#she chowed DOWN i fear

[allpromarlo]

viola davis is physically unable to not slay. she just does it whenever the camera is on her

[lord-shitbox]

i was gonna post something like "laid up in bed over some girl" but it turns out im actually Sick. on top of it all. laid up in bed over some girl AND a cold. unbelievable

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.

[silvermarley]

can u do Sanemi or giyuu fucking reader stupid because she said his scar or eyes were beautiful

Love this idea 🫶🫶 this seems more on the Sanemi side of things, so I’m gonna do him!! :)

Beauty in Your Scars

Sanemi x Reader

Warnings: smut, rough (but passionate), cursing, unprotected sex, fem!reader, modern-ish but demon slaying is still a thing, a hint of a breeding kink, dirty talk

WC: 2.8k (I got carried away)

Sanemi isn’t the type to receive compliments often, as his appearance intimidates most resulting in him not getting used to them. Even when he got with you, he became a flustered mess.

His scars were something that pushed most away. He was by no means ashamed of them, but he didn’t exactly find them the most appealing either.

Sanemi did like the fear that came with them though, and how even some demons would hesitate to attack just looking at them.

You two have been together for over a year, and you hadn’t yet talked about his scars. You didn’t know if it was a touchy subject or anything, so you never pushed.

Even so, you couldn’t help but admire the way it makes him look so much more masculine. Something about them never failed to attract you more. That being said, it wasn’t good seeing new ones when he would come home from a particularly difficult mission.

You were a retired demon slayer, so you understood getting injured comes with the job, even if it wasn’t ideal. Although, it’s not too often he gets injured because of his immense power and skill in wind breathing.

You were “retired” because after Sanemi had gotten attached to you, he quickly began insisting you leave the corps. Saying “it’s for your own good,” or anything he could think of to get you to leave. Eventually, you did. And he couldn’t be happier (he would never tell you that though).

Now, he gets to do the dirty work while his beloved stays at home and greets him when he comes back. Although you two have been together for a long time, he still struggles at expressing his love, so he can come off as strong sometimes. Not that you mind.

One afternoon, he comes home after a stressing mission. “I’m home.” He calls out as usual.

You peek from around the corner of the hallway and walk to him. “Hey, ‘Nemi! How did your mission go?”

He grunts, placing his katana in its place on the wall. “Fucking stressful.” He sighs, his voice laced with frustration.

Though, he couldn’t stay upset when he was finally home. When he finally gets to see you. The one who then kiss his cheek in response, “Ah.. sorry to hear that. Do you want me to make your favorite?” You grin.

The corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly as he nods. When he’s upset, he becomes more quiet as to avoid saying something he would regret to you. If there was anyone he would never want to hurt with his attitude, it’s you. He finds his way into the living room and with a (what felt like a) heavy body, he plops onto the couch.

You happily go into the kitchen to gather the materials for ohagi. You knew the recipe like the back of your hand at this point. It was your favorite thing to do for him after his missions.

After making it, you place them on a plate and make it look presentable. You hum to yourself, before carrying it to where Sanemi was sitting.

“Here you go!” You hand it over to him and then sit yourself next to him.

He quickly takes a bite and sighs contentedly. He can’t help his small but noticeable smile as he chows down on the food. You just cuddled up next to him, occasionally looking up to admire him. The show on tv wasn’t all too interesting to you now as you were enamored by his beauty even while eating.

Once he finished his meal, he placed the plate to the side table. “It’s always good.” He remarks as he moves his hand to your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“‘m glad you think so.” You manage to snap yourself out of it as you reply.

He looks down at you as you stare at him. “Something wrong?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Just admiring you.”

His cheeks turned a rosy hue. “..Is that so?” He cleared his throat.

“Mhm,” you say as your hands trace some of the scars on his arm, “I was just thinking about how beautiful these make you look.”

There’s silence from him for a moment. As you glanced up once more to see if you said something wrong, you see something in his demeanor had changed. “..’Nemi?”

His grip tightens on your waist. “Don’t say things like that all of a sudden..” he muttered.

You caught on to his tone, how it was warning you, not just telling you. “Why? It’s true.. they’re pretty.” You assured.

He mumbles a “Fuck..” as he is suddenly on top of you, breathing heavily with a prominent blush on his cheeks. “I warned you, didn’t I?” His eyes were cloudy as he spoke with a sensual voice. Hearing your praise for his scars did something to him.

With a bite of your lip, you stare up at him. “Mhm.. but I really do think so.” You shuddered as his rough palms grazed your sides.

His lips quickly met yours in a heated kiss. Your tongues danced with passion as he pushed his hips into yours. Your words were playing with fire. He wanted to hear them over and over. Something about you saying that made him feel hot all over.

As soon as you part for breath, his lips are latched on your neck. Dark hickeys were made in every spot he kissed. After properly marking your neck, he makes quick work of your shirt, to which he takes the new exposed skin into his mouth to make more marks. While doing so, his hands glide to unclip your (f/c) bra. You lifted yourself slightly to allow him to so.

He groans at the sight of your perked up nipples. He throws your bra across the room, turning his attention back to you. “Perfect..” He murmurs.

His tongue swirls around one nipple, before sucking and repeating the process. Then he pays some attention to the other. The stimulation just from this made soft gasps escape your mouth. That only fueled the ever growing fire.

A few minutes pass, and he pulls away from your chest. His fingers skillfully pull down your pants with haste. His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of your panties, and the patch of your desire that was making it stick to your pussy.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy.. you know that?” He inquires with a lustful stare, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. Especially when you know it.

His thumbs rub your waist as he studied your already dazed expression. He hums, as his gaze falls back to your clothed core. He’s hit with the urge to taste you, to make you come undone with his tongue. And he’s not a patient man. He takes what he wants. And right now, he wants nothing more than to taste your essence.

He was already patient enough to take everything else off of you, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing the panties you still had on off of you. He wouldn’t hear the end of it later, but he didn’t care. As soon as your wet pussy is exposed to him, his tongue begins to explore it.

Just the taste of you has his mind reeling. He licks and sucks at your clit messily. Pulling whine after whine from you. It was almost like he wasn’t doing this for you anymore. Your hands tug at his wild white hair as you mewl in pleasure.

“Just l-like that ‘Nemi—ah..—feels so good.” You moan, slightly bucking your hips up to get more friction. From the stimulation of his tongue alone, it has your back arching.

Soon, he pushes a thick finger into your entrance, pumping it in and out in tune with his actions on your clit. You couldn’t control your voice as it increased in volume, especially not when he adds another. His mind felt fuzzy as he lapped at you and fucked you with his fingers.

Sanemi still had your compliment in mind as he brought you to cloud nine. He didn’t care how messy he would get from this, he just wanted you to cum on his face. Your sweet moans only encouraged him to bring you to the brink faster.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers as you feel yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. A few more movements of his hands had you cumming all over his face and fingers. He greedily licked you clean as you twitched in overstimulation.

He lifts himself up once more. You see the bottom half of his face covered in your juices and his own saliva, causing you to blush more from embarrassment. He notices, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Still think I’m beautiful?” He questions. You look away from him, in a sudden sense of bashfulness. His eyes never leaves your face as he demands an answer. “Look at me. Tell me baby, do you think I still look pretty?” His breathing quickens once again at his own words.

Your eyes slowly return back up to his as you nod. “Mhm.. so pretty.” Without a doubt, he was prettier in your eyes now than before. Even with the bottom of his face still glistening with your essence.

He mutters a few curses before undressing himself as fast as he could. You ogle his well built figure, scarred and sculpted from years of slaying demons. No matter how many times you see it, you’re still just as enamored.

Normally, he would poke fun at you for staring at him, but he wanted to be in you, and he wanted it badly. He hovers over you again, peering down to grab hold of his leaking cock. He rubs himself against you a few times, until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He needed to feel the warmth, and he needed it now.

