye, maybe you’d have caught her almost inaudible muttering much akin to “I bet you will.” Instead she waited a beat before changing tones. “You just know what he’s like when he gets wrapped up in something else. Still forgets to just stop and enjoy himself, he and Tommy both honestly.” 

You forced a weak chuckle out, “Right.” Trying to hold a vague semblance of a smile, Maria just waved you off. 

“Talk to you later, okay?” 

Maybe you answered her with an “Okay” or a “Bye” but you weren’t sure. You just turned and walked away from her. Years alone never exactly did wonders to help your ability to lie, walking away was what you were better at. 

Beams of the suns light waved in your face as you walked down the empty streets, giving you just a hint of warmth in the colder air. The quiet was deafening now, months living here coaxing you to adjust to the constant sound of people making your retreat more tense. You had travelled here at a glimpse of hope to find a place to rest, and it did just that. But you didn’t plan to get attached, to find people you felt this strongly for, to think you were starting to relearn what a family felt like. 

Jackson was only ever supposed to be there for you to catch your breathe. You had predicted leaving not long after, but with the intention of going about your regular solitary life. Not leaving behind these people to hate you for abandoning them, and certainly not to travel and face a man unwilling to give up your past together, a past that changed your own life. 

But also, a past neither you or him, had ever expected you to survive. 

You didn’t know he was was in Wyoming. Hadn’t even thought about him in a long time. Not since a someone had previously mentioned to you that he was apparently with the Fireflies now somewhere in Salt Lake City. That was fine with you, that was one city you wanted to avoid, and Don was one of many people you never wanted to see again. 

Parts of him were easily distinguishable, though. That’s why one day while you were sitting along Joel’s porch you heard his voice with no question. You were leaned against a banister on the top step, one foot bent on the pain porch, the other perched on the lower step to more easily lay out the rusting shotgun you were attempting to salvage. Off in the distance, you heard that high pitched nasally voice, croaking out that obnoxiously loud laugh of his. 

Your head shooting up in almost shock, looking at the origin of the sound. Two men walking passed not too far to make out their faces you saw him. Whatever he had been doing in Utah was not kind to him. His hairline was as far back as his ears, and he was clearly favouring his left arm, holding it tight against his side as if it wasn’t moving along with the rest of his body. 

Gripping the barrel, your knuckles turned white as you could hear your heart beating in your head. The other man he was with, a guy you occasionally worked with that you could call a friend. Well, if you made more of an attempt at being social then he might be considered a friend. But he knew you well enough to call your name happily as they spotted you. Not walking over, but loud and waving somewhat embarrassingly peppy. 

It felt as it your arm was made of led, your muscles straining to lift up enough to give a half wave with a few fingers, your smile as strained and tight lipped as your insides felt. Don though, said nothing, and did nothing. 

He stood in spot, body turned to face the house and looking right at you with the stillness of a statue. The beating of your heart sped up more and more, leaving you feeling sick. You could see that angry squint even from this far away, features no doubt frowning in discontempt as he put the pieces together. He was as much in shock as you were, but yours was terror. 

He had left you there to die. Trapped you so conclusively that he didn’t even feel the need to stay and make sure, the way he left you? Every single other person would have died that day, you at the time assumed the same. 

For a moment all he did was stare, and you back. Finally that nasally voice spat out towards you, “Howdy, always nice to meet a fresh face.” 

That son of a bitch, the exact thing he said when he first met you years ago. You watched as Don looked slowly around the property you were on, back at the street he just came from until he landed back at you, this time a smug grin plastered across his face. So you just gave him the same treatment. 

“Likewise.” 

His grin grew. You both knew now what was inevitable. He finally turned to catch up, as you slowly stood up. The gun gripped tight in both hands as you raised, watching Don stroll casually down the street as if he didn’t just learn an earth shattering secret in one single glance. You watched and watched until he was too far away to even see anymore, but even still you didn’t look away. 

Were you just staring into nothing, or was your mind trapped in the memory of the sounds of screaming, the slam of the metal door and the persistent horrible clicking and snapping of the figure in front of you. 

Nothing was a solid stream of consciousness, more like flashes that came and went out of order, foggy images as if half of your sight was blacked out, and the booming noises that rung in your ears for days after. You hadn’t in anyway seen or heard Joel approaching. 

It wasn’t until his hand physically turned your body to face him that your mind snapped back to the quiet present, the deep comfort of Joel’s voice calling your name. “You’ve been standing here like this for 5 minutes.” Your gaze snapped to his eyes finally, hands relaxing somewhat and lowering down as the strain in the muscles let loose. “Hey,” his hand on your waist moved to lightly cup your cheek. “Talk to me.” 

Your fingers stretched and flexed out, fiddling with the shotgun before placing the broken machine unceremoniously on the ground. “Just zoned out, I guess.” 

Joel’s gaze would mirror the same one Maria would give you a week later as you snuck out of town. A hesitant concern sweeping the depths. “If something’s wrong-” 

You barley looked at him as you fidgeted around, leaving his warmth entirely. “Nothing, I’m fine.” You turned away and back, mouth trying to form an excuse. “Just gotta, stop by my house,” gesturing behind you, “Running out of clothes, you know?” 

It wasn’t quite a smirk, but a tinge of playfulness sneaking across his features. “I think these suit you just fine.” Nodding down to the unbuttoned shirt that absolutely was not yours. He took a step closer with a playful but softer look you were getting far too used to. “Or you could just do what I talked about. Just bringing your stuff over here.” 

Your heart had yet to stop pounding and everything was suffocating and heavy, filling your lungs like smoke. You needed to leave, and finally you were upset enough to just brush him off rudely. “I know, I just- I’ll be back later.” And you took off, your head too loud to hear Joel saying your name to come back. 

Tunnel vision filled your eyesight as you threw the door to your small, cramped house and slammed it shut so hard that the wall shook. Scrambling into your bedroom your breathing was bordering on hyperventilating, sweat forming on your skin the more your blood flew through your veins. Yanking a small chest from under the bed, you fumbled with the simple lock keeping it sealed. 

The only moment of salvation coming as you finally tossed the open lock onto the wooden floor with a bounce. You grabbed a few things, but the blade was what you most wanted, needed really. One you hadn’t used since you started travelling alone. 

Would it come to that? Don worked for the Fireflies now, or maybe used too. But he had connections now to people who were all too happy to cut away your life for their own pointless experiments. 

Now you walked alone, one bad over your shoulders and a rifle hanging off one. The crunch of the gravel beneath your shoes helped fill the silence. Focusing on the steady crunch beat after beat as you calmly approached the clearing. Surprisingly, it was less painful the further you went. You could feel the tension dripping out of your body with every step, and the heartache was replaced with a kind of solemn acceptance. 

Out here you could pretend you didn’t leave people behind. You could pretend it was like the almost two years you spent alone, and it was just another day. The same sounds back then were around you afterall. Crunching gravel, light ruffle of leaves in the wind, the faint sound of birds high off in the treeline away from the problems of the world. 

The overgrown path you walked along opened up into what likely used to be a city street. The pathways now covered in dirt with tree and plant life overtaking the open space and winding themselves into the derelict buildings that remained. The open space was large but empty, not a soul to be seen. You knew better. Don was around here somewhere. The question was was he here alone or did he get you to walk into an ambush? 

The Fireflies weren’t likely to come out in aggressive force, they preferred to trick you with sympathy. Act calm and rational, feed you a story you’re likely to buy only to trap you into something you knew nothing about. Nothing you could see scanning your eyes around told you there was anyone hiding in larger numbers, so you stepped forward. 

Entering the clearing with slow steps. The crunch of gravel smoothing out into a smush into the dirt, leaving the air even more devoid of life. You didn’t bother entertaining the idea that no one was here but you. Having that kind of hope was becoming something of a disappointment. The further you walked into the middle the more your fingers at your side twitched. The gun was your primary choice, but it also sat along the shoulder the same side as the knife you had tucked away. You were ready to grab either if you were jumped. 

But you weren’t, not physically. In the dead air, and echoed shot blasted through the silence and shook away the birds in the trees. Merely a foot or two in front of you the dirt blasted up onto your shoes as a bullet forced its way into the ground. So he was somewhere in front of you. 

You stood silently, heart treading on racing once again as your head kept forward while your eyes looked as far as they could reach. Then his nasally voice yelled out, “You alone?” 

More twitch of your fingers, don’t reach for the gun. “Yeah.” You didn’t quite yell, but was loud enough to hear if he was further away than you think. It did however, strike a thought into your head as Don responded. You had without thinking, reached for Joels shirt. In trying to be silent you didn’t even notice you had picked up and thrown on the very red flannel shirt he had torn off of him the night before. It didn’t comfort you. It only made you yearn for his broad frame and cozy body heat all the more. 

“Drop your gun.” When you didn’t comply he shot again, this time inches closer to your feet. “I said drop it, or I’ll drop you, you got that?” 

Your jaw clenched, teeth scraping together as you shrugged it off your shoulders, plopping it onto the ground. He’d yell at you anyways, but you raised your foot just slightly over it’s side as he spoke again. “That’s right, kick it away from you.” It slid clumsily on the rough dirt, but it was enough that you’d have to go too far to grab it again. “Now throw the bag.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself. “Seriously? What do you think I’m hiding in there?” 

Don didn’t shoot again, but his agitation was growing. “Just throw the fucking bag.” Rolling your eyes, you slid each strap from your shoulders. Holding it dramatically in the air with an annoyed raise of your eyebrows, you tossed it even further then the gun. Dirt muffling the clang of the heavy weight slamming to the ground. “Okay now just stay right there. Don’t you fucking move, got it?” 

Tilting your head slightly, it was as much of an answer as you’d give him. You couldn’t grace his hiding cowardice with a real response. 

Finally the weasel barrels out of the tree line ahead, his own rifle primed and pointed at you as he came towards you. For some reason, it struck you how utterly disgusting his collared shirt dyed a dirty mustard yellow looked on him. Maybe you were finding things to look at that took away from what was about to happen, or maybe you were just starting to accept the start of the end. 

His eyes wide and bulging from his sockets, he leaned to the ground as he keeps a slightly unsteady aim at you. Not even looking down he fumbles along the dirt to grab the gun without looking away, taking a few tries of patting around. Finding the metal, he snatches it back, barrel dragging across the dirt leaving an imprint in it’s path before he flings it over his own person. He then went for the bag. 

“What you scared I’m hiding backup in there?” Gun pointed at you, you reminded yourself. Gun pointed at you with a man working for the people wanting you to, essentially die. Not the time for being a smartass. 

Don took the higher road and just glared as his right side leans down to grab the bag, snapping it open clumsily and yanking it upside down to pour everything out onto the ground. Mostly just medical supplies, a small canteen of water, a few random supplies and a box of ammo. Don pocked those without even thinking. 

Pausing before he stood back up, he looked between you and the pile before flatly picking the water canteen up and tossing it at you. Raising your eyes up in doubt he shrugged, hoisting his own gun up to keep it properly held on you. “I’m not that cruel.” 

Your face felt just as flat as his looked, a complete portrayal of annoyed and unimpressed with a voice just as monotone. “Thanks. I’ll remember this always.” 

Silence danced between you, waiting for a move to be made by either party, Don seemingly had anticipated a fight from you, and was almost unsure of himself now that you gave him control from minute one. His mouth opening and closing a few times as he licks his lips as a nervous tick before fixing a firm look. “We still got a bit to walk. So get to it. No funny stuff.” 

How Don ever worked as security for the Fireflies was beyond you. You could only wonder where it was he was stationed that clearly didn’t require him to be in any way tough or enforcing. Maybe one of their research places. Low population, usually in some kind of a hospital that no one thought to look in. 

It showed. The gun never was totally steady and unshaking in his hands for even a minute. Don gestured with the barrel and a nod of his head in tandem to force you to walk in front of him. 

You didn’t say anything to him as you walked, there was nothing you wanted to say. The only thing you wanted was to ignore the overwhelming feeling of loneliness as you thought about what you left behind in Jackson, and how foolish it was of you to assume you’d ever get to keep it. 

It was rare these days for anyone to be on the receiving end of Joel’s temper. He had settled into a quiet life without the paranoia jadedness that plagued him for so many years. He spent months pushing away Ellie and directing his pain into anger in order to do it, but she was still here, and so was he. The anger had simmered into a difficult acceptance of fatherhood, and it was still a process both of them were working towards. For a long time Joel had given up the idea of family, he and Tommy barley spoke afterall and now he was grappling with coming to terms with being father again, without being eaten alive with guilt and falling back into the circle of pain.

The more his quiet life with Ellie stayed calm and quiet though, the easier things became. Whatever paternal instincts he once thought he lost forever continued to come back day after day, learning how easy it was to be a father to Ellie and accepting that it was truly this internal anger and loss that planted that seed of doubt. But it had been over a year now in Jackson, and everyday it got a little easier to feel like a family. 

Then months ago, on a gloomy day constantly threatening to turn the light mist into a downpour, Joel went in search of his brother to complain about a broken pipe and found a quiet but tense figure he didn’t recognize. A woman sizing him up as if his frustration on a bad day was a sign of incoming aggression. The Joel just kept seeing you around, and slowly worked your way into his life as it you were meant to be there. 

It wasn’t always easy with you. You tended to be quiet and reserved, holding back your thoughts and feelings in favour of keeping the status quo, regardless if that’s what Joel wanted or not. You clearly didn’t have a lot of relationship experience, if any. Joel found it easier for him to remember what a relationship felt like then it was for you to let yourself enjoy it. 

This past week though, you had been off. Not just quieter than normal, but tense. Very tense, ready to snap at any moment and constantly sneaking back to your mostly empty house hoping he didn’t notice. Yesterday you were less tense, but almost like you were gone. The afternoon you were distant and disconnected as you lost yourself in your thoughts, and Joel spent the night trying to pull you out of it. He knew all too well how fast being pulled under like that could get. 

So when morning came, and you had taken not only your bag, but your emergency supplies, your weapons, and left all before he and Ellie woke up in the early morning? He knew something was wrong, he just didn’t realize the extent of it until Maria stopped by. Suddenly, that growing anger was returning. 

“You just watched her leave town and not bother to ask where the hell she was going?” Anyone walking by would be able to hear the argument between Joel and his sister-in-law. Maria was growing just as angry the more Joel lost his cool. 

“Do you really think she would have told me the truth even if I pried? Interrogating her would only clam her up more.” Their stances were one in the same, in the middle of his living room hands on their hips with angry eyes blazing at the other. Only Maria kept moving a hand to her forehead in exasperated exhaustion. “What was I supposed to do?” 

Joel didn’t move an inch. Standing as still as a statue as an acidic mixture of anger and panic boiled up in his stomach. “How about you come in here and wake my ass up before she got too far?” 

There was a sorrow in Maria’s tone. “Joel if she wanted you to know she was leaving she would have told you.” 

That wasn’t an option. You were the third piece of the family he and Ellie created, you practically lived in their house now, you all needed each other. You wouldn’t get up and leave without a word just because you were done with them. 

Ellie had stormed off at the insinuation you had abandoned them. Yelling she was going to your place with a slam of the front door that shook the wall. It wasn’t just Joel that felt a deep attachment to you. Returning, she flew threw the door not bothering to shut it. A panic flash over her entire face between heaving to catch her breath. “She didn’t just leave.” 

Holding a small box in her hands, she rushed to kneel down in front of a small coffee table and started pulling things out. “She-it was just sitting out in the open. I think she had it hidden for a while.” 

Joel knelt down next to her, a hand briefly on the space between her shoulders with a small rub as her breathing came down. He didn’t like going through something you wanted to keep personal, but it was all right there. A few trinkets were scattered about, small sentimental things like an old broken mp3 player, a necklace, and the sorts. Scraps of paper sat in a pile, gently combing through them, there were drawings. Rough pencil sketches of people and places he didn’t recognize, and near the bottom of the pile, one unfinished drawing that looked like Ellie and himself. 

Joel’s thumb rubbed over the lines with a barley there touch, he didn’t even knew you could draw let alone that you were trying to draw them. “I also found this,” 

Ellie handed Joel a larger folded paper, opening up to be a torn part of a map, in red was a little nowhere spot a town or so over with today’s date. Clipped to it was a ripped paper not in your writing. A large messy script that had written Joel’s name and crossed it out in a red X, below with the words ‘Just you’. 

“What the fuck?” Joel’s soft muttering was enough to reach Maria’s ears, circling around the room to see what they found. Joel and Ellie met the others eyes with a wide look filled with some level of tense panic. You didn’t just walk away, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why someone was using his life as a threat to get you to leave, and moreso, why you didn’t just tell him what was going on so he could help you? Why keep something like this from him? 

It wasn’t until the duo were nearly out the door that Maria’s comments finally registered. “Let me get Tommy, we’ll set up a search area-” 

Ellie whipped around, her face was tense and clenched as she white knuckled the straps of her bag. “No. The sooner we leave the more likely we can catch up to her. We have to go right now.” 

Lord, the ways Joel and Ellie somehow looked nothing like each other but also exactly the same would be fascinating on any other day. Joel’s jaw clenching as a determined fear blinked across his eyes. “She’s right. If we don’t go after her now, she’s just going to make it harder for anyone to follow her, and I’m bringing her home.” 

Maria looked at him for a moment with understanding, before nodding. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows anything. If it’s someone in town doing it, there’s gotta be at least one person who has any idea.” A gentle hand squeezed Joel’s shoulder, in the short time they’ve known each other she feels like she knows him well. He and Tommy are one in the same in a lot of ways. When thing’s hurt, they wear that hurt on their sleeve. Joel briefly covered her hand in thanks before the pair left. 

Ellie’s voice kept filling the air, a confused hurt that he hadn’t heard from her in a long time. Not since he himself had tried to leave her behind. “Why wouldn’t she just tell us if someone threatened her? What, she didn’t think she could trust us?” It came out angry, but it was guilt, he felt the same. 

“I don’t think it’s personal, Ellie. She trusts us, but she also refuses to put any of her problems on us, like it’s not worth our time.” Nearing the edge of town, Joel braced himself for whatever they may find out there. 

“But we’re family, that’s what we’re for.” 

Both their voice were quiet. Joel’s heart felt a pull he had been holding back for a while now. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke those words or even felt that towards another person like this, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you off by dumping it on you too soon. He couldn’t help but wonder, if he just said it beforehand, would you have finally trusted them? Finally understood your problems weren’t a burden? 

Maybe you’d finally have understood that you’re not intruding on he and Ellie’s little family, but that you were apart of it. Instead the pair walked through the path Joel vaugley had plotted out in his head. He knew how to get there, he just hoped that he’d be able to track where you went if whoever had you had taken you somewhere else. 

Turns out, Ellie was thinking exactly what he was. In the silence, she muttered out a few short words in anger. He didn’t blame her, he felt the same way. “You should have told her.” 

The air was hot and stifling as the sun found it’s way up, there was little sign of life as you were marched forward. Most animals and insects seeking shelter from the heat, but you had no opportunity. You didn’t dare take Joels flannel off to cool down either, it might be the only reminder you’ll have of him ever again, as childish as it felt to say. 

Don had rambled on the entire time. Telling you about his time with the Fireflies, about what he did and who he met as if any of it mattered to you. You had your fair share of run in’s with them since that day and all it did was put your secret on red alert. Painting a target on your back, and you quickly learned that said target was directed at any and everyone who was like you. Their claims were that it was necessary to protect lives, but they had taken away every single one of you they met. When did that body count outweigh whatever they were trying and failing to look for inside of you? 

That day you found out still stuck with you. The further from Jackson you went, it was as if the clearer and clearer that memory became. Don had lost his wife the previous night. You had been put on watch in the dead of night, running on no sleep going on 36 hours and no food you had begged to switch shifts. You were younger than them all though, you were only told what to do. 

Men had shown up at the darkest part of the night, you didn’t even see it happen. Leaned up against a tree you had heard a twig snap and turned your head just in time to meet a painful whack. It only knocked you out for a few seconds, but it was long enough that they walked into the little camp with no warning. Your vision was fuzzy, and you had fresh cuts from your skin scraping against the rocks below your feet. 

The group never found out what they wanted, likely just vultures looking to take what they didn’t have, but Dons wife had been the casualty. You had staggered into the camp, blood dripping down from whatever he had hit you with at the top of your head, and vision blurred. All you could really see was her bright hair splayed out across a rock and blood painting it’s blonde colour a sickening red. 

Don blamed you, and honestly you blamed yourself as well. The rest of the next day was horrifically tense between you two. Don would lash out and lose it once an hour and you were starting to realize you deserved it. Maybe now it would have been different, but it was years ago, you were younger and less capable. And you certainly were far worse at defending yourself. 

You were pushed out of your thoughts all of the sudden. Literally. Don shoved your forward with the gun like a child shoves a sibling in annoyance. “You listening to anything I fucking said?”  

If you clenched your jaw any tighter you’re bones were going to start cracking. “Something about how great the Fireflies are and how well they treated you.” A thought passed through you and slipped out before you could access it. “Tell me Don,” Turning your head to just see his mustard shirt, “What kind of security does a hospital need? We both know these people aren’t healing people out of the good of their hearts. What’s the point of guarding a place only other Fireflies know about” 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” You had forgotten how utterly childish he was. 

“What? I can’t know their secrets? You’re forcing me at gunpoint to them, I think I have the right to know before they cut me open.” He was muttering to himself, something that sounded like a question or doubt but he was too quiet to understand. 

The steps of your feet suddenly were alone, the sound of his own on the ground no longer playing alongside your own. Turning around fully, Don was standing in place, gun still aimed at you but lowered casually as he ran a hand over his mouth in thought. As your eyes met, you raised an eyebrow in question only to be met with him gesturing with the gun to move once again. 

He finally spoke after you figured he was ignoring you. “I was asked to go to Salt Lake City. They got an old hospital down there that they use as some research facility or something. Not much action, sometimes a few new people would show up. Sometimes they’d leave not long after, some of them never came out.” 

You could feel your guts twisting, but you needed to know what you were walking into. “Whose some of them?” 

Don stammered, “I-k-,” before letting a large sigh out. His voice had lowered, akin to a whisper spoken out in a tinge of shame. “Sometimes they came in already unconscious, the adults at least. The few kids I saw came in willingly, but I don’t think they really knew what was going to happen.” You could feel foam and bile pushing it’s way up your throat in horror. “Only one of ‘em ever managed to get out.” 

Your fingers tensed until they turned colour from the strain, willing not to form them into fists or even dig your nails into your palm, he’d take that as a threat. But your chest burned at the implication he knew you understood. “By get out I assume you don’t mean they just held the door open as they walked out.” 

Dons voice was rough, gritted out in an emotion that felt painful even to you. “No. That one uh, cost a lot of lives. Don’t even think the good ole doctor survived that one.” 

You didn’t care. Truly, you didn’t care. You knew they were still doing it, still looking for answers in the same places they always failed to find them, but you sure as hell didn’t know kids were on his table as well. From the interactions you had with the man, you found yourself fantasizing it was justice. It didn’t matter how polite he was, how much bedside manner he had, or the soft spoken ways he tried to convince people that giving you up was for the good of humanity. You knew better. You knew his work, his body count, and now you knew that included children. 

“So who do they have doing their dirty work now?” 

A building entered your vision, a small rundown shack of a place that may once have been some small town sheriffs office. There was one cracked window covered up hastily with wooden boards and the wood was dilapidated from moisture of the plants overgrowing around it. “Few of us, finding people who may help us,” 

“You mean be useful to you.” 

You could hear the eye roll in his tone. “Whatever. I got told to look for doctors and convince them to join our cause.” It was hard to tell with the Fireflies if they really believed the things they said, or if everyone understood it was nothing but propaganda to fool people. Whatever righteous cause they started off as, you didn’t think they cared about much other than themselves anymore. 

“So you came to Jackson.” Don begun directing you towards the building, coming more up to your side than holding you at gun point. “And told them you found me.” 

Closing in on the main door, he nodded his head for you to press up against the other side as he prepared to grab the handle, but he paused, his hand hovering above it as he stared intensely into nothing. “No, not really. I told them I’d bring anyone of interest around here and I’d radio them to come and pick us up once I got you there.” 

A hollow chuckle left you as you looked with disdain at him. “Is that the plan, Don? Lock me up again, but this time trust you to just hand me over?” 

Still not looking at you his chest inflated as he took a breathe. He wouldn’t respond to that. He was willing to admit to what he was doing, but he wasn’t going to admit he beat up a girl ten years his junior, let her get attacked and tossed her in a locked cell for days assuming it would kill her. That’s a guilt he was unwilling to take responsibility for. “Shut up once we’re in there. We don’t know if there’s any of those fuckers hiding in the offices or some shit, and no I’m not giving you your fucking gun.” 

Don hated the playfully condescending look you gave him. “Didn’t ask for it.” Guns were loud and awkward, and Don never asked you to give up any knives you may had hidden on your body. 

So he opened the front door and scoped the joint right away. Enough light seeped through the wooden cracks to illuminate the room, and like he predicted there was nothing right away, but you were willing to bet if you made enough noise, you’d start to hear loud clicking coming from those closed hallway doors.

It was the loud echos of a gun that drew Joel and Ellie into a run. They knew if there was a confrontation, they wouldn’t get there in time but the adrenaline flowed through their veins all the same. The clearing indicated on the map came up quickly as they finally past the tree line. 

Both panting and looking around to see no one on either sides. There was however, a mess right near the middle. Nudging Ellie to keep in front of him, Joel scoured the treeline for any sign of movement but nothing but the blow of the leaves found him. 

Right smack in the middle was a tossed array of supplies. Emergency medical items, stray ammo seemingly dropped from a box, and a minuscule amount of anything to survive long lasting out here.  The sickening feeling grew as Joel realized that if you never planned on coming back, judging by what you had on you, you sure didn’t intend on lasting long out here either. 

Ellie’s eyes were stuck on a scattered spray of blood. Not enough to be from a gunshot wound, but someone was definitely hit here. Fingers gripping the edge of your bag tightly she almost started trembling. “You should have told her.” 

It was quiet but she knew Joel heard her. His unresponsive look only upset her more, this time she yelled. “You should have told her!” Taking steps towards him she looked up at him in anger as if her short stature could be a threat. “If you just told her how you feel, she wouldn’t have just walked out on us!” 

Joel was quiet. His heart brewing in his chest as the way she worded it felt more than just an accident. Walked out on us. Like they were a normal family whose other parent just left one day and didn’t come back. “Ellie, she was hiding something she thought was bigger than us-”

Standing her ground, Ellie didn’t back down. “And if she knew you loved her maybe she would have actually realized we wanted to help-” 

Joel sternly gave a warn of her name more than once, trying to overpower the increased emotions from the teenager without losing his cool. Finally, he yelled it once more, leaning down to grasp at her arms and force her to look him in the eye. Her voice was quieter this time. “I know how it feels to think the people you love don’t care about you like that back. Like you’re attachment to them just interrupts there life.” 

Not quite watery, but a misty glaze over her eyes stabbed at his heart. One hand moved to hold her cheek as his voice softened. “So we find her. We get her home and prove her otherwise. Okay?” 

Taking a deep breath, Ellie’s composure returned and stood a little taller again. Joel bent down for a minute to gather you’re forgotten things. His low view giving him a better vantage point to look, as he squinted around to see any hint. And he found something. There were a scattered array of footprints in the light dirt around them, some of which dragged in the opposite direction Joel had come in. 

He knew not much was out that way. Ellie came into his view to join. “That way?” Nodding, the two stood up to leave, but she had one last fear to voice. “Joel, what if he find her and she’s..” 

The anxiety ate away at him, you were so afraid of getting in the way of their lives that you were willing to die out here just to spare them your problems. He couldn’t think that way. They’d get to you and you would be totally fine. It was a stupid hope to so desperately hold onto, but finding nothing but a corpse would only dominate his fears if he festered on it. “We bring her home, Ellie. No matter what.” 

Joel told himself to focus on your feeling. How you so rarely ever touched him in any way that wasn’t filled with a hesitant wave of strong emotions, the way you reciprocated how intense he was growing to feel about you. The bark of laughter you’d give out when the cracks finally were chipped away at. 

The image of you trying to hide your mouth behind a laugh or smile, and how that turned into a full smiling giggle with a roll of your eyes as Joel would grab at your hands and pull them behind your back, mumbling into your ear to “stop hiding from me, already.” 

Focusing on nights, how intimate sex with you was like you craved close and meaningful as opposed to just casual and fun, and after every time, it was the only time in decades that he felt so comfortable falling asleep next to somebody. 

Focus on that he told himself. Joel had to focus on that, not the gut wrenching nightmare they may find.

So far he had let you pace around freely, watching you just wait for him to make any kind of move. That sickness in your stomach never really going away. You only ever heard of other adults being brought to them, but you didn’t know kids had been as well. Kids that had never even experienced a world before everything was ravaged by infection. Demanding they give their life up for something they never even knew about. 

You had seen it, people genuinely finding a way to rebuild their own lives and live in relative normalcy. You had traveled into a small community one day many months ago and found that long forgotten experience of a peaceful civilization. Maybe you were just naive, you had never actually lived in any of the closed military run quarantine zones. You just went from living a quiet unspectacular life to being pried away from your parents and forced into an existence of non stop running. Maybe it was childish to wish that kids got to have what was torn away from you. 

You turned from looking mindlessly at faded, dusty frames on the wall, to the shaking end of a pistol. Face falling from impassive to bewildered, “Hey, look you have my gun I’m not trying to run.” You took slow steps towards Don, hands out to appear non threatening. “Just call whoever you’re going to call, and we’ll wait here in peace.” 

You stopped abruptly, when Don shifted to point directly at your head mere feet away. “Neither of us are going anywhere.” 

Tilting your head in confusion, you lowered your hands back to your sides. There was an upsetting waver to his voice that put you more on edge than you liked. 

His mouth opened and closed trying to put the words inside it. “You know what I see when I look at you?” Your eyebrows raised in question but you said nothing. “I see the hazy little face of a dumb kid who let those fucking monsters come into our camp. The stupid kid who looked wide eyed and confused as I held my wife’s bloody head in my fucking lap.” 

Swallowing hard, you tensed your muscles. That tingling sensation flowing through them as you braced yourself to move quick. You still didn’t speak, Don wasn’t finished and honestly, there was little you could say. Not of guilt, and not in defense. He didn’t want you for what the Fireflies thought was right, no he wanted you for something far more personal. 

“I see the face of that little bitch who left your worthless ass bleeding out, hoping to god you’d get torn apart before it took hold. Now I’m standing in front of you, looking at you surviving what none of us could and deciding you don’t fucking deserve it.” 

The flashes of memory in your mind became clearer and clearer. You had little reason in the last while to ever think of it, but it still wove it’s way in front of you eyes. 

Don cornering you in a room drenched with the crawling of the filthy reach of the fungus. The yelling and screaming of nothing as he knocked you around, and the burning pain alighting your arm when he became loud enough to attract a clicker, and just stood and watched as it sunk it’s rotting teeth into your skin, waiting to kill it only after it was done. 

You remember feeling frozen, your heart lurching in your chest constricting your breath in terror, only to have it get worse. Don had finally taken advantage of your shock, yanking you by your hair painfully, just so he could toss you in a cell and lock it behind you. Dangerous colours like moss spread around your body and blood watching the wide bloodshot-ed look in your eyes. 

He never spoke a word, he just turned and opened a door you had yet to check, letting another one of those things out and abandoning you. 

You had no idea how long you were in there. The world spun and faded as you were forced to face the end. The clicker guarding the outside as if just to remind you what you would eventually become. For a few hours, you sat against a wall on the floor, knees to your chest as you gripped your knife to upright against your chest. You didn’t dare move, make any sound. You wanted to feel when it happened and stop it before it was too late. 

The bite wound bled, the room tinged in a musky scent of decay that should have pulled you with it’s reach. Maybe it was the shock and exhaustion that did you in, but you felt the world become dazed before falling to the side as your head slammed into the concrete. 

You had woken up maybe days later, and that was it. You had woken up. Nothing had changed but dehydration. The bite in fact, was already scabbing over like it was just a scrape. Tears flowed freely down as you felt too much at once. Never once in your life had you been told someone could survive the infection, and even up until you made it Jackson you never met anyone else. 

Rumours of the immune being seeked by Fireflies only found it’s way to you when one of them saw the healed bite on your arm. That’s when you scarred it over. A night spend hiding away with a fire only big enough to burn the metal blade until it seared into your flesh and hiding the evidence away from the world. 

Rattling of doors brought you to the present. Had he kept talking, had he been yelling? It was as if you were entirely absent as soon as your memory invaded your mind. He was still talking, but now spitting at you to hide against the pillar opposite of him near the hallway entrance. His back was braced against the wall, with nervous hands checking his gun. 

You weren’t quite sure what compelled you to risk it, but in quiet whispers, you begun poking at his resolve. “You really willing to risk your life for this?” 

Dons eyes bulged from their sockets in shock, “What are you-” 

“You left me to die once, what does doing it again accomplish?” You didn’t need to even peek at the oncoming sounds. Unchecked doors finding their ways open as the clicks grew loud. If you had to guess, there was at least two. “Kill me for what? To avenge a dead wife I had nothing to do with?”

He all but hissed at you, “Shut up.” 

“You won’t even hand me over to the one cause you actually believe in, that how selfish you are?” Your whispers kept even, trying to stab at the part of him that would get distracted. “You’re fine with letting those people lying to people so they can keep cutting open kid’s brains, so you must just be selfish.” He’d get too loud, attract attention, force him to turn the other way to watch. 

His eyes flickered between you and the pillar behind him as if trying to look through it. “You’re the reason she’s dead I don’t give a shit what they do to you?” 

He finally met your eyes, “Would you have given her up if she were immune, Don?” His eyes blasted with rage the more you spoke. It didn’t feel good, slandering what you remember as a decent woman, but he took your stuff. Left you with one hidden blade and that wouldn’t keep these things off of you. “Hand her over like you did actual children? Other peoples lives don’t matter to you, right? Sacrificing kids is fine to you, would she agree? Be proud of what you’ve done? Or be disgusted at who you are-” 

“It’s about making you pay!” 

Too loud. Not enough to send them into a frenzy, but they clicked more. The cracking of their limbs and the groans that were left of their vocal cords screeched louder as they listened for more. Don’s anger flashed to fear in an instant. His body whipping around to finally brave a peek around the corner. 