He slips inside you, which is made easy by his prep and the wetness seeping out of your cunt. He lets out a husky groan as he slowly pushes in. The delicious stretch as he filled you up made you squeeze around him. He hisses, and grips tightly underneath your knees to gradually push them to your chest. This only made him push deeper into you, almost making you forget to breathe.

A mutual moan is shared as he bottoms out. After a moment, he pulls back his hips to slam into you again, knocking the air out of you once again. Your hands frantically move to his shoulders.

“Fuck.. pussy’s squeezin’ me tight..” he groans. His mind felt foggy from lust and the feeling of you around him. Never has he felt this pussy whipped. Did your words have more of an effect than he originally thought? Of course it did. Such a compliment coming from your pretty lips; Moreover about his scars, had him reeling from the start.

He continues to thrust deep into you, hitting places you didn’t think he could reach. Everything felt.. different this time. You’d never seen this man act like this over something so simple.

Each thrust had you letting out whines and moans, and you could feel every bit of his cock as it slid in and out of you. Each movement was deep and fast. As if he was a dog in heat. As if he were in a rut, and you were the only person who could help him through it. The pleasure you felt from it was almost too much. Your nails dug into his scarred shoulders, earning a grunt from him. His lip was tucked under his teeth, though he wasn’t going to let you hear just how desperate he was. But god, did it feel so good.

“K-Keep going.. plea—ah! Please, ‘Nemi!” You whimper, your back arching more as you felt yourself get closer by the second.

“Yeah? Just like this?” He smirks as he was loving the sight underneath him. You losing yourself in pleasure, face contorting into an expression he adores after a long day like this.

“Fuck! Y-yes..” you respond in broken moans, clenching on him.

He bit his lip harder. It wasn’t normal for him to get close already. But your pussy was gripping him like a vice each and every time he hit that one spot that had your eyes rolling back.

Before you could warn him of your incoming release, you saw white as you made a mess on his cock. Sanemi growled and let out a few low moans as he pushed into you a few more times before cumming himself. He kept his dick in you and bent down to catch his breath on your shoulder. “Shit..” he says between his scattered breaths.

The orgasm you both felt was powerful. And he wanted more. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with just one round. He craved to feel that again. Your hands fell to your sides as you recovered from cumming that hard.

That was, you were recovering from it. Because now, he was pushing you over on your stomach. You knew what he wanted so you braced yourself on your forearms and knees. You arched your back temptingly, which wasn’t missed by him. He slaps your ass, you were just too tempting and so pliant just for him. And he couldn’t wait to plunge into you again.

His cock forces its way into you again, and he wastes no time in fucking you again with conviction. He was once again fast and desperate in the way he moved his hips. “C-Can’t get enough of this..” he murmurs into the back of your neck just as he pushes the top of his torso against your back. This, in turn, made him go further into you. His voice, still occasionally cracking from the intense overstimulation, continued to murmur dirty sentences into your ear.

You were still feeling sensitive from your last orgasm, and so was he, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep going. Your drenched and quivering hole sucked him in so perfectly, almost like it never wanted him to leave, so why would he stop now? “Fuck.. I can never control myself with you—shit— you’re fucking addicting..” he nearly whines in the back of your neck, as he sucks a purple hickey into it.

His words only helped to sink you further into euphoric depths of desire. It seemed like that little comment earlier took away any filter he usually had when you two fucked previously. Something about this really was different. More eager, and full of need along with an overwhelming sense of desperation.

Sanemi’s sloppy but deep thrusts, in addition to you already being sensitive, pushed you surprisingly quickly to the brink. To the point you couldn’t even warn him about it, just like before. He growled loudly as he felt you cum again. His mouth spilled out endless curses and downright nasty words as he bucked into your twitching pussy.

“T-Too sensitive, ‘Nemi!” You practically screamed as he kept hitting the same spot that has been making you see stars.

“Just a b-bit more.-agh..come on baby..” He leans further down on you, his firm chest hitting your back completely. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he rolled his hips into you wildly. Your eyes watered, feeling his hips stutter in their thrusts until he bursts inside you for the second time. It warms your insides as it fills you to the brim, and then leaks out down your thighs.

The both of you catch your breath for a few minutes until he pulls himself out. This causes more of his seed to drip out from your hole at the emptiness. You fall flat on your stomach out of exhaustion. Meanwhile, his eyes were enraptured by the view of it all. He was tempted in that moment to go again, but he held that back for now. Maybe at a later time would he do it, but jesus, was it tempting..

Sanemi’s hands rub your lower back and ass comfortingly, which he then stops after you speak. “..I take it you like what I said earlier, huh?” You chucked breathlessly, watching as he laid beside you.

“Maybe a little too much.” He murmured, and you could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Totally different from the man who was just rearranging your insides.

You lips meet his in a short and gentle kiss. “Who knows, I might just say it more often..” you suggest playfully when you pull away.

His breath hitched for just a second. “I suggest you be careful with what you say..” his voice tinged with a teasing but demanding tone.

You giggled, your head moves to lay on his chest. Even with his attempted serious expression, his hands told a different story. They weaved through your hair softly. It was then that he wished this could last forever, a peaceful time where he’s not out there fighting. No demons, no annoying slayers to bother him, just the two of you in post-sex clarity and tranquility. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi there, could I get poppy playtime (if that is to many characters then just catnap and dogday are fine) with a reader that has pica (if you don't know what that is it is where a person can tend to eat or bite on things not edible, like paper, erasers, eca)

I can do a few!

.....

Huggy (saved/rescued) + Poppy

While in his "idle mode" on the podium, he sees you munching on a piece of paper like lettuce and then plush stuffing like it's cotton candy.

And then you just snatch the key from him and move onto the next puzzle, and he goes "???????"

Why did you eat those things? Did they somehow sustain your hunger?

Huggy only gets to learn more after you save him from falling (and tame him with an actual edible snack you brought along), taking a breather after freeing Poppy from her box.

When he grabs one a random paper, you assume he wants to draw something as a way to communicate...until he starts chowing it down.

In his mind, humans DO eat paper and he's been starving and cannibalizing toys (and trying to eat you) for nothing...

But then he spits it out, picking shredded bits out of his teeth, before glaring at you as if you told him to eat that.

You're a little scared and confused until Poppy explains that he was only trying to mimic what you do, and she asks why you eat such random little things.

Eventually you explain to the pair of your condition called "pica".

You've had it most of your life, with an official diagnosis to boot, but it never really hurt your digestive tract.

Over the years you've cut the habit, although being stuck in this factory meant you had to find other sources of food...even those not even considered food at all.

Some of your coworkers knew about it, and their only complaint was the occasional eraser going missing thanks to you (which you deny stealing...most of the time).

"I always joke about having a cast-iron stomach," you tell the toys. "Food is the least of my......"

But you pause and look at Huggy, realizing he might be offended by you shrugging off food as negligible to your survival.

No matter what, though, it's not gonna stop him from trying different non-food items and seeing what tastes good.

He might've eaten pieces of clothing and plush fabric/stuffing over the years, albeit none of it was delicious by itself.

Dogday

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit--fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"Jesus, that sounds horrific." You say as you crunch on a piece of chalk (one of several that you got from the schoolhouse) nonchalantly.

Dogday takes immediate notice and is rather concerned. He knows the chalk and crayons here are made to be non-toxic, but insists they're not safe for human consumption.

He fears it's gonna kill you and begs you to stop, saying you needed to live.

Before you could fully explain your condition, the mini-critters are closing in, so you free him and haul ass out of the playhouse of horrors.

After making it somewhere safe where you could patch him up, he presses you on why you continue to eat all these foreign objects.

But he jumps to the conclusion that you got desperate after running out of food, going mad from hunger like the other toys did...

He recalls Picky Piggy going through something similar, and he gets a bad flashback to the Hour of Joy when he had to stop her from eating Crafty's paint....and the corpse of a Smiling Critter -

"Dogday? Hey stay with me..it's okay. I'm here, I'm here.." You console him, calming him down from his panic attack. "I'm not going crazy, alright? I just have this small condition called pica."