You could still feel the blood on your face from slamming into the ground, the phantom stinging of your arm as their grotesque sounds filled the dead air, the terrifying fear braced against the wall waiting for the infection to take you, and the threat of murdering that ‘fuck’ that you lived with if you didn’t meet him and do what he demanded, that he’d take away what he no longer had. 

And so your fingers slowly grasped the blade of the knife. Your entire back braced against the wall and watching him to turn around as you slowly pulled it out, your grip tight, your resolve hardening. It was simple. Don either was going to kill you, the ones you love, or hand you back over to the Fireflies. None of those were an option to you. So your body inched forward slightly and slightly more. 

Making your move, Don had gotten smarter then you thought. You both met in the middle, your knife held sideways across his neck and a similar feeling piercing the skin of your stomach. A silent fury brewed between flaming eyes as you fought to keep an even breathe. 

You could feel the teasing poke of the tip of his own knife as if challenging you to stab him first. But that wasn’t what you planned. Your own free hand wasn’t anything he focused on, the silent creep towards his loose grip on his pistol. 

It all happened in a moment. You yanked it from his own hand, and in return he slashed at your stomach.  A long lash deep and harsh enough to force a cry of pain to yell from your mouth. The screeching roared in an instant, both your bodies exposed in the halls entrance. 

Your guess was right, there were two, and both had their own targets to pursue. For a brief moment you only could watch one lunge past in a blur towards a now flailing back Don. A moment lasting long enough for the other clicker to come up behind you. 

Trying to move back away from it, your footing wasn’t steady enough and send you flying to the ground, the knife clanging against the floor away from you as the pistol dropped next to you much harder. It didn’t hesitate. 

Clickers only had one goal, the same goal that had once consumed their own lives. Cordyceps didn’t seek blood or violence or even food, they simply saw a host. And in the spinning world as you fell, it followed and sunk it’s mouth into your side. It’s only goal to spread it’s fungus to more and more hosts. Their teeth were sharp and unforgiving, as you could feel a firing burn splash across your skin like acid, and the mix of two open wounds bleeding in tandem. 

Your hearing fell to the pounding of your heart, unable to hear Don’s own cries or even what existed around you. But you had still gotten what you pried from his person. Mustering enough to kick at the creatures body it pushed back far enough to give you a chance to grab the gun laid beside you. It’s teeth ripping part of your skin out as you did so forcing another cry. 

It let out the very sounds you were once terrified of becoming, it’s mutated head baring blood soaked teeth at you before you pulled the trigger, watching more of it’s own blood splatter across your face and fall to the floor. 

The other made a similar sound, now lunging towards you only to find the same shot forcing it to the ground with an unforgiving slam. 

For a moment you were both quiet. You on the ground, trying to lean against the wall as you found yourself soaked in blood not just the clickers, feeling the wound scream at you in agony. Don was partially against a table, holding a bloody hand to his neck, eyes soaked with fear and a watery gaze. 

The silence between you so heavy that not even the desperate need to gasp or cry came out, just a painfully silent feeling of pain. Don tried to say anything. Muttering softly, he called your name out to get you to focus on him, 

“”I-,” another shot rang out. Your arm weakly outstretched as a final bullet plummeted into his stomach. Whether it was shock or physically unable to speak, Don said nothing. Just slid to the ground looking down at his stomach, hand weakly falling to his sides as a bleeding wound much like your own on his neck. 

You just looked away. There was a brief concoction of distressed noises softly coming from him before they gurgled and stopped all together. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there. Body sitting and soaked in a pool of your own blood. The thick air could make anyone feel sick. The stench of whatever toxicity flowed through the clickers reeking the air and mixing horribly with the overwhelming rusting scent of your own blood. 

There was no way of guessing how long you sat there, maybe fading in and out of consciousness, it was hard to stay present. Lulling your head to the side finally you braved a look. Don was motionless, limp and not breathing. 

Should you feel guilty? Maybe. But twice now you sat with a burning pain from the bite of a clicker as he left you to die, only this time he had died first. Avenging a wife you never intended to be harmed many years ago. A man who told you, truthfully but with little remorse, that his new found group of rebels murdered not just you, but innocent children. All for a chance to look for a hint of a cure that you knew they already never have found. 

You thought of Joel. A memory strange to think of in this moment, but it was clear as day. 

Both of you sat side by side on his front steps, arms, shoulders and legs brushing up on the other with no space between you. From your view his scruff showed off the mixed in greys of the dark brown that matched his dark hair, just slightly curling in the summer heat. 

Weirdly enough you could clearly see the outside of his face, a softness to him that was often hidden by a harsh glare. The strong angular nose framing his side profile in a way you previously never knew could be handsome or attractive. For a while you remember staring at him, before his deep voice pulled you back. “If I had a camera, I’d tell you to just take a picture.” His face looking at you to show off his looks face on, even if that's not what he intended. “Instead how about you tell me why you’re gawking at me like I’m a zoo animal.” 

Joel’s face held a slight smirk, a lightness in his eyes that even he still was getting used too. All you could do was shake your head with a small smile and turn away again. His shoulder purposely bumping into yours. His voice warm in your ears as he had leaned in closer. “You gonna tell me what’s stirring through that head of yours?” 

With a breathe, you looked down at nothing before flickering your eyes up to where you could barley see Ellie off in the distance. “Just not used to it, is all.” 

“Used to what?” Joel’s voice was comforting even when he didn’t intend it to be. 

With a half shrug you nodded over to where you had been looking. “All this. Being around people this way again.” Your fingers toyed meaninglessly with each other in distraction to his deep gaze. “Feeling like I belong.” 

He was silent for a beat before nodding his head out to her. “I never thought I’d feel this way ever again. Not after everything.” From your peripheral vision you could see Joel’s hand toying with the watch always on his wrist. You had sort of talked about it, about Sarah, but you never brought it up yourself. She was his daughter, his loss, it wasn’t your place to ask about her unprompted. “But having that girl in my life? It helped me remember how much family really means, how much we all need that feeling deep down.” 

Your brows furrowed, refusing to look up at his thoughtful gaze. You didn’t mean to imply you had intruded on his little family, that’s what you had been trying not to do, not to force yourself into their lives when you didn’t belong there. “She’s good for you. You’re good for her.” 

Not saying anything at first, Joel raised his hand to cup the side of your head, pulling you into his space as he kissed the top of it. “So are you. You outta remember that.” You could feel his lips mumbling against your hair before one last smaller kiss and he stood up. His hand trailed along your head in a slight caress until it was too far. 

You just watched as he joined Ellie, and how quick they turned to smiling and joking together anytime they were near each other. You weren’t sure how you felt, if you longed to be apart of that, or if it was guilt for wanting to intrude on it. 

You still felt that now. The bleeding wasn’t pouring so severely, but you trembled and every muscle weighted down with lead. Your gaze had remained on the blade when you started to move. Crawling across the floor, face tight in a grimace of pain as your blood smeared along the path. 

In the only other pocket you almost didn’t remember you had, you pulled out a dinged up lighter. It was agony, trying to pull yourself up enough to pull the fabric of your shirt away from the bite, it bled more than the gash to your stomach, so that’s all you could even focus on. 

Your breathing was heavy and bordered on hyperventilating as you took hold of the knife. The blood left in your veins rung in your ears as you barley could see anymore. Enough to see the bright orange of the flame licking across the metal. You hoped you remembered how long it took last time to do this. The last time was to hide the healed bite, but now you’d settle for stopping the bleeding before the blur became too much to stay awake for, maybe alive for. 

Your breathing was quick and light headed inducing as you hovered the knife’s flat edge over your abdomen. Your eyes squeezed shut as tension coursed through your body. 

This time you had no memory of it. No chance to think or wonder, just the gasp of what felt like a scream, the tiniest register of searing burning, and then nothing. Passed out from shock, you saw nothing in your dreamless state. Just the vaguest dream of a deep voice, one full of such warmth and concern with the slightest of a Texas twinge, but maybe it was simply a dream of a better life. 

It wasn’t clear to you how much you slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes you felt hands on you, pressure and pain on the bite wound you tried to cauterize, large and rougher feeling ones usually closest to the pain, and smaller ones floating around you. Other times you were awake enough to register the voices belonged to Joel and Ellie, other times you were weakly trying to bash their hands away from you too close to being pulled back under to recognize them. 

By the time you had woken up, it was just starting to get dark. Ellie was no where to be seen, but you could see her backpack sitting by one of Joel’s packs. Your vision was still somewhat blurry from sleep, but you could still see enough to make out Joel solemnly in thought as he read something on a piece of paper. 

Your muscles felt weak sore, but much lighter and the burning pain in your side toned down. It took you a bit more effort to push your torso up from the palms of your hands as you winced in a bit of pain. Before you really knew it, Joel has breathed out your name and knelt by your side. A large hand supporting your back and another on your hip to help you move in general. 

His brown eyes bore into your face with a hardened look, not quite anger but certainly a degree of frustration. A flash of held back concern as you sighed out a breathe of relief as you were upright, but quickly was swallowed down with a shake of his head. His hands left you while he looked to the ground collecting himself before his head shooting back up to meet your eyes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Weirdly enough, his bluntness was comforting. Your mouth opened and shut as many things zoomed past your field of thought too fast to catch one. Lucky for you Joel wasn’t finished. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on, or ask me to just help you?” 

Pressing your hands up to rub your eyes, as if when you reopened them you’d magically have a good answer. You didn’t. “It wasn’t your problem to deal with.” 

His hands flying up grasp at the sides of your face, almost shaking you as he did so with his teeth slightly baring as he did so. “You went and almost got yourself killed, of course that’s my problem. What did you want, me to leave you there and bleed to death?” 

One of his hands slipped away as you turned to look away for a moment. Fingers gently tracing along your now bandaged side. You could feel Joel’s gaze following, there was no way he didn’t see. You know the shock overtook you before it could be burned over. His hands clenched into fists at his sides now. “When someone threatens your life over something you had no part in, yeah I decided getting you involved would be selfish.” 

Your jaw clenched, teeth biting the inside of your cheek as Joel looked with tense eyes still on your side as he nods his chin towards it. “Does that part have anything to do with the bite you already got healing over?” 

You didn’t say a word. Nothing good ever came from telling someone, and it didn’t matter how much you trusted Joel with all your heart, that instinct to keep the secret to yourself felt stronger. Reaching for your arm, his thumb trailed over the long healed scar tissue, brows furrowed as he did so. “How long have you know..about..” his eyes flickering between the healed burn and the bandaged one. 

“A couple years. He uh, Don, was the reason I even found out.” Relaying what happened that day, you couldn’t spend much of it looking Joel in the eye. Heaping with guilt for your actions and shame for not trusting this man with that information. Finally, you looked up and off into the distance nothing in direct mind, but far away in thought, you talked about the Fireflies. What they wanted from you, what you learned that had been doing, and that all you wanted to do was keep him and Ellie away from that. “You two don’t deserve to get wrapped up into it.” 

The second you mentioned the Fireflies, Joels free hand clenched tightly. A wavering crack in his steadfast demeanour. Your name passed his lips with force, as if he had to push the word from his mouth calmly instead of breaking free. “This is bigger than just you. I can’t just let you go off on your own, family are supposed to protect each other.” 

Flickering to meet his eyes, you were surprised to see a softer gaze, one with an indiscernible softness you still struggled to identify. So you looked away again, down to the thumb now pressed against the scar issue. “I was trying to keep you and Ellie out of it, you two are family you shouldn’t have come after me, you were doing fine protecting each other.” 

“And what does that make you?” You looked up at him, Joel’s face a mixture of many things, confused, maybe even offended. “You said Ellie and I are family, do you really not think you’re apart of that by now?” 

You didn’t want to get upset, but your heart and your mind swirled around you too much. “I’m not-” 

Finally, his hands encompassed your face once more, this time a small smile sliding across it in affection. “If you don’t realize you’re family to us by now, you might not be as smart as I thought you were, sweetheart.” 

A breathy laugh left you, wincing as you did so. Joel moved to steady your waist just above the wound shushing you to take it easy. Covering the one on your cheek with your hand, you met his warm brown eyes. “It felt wrong, trying to intrude on your lives just because of how I feel.” 

Pulling your head lightly into his, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, leaning back only to press your foreheads together in a small moment of quiet peace. “Think you got it the wrong way around. If I recall, I’m the one who dragged you into our lives first. You’re family. To me, to Ellie, you are family, okay?” 

Nodding against his own head, you two stayed for a moment. He just found out your biggest secret and all he had to say was he’s upset you didn’t let him help you before running off? Sometimes you just didn’t understand Joel Miller. 

You two stayed like that for a while, taking in the other’s closeness and finding comfort in his touch. It wasn’t until enough time had passed that you realized a certain someone hadn’t yet joined you. Pulling away you squinted looking around before looking back to Joel. Joel with a hesitant look on his face. 

“Where is Ellie?” 

He let a sigh out. Mumbling your name before finally finding a seat on the ground beside you. “She’s here, she uh, needed some time alone to think while you were in and out.” 

He had to pull you back down as you stood to go find her, “Joel,” another wince of pain. “I should go talk to her-”.

Joel moved to stretch one arm over your legs to rest his palm down on the other side, finding a more direct look in your eyes. “Listen, before you do...there’s something about her, about us that you deserve to know about.”

By the time you joined Ellie at the small cliff side, hardly a cliff, mostly just a meter or so drop down the sun setting was glowing a beautiful array or yellows and oranges in the sky. A bright contrast to the forgotten emptiness below. Joel had gently pushed at your lower back as you stopped in place staring at her. 

You now knew what they had been through, what she was, and what Joel was keeping from her. You understood why. You couldn’t very well judge him for keeping a huge secret from the people you love to spare them from possible pain or danger, but you also were beginning to realize that the longer those stayed a secret the harder it weighed on you. 

Ellie didn’t look up at you as you sat next to her, joining her shorter legs in dangling over the edge. Her own gaze was the same as yours the morning you left. Sleeve pushed up, only able to look at the reminder of what was so different about you. Only on Ellie, there was no mistaking the completely healed over bite mark. 

You let the silence flow between you, letting her approach however she felt comfortable. This was a rare moment for both of you. When she did speak, her voice was drenched in a held back waver. “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”

Briefly you looked at each other, Ellie’s eyes flashing with upset and a watering glaze you know could spill at anytime. You didn’t get far into your sentence before looking off into the distance again. “I did actually. Some people I admitted it too, others just found out when they saw my arm. It never ended in trust. It just ended in me having to run, leave people behind because they were always going to look for people like us.” 

Feeling her still looking at you she asked, “They?” 

You had to approach it carefully, it wasn’t your place to tell her about the events of the day Joel went in for her. That was going to be something they had do do themselves. She’d get over what he did to save her, that much you knew. It was being lied to by the man she’s grown to see as her father that’s going to hurt the longer it goes on. 

“The Fireflies aren’t who you think they are, or who anyone thinks they are for that matter. They play nice as long as they eventually get what they want from you. Those people will gain your trust, and throw it away as soon as it can be used against you.” 

You pushed your own sleeve up, turning your upper half towards her as she did the same, slowly moving to line your marks against the other. Yours healed over from a burn and hers out for everyone to see if she chose to do so. Your fingers gently touched over hers and she did the same. 

Neither of you had ever met another immune person. “There aren’t many of us, but the Fireflies will hunt down whoever is left. I didn’t tell anyone because ultimately your life means nothing to those people if you let them.” 

Pulling back Ellie’s hands dropped into her lap, her brows furrowing in a similar fashion to the broad man leaning against a tree behind you both. “Marlene told us something inside of me might help find a cure, but that they couldn’t find anything viable.” 

Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut for just a second of composure. It wasn’t that they didn’t find anything, they never got a chance to even try. Don had mentioned a bunch of people at a Salt Lake City getting killed, and that an immune child escaped. 

Ellie called your name, “If they’re not good people then what did they even want with me?” 

Your face didn’t chance, a strong amount of effort and will to not give away what wasn’t yours. All you could do was raise your hand, and stroke the back of her head with a light touch. “They want us, Ellie. Any of us that exist out there, and they will lie to you if they need to.” She was looking up at you, a mixture of some degree of upset and a strange kind of affection trying to overpower the other. “You’re life is more important then what they want, Ellie. Both of you. You two are family, that’s all that matters now.” Your head nodding over to the side where he watched. 

Ellie looked tired by now. “You’re family too, you know?” 

That made you smile, and a deep chuckle floated close behind you as Joel came up stand just behind where you sat. You raised an eyebrow, finally your amused look giving her permission to relax, remember what normal feels like again. “You two sure you’re not actually related? ‘Cus you sure sound like it.” 

Joel finally sat down next to you, the feeling of his hand once again finding it’s home on your lower back. “Don’t I know it. Why do you think we never get anything done without a debate?” 

You shook your head, your little smile matched by either side of you. “Most stubborn duo I’ve ever met.” For a while you all enjoyed the lowering sun and the disappearing golden light shining in the evening sky. 

Ellie’s head at some point had fallen into your lap, too much action, too much fear and way too big of a revelation between you two wearing own the smaller girl. Your hands raked through the lose strands of her hair sitting past her ponytail. Watching the unbothered face lost in a dream where maybe thing’s were less harsh and cruel outside this little bubble. 

Joel ‘s voice whispering close to your ear. “I’ll tell her eventually. I know it’s right, I just can’t find the words for it without worrying she’ll resent me for it.” 