"...p-pica? Oh. I thought...kids grow outta that.." He mutters, finding familiarity with that term.

He's had his fair share of toddlers putting things in their mouth that could be choking hazards.

You shake your head, explaining that it stuck with you, but it doesn't cause your stomach any pain as long as you're careful about what you eat.

Dogday's relieved you're not losing it.

Even so, though, he's gonna feel nervous if he catches you eating another piece of chalk.

But it's just his instincts as a child caretaker, so you couldn't blame him.

Catnap

He hangs out in the shadows for the most part, watching your every move...and he does pick up on your strange habit of eating non-food objects.

It's something orphaned toddlers in the playhouse often did, and he'd see the other Smiling Critters hurry to take the items away from them before any emergencies happened.

But those memories mean nothing to him.

All he's doing is waiting for you to eat the wrong thing and keel over.

Unfortunately for him, you just keep trudging on, munching on a crayon like it's normal before throwing your gas mask back on.

He doesn't know how you manage to stomach so many things, and honestly is kinda envious.

Why can't he and the others sustain their hunger like you did?

It does make for some rather..amusing situations, though. Such as when you're in the smoke factory and use the elevator to escape him.

You just stand there as the doors close, eating some chalk and crunching it loudly without breaking eye contact with Catnap's horrific eldritch form.

Obviously, you're stress-eating at that point, but he doesn't have to know.

Miss Delight

The schoolhouse was like a cafeteria for someone with pica, aka you.

While looking for generators, you just pick up whatever you find: erasers, chalk, crayons, etc. and start biting them, or even chewing and swallowing them.

It only succeeds in angering Miss Delight right away, as she sees you doing all of this and snaps at how "childish" you are for eating things you shouldn't.

But you when shout back that you have pica, the PA system suddenly goes quiet.

Like Dogday and Catnap, that definitely triggered some memories for her, which she dwells on for a while before realizing you were still in the school..

And seeing you eating stuff makes her howling stomach grow louder.

"Barb" says you're mocking her own hunger, especially since she notices you gathering the notes she left around the place, and insists on killing you.

When you finally do encounter her, she is visibly disturbed by you crunching on a piece of chalk and throwing it to the ground to distract her, buying you time to break eye contact and flee.

She calls you "crazy", but you're not the one chasing her with a weapon made of a ruler and colored pencils.

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

how about... "you shouldn't have touched them. every single mark on their body is going to be returned to yours." wiiith our mans eric northman!

please, thank you, love youuu!!! 🩵🩵

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞

eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

or the one where eric saves you from an anti-vampire rights enthusiast.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, death, kidnapping, stabbing

a/n: i know i said drabbles but i couldn't contain myself. i am violently ill with my love for this man.

masterlist | taglist

You think you're dying. surely. There's no way the human body would be able to endure this much pain without ultimately giving up the ghost, right? 

You never should have gotten involved with vampires. They were nothing but a bucket of trouble, as your mother would have put it. And has she had put it, a multitude of times, before she'd ever even known you'd applied to work at Shreveport's resident vampire bar. 

What she didn't know, though, was how incredible they could be. How, even without all their supernatural abilities, intensely good they could be when they decided they wanted. How loyal and caring and kind when they chose to do so. Just how beautiful they could be, fangs and all. 

‘Course, there still was that whole bucket of trouble thing. 

"You sure are pretty for a fangbanger," your captor drawled from where he was watching you from across the room. He'd tied you to a chair at the center of it, thick scratchy ropes binding your wrists to the unlaquered wood beneath you. You spit, knowing that it won't reach the man from this distance, but hoping, almost willing it to hit him squarely between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you say.

“Ooh,” he whistles. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you, sweet cheeks. Why waste it on one of those dead fuckers when you could have someone with an actual, bleeding fucking heart?”

“You’re a waste of skin, you piece of shit,” you huff. Not that it was any of his goddamn business, anyway, but you had only ever slept with one man, and it sure as shit hadn’t been one of your bosses.

“Aw, c’mon. I bet you get so cold after one of them vampers is inside you, don’t you. All icy and chilly like. Let me give you a little tip, sweetheart. Humans. Need. Warmth.”

“You say that as if you aren’t a fucking sad sack,” you say. “What a sorry excuse for a human, huh?”

“What’d they do to you, huh, girl? Did they glamor you into only wanting a dead man’s dick?” he asks, slowly shifting and standing from his stool so that he could approach you. Despite their constant–and half-hearted–threats, you’d never been glamored by your vampire coworkers. Your breathing shakes as he approaches in swift steps. It’s then that you see the knife in his hand. 

For the first time in a long time, you realize, genuine fear strikes through you. 

“I’m gonna teach those vampers a lesson,” he says. “And you’re going to help me do that.”

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

The knife trails along your collarbone. You're glad it was as dull as it was, knowing if it'd been sharper it would be slicing the skin open in its path down. Then he presses down harder. You can’t muffle the whine as it escapes you, no matter how much you want to. No matter how desperately you wish to not show the man that he holds any power over you. You can feel the blood seeping out of the wound. It dribbles down your chest in a thick stream as it pools and stains the gray cotton of your t-shirt.

“Stop!” you plead. He chuckles before driving the blade deeper into you. With feeble force, you try to get him off with a stunted kick to his knee; It was all you could manage with the way your knees had been duct-taped together. 

“Bitch!” he heaves before rearing back to slap you with the bladeless hand. It slashes your cheek, shallowly, thankfully, but you can feel the ache of where his hand had connected with your cheekbone. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He takes the knife and stabs it into your side, just narrowly missing your ribcage. 

Before you can manage out even a wince, the door to the small shack you’d been held in for the last few hours splinters and it unceremoniously removed from its hinges. 

Eric says nothing as he rushes in. You barely register that it’s him save for the split second image you’d captured from where he’d lingered in the doorway. Your captor is off of you instantly, though you’re still bound to the chair. Eric stills. Wind warps around him as he does so, wrapping him in a flurry of movement as he stands with the man locked in his grasp. 

“You never should have fucking touched her,” Eric growls with his fangs fully extended, grip tightening around the burly man’s neck and raising him inches off the ground. There’s not even a hint of the usual smirk you were so accustomed to seeing. “Every single mark on her body will be returned unto you tenfold.”

“She fucking deserved it,” he gargles as the vampire latches onto the expanse of neck not currently held within his hand. The man screams out in anguish and you pull your eyes tight to avoid watching any more. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hearing. The screams and the rips and the crunches. You hear something hard and solid hit the floor and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’s bone. 

You hear the man gasp out a dead fuck only for Eric’s grasp to tighten fully, effectively severing the man’s skull from his spinal chord without detaching it from his body. The man drops to the floor with a loud thump and Eric shoves the corpse away with the toe of his shoe before he moves toward you. 

“What took you so long?” you exhaled as he moved behind you to unbind your wrists. 

“I was away on business,” he gruffs, spitting slightly to get the last of the man’s blood out of his mouth. He’d already drunk his fair share, you thought, what good what that do?

Swallowing, you ask, “And you still came?”

He walks back around to begin undoing the restraints on your legs. He’s being so gentle, you realize. If he’d wanted, he could have had this done within seconds and yet, here he was, tenderly undoing the tape and rope and rubbing a soothing hand over the abraded skin. 

“I’ll always come for you,” he says. “Until I meet the true death, I will always come for you.”

He extends his wrist up to his mouth and you wince as he punctures the flesh. 

“Eric,” you sigh. 

“Drink,” he says. 

Nodding, you allow him to bring his wrist to your mouth and latch down on the leaking wound. It’s tangy and metallic and overall pretty gross, but you’re more than grateful for it at that moment. You lick your lips when he pulls his arm back down, the small bite marks already well on their way to closing completely. 

“Will you take me home?” you ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of fatigue hitting you. 

He rises back to his full height and extends a hand out towards you. The second you grab it, he’s pulling you up from your chair to hold you flush against his form. Then, in another rush of wind, you’re standing on your front porch. 