Your heads leaned against the other as you moved it close to his, “She won’t. It’ll upset her, you can’t get away from that, but she needs to know. The longer you hide it, the more painful it’ll be when you do tell her, or worse. She finds out without you.” 

“Just like it hurt to wake up and realize you took off because you thought leaving us in the dark would hurt less than knowing the truth?” Boy he got you there. 

Your whisper was all the energy you could even summon. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Joel’s hand slid to cup the back of your head, his other gently letting his fingers grasp the bottom of your chin. His lips brushing over yours as his breath heated the skin it blew onto. “Hey, just remember. I’ve got you. We’ve both got you now.” 

Your free hand awkwardly moved to find the back of his neck while trying not to disrupt Ellie. “You-” It wasn’t the right time, not for that. You had no experience on when normal people even felt that for their partners, but it didn’t seem right in this moment, but honestly, you suspected Joel read right through you anyways. “You mean a lot to me, Joel. You really do.” 

Leaning, he soft as anything rubbed his nose down yours and then back again. “You mean everything to me too, sweetheart.” Finally his fingers pulled your chin the tiny space and pressed his lips against yours. 

His soft lips fit you like they were fated that way, soft kisses turning into intimate swipes of his tongue on yours, but never to escalate. Just a need to feel you as much as he could, make sure you were still there with him. He was a man whose lost too much, and he’d keep your lips against his if it meant always knowing you were still there with them. 

The Fireflies, the immunity, none of that was discussed that evening or the day after. Staying at that small cliff clearing to let your side heal as much as possible before the journey back. Ellie was curled up in front of you, her eyes finding your arm and your side many times before falling back asleep. Finding comfort in another person just like her. 

Joel was pressed up against your back, an arm wrapped around your front, pulling you constantly into him closer and closer, and resting just above your wound not to agitate it. 

It was weird, thinking you had a family in Joel and Ellie, but if they thought that way about you? Followed you out here to find and protect you? Now, it was now your responsibility to start protecting them too. 

You three were family, and that’s all that matters in the end. 

[vicciouxs]

⠀⠀⠀⠀Hannah Doyle, 24. she / her now listening to she's a monster by exhibit decay...

⠀⠀⠀Hannah is the middle daughter of 7 siblings and they lived, with her parents, on a farm located in a small town. Her parents were extremely religious, as was the town, so Hannah grew up in a conservative, closed environment, where she didn't feel accepted. In the same way that being the middle child she felt that no one paid attention to her, she felt like a shadow or sometimes even like a ghost that you only notice when she does something wrong. In conclusion, her childhood was mostly solitary, which led to a personality that was somewhat closed and complex to access, because in the town she didn't have many friends, except for a neighbor who spoke with her out of her parents' obligation, but she didn't consider her either a friend. However, when Hannah was around 8 years old, her parents hired a maid from the church who would later become quite close with Hannah.

⠀⠀⠀Throughout her growing up Hannah showed a certain fascination with food, she loved to eat and was always hungry; but soon that hunger would turn into something more, something more twisted and deeper that she couldn't explain. Food was beginning to seem boring to her, she loved it, but it was boring, it satisfied her physically, not emotionally, and that frustrated her. How could something she loved so much make her feel so empty? Her response to that was to eat more, in the vain hope that if she was full she wouldn't feel empty. For religious reasons, her family used to practice fasting and they were very strict with food, so she had no choice but to beg the maid, Lola, for something to eat, she didn't care what it was, she just needed something else. But when her parents sent Lola away, Hannah began to feel more and more anxious, sometimes even acting aggressively toward her parents or siblings because something inside her desperately needed to eat and she couldn't control it.

⠀⠀⠀During one of the meals, one of her older sisters, Elisa, gave Hannah her food when she saw that she had even begun to trim her nails; and that's what they did day after day, during every meal, until their parents noticed. From that moment Hannah barely remembers anything, everything is blurry in her mind, she only remembers the sound of the plate crashing against the wall and her mother's screams just inches from her face. They were ashamed of her, she was clear about it and that's why they took her out of the house, so that she could reflect on her behavior; but she did everything but that.

⠀⠀⠀She wandered around the farm like a lost soul, listening to her stomach growl and her head spin, she had to eat, she needed to eat and suddenly a heavy breathing caught her attention. It came from her neighbors' farm and as if that breath was calling her, Hannah sneaked into the plot through a hole in the fence. She walked for a few minutes until she ran into a small rabbit, that was on its deathbed, perhaps because it had tried to escape and had been injured in the process, not knowing that this would cause its death. Hannah knew very well that when an animal was injured it was best to sacrifice it, so she crouched down next to it, ready to do the same thing she had seen Lola do with the chickens many times, but this time it was different. She barely remembered what happened, everything became dark when she began to feel the hot blood descending down her throat and how the small animal was losing heat between her hands. What came next were the horrified screams of her neighbors and the widening eyes of her parents; but none of that mattered to her, the important thing was that she no longer felt hungry, she was satisfied.

⠀⠀⠀Her parents didn't know what to do with her, they tried to take her to priests, use penance, punish her, they even tried to perform an exorcism on her, but nothing worked, Hannah didn't seem to regret her actions. So his last option was to put her in a convent, where her life would change forever. There she ate once a day and if she dared to escape to look for something else they punished her with lashes and even more fasting, on one occasion they even locked her up which caused her to completely embrace madness.

⠀⠀⠀She was isolated, she didn't talk to anyone, no one talked to her, the only thing that accompanied her were the voices in her head and the roar of her stomach that made more and more noise with each day that passed without eating. But as if something had heard her hunger, a young novice, who took pity on her, tried to help her, a big mistake. Her name was Sophia and she would always remember the fear she saw in her beautiful blue eyes. The young woman opened the door to give her something to eat and when she did, Hannah, who was bigger and stronger, pounced on her. She began to devour her by the throat, so that she wouldn't scream and what happened next is in black, she doesn't even remember what she did with the blood or the body, but once the door was open, Hannah escaped from there and again she felt satiated, she was no longer hungry.

⠀⠀⠀She left a note behind her, she and Sophia were lovers who had escaped together and so no one would deign to look for them beyond that horrible convent.

[misirosekisiro]

I Got Reincarnated as a Slime (Dark version) 1-3

การแต่งด้วย AI นี่มันดีอยู่อย่าง คือปรกติผมมีไอเดียเยอะ แต่ไม่ค่อยมีอารมณ์ ยิ่งขาดอารมณ์ยิ่งอธิบายยาก เรื่องนี้ถึง AI มันจะชอบพาเรื่องออกทะเล แต่มันอธิบายได้ละเอียดดี ละเอียดเกินความจำเป็นด้วยซ้ำ และในฐานะ AI มันออกจะขาดความจำเกินไปมาก ๆ อยู่ดี ๆ คนที่ตายไปแล้วก็มาโผล่ อยู่ดี ๆ ก็มีตัวละครโผล่มาจากไหนไม่รู้ มั่วไปหมด เอาจริง ๆ เหนื่อยแทบเท่าเขียนเองทั้งเรื่องนั่นละ และอย่าถามหาว่า system หายไปไหนนะ โผล่มานิดเดีย�� ไม่ใช่แค่ AI ลืม คนเขียนก็ลืม

Chapter 1

It's start just an very ordinary day, Wataru Yanagisawa, Highschool boy walking to his school. He stop atroad crossing point waiting for green signal.

Suddenly, without warning he saw flash light from truck, suddenly crash towards him, sending him flying backwards into the streetlight pole. And then darkness...

Wataru opened his eyes. Where am I? This isn't my bedroom nor my house! Instead, he found himself lying within the midst of a shadowy and eerie woodland filled with thick foliage, tall grass, moss-covered rocks, fallen logs scattered here and there amidst decaying vegetation – all indications suggesting a strange and haunting place far removed from civilisation. How did I get here?

Wataru thought, trying to piece together what had happened to land him in such a bewildering situation. The sun cast its golden rays through gaps in the trees overhead, illuminating the ground around him ever so slightly. Shifting uncomfortably, he sat up straight, feeling oddly refreshed despite his ordeal. There was no trace of the incident he recalled happening back on Earth - not even a lingering bruise to remind him of it. It seemed almost as though nothing more than a dream had occurred before waking up here.

However, something felt different about him—a sensation unlike anything he could recall experiencing previously. It wasn’t until he moved his hands across his chest that he discovered why: instead of finding smooth skin, he encountered a cold, wet surface that rippled subtly against his touch.

He couldn't believe his own eyes when he looked down and realized that he had transformed into some sort of gelatinous creature! Panicking, he frantically tried to regain control over his limbs, only to find them twisting and contorting beyond recognition. In desperation, he attempted to stand upright once again, only to feel his entire form shift and flow like liquid onto the floor below.

"What happen to me!!!" Wataru thought. Then another sound answerd in his head.

"Answer, You have transport to another world. Now your species was Morphing slime"The voice that answered in his head was a man's voice, speaking smoothly tone like a machine.

"Oh god, what does this mean?" Wataru cried aloud. "How do I change back?"

There was silence, and then came another response in his mind.

"Answer, It's have no information right now about how to transform your species back to human species."

Wataru sighed deeply, feeling defeated.

"But as a morphing slime, you have an ability to take over others creatures or humans' body." That voice still answer in flat smooth tone.

A little bit relieved, yet terrified about his current predicament, Wataru began searching his surroundings for any sign of life. As he traversed deeper into the woodlands, he grew increasingly aware of the sinister atmosphere engulfing everything around him. It was clear to him that he needed assistance, but would anyone be able to help someone like him? Would they accept his existence as a living being? Or worse, would they see him as a threat due to his bizarre abilities?

These questions swirling in his mind, Wataru slowly made his way further into the heart of the woods. He heard rustlings among the leaves above him and noticed small rodents scampering away. Despite the mounting fear, Wataru took comfort in knowing that at least he wasn't entirely alone. However, the deeper he ventured, the stronger became his desire to come across another intelligent creature he might interact with, perhaps share stories or learn from one another.

After a while, he encounter with a wolf.

Without thinking twice, he instinctively tries to seize control of the animal's body.His arms reach out toward the tiny figure, attempting to wrap themselves around the warm furry frame. To his astonishment, he feels his tendrils extending, seeking purchase upon the wolf cub's flesh. Finally he move fast warp around wolf body with his slime body. He seek the hole that he can inject himself inside. Then he inject himself inside wolf's mouth, during he pour himself in, he start to melt anything inside wolf's body, muscle, organ or even wolf's skeleton. It's take not so long that only wolf skin left on the floor. It's like a wolf hide that got big oval abdomen, which Wataru body gather inside wolf skin. Then Wataru start to extent his body to every limb of wolf. Start with wolf's legs, his slime body filling in wolf skin's legs.

As his feet stretched forward and wrapped around the hooves, his fingers extended outward from his palms and clenched into sharp claws. With each motion, his muscles pulsated and contracted, pushing outwards as the slimy substance continued to grow thicker. After completely reshaping both forelegs, he focused on the rear ones, making sure they too were strong enough to support his weight and facilitate movement. Once completed, he allowed his upper torso to expand outwards, forming two massive shoulder blades that stood proudly along either side of his newly acquired spine.

The transformation process was near completion as his neck elongated, allowing the now powerful jaws to open wide. Unlike the delicate structure of a regular wolf, these teeth bore resemblance to those of a wild carnivore. Rising up to stand on all fours, Wataru tested his newly adapted strength by flexing the bulging muscles beneath his sleek, dark coat. He gazed intently at his reflection in the murky water nearby, marveling at the incredible feat he'd accomplished.

Transformed fully into a powerful creature, Wataru now possessed remarkable agility, speed, and endurance, characteristics that would serve him well as he navigated this hostile new terrain. Yet, there remained one significant concern — how exactly was he supposed to adapt to this baffling reality and locate a means to return home? His thoughts turned grim as he considered the possibility of never seeing his family again.

At that moment, the wind picked up, carrying the faint whispers of distant voices approaching closer.

The anxiety in Wataru heightened as he crouched low behind the thick undergrowth, concealing himself effectively amongst the lush foliage. Throughout his panicked rumination, Wataru's acute sense of hearing allowed him to discern an unusual pattern emerging from the surrounding flora. Treading carefully and maintaining caution, he managed to intercept three individuals passing through a narrow pathway adjacent to his cover.

Their conversation carried throughout the treetops, piercing the otherwise silent ambiance. Curiosity piqued, Wataru pressed his ear close to the earth to better hear their discussion. The murmurs revealed fragments of personal accounts and plans for a future journey. One of them mentioned joining forces with several guild members for protection purposes, citing numerous dangers lurking within these mysterious lands.

Captivated by their exchange, Wataru hesitantly approached the trio undetected.

Closely observing their movements, he noted their attire consisted primarily of leather armor accented with various accessories, giving off an impression of expertise in combat skills. Their weapons appeared worn and battle-tested, indicating years spent honing their craft. The leader of the group sported a confident demeanor, exuding authority as he directed his comrades with ease. Each member demonstrated proficiency in handling their respective tools of trade, leaving Wataru impressed by their prowess.

As he observed them from afar, he couldn't help but admire their camaraderie and determination to overcome whatever challenges lay ahead. While listening to their discussions, he learned valuable insights regarding the perilous landscape they inhabited, providing essential knowledge for his survival journey.

Nolan, the young warrior leading the group, displayed exceptional skill in swordsmanship and strategizing tactics. Although his features suggested a quiet disposition, his leadership qualities commanded respect from his peers. Beneath his composed exterior, however, lay hidden emotional turmoil, stemming from feelings of isolation and self-discovery. This inner conflict fueled his resolve to protect those closest to him, ultimately driving him towards success in his endeavors.

Meanwhile, Ed, the young healer exhibited an unwavering dedication to preserving the health and vitality of his companions, employing potent herbal remedies and restorative techniques to keep them fighting fit. Though initially reserved, the healer gradually opened up to the group, revealing his innate kindness and empathetic nature.

His gentle touch and compassionate words offered solace amidst the chaos of their dangerous journeys. Notably, it was evident that despite his introverted personality, Ed had found his place within the group, fostering trust between everyone.

Lastly, there was the enigmatic North - a skilled thief whose adeptness in evading traps and disarming opponents rendered him indispensable to the party. Concealed beneath a tight-fitting black mask, his identity remained shrouded in mystery, adding intrigue to the already captivating ensemble. As Wataru watched them interact, he could not help but notice the chemistry shared between North and Nolan, hinting at a deep connection between the pair.

Satisfied with his observations, Wataru decided to follow the group surreptitiously, hoping to gain more insightful information about their objectives and methods.

As the daylight started to fade, the adventurers chose to set camp within the confines of a vast cave opening situated just beyond the woods. Gingerly edging closer, Wataru studied their preparations meticulously, taking note of their routines and rituals.

Ed, the group's healer, diligently prepared meals for the night while the others tended to their equipment, ensuring everything functioned optimally. Meanwhile, Nolan maintained vigilant watch over their surroundings, keenly monitoring potential threats lurking nearby.

Sword in hand, he kept his fellow adventurers safe from harm, demonstrating immense valor and poise even in the most trying circumstances. The sound of crackling fire filled the air, casting a soft glow on the faces of the weary travelers as they sought refuge from the cold evening chill. Within this haven of light and warmth, friendships were solidified, bonding the group together through shared experiences and adversities faced along their arduous journey.

After a long day, finally they decide to take a rest, Nolan will stay as first shift guarding while other sleep.

Everyone else settled down comfortably for the night, reclining against large rocks and fallen tree trunks scattered across the expanse of the cavern floor. Despite exhaustion setting in, conversations among the group members persisted late into the night, reflecting on past exploits and sharing stories of their individual lives back home. Ed, always the consummate listener, absorbed every word spoken with genuine interest, occasionally offering thoughtful commentaries on each tale.

Throughout the night, Wataru witnessed a display of camaraderie and companionship rarely seen outside of familial bonds. These connections formed the foundation upon which they would continue to depend upon during their time traversing this unforgiving land.

The moonlit sky painted the walls of the cavern with a silver sheen, illuminating the room with a calm luminosity. Amidst the rustle of leaves and the screech of nocturnal creatures, the melodic hum of conversation filled the space, creating an atmosphere brimming with life and warmth.

After a few hours, Nolan wake North up to take next shift guard, while he head to rest.

Understanding the importance of such duties, North accepted without complaint, displaying unwavering commitment to his role within the group. Slipping away silently into the darkness, he vanished into the shadows beyond the campfire's reach.

Although tired, Nolan struggled to find sleep. With his emotions spiralling, the warrior felt torn between his desire for companionship and his longing for independence. Despite being surrounded by friends, Nolan often found himself wrestling with internal conflicts that threatened to consume him whole.

His yearning for affection resonated deeply within him, urging him to seek solitude and contemplate the complexities of his emotions. In times of despair, he questioned whether love truly existed, wondering if happiness ever awaited him beyond these tumultuous lands.

Dawn arrived slowly, painting the cavern walls with a subtle hue as rays of sunshise filtered through tiny cracks in the rock formations above. It seemed only fitting that amidst this tranquil environment, Ed would arise before anyone else, eager to greet the morning with renewed energy.

Drawing water from a natural spring flowing beneath the surface, he began brewing a refreshing elixir tailored specifically for each individual's needs. Watching him prepare nourishment for the group, one could almost see his care and devotion radiating from his pores. Every action performed held meaning, conveying an underlying message of concern and friendship toward his companions.