Slowly, you pull away from the vampire to take a step towards your door. Your body aches, but it’s already mostly healed as you run a hand over the small incision at your waist. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Eric.”

He’s silent, looking you over in a way that you can’t help but think is more than just an assessment of your injuries. He settles on your eyes when he says, “Anytime.”

[mellifluouaamor]

Hope you don't mind Dion or Jeremy reacting to their s/o getting kidnapped. I just want to see the world burns lol

DION AGRICHE, JEREMY AGRICHE (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. his reaction to you getting kidnapped.

DION is eerily calm - at least on the outside - when he hears the news of your kidnapping from your bodyguard, johann. roxana watches him closely, as if expecting her half-brother to kill him for failing to protect you, and raises an eyebrow when dion approaches him.

he surprises johann by kneeling down to his level, and the bodyguard trembles like a leaf, fearing his impending doom. it's no secret that dion favours you a lot, and if he finds even a tiny bruise on your delicate skin, he's already walking away with the tip of his sword dragging across the floor.

kidnapping you - in other words, stealing what's his - is enough to anger dion, although it doesn't show on his expression. but he's even angrier at johann for failing to do his simple job of keeping you safe.

grabbing his jaw roughly, dion asks him, "what did they look like?" his expression is unreadable, and that only scares johann further. he's struggling to answer because truthfully, he doesn't know. one moment you were there, and the next you were gone. his head would surely roll if he gives dion that answer.

dion grows impatient and as he stands up, raising his sword to behead johann, roxana quickly stops him and says that she knows the identities of the people who had kidnapped you and where you're kept thanks to her butterflies. he'd demand her to tell him everything, his desperation to have you back in his arms becoming evident.

he doesn't need a detailed plan to rescue you; he'll do what he usually does and make it rain blood. as he throws his black cloak over his head, he strides out of the agriche residence with his sword in hand, ready to make your kidnappers reap what they had sown. oh, he'll make them regret kidnapping his beloved butterfly.

JEREMY is beyond pissed. he's furiously turning his entire room upside down, smashing whatever his hands come across on the floor as he yells at your poor bodyguard for being useless and incompetent. he returned to the manor hoping to spend some quality time in your embrace, only to be told that some fools had kidnapped you. not an ideal welcome home greeting.

"well, don't just stand there! organise a search party and find (y/n) right now! if i find even a tiny scratch on their body, i'll turn you all into demon chow!" he shouts. his anger is clouding his judgement, and jeremy proceeds to punch the wall in frustration. just who decided to ruin his day by taking advantage of his absence to kidnap you?

after taking deep breaths, he manages to calm down slightly. he's not going to accept this. you had promised to stay by his side no matter what, and in return he had promised to protect you... he grits his teeth. you both can still keep your promises, and he's determined to fulfill his by saving you himself.

before johann could scramble out of his room, jeremy clamps a hand down on his shoulder. "you stay here. i'll handle this myself," he says before shoving the bodyguard aside to storm into the hallway. he'd ask a few of his half-siblings for help, and convincing them is easy; he only needs to promise them that they can kill your kidnappers and take whatever they like from the corpses, whether it'd be jewels, trinkets, their nails or even their eyeballs...

jeremy is already grinning sinisterly at the thought of giving hell to your kidnappers. they'd be wishing they were dead by the time he's done mutilating their bodies beyond recognition, and his precious angel will be safe and sound again.

"no one takes (y/n) from me and gets away with it," he mutters.

[colourstreakgryffin]

I've had a horrible week. Like so mentally down bad rn. So I'd like comfort from a spider boy that's definitely NOT comfort material but he is to me. Can you do him with the sister reader again? I'm the same person who requested the other one. If you don't do double requests, it's fine, just ignore it. But if you do, can you do a scenario where the sister just breaks down in tears infront of him? it's a hurt/comfort type of thing. The reason as to why she cried is up to you. Have a good day!

Awww. I’m so sorry about that, doll. I doubt you’re gonna be upset by the time this comes out but here, I’ll try the best I can for you! Here is sweetie Rui

Ayaki Rui- Funnel Blanket

“Sister. Look at me” Rui demanded in a rather gentle voice, opposing the usual cold and stern one he is known for around this household. Displease Rui and you end up his next deepfried prey to chow on. Rui has always been different with you, he never laid a single finger on you in a harmful manner

He adores you for your devotion and loyalty, he has a obsessive passion to keep you with him at all times and making sure you’re happy is another task he must complete to perfection. All so you will never wish to turn against him, nor even think about it. Rui, right now, needed to find out what’s wrong with his precious sister

He only left you alone for a few minutes to go handle the flocks of nuisance slayers running amok his laborious backyard. He comes back to hysterical sobbing and his useless makeshift siblings closing the door to your bedroom. Rui shooed them all away in the snap of fingers and almost torn down the wooden frame. He didn’t care for the stupid building, he only cared for his beloved sister

You sobbed, hands flinching away from your own puffy red cheeks and red puffy eyes as Rui’s soft thumbs brushed over the tears rolling down your beautiful face. He couldn’t stand the fact something made you cry, if it’s a breathing creature. He will dice them into literal pieces. If it’s a inanimate object, he will grind it down into smithereens. He could give less of a fuck for the world around him, he just wanted to keep you as his forever. No matter what he must do

You honestly didn’t want to spill the beans of the cause to your current misery. It was such a pathetic concern and your rationality knew that very well, you were wasting your emotions and tears on something that’ll never happen, a imaginary scenario at best. Your mother and father were taking longer than suspected with that odd trio of slayers. It made you horrified that Rui would have to step in and risk his life to defend the family he spent so long building

You didn’t want Rui to risk it for you. You love him so much that it hurts. You shed your sadness for him, rather he asks for it or not. On Rui’s side, he saw no reason to fear those slayers with a single ounce nor should the one so important to him. He is a Lower Moon, a member of the Twelve Kizuki that is actually much stronger than his rank indicates

The slayers should fear him and the fact they make such a mess of your gorgeous eyes and drip that mess all over your cute arachnid-styled kimono has veins growing all over Rui’s deathly pale skin as his hands slide down your face to cup your hands, holding them closer to his chest. Enabling you to feel his steady heartbeat, for the first time in his entire existence, he had a real heartbeat

Rui wasn’t going to leave you alone ever again and he wasn’t going anywhere until you are smiling and laughing again before him. Your happiness is his, your safety is his. You are his, his precious… forever

“Dokusha. Who made you cry like this? What is the problem. I demand you tell me every detail”

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

First ever fan fic I have ever written, so please don't expect anything great lol but I wanted to give writing a shot after enjoying so many other wonderful creations on here.

Sinner venison is a rare delicacy in Pentagram City so being a doe guarantees you are a target of the carnivores until you meet a certain enchanting lady and strike up an interesting deal that draws the attention of a certain Radio Demon.

***

You Are What They Eat

Chapter 1

Although Hell was indeed a place intended for the worst of souls to be funneled together, there were still territories that required civility among its visitors. Such was Cannibal Town, where the community happily took any opportunity to remind any offending persons of their manners. It was something The Radio Demon quite admired about the sharp-toothed gaggle of cannibal demons; along with their dated fashion and mannerisms.

This understanding is why Alastor excitely stood watching two carnivore demons loudly argue with each other outside of his dear Rosie's emporium. It was bold enough for them to have shown up here in, soiled, tattered clothing, but for them to actually be disturbing the peace with their childish argument. Alastor waited, counting down the seconds until the town had enough of the pair.

"YOU COCKSUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU KNOW I WAS IN FRONT OF YOU!", the tiger shouted, unaware of the crowd beginning to surround him.

The raptor demon fired back, "FUCK YOU! I WAS HERE FIRST, LYING DUMBASS!", also painfully inept towards the now large circle of annoyed townspeople.

The smile on Alastor's face was large and widening as his anticipation climbed for the incoming display of violence. His eyes followed the first strike of a sledgehammer landing against the tiger's left leg, which caused a delicious shriek to be ripped from the assaulted demon. The raptor, however, immediately began to raise his claws in defense only to be slammed to the ground by a group of grinning black-eyed men. Who began chowing down the moment he hit the pavement, which was accompanied by the painful screams of the tiger overcome by the hungry frenzy of his own assailants.

Tempted to join in the bloody revelry, Alastor sighed and made his way up the steps to an already awaiting Rosie. The screams continued to flood the air as he entered his friend's establishment, eager for whatever surprise she had phoned him about that morning.

***One Week Earlier***

You weren't exactly new to Hell, but, being a deer demon, a doe at that, you were a prime candidate for satiating a very limited resource amongst Hell's populace. Sinner venison. Life was, well hell, and you mourned your boring old routine back on Earth as you desperately tried to outrun the shark goons through dingy alleyways and side streets. They yelled which body part they each had dibs on, however, that only made your pace pick up in your fear.

You never thought you'd actually miss your crappy job as a low-paid sanitation worker for a small motel in Georgia that seldom hosted anyone other than loud college students or sleazy men with escorts.

While you were lingering within your memories of the top side, you accidentally ran yourself into a dead-end and spoke a very unladylike curse at your bad luck. Loud footsteps behind you answered the question of whether or not your pursuers had managed to keep up with your deer speed. Fuck my afterlife!

A lone, deep voice spoke up with a dark cadence, "Just turn around nice and easy, little lady. We wouldn't want to over-tenderize you, would we?" The sinister undertone spoken in such a calm demeanor sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

Still hopelessly staring at the brick wall blocking your escape, you tried to remember the number of times you had escaped these idiots only to be dragged back again and again. On the other hand, you didn't recognize this part of the city so this must be the farthest you've ever made it from Danny's butcher shop. What had that welcome sign you had whirled past say? Carnival Town or maybe Cardinal Town?

Finally turning around, the sharks all grinned in response to your snarl, which was contrasted by your torn clothes and withered appearance, but you did your best to take a fighting stance anyway. You knew you were going to be dragged back to endure more torture, however, you sure as hell weren't going without a fight.

Just before your gang of hunters enclosed upon you, a light and cheerful voice cut through the air, "Excuse me, gentlemen." As all of you turned your attention toward the source of the feminine voice, you couldn't help but momentarily feel a surge of hope. "Could you all please explain why Danny's men are conducting a hunt, and on a poor little thing like her of all people, in my territory?"

You caught sight of a tall woman in a formfitting, floor-length dress and wearing a large-rimmed, feathered hat carrying a red and black parasol. Despite her wide, sharp teeth she looked about as able to fight as you did in your starved and disheveled state. Your hope shriveled up just like that, replaced by fear for this brave, but stupid, stranger.

"Your territory?", the lead shark laughed, "Ha! Sure, a sweet doll like you runs a whole territory.", he scoffed, making the others chuckle. "Now why don't you run along back to wherever the fuck you came from, missy, before we decide to let you tag along to our fine establishment."

Though he was turned away from you, you knew he was dragging his gaze appraisingly over her, "Shit", you thought and knew you couldn't allow another to be caged because of your foolish attempt to escape. "Just go, lady!", you shouted and waved your arms in get away motion, "They're serious! You really don't want to get yourself involved with them!"

Your diversion worked and the men turned their attention back to you and you once again did your best to look as intimidating as possible, but your doe ears were flattened on your head and your tail was standing stiff as a board. Although your vision began to blur from fear and hunger, you continued to look into the lead hunter's eye as your last act of defiance against an inevitable fate.

Suddenly, a surprised shriek rang out into the alley, followed by a spray of something wet and warm. Before the gang could even comprehend what was the cause of the interruption, a red twister of graceful motion cut down the next four shark sinners. The only one remaining, the lead who currently had his large hand wrapped around your arm, took in the scene.

You also looked towards the noise and couldn't believe your eyes as the woman, who you thought had left, smiled manically at him and happily ran a finger over the small sword she had apparently pulled from her parasol.

" CRAZY BITCH! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

The tall woman tasted the bloody mess on her finger with a pleased hum, "I just adore shark meat! Haven't had the chance to have it in some time but I guess it's just my lucky day." She smiled like she had just received a nice big plate of her favorite food at a restaurant and only now directed her attention towards the one left.

She raised her sword and pointed it in his direction, aimed at his heart, and fluttered her long eyelashes before calmly answering, "The name is Rosie, charmed to make your acquaintance. However, I'm afraid we don't tolerate that kind of language spoken to a lady here."

She lunged with a smirk.

***

Again my first ever attempt at writing a fan fic, but I hope you enjoyed it! Any opinions are welcome.

XD -S.S.P.R.

[dwonfilm]

“Come hell or high water.” | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Micheal and Lucifer, Bobby Singer

Warnings: none, will provide for each chapter as they’re written.

Part I:

Michael and Lucifer had both been impatient, each showing up at various times and places—both wanting the same thing; more or less. Each wanted their designated Winchester brother to simply say yes.

Three days earlier.

Sam, Dean and [Y/N] were sat in their shared motel room in New Orleans, Louisiana. Sam was on his laptop, browsing for cases on different news websites. [Y/N] was flipping through the local newspaper to see if anything stuck out in the reports there, but she wasn’t having much luck. Dean was.. well, in true Dean fashion he was chowing down on a burger that he’d brought back from the local diner. “Your food is gonna get cold, or I’m gonna eat it, the entire world isn’t gonna fall apart if you two take a damn break.” Dean spoke, mouth half full of chewed food. Sam sighed and looked over to [Y/N] who finally closed the newspaper. “Fine, you’re right.” He spoke up, closing the laptop that had been in front of him for at least two hours. Turning his attention towards [Y/N] Dean would clear his throat (after having swallowed the mouthful of food) and gently squeezed her shoulder. “C’mon sweetheart you haven’t eaten today.” She’d sigh knowing her boyfriend was right, placing her hand on top of Dean’s and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Alright, alright. This goddamn newsprint is giving me a headache anyway.” [Y/N] folded the newspaper back up and tossed it onto the table. Grabbing the brown paper bag, she pulled out what would be Sam’s usual and handed it over to the younger brother. She pulled out her own food and carefully unwrapped the burger, quickly picking it up and taking a big bite. Now that everyone was a little more focused on the food, Dean would continue to eat himself.

“I dunno man, everything I’ve seen has been completely normal. It’s like all the evil in the world has gone radio silent.” Taking a bite of his burger, the younger of the Winchester brother was clearly frustrated. “That’s what scares me, when things tend to be normal on the crime side.. it’s never a good sign.” [Y/N] replied, tucking a loose strand of [Y/H/C] hair behind her right ear. “There’s gotta be something, I’m sure we’ll find it but there’s no use finding anything if we aren’t fit to do the job.” Dean spoke up again, verbally nudging the two most important people in his life to continue eating. “All the sons of bitches can’t have just ran into hiding.“ He’d conclude, grabbing the bottle of beer he’d set aside and taking a swig. “It’s just weird, Dean. Normally it doesn’t take us so long to find something to at least check out. There’s nothing online at all that’s raising even a little suspicion.” Sam answered, looking extremely concerned when he locked eyes with his brother. Dean’s eyes were sympathetic and truthfully—he was worried too. Everything both Sam and [Y/N] were saying was true but he also couldn’t afford to let them see any hint of the fear his heart carried. Not only because it made things more real but he was too busy anchoring them, keeping them from spiralling because then they’d be no good to anyone once evil rears its ugly head. [Y/N] finished chewing another bite of food before adding another thought. “I haven’t seen anything local either I mean, that was the third paper I’ve scoured from front to back and everything just seems.. normal. It’s weird.” It took the chiming in of the eldest Winchester to calm the noise of the impending chaos again. “Hey, look, we’ll just take a break and see if anything comes down the pipeline. Right now I need you two to eat before I start force feeding you.” Sam and [Y/N] both looked at each other before chuckling softly and for the first time in the last couple of hours, the stress of it all faded away. Dean was the first to finish his food (no surprise there) and so he silently asked to use Sam’s laptop, the younger brother nodding as he continued to eat. [Y/N] had finished her food, not realizing how hungry she’d actually been. Of course Dean knew because he knew her like the back of his hand, which was why he’d been pushing her especially to eat since he brought it back to the room. She smiled to herself for a moment as her gaze moved to where Dean sat, scrolling on the computer. Those strikingly beautiful green eyes scanning the screen to see if he could find anything to ease the worries of the trio. Sam was of course the final person to finish his food and when he had, [Y/N] began to grab the garbage that had become scattered across the small table in their room. She stuffed everything back into the brown paper bag it came in before throwing it into the trash can. Rubbing at his temples, Sam slowly pushed himself up from his seat. “I’m gonna shower. Let me know if you guys find anything yeah?” He spoke, walking over to his bed and grabbing the go bag with his clothes in it. He saunters towards the bathroom and closes the door, both [Y/N] and Dean heard the door lock. Dean’s eyes moved to look up at his girlfriend with an expression that seemed exhausted. Noticing this, [Y/N] approached the table again, this time taking the chair closest to her green eyed baby. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, he managed a half smile with his gaze moving from the laptop screen to his beautiful lady. Her [Y/H/C] locks framing her face perfectly, not to mention her [Y/E/C] eyes that always brought his soul some peace. Everything about their world was utter chaos with something even worse looming overhead, yet just by looking into her eyes he’d find a calm like he’d never known.