Inside the sheltered alcove nestled deeper within the cavern, Nolan took advantage of this respite from the harsh conditions of the outside world.

Seeking privacy, he delved further into his introspective thoughts, allowing himself to ponder upon the myriad of emotions coursing through his veins. Overwhelmed yet determined, he resolved to confront his fears, knowing full well that facing his demons would serve as a catalyst for growth and self-discovery.

Meanwhile, the sounds of Ed preparing breakfast reverberated faintly through the stone passageways, providing a calming rhythm in contrast to the chaotic storm raging within Nolan's heart.

Engrossed in his meditative state, Nolan allowed the sensual cadence of creation to seep into his consciousness, instilling serenity alongside its culinary aroma. Gradually, this peaceful atmosphere eased his burdened soul, granting him much needed clarity. However, when he glanced around, his gaze came to rest upon the distant figure of North, standing sentry near the entrance of the cavern. Witnessing his loyalty to the group, something stirred within Nolan's chest, awakening an unwanted tenderness.

He could hardly deny the fact that his heart swelled with pride whenever observing North's dedication and bravery. And yet, despite these affirmations, confusion continued to plague his mind – unable to decipher whether his feelings extended beyond mere comradery.

Ed's voice broke the silence, interrupting Nolan's stream of thoughts. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine concern. Without hesitation, Nolan turned to face him directly, acknowledging the sincerity behind the query.

"Yes," he replied, attempting to mask his vulnerability. "Just lost myself in thought." Ed nodded understandingly, accepting the response while maintaining a look of mild curiosity etched onto his features. "We all have our moments," he offered reassuringly, his expression indicating sympathy mixed with supportiveness.

These simple exchanges provided momentary relief, easing some of the weight bearing down upon Nolan's shoulders. Realizing he couldn't fully articulate his internal struggle, he opted instead to focus on the present task at hand.

Climbing to his feet, Nolan retrieved a bowl containing the nutritious mixture crafted by Ed earlier. Grateful for the sustenance, he thanked the healer graciously. Observing their interactions, Wataru noticed the ease with which they communicated, highlighting the strong rapport developed amongst the party members. Their unity transcended mere teamwork; they were undeniably bound by trust and respect forged through trials encountered together.

While it appeared that Nolan had managed to suppress his inner turmoil, a shadow of doubt still loomed in the peripheries of his conscience. He wondered if his longing for intimacy could ever translate into reciprocal admiration, questioning whether his true desires lay buried beneath layers of fear and apprehension.

North returned shortly afterward, relinquishing control of the post to someone equally capable as himself. Together, the two stood side by side, discussing plans for their impending excursion deeper into the treacherous terrain ahead.

Although initially cautious due to prior encounters with bandits and dangerous wildlife, Nolan remained steadfast in his determination to overcome obstacles. Convincing North to join forces, the pair strategized ways to mitigate risks associated with their perilous undertaking. Trust flourished between them, growing stronger with each challenge conquered.

Wataru observed this dynamic duo from afar, marveling at their compatibility and ability to inspire one another. Understanding the significance of their partnership, he decided not to intervene - choosing instead to let destiny unfold naturally.

After finish their preparation, the party start to move on.

The path was rough and uneven, covered with thorns bushes and muddy parts. Trekking forward, everyone tried hard to avoid slips, falls, or worse accidents. Their physical strength tested, their hearts racing from the effort required to progress forward.

As the journey wore on, fatigue set in, forcing them to stop periodically for brief periods of recuperation. During breaks, Ed would provide refreshments designed to restore vitality levels while ensuring proper hydration.

Drawing on his extensive knowledge of herbs and potent mixtures, he consistently demonstrated unparalleled skill in maintaining health throughout challenging circumstances. This dedication earned him immense gratitude from his fellow travelers, fostering a deep sense of appreciation and reliance among the group.

As they pushed forth into the unknown landscape, occasional whispers about mysterious creatures lurking nearby circulated throughout the ranks. Although tales of ferocity abounded, none dared to speak openly about potential threats.

Instead, they focused on navigating the rugged terrain with precision, carefully mapping routes to minimize risk exposure. Unbeknownst to them, however, danger lurked just beyond the horizon.

Despite the arduous journey, spirits remained high as the party ventured closer towards their destination. Each step taken brought them closer to achieving their goals, bolstering morale and fortifying resolve. Throughout the day, conversations ranged from past experiences to hypotheses regarding what might lie ahead.

As nightfall approached, the group finally reached the threshold of Abandon Village. Its once majestic structures now reduced to crumbling remnants, testament to the ravages of time and neglect. Silhouettes cast eerily against the backdrop of twisted trees and decaying edifices, evoking a haunting ambiance.

Upon entering the village gates, their footsteps echoed softly across the weathered stones, conjuring images of ancient heroes seeking answers amid ruined grandeur. Emboldened by camaraderie, they stepped boldly into the darkness, ready to confront whatever fate may bring.

Exploring the dim alleys of Abandon Village, every corner revealed more wreckage left in the wake of time. Cobwebs blanketing dilapidated buildings served as silent witnesses to days gone by, hinting at stories forgotten yet not completely obliterated.

Chapter 2

Following the adventurer group led by the brave North, Wataru found himself entranced by the sight of Nolan and the enchanting thief interacting during the break. The combination of emotions emitting from both parties piqued his interest significantly. Curiosity grew stronger within him, yearning to understand the depth of their connection better.

The way Nolan looked at North spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It seemed there existed an undefinable bond between them, surpassing mere friendship, perhaps even bordering on romantic inclinations. Wataru became increasingly fascinated by the dynamics developing before his very eyes.

Beneath the moonlit sky, ghostly figures emerged from the shadows. Mesmerised by the ethereal beauty surrounding them, the entire group halted in midstep, captivated by the enigma playing out before their eyes.

With each passing second, suspicion intensified, fueling an almost palpable anticipation. Intrigued by the sudden change in atmosphere, Wataru quietly trailed behind, eager to observe events unfolding organically.

Night birds circled overhead, creating a symphony of dissonant melodies punctuated occasionally by shrill screeches. Moonlight danced off worn surfaces, casting grotesque shapes into the mix. Damp air hung heavy with the lingering essence of secrets unveiling themselves slowly through the mist.

"These ghosts, take no phycical damage!" Ed shout, thrown a holy water vials to both Nolan and North. "Coat your weapon with holy water!"

Nolan instructed, swiftly dipping his sword into the vial handed to him. With calculated movements, he proceeded cautiously toward the spectral apparitions, prepared to engage any imminent threat. Standing beside him, North mirrored his tactics, demonstrating remarkable composure under pressure.

Amidst the chaos, Wataru observed the couple, studying their actions closely. Noticing the confident strides of Nolan and the composed mannerisms exhibited by North, he felt inspired by their resilience.

But ghost is very bad enemy for warrior or theif.

"I will use Blessing Ground to expel them all! It's take sometime, please guard me during that."

Ed start to perform a holy ritual while both companions guarding him.

North's keen senses picked up on something amiss within the shifting shadows – whispers of movement drawing ever closer. Gripping his weapons tightly, adrenaline coursed through his veins as instinct took hold. Nolan's heart raced frantically, his body primed for battle. Their gazes locked, conveying mutual understanding despite being unable to share words aloud.

Meanwhile, Wataru followed suit, staying close enough to watch their actions attentively.

His heart pounding rapidly, the intensity of the situation heightening with each passing moment. Stealthily circling around the edges of the room, he surveyed the area meticulously, making note of any possible entry points for further adversaries.

Emotions ran high as Nolan and North engaged in fierce combat against malevolent spectres. Despite their efforts, several entities breached their defenses, causing momentary panic to grip them. Nonetheless, the pair regained their bearings quickly, adapting their strategy accordingly to nullify the threats.

Ed's body start to glowing. He still close his eyes, whispering a holy spell.

Slowly, he raise hands upwards, forming a circle above the ground. Then he chant sacred mantras, moving slow circles around it. Around him, the atmosphere gradually changes: the chilling wind calms down, becoming gentle. The rain stops falling, leaving only light drizzle remaining.

The holy energy surrounds him, filling up the space. Everyone stand close to him, feeling power flowing around them. And then the transformation begins, spiritual force starts cleanse everything around them, driving away evil spirits.

As the ghosts disappear, the atmosphere becomes less oppressive. Sensing the shift, Nolan and North exhaled simultaneously, relief evident upon their faces. The powerful energy continued to swirl around them, instilling a sense of peace. Almost instantaneously, the divine presence began fading, leaving behind a serenely charged air.

During these intense moments, their bodies were intertwined together, fighting hand-to-hand against supernatural enemies. Both could feel their hearts beat furiously, fueled by fear and desire to protect one another.

"I think this area is cleanse form any spirital monster." said Ed. "Weak monster also will not want to come around a scred ground, at least for tonight. Too bad this spell is comsume too much magical energy."

Said Ed, breathing heavily after performing the holy ritual. "It would take some time to recover my strength. Please continue exploring the village while I rest."

Nolan nodded gratefully, appreciative of Ed's considerate gesture. Together, they carefully navigated the eerie landscape, surveying every corner diligently. Although relieved to have vanquished the immediate danger, unease lingered beneath the surface. The notion of hidden foes remained a constant concern.

North maintained vigilance alongside Nolan, ensuring nothing went unnoticed. Their combined skills proved invaluable, allowing them to work seamlessly as a cohesive unit. Each move was executed with precision, reflecting years of experience honed through countless battles.

Unbeknownst to them, Wataru had been following from a distance, keeping tabs on their progress. Fascination consumed him, compelling him to remain close yet maintaining covertness. Watching the trio interact intrigued him deeply, sparking curiosity about their relationship dynamic.

He couldn’t help but admire their unwavering determination, courageously confronting various perils. Unseen forces seemed to test their resolve repeatedly, posing challenges which demanded fortitude and strategic thinking. Throughout the arduous journeys, trust and respect appeared to bind their alliance firmly. This display of unity inspired Wataru profoundly, stirring feelings of longing for companionship such as what he witnessed amongst the adventurers.

Emboldened by the thought of having someone by his side through thick and thin, in Wataru. the idea of joining forces began to materialise in his mind. However, uncertainty plagued him – should he approach them? Would they accept him? What would become of his own mission to find a means back to Earth? All doubts notwithstanding, Wataru resolved to put forth effort into gaining their trust and eventually earn a place among their ranks.

But its' will never happen, to a wolf, or actually slime like him. He can't even talk! He sigh while watching a far.

His thoughts drift towards the possibility of replacing one of them. Imagine possessing the physical prowess of Nolan, the charm of the mysterious thief, or even the quiet confidence of North. Such desires only served to ignite his fervor further.

Observing the three individuals grow ever closer, Wataru felt envious of their intimate connections. Witnessing their shared experiences and hardships, his longing deepened.

"Let's explore," proposed Nolan, breaking the silence as he gestured towards a nearby structure. The others readily agreed, their enthusiasm infectious. Determined to garner information regarding the source of the haunting, they trudged ahead bravely.

Admiration for their sheer tenacity radiated from Wataru's core.

Unable to quell his growing affinity for the duo, he decided to investigate further. Leaving his concealed position, he approached cautiously, careful not to alert the unsuspecting adventurers. Curiosity piqued, he peered through the windows of the dimly lit building, straining to catch a glimpse of their activities. Patience paid dividends when he finally caught sight of Nolan skillfully handling an ancient scroll, while North expertly interpreted its contents.

Observing their synchronized efforts revealed a harmonious blend of talents—their rapport striking.

Feeling increasingly envious, Wataru contemplated the benefits of bonding with one of them. How wonderful it must be to belong to a partnership such as theirs, sharing triumphs and tribulations. Envy turned to jealousy as he imagined himself experiencing those intimacies firsthand. Longing grew stronger within him, demanding action.

After finish check some surround. They decide it must time to rest. Since the area is safe. They're all can take full rest and continue on explore in the moring.

Ed suggested as they settled themselves comfortably.

Leading the way, Nolan guided his companions to a seemingly abandoned dwelling, offering respite amidst the eeriness of the village. Shrugging off their armor, they shed layers of sweat-soaked clothing, exposing scarred flesh and raw vulnerability.

Within the confines of the house, a faint candlelight illuminated the dusty corners, casting dancing shadows across walls. Its crumbling foundation spoke volumes about the history embedded within these very bricks.

Cracks spread like spiderwebs along the floorboards, providing evidence of past tremors or simply age-induced wear. With little choice but to make do, the trio made themselves comfortable on the creaking furniture.

Nolan chose a worn-out chair beside the crackling fireplace, carved into the wall by unknown artisans eons ago. Closing his eyes, he allowed exhaustion to consume him, seeking solace in dreamless sleep. In contrast, North opted for a lumpy mattress situated near the entrance.

Ed found a room with crumble bed, but it's still good for adventure who always sleep on the cold ground. Left North and Nolan next to lit fireplace.

Chapter 3

Nolan seem sleep, but he actually still not.

His mind drifts back to earlier interactions, replaying them in vivid detail. He remembers North's carefree laughter echoing throughout the forest and the undeniable chemistry between them during their latest escapade. These fleeting memories serve as fuel for his imagination, painting vibrant pictures of tender encounters and passionate rendezvous.

Aware of his growing fascination, Nolan wrestles with conflicting emotions - admiration for North's selfless nature and yearning for more personal involvement.

Unable to suppress his desires any longer, he makes a decision to pursue his aspirations boldly. Reaching out for sleeping North confidentially, he initiates contact with tentative steps. His heart races wildly as anticipation takes hold, awaiting reciprocation or rejection.

North wake up and look at Nolan,

"What up?" He asked.

Confused, North glanced down to see Nolan's hand resting upon his shoulder. Glancing upward, their gaze locked, eliciting warmth and familiarity. As understanding dawned upon North, a flush crept onto his cheeks, indicating an awareness of the situation. Despite initial hesitation, a smile formed on his lips.

Realization struck Nolan as well, acknowledging the mutual attraction that lay dormant until now.

Confidence bolstered, he reached out once again, drawing North into a tender embrace. Passion surged between them, intensifying with each subtle movement. Lips met in a gentle kiss, gradually evolving into something deeper and fiercer. Urgency took hold, leading them to undress one another eagerly. Bodies entangled with ravenous intensity, communicating without words their insatiable hunger for connection. Emotional barriers collapsed under the weight of their desire, unveiling true selves to one another.

Beneath this facade of bravery existed vulnerabilities, insecurities, and fears that only they could understand fully. In their embrace, they sought refuge from external threats while nurturing the sanctuary within. Every touch sent ripples coursing through their bodies, evoking sensations beyond anything either had previously encountered. Subconsciously, Wataru observed the unfolding events with baited breath, envy melding into something more powerful than mere covetousness.

Amidst the chaos of battle and exploration, an unexpected connection bloomed within the hearts of two adventurers. Although distant and unaware of Wataru's presence, his fascination heightened to a point of obsession.

Inspired by the intense passion displayed before him, he determined to form similar bonds of affection despite being unable to express himself verbally. If there were ways to bridge the communication gap, perhaps finding common ground via experiences or interests would suffice. Regardless, this revelatory moment marked a turning point for Wataru.

Observing the couple share intimacy kindled in him an uncontrollable urge to experience a similar depth of emotional attachment. Driven by desire, desire turn to lust, lust turn to envy,

envy turns to desperation. Desperate to belong, craving connection and intimacy just like them. Desperate to taste their forbidden fruit, his curiosity burned hot, leaving no room for reason or logic. His heart raced frantically, blood pumping faster, adrenaline flooding his veins as his sexual appetite grew. And suddenly, he knew what he wanted...

[herbeloved82]

Home under the falling snow

Daniel looked outside the window and an uncontrollable shiver shook his whole body. Winter had been his favorite season for a very long time, since he could remember he had enjoyed the falling snow that would cover the ugliness of the city, at least until the dirt turned it as gray and impure as everything else.  

In his mind as a child, Daniel had thought that under the immaculate blanket, everything that was wrong could be hidden and forgotten. Then he grew up and saw how cars and the dirt of the streets beneath the white would soon pollute the snow, turning something beautiful and pure, into a mess of waste and decay. 

That had been when he began to realize that nothing beautiful could last in a world that was made to destroy everything that was weak and fragile. 

“Come back to me, my love,” awarm voice said from behind him as a powerful chest pressed against his back. 

Oh how easy it would be to lose himself in Marius’ arms. To allow the older vampire to take away his pain and substitute it with lighter thoughts. Marius always had a healing power about him, his mind the safest and calmest place where Daniel was allowed to recover and rediscover himself again. 

“I’m right here.” Daniel said, hoping against all odds that Marius wouldn’t realize how that wasn’t the real truth. His body was there, obviously, but his mind was far, far away, in streets he hadn’t visited for decades now, in cities he couldn’t even remember.     

“Your mind is not, and I’m afraid I can’t follow where it is wandering now.” 

That was always an obstacle between them. Daniel’s terror of having his mind violated and Marius’ refusal to go sneaking there even when it appeared to be the only way to calm him down. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Daniel continued. He knew Marius  constantly worried for the people he loved. For Lestat and his fledgling, for Armand, his own beloved cherub, broken and twisted into something he was never meant to be, for the Sacred Parents who were no more, for Pandora and Bianca, even when too much happened between them and their love couldn’t be anymore. Daniel knew that and he was still shocked, every day, that he could be counted among the people Marius held close to his heart. 