[Y/N] had met the Winchesters as a child, her father one of the many hunters that John had worked with in the hunt for the yellow eyed demon. Unfortunately her father met a cruel fate at the hands of a shifter and that left her alone in the world. Naturally, via the connection, Bobby Singer would end up taking [Y/N] into his home and that’s where she’d spend time with Sam and Dean. Years on end would see them meeting a handful of times and enjoying various activities and days with Bobby while John hunted. Of course when John and Bobby had their big blow up fight, [Y/N] went a while without hearing from the brothers. Dean had gotten in touch a couple years later and kept in touch through texts mostly, which was surprising but [Y/N] wasn’t complaining. Sam would email every once and awhile but it was very sporadic. Which [Y/N] learned years later was because Sam had left hunting and gone to Stanford—basically ignoring the hunting life and everything supernatural. It was actually during this time where Dean and [Y/N] would begin doing hunts together. Off and on of course, sometimes very rarely with John but usually just the two of them. Often times these cases required them to, as they called it, ‘bend the truth’. This involved posing as different forms of authority to gain access to information that they normally wouldn’t have. Many times, both Dean and [Y/N] had to pose as a young couple in love. Newlyweds or happily engaged—various forms of in love, gaining them favor amongst the community or with other authority figures. This went on for months, both seemingly having feelings show themselves but it went undiscussed. Dean wasn’t about flirting with women to get further on a case, which of course [Y/N] hated but she could never really say that. It caused a little tension at times until finally it came to a head on a hunt for witch.

“Dean, will you just stop and listen to me?!” [Y/N] yelled as she followed the man into their shared motel room. Dean remained silent, anger written across his features. [Y/N] huffed out a breath of frustration and ran her hand through her [Y/H/C] hair and looking toward the eldest Winchester boy. “Dean.” She tried speaking again, yet he still ignored her and aggressively unzipped his go bag. Sifting through its contents he was looking for something, growing more irritated when he couldn’t find it. “What are you looking for?” [Y/N] asked, there was more silence for a second before he finally spoke. “Credit card.” Straight to the point and with a tone that had [Y/N]’s eyes rolling. “You told me to put it in my bag because your wallet needed to get fixed.” She replied, dipping her hand into her bag she’d pull her wallet out and slipping the card into her hand. She’d slowly walk over to Dean and tossed the card onto the bed. This time it was his turn to sigh before turning towards [Y/N]. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lost my temper, what you do is none of my business.” He said, which seemed genuine for the most part. “I just am lost, I don’t react like that when you flirt with a girl to get information or a bump in the line to meet with someone.” She spoke, though she mumbled under her breath. “Even though I want to..” Dean heard her and felt a sense of confusion wash over him. “Why would you.. [Y/N] why would you want to get mad over that?” Dean’s eyes had found themselves locked onto [Y/N]’s, waiting for her to answer. Throwing her hands up in frustration [Y/N] shouted. “For the exact same reason that you got mad today and punched the receptionist in the face, Dean! You and I obviously have feelings for one another but we don’t talk about them so we just circle the never ending drain of getting jealous and sad and mad in secret and letting it build up!” Immediately after the words had left her mouth she gasped and covered it with her hands. Dean was just as shocked as [Y/N] seemed to be, frozen just staring in her eyes. Moments later after pure silence, Dean turned around and drug his hand across his face. “Dean..” [Y/N] spoke, her tone much softer than it was moments ago. She took a step forward and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly gripping it. Dean turned with a quickness and crashed his lips against [Y/N]’s while his hand came up to cup her face. Naturally she was stunned, but began to kiss him back.

Ever since that day, due to some kind of truth hex, Dean and [Y/N] had been inseparable. It was the one good thing in Dean’s eyes that came from dealing with a witch. Moving his finger along the touchpad of the laptop, he’d close the website he was on and look up another. There had to be something somewhere.. there just had to be. “Should I get back on the papers?” [Y/N]’s voice broke the longstanding silence that had hovered over them. Dean pulled another half smile before turning and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “No sweetheart, it’s alright. I don’t think there’s anything in ‘em. You’d have found something by now if there was.” His gaze again fixated on the computer, scrolling through masses of crimes being reported. He was about to scroll again, but something caught his eye and he needed to reread the blurb. “Wait a minute..” he spoke in a soft tone, causing [Y/N] to sit up. “Did you find something?” She asked, looking at the screen now too. “Not sure, maybe.” He replied, clicking a link that brought up a fuller article. “Well I’ll be damned.. this one might be vamps. Animal attacks, puncture marks on the necks.. hell there’s nothing else remotely sticking out so I think it’s worth the drive.” Dean added, the lock on the bathroom door clicking open and soon enough the younger Winchester came back into the main room. Steam came flowing from the bathroom as Sam continued to dry his hair. “Hey Sammy, think we got something.” [Y/N] spoke with a soft tone and there was a look of relief on his face. “Wha.. where?” Sam asked, looking at his brother. “Tucson.” Dean answered, turning the laptop around so that his younger brother could look at the article himself. Now [Y/N] was the one pushing herself from her seat. “Hopefully you didn’t use all the shampoo and the hot water.” She joked, making her way to the bathroom in order to shower.

After everyone had showered and changed into their pyjamas, the trio had settled down for the evening. It didn’t take long for quiet snores to be heard from Sam’s bed, his back turned towards the couple who were sharing the other bed. “I’m glad we found a case, but I still don’t have a good feeling about this..” [Y/N] spoke, keeping her tone on the quieter side as to not wake up the younger Winchester. She was snuggled into Dean’s side with her arm draped across his lower abdomen and her head on his chest. Dean pressed a kiss to her temple before sighing in a low manner himself. “I don’t either, it’s bugging me but we can’t just ignore the situation on feelings.” He spoke, his own tone mirroring hers in keeping on that quieter side and both sighed. “It just feels like this case fell into our laps and it feels like it’s a trap, but I can’t pinpoint from who or why.” She aimlessly began drawing shapes on the end of Dean’s T-shirt and he could see that his off feeling wasn’t as strong as the one that [Y/N] was having—she only drew shapes in that manner to calm her mind down. “Hey [Y/N/N], something’s really bugging you about this.. what is it?” He asked, gently turning her chin upward so [Y/N] would meet his gaze. [Y/E/C] hues met the beautiful green eyes that Dean had, searching them for something. “I wish I knew. Dean, it just feels.. too easy. There was nothing for what? Two days? Now all of a sudden there’s one solitary case and we’re supposed to believe this isn’t a set up? It’s not making sense. I know we can’t just ignore a possible case, but it just feels like something is going on and nothing good.” [Y/N] sighed again, knowing that so many things were up in the air right now and so many things couldn’t be resolved in quick manner. “Maybe we’ll pray to Cas tomorrow, either before we leave or while we’re driving. See if he knows anything.” Dean offered, squeezing [Y/N] and bringing her closer to his body. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” She replied, snuggling into her boyfriend and slowly closing her eyes. Dean himself would adjust the covers and slowly close his eyes. “Goodnight, D.” [Y/N] whispered. “Goodnight, [Y/N/N].” He whispered back.

[lavendertales]

Wicked games: part 1

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: after returning Ellie safely to one Joel Miller, the three of you have gotten closer than you could’ve imagined. But even putting together a picnic for you is turning out to be scarier than facing monsters for Joel.

word count: 4.1k

A/N: why yes, here I am in the Joel Miller pit. this is pure fluff, but expect serious smut in the second part. Hope you enjoy, my loves 💕

gif: @sweeetestcurse​ 

There are hardly any rules when you’re at war. But the one that does stand, passing the test of time? Eat, or be eaten.

In other words, you either kill to survive or you get killed. Simple as that. And, like many others before you, you caught onto that very early on in your life. Not as early as you might’ve liked, to be sure, but at least not as late as the others.

You survived for two decades, which is far more than others. And once you figured out your one trick, hidden cautiously under your sleeve, you were unstoppable. You travelled alone, worked alone. No outsiders, no exceptions.

For twenty years, you lived on your own, surviving with ease and cautiousness. There was no one to disrupt your solitude and no one to know your heartache.

Till one day when you came face to face with a wide-eyed kid, clothes and face stained with dirt, sweat and blood. Hers or others’, you didn’t know, and you didn’t care. You didn’t ask.

Before you could’ve pulled out your gun, the girl pointed a riffle at you.

“Easy, easy there,” you said, raising your hands in defense.

“Stay away,” the girl warned you, dead serious.

She couldn’t have been older than fifteen, but she evidently knew how to handle herself. In that world, you had to. Otherwise, you were chow for the infected.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“I get it. Can’t trust a stranger.”

You locked eyes, noticing the fear in her eyes. You softened a little, though neither your face nor your body displayed such an emotion.

“Are you alone?” you asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just askin’. Hate seeing a kid alone.”

“Well, I’m not. So back off, lady.”

“Alright.”

You backed away a few inches. “Do you need help with anything? D’you need clothes, food?”

The cold began to settle even in your bones, but that was the risk of not moving out in the open, in the freezing winter. By the looks of it, the girl needed some shelter, too. And the more time you spent out there, the more you ran the risk of being found by bandits or even clickers.

“Look, I got plenty of supplies not far from here,” you told her, arms up in the air still. “If you need something—“

“How do I know it’s not a trap?”

“Guess you can’t. You gotta roll the dice and find out.”

“I don’t take chances.”

Feisty, you thought. Great for survival. Softness gets you killed in the blink of an eye.

“I got no reason to harm you, girl,” you added. “I’m all alone.”

The girl wouldn’t budge, so you continued. “I got clothes and food, and you can clean up a bit if you’d like. Looks like you might need a little rest and some warmth.”

“Why would you help?”

You chuckled, barely, finally putting down your arms. “I got a soft spot for kids.”

Minutes later, you were walking with the girl besides you, learning that her name was Ellie Williams. You let her to your hideout, deep underground. When you turned on the lights, Ellie was speechless.

“Whoa,” she cooed, looking around. “You got a whole house down here, lady.”

“Did my best with decorating.”

Trust isn’t easily gained in war, so you don’t expect it. Instead, you kept your promise: dry clothes, water and some warm food. In addition to all that, you gave her your name. That way, you were no longer strangers, but acquaintances, and information could be exchanged.

“So,” you said after a while. “You sure you’re not alone? Or do you feel like running that by me again?”

Ellie hesitated, but it was indeed more difficult to act so harsh once she was finally warmed up and wasn’t starving.

“I’m not alone,” she insisted, her tone distant and regretful. “We just got… separated.”

“When?”

“About two days ago. Bandits ambushed us, then there were clickers…”

“Gotcha. So who was it? Mother, father?”

Ellie scoffed, the sound mocking. You chuckled. “Message received.”

“A reluctant friend,” she clarified, visibly amused by her own characterization. “I gotta find him.”

“Any idea how far off you guys split?”

“Just outside Salt Lake City. We were ambushed before we could make it in.”

“Okay, that’s not so far. We could make it back in a day or two.”

Ellie’s face darkened, clearly still hesitant although not about you this time around. “Killing, I’ve gotten good at that. But tracking… not exactly my superpower.”

“Well lucky for you, that’s mine.”

Ellie’s eyes widened and she stared at you incredulous, as if you’ve just told her the biggest secret ever.

“Can you really help me find him?” she asked, daring to allow hope slip in between the cracks of her voice.

“I’d need more information, but yes, I can.”

And that’s how you’ve spent the following week: tracking down a gruff man named Joel Miller.

As it turned out, it wasn’t that difficult; at least not to someone as experienced as you. With the exception of a few clickers, the trip was uneventful. You kept Ellie as safe as you could, and by the time you were met with a third silhouette in the middle of the semi-darkened road, your doubts regarding this adventure have evaporated altogether.

As per instinct, Joel cocked the gun in your direction from the second he noticed Ellie by your side. He didn’t think twice about what the situation might be. All he knew is that you were a stranger, and stranger equals danger.

“Step away from her, now,” he shouted, loud enough for you to hear, but still low enough to be intimidating.

Except it didn’t frighten you one bit.

You did put your hands up though, so as to not startle him or create any more confusion. Luckily, Ellie ran towards him and begged him to put the gun down at once.

“She helped me!” she said hastily. “She came with me all this way, she helped me track you down! It’s okay. She’s a friend.”

Friend. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that term, and certainly an even longer time since you heard anyone say it in reference to you.

“That true?” Joel asked you.

“Yes.”

“She fed me, gave me dry clothes and supplies—here, I got something for you too.”

Ellie went through her backpack, revealing some old shirts, larger than what she would normally wear, as well as canned goods and bottles of water. It was then that Joel inspected Ellie from head to toe, noticing that she was, indeed, wearing different clothes, dry and meant to keep her warm.

Joel put the gun away, and you took it as a sign of encouragement to approach them.

“What’s your business around these parts?” Joel spoke to you.

His voice wasn’t so harsh anymore, but it still carried a hint of doubt within. You couldn’t blame him for it, neither would you have acted any differently.

“Just helped the girl find her protector, that’s all,” you replied.

“Just like that? No catch?”

“No catch. I’m just a loner.”

Joel wasn’t easily persuaded though. His caution pushed him often times to doubt everyone for the smallest reasons, and eventually he pushed all the people away. But if life had taught him anything, it’s that it was better to keep his distance. That way, there was no possibility of him suffering any more than he already had.

“Thank you,” he said nonetheless. “For bringing the girl back. ‘preciate it.”

You nodded. Ellie nudged his arm, making a head gesture towards you, and Joel inhaled loudly, deeply, visibly reluctant to listen to her. You raised your brows, as confused as you could possibly be.

“Would you stop hittin’ me?” he told Ellie sharply. “I’m not gon’ ask her to come with us.”

“She helped me. She’s got a lot of supplies, she’s smart… and it could be useful to have her around so she can take some of the heat off me.”

Joel huffed, still unconvinced. “I already said I appreciated the help, but I’m not gon’ act like we’re best buddies now. She’s a stranger.”

“She can track anything and anyone, anywhere.”

Joel remained silent, processing the words. “Anything and anyone?”

“Anywhere.”

It could’ve been useful, Joel thought. You could’ve taken them straight to Salt Lake City to find the Fireflies and get this whole mess over with.

“Come on, say something to her!” Ellie pushed him.

“You know, I can just leave,” you told them. “Which I think I’ll do. Have a nice life!”