“It’s just - winter reminds me of home, but I don’t know where home is anymore.” 

Daniel knew if there was someone who could understand what he meant, it was Marius. Who else had lost so much, time and time again, and still kept standing, a beacon for their kind and everyone who was lost? 

Not for the first time, Daniel wondered who had been there for him when he had needed a moment to rest to lay down the burden he always carried and rest? Sadly he knew the answer even if he didn’t want to think about it. 

“Home is such a strange concept, dear one. When I was young, still human, home was where the Penati laid. When I grew up and became a Senator, home was Rome and where she could reach. When I was taken and became the guardian of the Sacred Parents, home was their shrine. Then home became a person and I think only then I realized home is almost never a physical place.” 

Daniel slightly turned in the embrace, to look at Marius, and he realized his lover had now the saddest expression in his eyes and hated himself for forcing him into misery. He didn’t have to ask to know who Marius’ home was. 

Without thinking, Daniel opened his mouth once again, as his eyes closed, too scared to keep looking at Marius in case the man rejected what he wanted the most. 

“Would you be my home?” 

He felt Marius tensing behind him and for a moment the slow and rhythmic beat of his heart rushed, like Marius was still human, or at least maintained the human’s nature of being surprised.  

“It would be an honor.” Marius answered after a moment of silence. The time he needed to really understand what Daniel just asked and to realize that yes, he wanted to be Daniel’s home, he wanted to provide him with what had been taken from him by life and the choices he made. Perhaps, like that, they could both really begin to heal. 

As the snow kept falling outside and the world was once again hidden under the white quilt, Danuel turned in Marius’ arms and kissed his lover, hard. 

Sharp fangs cut into the perfectly shaped lips, drawing blood they shared. The fire burning in the hearth was the only witness of this moment of tenderness between immortals. 

END      

[wilderlingdev]

briarheart | interactive fiction game | fantasy, mystery | tag | play it now

The briarheart. There are statues of the famed hero and their companions all over Crowned Grove. When you were younger, you tried to spy behind their mask, to get a glimpse of the face beneath, but there was nothing to be seen - the true visage of the briarheart was never captured by any artist or sculptor. But you had to check. You had to see if the face hidden behind the mask was your own. Your mother always said it was. That the mark in your forehead, the same shimmering on the hero’s mask, was all the proof you needed. You grew up under their shadow, their silent eyes judging your every move, with the knowledge that one day you would depart with companions of your own to save the world again a thorn twisting in your ribcage. Saving the world cost the briarheart their life - it was supposed to also claim your own. But you failed. Why?

BRIARHEART is an interactive fiction game where you play as the chosen one who failed, now returning from a self-imposed exile to the Crowned Grove’s royal court. The kingdom - the last one that still stands after hundreds of years of rot and decay - remembers your failure well, and it is not willing to forgive. But that is the least of your worries…

The Crowned Grove's sickness grows stronger. More and more people fall to the wild's ravenous hunger, devoured from the inside out as the it struggles against the rot. The woods are more dangerous than ever, the animals a source of poison, but there is nothing the people can do to protect themselves - because if the wild dies, so does the Crowned Grove.

The signs of the end are there, and your mother the Queen has no time to lose. Despite your failure, you are the briarheart still, and that means the answers lie with you and that fated trip down the roots of the great tree seven years ago. But your memories are murky, dangerous, and you have no wish to relive them, maybe not even to save the world you doomed…

the warrior. ves ul’niva (m->nb - he/him)

Ves was a wanderer and a warrior before you doomed the kingdom, but he wants peace and rest now, and what better way to achieve it than marrying into the royal family (even if the way in is you, the disgraced briarheart), where all your needs are taken care of? Ves is an open book and wears his heart in his sleeve - but something tells you it might not be his real one.

the savior. kaisa ul’aroh (f - she/her)

Kaisa was your childhood rival. Fiercely determined and terribly smart, she was just one step ahead of you in everything, and the obvious choice for one of your companions in the trip down to the roots of the world - but you didn’t expect her to succeed when you failed. Now she’s everything you were meant to be: famous, respected, powerful. But how much exactly does she remember about happened - what does she truly know?  

the scion. nima sil’thor (nb - they/them)

Coming from a recluse noble family, Nima’s intentions are just as big a mystery as the Silent Tower they came from. Quiet and just a bit strange, they don’t seem dangerous, but there is something about the way they move, the way they speak, that unsettles you. A Thor has not left the tower in decades, so why them - and why now?

The wild is not as much a being as it is a will. It is the lifeblood of the Crowned Grove, the soul of the giant tree where the last kingdom on earth clings to existence - and it is dying. Struggling against the rot spreading through its roots, it slips inside the minds, souls and bodies of its children, desperate for the strength it needs to survive. It is old, too old, maybe older than the tree itself - and it has chosen you as its heart.

a customizable main character — set your pronouns, choose your gender, appearance and build on top of the base personality throughout the story.

choose your fae heritage - soil, the power over the dead and the dying; roots, the power over all who grow from the earth; or blood, the power over the beasts of the wood.

unveil the mystery —why did you fail? why is the crowned grove sick in the first place? and what exactly happened down the roots of the world? 

build relationships — romantic or platonic, you choose how to interact with the main cast of characters (queerplatonic relationships included!)

fight - or not - against the wild  — the wild chose you as its briarheart, and even after your failure the connection between you and the eldritch soul of the crowned grove is strong. will you let it consume you? can you even fight against it?

you decide  —  your choices matter and will change the outcome of the story and the fate of the characters around you.

delve into the kingdom of crowned grove  — the entire story is set in a truly (and i do mean truly) massive tree, where the last kingdom still stands. explore the bitter branch, the land of the fae; the alcove, a mercantile haven; the shallows, where the rot is everywhere; briar’s spear, the seat of the royal family; and much more!

and more!

player discretion is advised.

violence

depictions of blood and gore

death

explicit language

sexually suggestive themes

memory loss

sense of unreality; doubt over reality

THE STORY AND BLOG ARE 18+!!

PLAY IT NOW.

[plushii-gutz]

Part 18 >:] @bear-cubs-art-things I know you'll read this either way but

Just making sure

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

On Amber Island, there was fear. It spread rapidly through the town, the Celestials breaking apart in search of their lost friends. Keeping themselves hidden was no longer an option. Schmoochle flew over the boat, Yool looking through every room. Blabbit had already started with the theories, being scolded by Hoola. Clavavera wished for their safety, knowing well it was all she could do.

For too long, there were no answers. Cecilia and Enya had gone out to speak to Furnoss himself, both to welcome him and to assist in his search. A years worth of explanations were thrown about in a matter or minutes. The Candelavra ordered for any and all flying monsters to begin their own search, to go as far as they believed they needed. Those unable to go far simply kept an eye out.

"Uh - Cecilia?" The kayna tugged on her arm nervously, "I think -"

"Not now, Enya."

"Cecilia!"

Enya seemed to freeze, their eyes lighting with a vibrant orange flame. For a moment, she was silent. The next, they spoke.

"A burned castle. The island it's on was small. There's something coming that way."

"Our island," Scaratar hopped to Furnoss's side, "She saw our island! Attmoz.. why would he go back?"

"I know the directions," Furnoss motioned Punkleton over. "Get Hoola, and tell her to bring the map."

Wind chilled Galvana to their core. Attmoz had taken them back onto the Seasonals ship to grap their toy, only for them to be ripped from the island and into the sky. Attmoz had the young monster in a tight grasp, bolting through the sky with two cloud wings formed onto his back as it grew darker and darker with vicious stom clouds. He can't wait any longer. He had the confirmation he needed.

Galvana cried out, overwhelmed and scared of the ocean below. They no longer trusted for Attmoz not to drop them. Their little hands dug into his fur, his skin. But he didn't acknowledge it. So long as he had the supernatural orb and its powers, he didn't care. Galvana came with him because they were the only one who knew where their power remained.

Attmoz hardly knew which way to go. The wind rattled in his ears and caused his eye to water, proving difficulties of his journey. It just didn't matter. Hours of flying would be worth everything in the end.

He soon found he wasn't alone. Behind him soared a monster half his height, firey feathered wings flapping against the current of harsh gusts.

"That's enough, kid!" They called out, "Turn around! There's nothing out here for you!"

The air Celestial shifted himself back, a strong fog rising from the waters below up to him. Hidden, he began to form intricate twists and turns, easily losing the monster chasing him. They fell from the sky, plummeting into the ocean. Staying afloat, the glowl yelled once more. Only now, they called for reinforcement.

Another flying beast made their way through the maze of fog, four eyes, four arms, and purple wings. They had a proboscis, which erupted with a harsh, rippling noise in an attempt to get Attmoz's attention. It had worked, though likely not what the rare Floogull had hoped for. With the mixture of Attmoz's powers and the fear-driven electricity of Galvana, lighting struck the rare from the sky. Charred wings don't carry far. Soon, they joined their fallen friend.

The sight just barely knocked a bit of sense into the air monster. But he was determined. Nothing would set him off track.

What could've been hours of flying and crying was finally coming to an end. It wasn't until he landed that Attmoz realized the small cuts all over his and Galvana's skin. He wondered how they had gotten there..

The castle had fallen apart further since their departure. Attmoz left Galvana on the stone ground, tearing up the sheets of molded wood and decaying debris from the burial sight. It fell apart like ash in his hands, staining his fur and leaving splinters in his fingers.

There he lied, rested among the wreckage. Glaishurs body remained as it had been when they left. It hadn't rotted nor changed, almost as if it had been frozen in time. Attmoz could see the burnt flesh, the missing patches of fur and skin. The left side of Glaishur's skull was still visible. A horrible sight.

He grabbed onto Galvana's orb, now smeared with rot. His hands tingled with its element like needles poking him. Galvana was in no way able to do this themselves. Attmoz needed that power, the energy, but he couldn't get to it. It was caged away, kept from him. He looked over every bit of it, trying to find something of it. Soon, he found a crack in the glass.

The edges of his mouth curled into a smile. Glaishur was coming back. Everything would be normal again. Everything would be ok.

Attmoz lifted the ball into the air and then smashed it on the ground. He raised it high, then down. Over and over, he beat the orb til the broken pattern grew larger. One more time, he lifted it up.

"Attmoz!" Galvana cried.

It took the final blow. It shattered in his hands, ripping apart his exposed flesh. However, he felt no pain from it. Attmoz felt waves upon waves of pure electricity course through his body, burning his veins and tearing him apart limb by limb. He felt as if his body were being shredded. Mutilated. Destroyed. And yet his smile remained. Through the agony, he felt accomplished. Everything was ok now.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Beeps echoed in Attmoz's head. Vision blurred, he was unable to recognize or make sense of his location. One thing was for sure: it wasn't his home. It smelled of a chemical he wasn't familiar with, cold as ever. Something felt tight around his arm, something else over his chest. It was painful to move.

"He's waking up," someone whispered.

The celestial blinked a few more times. Finally, his sight was restored. The room was primarily white, a few splotches of beige here and there. A single window to his left was covered with a curtain, small rays of moonlight shining through.

"I'd asked how you feel," a different voice spoke, "but I'd assume your answer is 'shit'."

"Viola, be nice! He's been through a lot," another scolded.

"Fine. Anyway, I'm Viola. Possibly the only bowgart here who knows what they're doing."

Attmoz wasn't sure what a Bowgart was, but Viola seemed reliable enough. She had four arms, two of which held a clipboard and pen, and a light purple pelt that was covered by a white coat. Round glasses stood on the edge of their face, occasionally being pushed back up as she spoke of his condition. Next to them stood a small pink Furcorn who seemed oddly familiar. It didn't make any sense to him. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you have no memory, no?"

"N- wha - no?"

"As expected," She flipped a page up. "You're lucky your anatomy is relatively simple compared to the other monsters that get put in here. Sustained a lot of injuries, still better than the guy next to you. After being resuscitated, you were flown out here from many islands away, and now we get to deal with it. Considering you haven't killed me yet, I can also assume your celestial abilities are very minor."

"Ok, glasses, I get it.. where's Glaishur?"

"Behind that curtain. He must love the sound of ringing, considering he flatlined multiple times."

Attmoz immediately jerked himself to get up, only for his body to be restricted to the bed. Under the blanket, he was held to the mattress.

"Oh, and that? Furnoss warned us ahead of time you weren't exactly stable."

Attmoz ripped his way through it easily.

"Oh, well, fuck me I guess."

Viola helped the injured monster walk, the little Furcorn pushing the IV pole. Behind the curtain, Glaishur rested in his bed. He was visibly scuffed up and beaten, but far better than before. Most of the fur on his body had to be shaved in order to perform proper inspections and sutures, as well as a bit on the size of his face, but the bandages covered most of it. He had his little toy, Boo, tucked into the blankets next to him. He played with Plixie and Hornacle, both being very careful as they stuck stickers onto one another.

"Thank the Celestials - er, you - for pain medications. Probably the only thing keeping both of you sane."

"You aren't a very good doctor," Flower the Furcorn complained.

"I'm a bad monster, not a bad doctor."

"How 'bout you both shut up, eh?"

Flower and Viola agreed. Glaishur looked up from the two kids to Attmoz. For a while, neither knew what to say. Glaishur motioned for Attmoz to come closer. Once he did, the cold monster stuck a shimmering smiley-face sticker on his cheek. He didn't have any words to give, but maybe this was enough.

"Heh. Missed you too, bud."

Furnoss spoke with the doctors on and off, having to learn about medicines and routines in order for Glaishur and Attmoz to remain healthy once they're well enough to leave.

"Oh, and the last guy seemingly had no complications. It's already up and walking."

"Last guy?" Furnoss questioned.

The door opened. Attmoz grew tense immediately at the sight of who stood there.

"Loodvigg," Furnoss gave a horrid look. The shadow monster lowered his eyes.

"Well?" Syncopite moved to Furnoss's side, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I.. I'm sorry." Loodvigg drew in a long breath. "While I was.. away.. I spoke with an Interdimensional monster."

A feline-ish monster leaned into the frame of the door, slightly transparent with thin purple fur covering them. They waved.

"I believe.. it would be best if I left. There is.. much to work on. For myself and for you."

Furnoss looked to Attmoz, Glaishur, Syncopite. They seemed to believe Loodvigg, just this once.

"Very well then," Furnoss kept his arms crossed. "Once we find a home, maybe I'll ponder the idea of you being allowed within it."

"There is no need, Furnoss. You've given me far too much grace. This very well may be goodbye."

Loodvigg felt a slight tug of his arm. Galvana stood there, pulling it down and smacking at its face. They didn't seem all too annoyed, maybe even a bit entertained.

"Alright, alright. You've made your point, Galvana, I understand-"

They then put a bandage over the spot where they had hit so often. Loodvigg's eyes grew glossy with ink black tears. How could he have ever hurt such a forgiving monster? Did they understand what they had done?

"Thank you, Galvana. I must be on my way. Furnoss? Thank you. If I could ever show my gratitude, I would."

The ghazt hovered into the room, soaring around Loodvigg and leaving.

"I best be going.. goodbye, everyone. Hopefully, if we meet again, it will be different."

Did he really forgive Loodvigg after everything? After all the shit it had put then through? Maybe he did.

"What now?" Attmoz asked Furnoss.

"We go home," he answered simply. "We were offered a spot to stay at near the hospital while you and Glaishur heal up a bit more. I plan to look around the area for a while, meet a few monsters. Plant Island is huge. There's definitely somewhere we can stay."

Plixie pulled a blanket up and over Glaishur, demanding for him to sleep and get better. It didn't seem too bad of an idea to him. He pulled Boo closer to himself, settling under the covers. It wasn't the best bed, but he had never felt more comfortable in his life. He was out cold in seconds.

Viola offered a tour of the hospital to Attmoz as the rest of the group left. He declined, saving it for another time while he also rested up more. Besides, he'd rather be with his bud more than anything.

Tomorrow is another day.

[emyn-arnens]

How about any character(s) + Nargothrond + old and forgotten?

Gildor Inglorion, G, 880 words (from this prompt list)

Nargothrond’s silence rang loud in its empty halls. 

Once, these halls had been filled with the music of harps and lutes, the bubble of laughter and conversation, and the sweet songs of nightingales. Once, fair tapestries had hung upon every wall, and warm light had spilled from jeweled lanterns.

Now, the halls were dark and cold, and no light pierced through the gloom. The lanterns that had hung upon the walls and pillars had been torn off, plundered for their jewels, and the tapestries hung in scorched tatters. The once-graceful carvings etched upon the floor were rent with gashes from the dragon’s claws.

No birdsong spilled from the shadows of the Hall of Song, and no music carried from the Hall of Harps. The Cave of Deep Water, where luminous fish had once swam, sinuous and serpentine, in the dark depths, was clogged with fallen stone. The Hall of Memory, where tapestries of Valinor, as beautiful as if Vairë herself had woven them, had once hung upon its walls, lay in ruin.

And upon everything hung the lingering reek and dread of Glaurung, a foul pall cloaking grief with horror.

All this Gildor saw as he sought the innermost halls, where stood the king’s throne, where Finrod, and Orodreth after him, had once sat, the silver crown of the King of Nargothrond glittering bright upon their brows in the light of the jewel-netted lanterns that hung from the ceiling. 

Rats and mice scuttled about the corridors, fleeing from his passage, and he watched the ground closely as he walked, for the rotted armor and bones of Elves and Orcs alike littered the floor. And everywhere was the scent of decay, noisome and rank, and the dread of Glaurung’s spirit grew.

The Great Hall opened before Gildor, lined with mighty pillars whose arching crowns disappeared into the gloom overhead, now cracked and broken from the passage of the dragon. Gildor stopped upon the threshold of the hall, his heart in his throat. 

At the end of the hall, the carven throne where Finrod once had sat and ruled with wisdom and justice stood cloven in two, and the tapestry behind it depicting the foam-washed shores of Aman had been rent by great claws. In the center of the hall, spreading from pillar to pillar, Glaurung’s hoard glinted dully, illuminated faintly by a crack in the ceiling.

Here, where Glaurung had long lain in pride and greed, sated by the death and ruin he had wrought, the reek and dread of the dragon lay heaviest, marring what had once been the fairest hall in Nargothrond. 

Gildor passed quickly through the hall to the cloven throne at the end, which stood proud still, even in its ruin. The emerald eyes of the carven serpents that twisted together to form the chair’s back glinted in the gloom, looking down upon Gildor as he approached. 

He knelt before the throne, as he had so many times before when Finrod and then Orodreth had sat upon it and received Gildor’s reports of the city and the surrounding woods. Withdrawing the sword at his side, he laid it at the foot of the cloven throne and bowed his head. “I am the last of the Knights of Nargothrond," he said, "and though I would have served my city and my king unto death, both have fallen and are no more, and my life yet lingers. I now lay down my sword, having fulfilled my final duty given to me.” Raising his head to look up at the serpents’ emerald eyes, he murmured, “ Savo hîdh neñ gurth .”

With a heavy heart, he turned and made his way back through the hall, until a glint of blue caught his eye and he stopped.

There upon the dragon hoard lay the blue brooch Finduilas had once worn glittering upon her shoulder—Finduilas, who had ever been generous with her smiles and laughter. Finduilas, whom he had been charged to protect—until in the madness and horror of that day, she had become lost in the panic and press of bodies, and in the chaos, one of the lords of the city had grasped his arm and bade him to escort Celebrimbor, who had little knowledge of the secret paths through the woods encircling Nargothrond, to safety and to guard his flight from the city.

Gildor had heard her cries as they fled, and he had thought he would never cease to hear them in the depths of the night, when the memory of her terror woke him.

He knelt before the hoard and picked up the brooch, running his thumb over the delicate filigree surrounding the blue stones. They were the color of bright flax flowers in the sunlight or shimmering butterfly wings and shone even in the dim mirk of the hall, as fair as the lady who had worn them.

“Forgive me, my lady, for failing to protect you,” Gildor whispered. “But I would keep this in memory of you and of the fair days before the end, for such a thing should not be left here to molder, forgotten, and your memory should be honored, as long as there is one left to guard it.”

He pressed the brooch tightly in his hand and left the hall.

crossposted to AO3 | SWG

[mint-8]

I was thinking of an alternate universe for Cult of The Lamb.

The base game combines rogue-like gameplay with a micromanagement system with the cult.

I thought, what if the game leaned towards the micromanaging aspect more?

I would like to start a bit with the backstory of the bishops.

In this timeline Narinder/The One Who Waits is the God of Death and Life, the bishop of the circle of existence.

“Everything begins… and everything ends… only for it all to start all over again…”

He was the first ever deity in the world, and thus the oldest and wiser bishop of the original 5.

As the centuries passed for this god, he grew lonely and curious. How could he make all of his boredom go away?

He thought about creation. He thought of making a world that he could observe and influence as he saw fit.

He first created the land, then the sky, then the plants and then the inhabitants.

But something was wrong with his creations. They were too… boring. They weren’t lively, they weren’t interesting, for they only would follow a set path of existence. Birth, live, age and death. All for it to repeat again.

He thought more and more about it. Maybe the creatures were too similar between each other? Thus he made them more unique. Some could fly, some could swim. Some would live only in the forests, others in the caves, some underground and many across the sea.

He made them as colorful as he could. Following his decaying arms filled with flowers of many colors, he designed each and every creature as unique and as recognizable as he could.

Many were made from the same mold, just twisted and turned into something more different. For this new creations would be the new molds to create more creatures like them.

As centuries passed, he had finally finished.

So many creatures that even he had forgotten the number.

All of them roamed the world he made, adapting, enjoying, hunting, dying, existing.

The same cycle all over again.

He grew bored.

Then he thought, what about changing the very world he made?

He created the climate, the sun and the moon, the scorching heat and the freezing tundras. Every part of the world had become more unique now. Many were filled with lush green forests and fields, others were dying and dry lands of sand, some were as cold as ice, and a couple lived alongside the water.

He grew bored once more.

More thoughts entered his mind. Force the creatures to live in every land! Make them survive and learn the ways of this new world.

It bored him too.

Make them live through the horrors of nature! Make them suffer of never ending storms, floods that cover mountains, blizzards that transform everything into white, the cracking and liberation of the ground!

So boring…

New creatures! New plants!

Boring…

More terrains! More catastrophes!

So boring!

DEATH

DESPAIR

HUNGER

ILLNESS

DESTRUCTION

TORTURE

It’s too boring!

What to do!? What to do!? Should he make them more abstract? Perhaps create a new order in the land? More absurdity and chaos!

Everything he could think of, he had done.

“Nothing more to create… nothing more to think…”

“ How can I make this itch go away?”

“What do I do to make the pain disappear once again!?”

“How can I create a world the makes me feel whole?!”

“WHAT CAN I DO TO NO LONGER FEEL TRAPPED IN THIS HELL!!!”

As his tears fell down his face and as his body trembled with rage… one last thought crossed his mind…

“If I’m so lonely… I should make others like me…”

“All of my creations act on instinct… none of them ponder or admire this world…”

“A creature that could see my world…”

“To hear my voice and the ones of this land…”

“To speak of unknown wonders…”

“To think and create just like me…”

The god smiled.

Now he had a new task at hand.

[astorichan]

Broken Glass

@mostlydeadallday gave me a prompt: Hollow, I (Hollow, Broken Glass) Hi, I came to play in your sandbox, Elle /wave

Text under the break.

—————————————————————————————————

The vessel followed.

Its place was always to follow, steps adhering to stay behind its superiors and to the right. Absent, in everything but its imposing stature. Silent, in everything but obeying the orders given.

It was not following its Creator, not anymore—for He was gone, well and truly consumed by the bottomless maw with no fangs that the Void was. It was not following Hornet, either—for she was not present, promising to catch up later.

The sound of rain had become familiar to it, a perpetual noise underlining its existence, though the drumming on its mask was a much kinder one than what it knew from the Radiance. It was cool, gentle kisses on the white bone, seeping into the ugly crack that ran over its right eye. It was a background hum, streaming down broken, cracked stone and shattered glass windows, splattering at the vessel’s feet as it moved.

The capitol had been dubbed the City of Tears, Ogrim had told it. Back when the last remnants of the capitol's denizens fell to the infection and there was no one left to repair the leaks in the cavern's ceiling. Back when the vessel’s failure had become absolute, carrying away with itself the last chances of Hallownest’s survival.

It remembered the city in its prime—silver gleam like the tender touches of His light, spires stretching up to eternity and massive oval windows like eyes that stared into its very soul. Now, both the city and the vessel were but relics of an age long since gone by, stubborn stains on the face of the world.

Void could not be washed out once it'd tarnished a surface, and the vessel was no different—a failure given the chance that it had never deserved.

Ogrim had promised to show it something, to try and somehow change its mind. What the vessel saw around itself, though—destruction, the city clawed apart by the Radiance's light just like its own shell was, decay, moss and sewer water eating through stone like Her rot had through its Void—failed to make it reconsider.

The narrow streets and passages twisted into each other in a spiral of entropy that should've made sense to the vessel, for it had visited the city several times before. It did not, its memories carefully incised by the Old Light, her golden engravings a stark contrast to the still persisting silver carvings in its shell.

It recognised the passage of time only by the merit of its shell sending demanding reminders of its injuries, telling it time after time that never would it be as close to perfection as it had once been.

That had brought it nowhere. That was never enough.

The surroundings changed, Ogrim leading it to a larger, more spacious cavern that it recalled, rather painstakingly, to be the capitol's central square.

A large, gaping emptiness greeted it—not a single survivor, not a single living bug was there now. It echoed, refracting the same sensation in the vessel’s chest, growing stronger with every step.

Its back throbbed. Its mask sagged down, an involuntary impulse that it was too exhausted to hide, just another proof of its inadequacy—as though Ogrim needed any more, with how battered it was when he'd first seen it after its unearned release from the Temple.

He stopped. The vessel copied the motion, silently grateful, incapable of stifling the pitiful warmth that settled heavy into its thorax. He looked up, and the vessel did the same, for it was here to be shown– something. Up its eyes climbed, beyond Ogrim’s round form, the understanding seeping slowly in like poison. It froze only once two narrow, slit at the corners, eyes looked back at it.

The pitter-patter of the rain grew farther away from it. The crack in its mask seared with every drop that landed on it and ran down the ragged edges. That same rain streamed down the same mask made of stone, the statue a warped mirror of its current state. Or was the vessel a distorted reflection of the monument, perhaps?

Liquid gathered in the vessel’s eyeholes as it stared, head raised up. Its inanimate counterpart's eyes were also weeping, rivulets welling and pouring down, down, down.

City of Tears. A mangled remnant lost in a time it never belonged to, and the statue was no less of a mockery.

"A memorial to you, friend," Ogrim spoke somewhere to the vessel’s left, voicing the forbidden thought that threatened to form in its mind.

"I am sorry. For not seeing, for choosing to ignore, for putting the entire world onto your shoulders." He fell silent after those words, and the vessel felt his claws come into contact with its back. Gentle, as though it was made of porcelain and would break upon the slightest touch.

Something within it keened, a soft and pathetic sound that it had no way of making in truth—it was grateful for that, too, for Ogrim needed not know just how far it had fallen, just how much its Void twisted and writhed within, pushing on the confines of carapace and sigil like never before. Even when its shade had been begging for release it had not felt like this, chitin creaking under the pressure and malforming, dissolving at the edges.

A memorial to the vessel. It deserved none, for no liar, no traitor was worthy of commemoration. A monument to a failure, no one left to bear witness to the irony. A vestige of an era bygone standing testament to the vessel’s inadequacy. It was unworthy of remembrance, but maybe remaining in a world shattered by its flaws was judgement enough.

The Pure Vessel chiselled in stone looked back at it, impassive, unflinching, every end that it had ever failed to meet. Its shoulders throbbed, metal melted into chitin by the Radiance reminding it sharply of what it was no longer. Sparks of pain danced on the fingers of its left hand, twining and making their way upwards, another radical difference from the mirage that stood here in front of the vessel.

Why would Ogrim apologise to it? Why would he help it, even, when all that the vessel had done was be proven too defective to carry out its singular task, the one order it'd been given, the one role it'd been created to fit?

He and Hornet both knew of its purpose more intimately than anyone else and yet both of them insisted on keeping it alive and treating it with kindness that it was unworthy of, that they saw it longing for nevertheless. And now it was Ogrim apologising to it, when it should've been the vessel begging for forgiveness that it did not deserve.

There was no one left to rescind the vessel’s title of a knight, for its liege was gone, consumed by the rising tide of the vessel’s failure too. And those remaining, both Ogrim and Hornet—its sister—refused to carry out a judgement, a punishment.

He had nothing to be sorry about, having not wronged the vessel even if it stretched the limits of its impurity and let itself think it was ever wronged at all. The vessel nodded, feeling more water pour out of its eyes and flow down its mask, dripping from the sharp point of it in a macabre imitation of tears.

The vessel’s neck creaked, pain shooting out of it like daggers burrowing deep into its carapace as it raised its head again. It looked at the statue regardless, feeling something tug and pull within its chest as the rain fell and fell and fell without end.

Perhaps it would be washed away if only it stood here long enough, unfaltering, disregarding the ache that built higher and higher with each passing second.

It was interrupted by a soft splash coming from its right, droplets sprinkling its feet in a needlepoint shower of pressure that went out almost immediately but was enough to pull its attention back to its surroundings.

It was Hornet, needle sheathed across her back. The vessel harboured no illusion that her rather unceremonious drop could be unintentional—not when it knew exactly how nimble and graceful a warrior she was.

She sighed as it met her gaze, struggling not to slouch. If knew that it would allow itself to do so, it would not be able to straighten again, brought low by the weight of its flaws dug into and spread wide open by the light.

"It was impossible from the very beginning, Hollow."

Her voice was a reprimand with no true venom to it, a wickedly sharp edge of a nail turned away from the vessel. She clicked her chelicerae together as it gave her no response—something she made clear was now expected of it—a sound that it had learned to recognise as a sign of deep thought or, at times, displeasure. It stayed frozen in place.

If it were to wish at all, it would wish to be swept away and not left behind like shards of broken glass, drawing haemolymph of anyone unfortunate enough to come too close. Unable, the vessel was unable to give Hornet what she so desired, to fulfil a new role bestowed upon it.

Yet, it longed for her to stay, to extend but one more offer of kindness, but one more impossibly gentle touch to its mask and let it press back into her hands, Void writhing pitifully underneath its carapace-

"You two should go back inside. There is nothing more to be found in this ruin, and you are soaking wet." She did not wait for a reaction, turning on her heels and marching towards an opening that might’ve once been a lift, caved in and collapsed on itself.

The vessel’s claws brushed over the pinpoint scars on its palm, harsh shards out of place on one of the only softer spots on its shell. Every light-eaten patch on its shell pulsed, ache swelling and then releasing with each beat of its heart.

Ogrim moved, glancing back to the vessel with eyes wide and water streaming down his cheeks—tears, maybe for him those were truly tears, shed for a reason that the vessel could not understand no matter how hard it tried.

It followed after Hornet too, then. It was its place to follow, after all.

[kitsunesfandomtime]

Between Life and Death

Prompt: "I want to be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren."

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Inko Midoriya, All for One

In this forest is where Izuku feels most comfortable among the flowers and the gentle breeze. The sound of birds chirping gently among the wind as he embraces the call of nature in these beautiful green meadows.

Lately there have been patches of barren soil that would seem to cross the land. Random patches that seem to be of someone's footsteps seemingly sucking up life around them.

Thankfully Izuku had some magic to patch up the mess but each day it seemed to grow closer and closer to his village. As if was testing the waters of the area in the dead of night.

He wondered if it was fairies or monsters the thought terrified him as his mother warned him. That he was touched by magic and eventually someone would come for him.

He told his mother and she grew incredibly pale whispering, "He knows he can't be around here."

Izuku didn't understand. Only that she begin to teach him potions for healing and medicine.

Then the patches reached the village and a disease seemed to sweep the land. His mother being a victim along with many others that he was helpless to stop. Left with only books and the knowledge of his mother's dying words.

"You will be ok. You're special he… He's seeking the green meadows that he can no longer have," she whispered as if to assure him. Even as every breath caused her pain, "You will be ok Izuku, he's scary but he won't- He can't hurt you."

Izuku never got an answer. He was the only one untouched by the disease as many other's luck enough to avoid the plague packed up and left. He was slowest to pack up feeling a sense of melancholy at the idea of having to leave his childhood home because of some unknowable monster.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like he was being given a choice.

The death lands have finally reached his doorstep. As if had stood there for the longest time just leeching the life. The delicately cared for flowers and trees were twisted and blackened with decay. Everything that had been full of life was drained from them even the door seemed warped.

Though he couldn't see him he knew the man was in front of him. As he hears a deep voice in his ear, "I have finally found you. My little miracle…"

Izuku felt the touch and it was like he had been tainted. The invisible specter took form in front of him. As the smell of death and decay grew the touch of bones against his shoulder.

But he collapsed from the overwhelming stench of death.

—————

When he woke up the stench remained though it wasn't as strong. Though he was greeted by a man covered head to toe in a black robe. Only the glint of red from his eyes were clear and the stench seemed to be from him.

"I worried I killed you also some how," the 'creature' speaks as Izuku's eyes glance at the others hands. Skeleton white fingers contrasted with the black robe bits of flesh seemed to have been peeled off.

"Even though I'm quite sure those of my blood are supposed to be immune to my poison," the other muses and Izuku felt his mouth dry. This man wasn't human or if he was he no longer walked among the living. Hiding his face under the hood was purposeful.

"You see I've lost quite a bit of my ability to see. Magic can compensate but it still takes a bit of navigating," the man coos as he lifts a hand to pull back his hoodie. "So tell me. What happened to your mother?"

Instead of a head there was a featureless crushed skull. Skin clinging to his damaged skull head as there were no eyes, nose or ears. Any blood that has likely been there has since dried and the skull despite being fractured barely holds its shape.

Making Izuku more sure this man was a walking corpse.

"You killed her," Izuku was quick to tell this man and it seemed for a second he was solemn.

"Oh… I didn't know she had passed it on… I had wished to speak to her one last time," that man seemed almost sincere but Izuku had no idea who this man was. Looking at him suspiciously he tries to figure him out.

Then the thing turns to somehow look at him. Those empty eye sockets send a chill down his spine as the man hums softly.

"Well I guess we will have all the time we need to get to know each other," the man speaks as if a whole village hadn't died. That Izuku's mother didn't die just from his very presence. The whole area smelled of stench and decay when Izuku still held memories of those beautiful meadows.

He snaps.

"Why do you smell and inflict death on everything around you!? You KILLED my mother with a plague and everything what makes you think I would be ok with that!?" Izuku shouts frankly infuriated at the audacity of this stranger. That he would treat his mothers death as just a pity instead of a tragedy.

There is a heavy pause as the figure of death seemed to smile. As if the others shouting was simply amusement.

"Because eventually your power of life will become that of death too if not careful. If you are anything like me," his body creaks as he stands showing how large he was as he walks toward Izuku. Reaching out he grabs Izuku's face as he forces him to look at his 'face'.

"My brother has long since chosen to die instead of live like this," In the pit of Izuku's stomach he feels this is wrong, "I'm just saving you from doing the same."

The other's touch was cold as ice and Izuku felt the darkest pit in his stomach. As he realizes that soon the very meadows he also adores…

"Let me tell you how I have become this and met your mother," the man whispers as he begins to tell him the story of a monster named All for One.

"There once was a man who loved life itself it was a thing he cultivated with glee along with his little brother. Gifted in magic he caused the very tree and land to spawn to life," the man speaks even as his own body seemed to only scream of death and decay. The idea of this man having once had the power of life seemed impossible.

"But it wasn't enough for him. As his little brother worked with him the man noticed men coming to their home and taking from those around them," he starts and Izuku simply listened...

----

Yoichi was the first to point out the men extorting those near by villages leaving the people there with nothing at hand. All for One may have the power of life but he had nothing in the way of defense besides creating walls of trees to cause them annoyance. That should have been enough they could have lived off the land secluded.

It wasn't. Despite All for One's love for his creation there grew a nasty fear every time he saw evidence of these outsiders appearance. Even his brother couldn't reason with him and because he lacked the magic of his brother was ignored.

His little brother refused to help him claiming the lengths he was going was not the deal. All for One's paranoia grows when the man spirals into something monsterous. Claiming if won't use it then he will simply take it to defend them calling his little brother a coward. Unable to see the threat of trying to obtain such things he used his own magic meant to give life to make themselves unkillable.

He sacrificed every one of those men for this power.

And in that moment he realized the 'life' he had praised was also death twisting in on itself. In his attempt to escape death the very power twisted into something dark stealing life from everywhere.

A Lich king.

He was untouchable besides his little brother a caveat he placed on the spell that those of his blood would be immune. Suddenly the small little town wasn't the only thing he wished to conquer. His very body stole life from all that surrounded him with glee as he grew losing sight of the life he once had given freely with joy.

Until the death of his brother fighting against him. And in those final moments the power of life he once had was only that of death. Unable to save his brother, his power of healing was now only bringing death and in that moment the cost was too great. Slowly he began to realize as time passed while he was immortal his body still attempted to decay and age.

Yoichi had left a string of inspired souls to confront and fight him. The monster that sucks the very life out of the land itself gathering others to help him. A lonely task that made him abhor this very body as there was no one to touch him.

Inko had only found him when the latest of these warriors attacked him leaving him on the cusp between life and death.

"You would die if you touched me. You must feel it," he had spoken with a pitiful wheeze and yet still she did touch him.

"I have a talismen of protection. I'll be quick," she whispers and from there is when the miracle happened. By a woman who didn't fear death she had given him a moment of hope until eventually forced to leave. A promise to return to see the boy at least once.

Only to lead to her end.

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

"My son, you carry life because I had once carried that very magic. Won't you please entertain this old soul?" The lich coos and Izuku feels something like sadness to the monster. A man trapped in a body that is forever decaying every day wondering how much regret the other must have as he remembers his mothers words.

Longing for a Meadow he can no longer have.

Knowing by being with this man there is a chance he will no longer see those untainted lands as everything this man touches beside his kin is death and pestilence. His very nature screams evil and should be something he abhors and in a sense he does still the stench of corpse still greeting his senses but he accepts this fact.

Instead he looks at the hand of the man that causes so much death whose very existence is an abomination. One that just living as he is causes so much death and destruction as the weight of the talismen on his neck from his mother felt heavy.

"You're barren. You aren't even able to cry even if you wanted to," Izuku notes as the other had no face or anything. Yet still clinging to those with life in them despite knowing he will only cause harm.

"I can't stay with you but... I will find a way to cure you so that you can rest. I think that is what mother would have wanted," Izuku speaks because he can't find it in himself to love something barren and full of death. A man of cruelty and yet there is kinship, acknowledgement that the other is a sick man who has survived for far too long.

"Let me try to cure you then I'll stay willingly," he speaks and this earns a laugh from the lich as if the idea was hilarious.

"Go ahead! I don't care for the why you stick around I would adore to see you try," the monster jeers as if it was a joke to him. The loneliest monster did not see any hope in escaping his self-inflicted curse but he would allow the miracle child to try.

What is an eternity to a being who can't die? Izuku knows this but he can't help but wish to see if underneath this monster was a man.

As his mother had seen something so maybe he could find it also.

[cryptidcorners]

Could you write something about Mike comforting his trans significant other?

Understood - Mike Schmidt x Trans!Reader

Description: After a long day of work, Mike returns to find you sitting in the dining room alone trying to process your long awaited phone call, and he comforts you through it.

# requested by anon

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Mike Schmidt

Tags: Trans!Reader (Identity is not specified.) Angst to Fluff, Comfort, Encouragement, Established Relationship, Private Setting, Loving Comments/Affection, Emotional, Cuddling, Cheering You Up.

Warnings: Mentions of Transphobia, Self-Loathing, Coming Out Gone Wrong, Depressive Thoughts.

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

Your nails lightly dragged across the tabletop, eyes wandering across the dining room as deep firefly light from the sunset began to decay. The neck of the telephone was inches away from your fingertips and your thoughts were as fast as an infuriated beehive. Unpredictable and wild. You wanted to fist in those digits again, spit through the line and give that horrid character a piece of your mind.

Yet, your eyes were warm with fresh tears and melancholy. You doubt you could choke up whatever was brewing in your head despite it all. You couldn't take it anymore—You didn't want to feel pain like this, all you wanted was for everything to be simple. Why was it so hard for her to understand? To understand you? To understand why? You tried to hold a tough face and wallow miserably in silence. But, you ended up hunched overead rested on the wooden surface with a quivered jaw and soaked face, trying to hold back your winces and gasps.

You had no sense of time until you heard the familiar twist and jingle of the front door opening. You straightened up immediately, messily cleaning your face with a low rasp. Mike's keys sang within his grip, and collided together as he fished them out of the thin design of the lock immediately. His eyes were narrowed, "You wouldn't believe what happened, we—baby?" His whole figure shifted. You had never heard his tone change that dangerously before.

"It's fine. I'm fine," you immediately defended yourself. Mike dropped everything and rushed towards you, bent on one knee as he gazed up at you. His gentle hand was on your leg, stroking it gently. "What happened? Baby, look at me. Are you okay? Did–" Mike read your face and his sight concluded to the telephone. His face turned into something stormy as he whispered, "You made the call?" His breath slowed instantly.

You nodded with tears in your eyes. You couldn't help it. Like some bottle filled beyond the brim, you started sobbing. Mike stood up and pulled you to his chest, hugging you warmly as your tears seeped into his uniform. Everything spilled, and you were lucky to have Mike there to hold you through it. You swallowed harshly, "She said I was killing her by doing this. She said she'd never see me this way. What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing." Mike grabbed your face, "Baby, you did nothing wrong, you understand? She doesn't decide who you are, nobody does. You do. Only you." He explained softly, "I'm so sorry this happened, but I need you to know. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not hurting her, okay? Baby, look at me in my eyes. You—are perfect. Nobody can take that away."

Your breaths began to ease. Yet, there was still some sort of pooling guilt in your gut. "I can't just—leave her. She was so kind to me, I just . . ."

"She isn't somebody worth your love if she just treated you like that." Mike told you, "Please, don't talk to her. She doesn't deserve to see you after this. You are loved. And I understand. I see you."

"Thank you." Your breath grew jagged at the sheer emotional impact of his words. You rubbed your thumb in circles, melting comfortably within his touch. "Thank you so much, Mike."

Mike had led you back to his room after a couple minutes of silence. He was hugging you tightly, saying how perfect and beautiful you were, kissing your tears away. He took your hand, and pressed his lips against your knuckles. "I love seeing you smile, baby. More than anything. You're perfect."

You rested your forehead against his with a content expression. "I love you too, Mike." Comfortable silence filled the air. "Thank you—for being here for me . . ."

Mike caressed your face, "You deserve someone to be there for you. No matter what. Besides, it's the bare minimum. " he kissed your cheek once more. His face grew serious, "By the way, if I ever see her again, I'm kicking her ass."

"You don't need to do that, Mikey." You assured. Mike sighed, "Alright, fine. I'll respect your wishes." You could tell he was lying. But, you didn't have the energy to correct him. Regardless, you wouldn't be upset if he did end up making her lick her own shoe. Suddenly, his warm hands found their way to your waist and he rolled on top of you. Kissing your neck gently and making you squirm and giggle. You couldn't ask for anything more. And neither could he.

[nagdabbit]

we collide with shoulder and steel

we collide with shoulder and steel: chapter 1/25

rating: m, to be safe, even tho this chapter is one of the easy ones

words: 1.3k

characters: wheeler yuta & daniel garcia

it's time. i couldn't wait to start posting. it's the dark, non-linear bcc beauty and the beast au from hell. special thanks to @sarahcakes613 for causing all this mayhem, and @americandragonslayer @shes-a-voodoo-child @sybilius for letting me yell about this thing and talking me through ideas and @samfosho for the moodboard <3

also on ao3

For as long as he could remember, they had been cursed.

The ruins on the mountainside had been shrouded in darkness for longer than his family could even remember. The bones of a castle, ruined for so long that its name had been forgotten. 

His great-grandfather had been a child when the trees had begun to wither and twist and die, a forest of matchsticks beginning the cascade down the mountainside. On the eve of her seventeenth birthday, his grandmother had vowed she wouldn’t dare remain in the valley, betrothal be damned, when she watched the last of their cattle die in the field. His father watched their family starve, crops dying year after year, and promised to return with seed or money or medicine. His mother held on as long as she could, before the sickness took her, too. 

He remembered sitting near the treeline, the last two children left in village, watching the final spring burn—not that they'd known it at the time. He remembered the hope in his chest, joyous to see the sparse green poke its way out of the ash. He had been barely sixteen.

"Why do we burn?" Danny, two years his junior, had asked. He'd asked that same question every single burn season, since they were kids, barely old enough to sit up on the ridge alone. 

"So new things can grow," he'd answered, words familiar on his tongue.

"What things?"

"Whatever we want." It was a prayer between them, a yearly blessing. And each year that the crop grew smaller, sicker, they said it a little more fervently. As they grew older, they began to say it on cold nights, when their shivering was too violent to let them sleep. When thunder rolled overhead, but no rain fell. When the hunger pangs felt like blades.

He was just eighteen when the seeds stopped sprouting altogether, when the land stopped fighting forth and suffocated beneath a layer of well-meaning ash. He was nineteen when the shared stores began to dwindle, and he'd learned to hunt the fungi that grew from the rot—until that, too, had dried up.

Curses festered. They poisoned everything they touched, seeping into the earth like decay to a wound. Spread and grew and twisted and twined all the way down to the roots, shrapnel wedged so deep it could never be dug out.

He stood on the edge of the so-called forest, and wondered how long and how far the curse would spread if nothing was done about it.

“You could just leave.”

He rolled his eyes and hitched his pack a little higher onto his shoulder. “I am leaving, Danny.”

Another clod of dirt hit his pack and shattered into a cloud of dust and ash. He’d been pelting Yuta’s back for the last ten minutes, like he thought his final acts of insolence would make him rethink his plan. “Come with me,” he said, almost begging. “There’s nothing here anymore, and you know it. Leave it to the rot.”

“It will follow us, Danny.” He turned to look at his friend one more time, maybe for the last time. Tried to memorize everything he could. Count his freckles, trace the furrow of his brow and the pout of his lips. “You know that, too.”

“But it’s slow. By the time it reaches the city, we’ll have lived. We’ll be long dead, and somebody else’ll have found a way to fix it.” His lip trembled, just slightly, and Yuta felt guilty all over again for choosing to leave him. “Just—come with me.”

“I’m not leaving this curse for my children to deal with.”

Danny scraped another stiff, dry clump of dirt off the ground and hurled it toward Yuta with a wordless shout. He didn’t even look pleased to see Yuta wince when it shattered against his shoulder. “What, you wanna be a prince? That’s how it’s s’posed to work, right? In all those stories?” He sneered and turned his glare toward the rolling gray hills, swung an arm out toward the ghost town they’d been born into. “You think you’re gonna be the one to kiss that beast human again, and suddenly all this will come back to life?”

"True love's kiss, was it?" He rolled his eyes and started back toward the treeline, brushing dust from his threadbare tunic as he went. “No curse could be that stupid, Danny.”

He wasn’t the first to climb the mountainside. As long as the ruins had been ruined, villagers had gone looking for answers. Curiosity had turned to terror as the first explorers skidded back down the mountain telling tales of some great horned beast, a creature of fury and rage. Then they went with sword and torch, those that did return did so with scars and stories of gleaming teeth and razor-sharp talons and the searing, unforgiving pain of dragon’s breath. 

Not even a high price on the beast’s pelt could tempt most hunting parties to risk the ruins after that. Not one of the few glory seekers arrogant enough to chance the climb ever returned.

Some ventured up searching for treasure. It was a castle, after all, and it stood to reason that there would be stores of treasure and relics hidden away under the beast’s guard. Those fools that returned did so with disappointment and petty grumbling, and the same light purses that they’d ventured forth with. They sang praises of the mountain’s creature, its cleverness and cunning, each of them too proud to admit they’d been outsmarted by a beast.

Then came the stories of a kissing curse, a frog prince with fangs and fur, awaiting some fair lover to free him from his plight. Romance and intrigue, a kingdom for the taking. The husband hunters rarely returned, but those who did flounced back down the mountainside with nothing but twigs and briars to show for the effort, and stories of a grotesque beast with a heart too hardened to bother with. 

Other stories told of phantoms. No vestiges of life left. Only faint, distant voices that had forgotten to die with the flesh they’d once inhabited, and the cold, unforgiving wind. 

Footsteps followed along behind him, the younger boy not yet ready to give him up. “I can’t believe you’re just going.”

“You can come with me.”

He scoffed, a mean and nasty sound. “I’m not gonna go die.”

“I’m not planning on it, either.”

“How many idiots have climbed that rock thinkin’ the same damn thing? Kane thought he’d come back with a head to mount on his wall. Brie planned on being a queen, and I don’t see a flag wavin’ up there for her,” he grumbled, as if they hadn’t been toddlers when she’d decided to climb the mountain and claim her prince.

“Who knows, maybe she’s ruling over some ruins of her very own,” Yuta joked. “Maybe this will be a reunion.”

He stopped a few feet back from the edge of the treeline, looking up through the bones of the forest. Pillars of charred and wind-worn wood, still casing the mountain in shadow and silence. He looked over his shoulder, a farewell on his lips, to find Danny some yards back.

“You’ve heard the stories, Yuta,” he called out, feet rooted in the gray dirt. His shoes were threadbare, they wouldn’t survive the journey to the next town over, let alone the city they'd always talk about running away to. “What makes you think you’re the one to finally kiss the curse away?”

“I never said I would break the curse.” He turned back toward his path, and stepped into the woods. “I said I would try to fix what it's done.” He imagined Danny yelling out something else at his back, always one to fight tooth and nail to have the last word, but within the brittle shelter of the trees, he was met only with silence.

[babygirlbdubs]

'the flowers we grew' for the made up fic title

Scar is a gardener. He’s had a way with plants, able to shape them and nurture them since he was quite young. Recently, he’s turned his skill into a business, drawing upon his salesmanship tendencies and creating quite the successful little shop.

Grian is cursed. Everything he touches dies. He has learned to live with his misfortune, but it has made him jaded. He tends to keep far away from people, always keeping them at arm’s length.

That is, until one day he finds himself in the park, and an endlessly charming man offers him a bouquet of lilacs and poppies. Grian tries to resist the way the man insists that he remove his gloves and truly experience the flowers, but. . . ah. Somehow he finds himself obliging, that dashing smile twisting something up in his gut. He winces preemptively, preparing for the man’s flowers to wilt and decay at his touch, but. . . instead, they simply. . . brush against his flesh. They are delicate and soft. . . and it’s the first time he’s felt something living beneath his touch in far too long.

He feels bad later about the way he choked up, dropping the flowers on the ground and sprinting away. He wants to apologize. Explain himself. But this was just some random man in the park. How in the world is he supposed to find him?

Luckily, however, a brand new flower shop has popped up en route to his favorite cafe, and the owner is a dashingly handsome— er. A very charming and familiar man.

. . .

It’s a flower shop AU, but with a bit of a twist. Grian learns that he can touch things hand-grown by Scar without killing them. Scar shows him the beauty of life, teaching Grian all the ways he can fall in love with the world, even without touching it. It doesn’t take long for Grian to fall in love with Scar, as well. Even without touching him.

Scar, brave and optimistic as ever, eventually convinces Grian to take off his gloves, and take his hand. It turns out, most curses are broken with true love’s kiss. Grian’s appears to be no different.