“Hold on, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Wow. That would’ve angered you. It should have angered you. But it didn’t. Coming from that man, it was a little enticing, truth be told. A little dangerous, too. Lethal combination.

“If you really are alone as you say and ah… if you’ve got nothin’ else goin’ on, or nowhere else to be…”

“Wrap it up, Joel.”

He cleared his throat while you put your hands on your hips, waiting, resisting the temptation to break into a wide, cocky smile.

“We’d sure like to have you around,” he finished, scratching the back of his neck.

“Because you need my tracking skills and supplies, I assume.”

“Why else?”

Ellie nudged him again, leaving Joel dumbfounded. “What? It’s the damn truth.”

“Relax, it’s fine,” you told them. “We can use each other. Why else would we voluntarily travel together?”

Why else, indeed? Joel thought.

That was a year ago.

It has been a full year: avoiding clickers, finding lodging and protecting each other. Over time, obligatory protection turned into genuine care for one another. It came unexpectedly, slowly, and took both you and Joel by surprise.

Ellie, she got used to it pretty quickly. But you and Joel, being two sides of the same coin, almost refused to believe that you would throw yourselves in front of a bullet to save each other. But Joel has done that more than once, for both you and Ellie.

So of course, with that, your gratitude for his protective stance grew into fondness, appreciation, stretching out into a dangerous territory. Desire.

Now, you aren’t sure if it’s the fact that Joel is essentially the only man around you within miles or that you’ve been deprived of any human touch for two decades, but the connection between you and Joel had grown stronger, built on mutual trust and respect, and irrefutably tense.

One particular instance comes to mind. It’s happened over three months ago, and it still haunts you.

You swayed Joel to leave with you in order to get more food. That meant leaving Ellie on her own in the bunker you had spent weeks building and perfecting, but you all knew she’d be more than safe.

“I know how to handle a gun, I got music, comics, water and food,” she reasoned with Joel, having you nod in the background. “And hello, we are underground. Under the ground? C’mon! This woman’s built a fortress like this before and she had all the peace in the world.”

With an unhurried, deep breath in, Joel was thus persuaded to leave Ellie in the solitude and safety of the bunker.

“We won’t be gone long,” he told her, much to your amusement. “That’s the hope, at least.”

“We’ll be fine, and so will Ellie. Now come on.”

You went, taking all the necessary precautions on the way. You reached a waterfall, just after what seemed like a car cemetery, surrounded by trees and plants. The view was breathtaking. Even Joel stood back for a while, taking in the landscape.

“Y’know, sometimes I see somethin’ like this and I think there’s still nice things in this world,” he cooed to you.

“There might be some things worth living for,” you agreed.

That was all the small talk you allowed yourselves. Then, you moved closer to the waterfall, observing a cave behind it. The more you approached it, the more intrigued you got.

Food was limited around there. Just some berries, but it was better than nothing. What you did find, though, were first aid kits, bullets and guns. Someone probably must’ve had their camp there, but it had been long abandoned.

You took all that you could, all that was in sight, then inspected the place a little further only to find yourselves backed up into a corner, with water dripping down on you, hiding from the clickers.

You glared at Joel, frightened. You did not give a shit about yourself, knowing you couldn’t run the risk of an infection. You were more worried about him. And yet there he was, holding you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest. You were so close, you could feel his skin through the now soaking wet shirt. You never felt more exposed or vulnerable, and neither did Joel. The more he stared at you, the shallower his breaths got.

He’s never given it a second thought about allowing someone else in, not after Sarah. Then Ellie showed up, turned his whole world around. And now, he found you, someone who understood him more than he understood himself, someone of great skill and an almost brutal beauty that could resist any danger. Even now, as you remained encased in his strong embrace, with water dripping down on you relentlessly, you were absolutely captivating.

He couldn’t think of you that way, though. He had forbade himself time and time again.

And time and time again he failed spectacularly.

The clickers were long gone when he finally let you go. Neither of you said anything. You barely found the strength to let go of each other, renouncing the feeling of wet clothing against wet clothing, burning, aching skin underneath them.

“We should go,” he cooed, clearing his throat.

“We should.”

The atmosphere was tense, your muscles tightened with the possibilities presented ahead of you and the tension that’s settled deep within.

You never spoke about that day. You never spoke about how his hand grazed your back, ever so gently, barely daring to touch you, as if he were afraid you’d break under it. You never spoke about how your whole body caught afire when he pulled you to his chest, or how close your lips were to his.

But it has grown to be obvious even to Ellie.

Ever since you returned from the waterfall that day, she did everything in her power to make sure you and Joel spent as much time together as possible. More often than not, that irritated Joel, but actually going through with it, he realized that he really did enjoy spending time alone with you. But in a world where you could be killed at any given moment, privacy was a tough concept to have, let alone enjoy.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Ellie suggested Joel one faithful evening.

He huffed, finding the idea more than amusing. Absurd, even.

“Ask her out?” he repeated. “Where?”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know. How about a picnic? I hear that’s romantic.”

“I don’t—“

“You do know what a date is, don’t you?”

Joel scoffed mockingly. “I’ll have you know, I have been on plenty of dates before the breakout, young lady.”

“That was… what, a century ago?”

“Now listen here—“

“Yes, this world’s a mess, but some things haven’t changed. Like dates, romance and all that crap.”

“Great talk, is that Shakespeare?”

“Who?”

Joel rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. He was more nervous than usual, which was zero.

“Get to the damn point,” he said.

“Do something to let her know you care about her.”

“I don’t do that gooey crap, okay? I’m no good at those damn things.”

“I’m guessing you once were, given the fact that you had a kid. How else would you—“

“Ah, ah, okay, that’s enough!”

“You do like her, don’t you?”

Joel faltered, searching his own thoughts and feelings. It was difficult to admit even to himself, let alone allow the words to leave his mouth. But if Ellie could tell there was something going on, it means whatever this was, it was a greater force than the two of you.

With a shy and self-conscious nod, Joel thus admitted Ellie’s suspicion. She squealed in the slightest, containing her excitement when she noticed his face.

“Trust me on this,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “A picnic is the way to go.”

“Hang on. Do you think—“

He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable with the topic of his personal life, but Ellie could tell he was really trying.

“Do you reckon she’ll like it?” he asked.

“If it’s down here… eh. But if it’s on the surface, beneath the stars… a whole other story.”

Even Joel couldn’t deny the fact that it did sound like quite the private moment. It was risky, sure, but under the right circumstances, with the right precautions…

But there was another issue. Joel took a liking to you, but what if you didn’t? What if you thought of him as nothing more but an old gruff?

“What if she doesn’t like me?” he asked Ellie, still uncomfortable, yet somehow more insecure.

Ellie nearly laughed. But that wouldn’t have helped Joel with his self-doubt, and she didn’t meant to offend him in such a sensitive situation.

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that, Joel.”

“How the hell are you so sure?”

“This breakout sharpened some senses of yours, but didn’t help you with the others, man.”

“If you think this is funny, it ain’t, kid.”

“I’m sorry. She does like you. The way she looks at you… that’s chemistry 101.”

Joel gulped, nodding several times to himself, trying to focus on the task at hand. All he had to do was put together a decent meal, get a blanket and just ask you out to dine under the stars.

Ask her out. Just ask her out.

After so many things he’s done over the years, you’d think just inviting you to grab a bite would be a piece of cake. But the more he thought about it, the more his temples and palms began to sweat and the more he wanted to forget about the whole thing and mind his own business.

The way she looks at you… that’s chemistry 101.

Ellie’s words still lingered on his mind, hours after they’ve been spoken. He reluctantly prepared some food: soup, beans and canned peaches. Wasn’t exactly dinner in a five star restaurant, but compared to some of the food he’s had in the past, it was a feast, alright.

He laid it all on the blanket, looking at the display. He managed to secure a spot behind a lot of bushes, which meant some seclusion from potential danger. And the weather was in Joel’s favor too, it seemed; the sky was clear, its stars shining brightly right above him, thousands of them.

“It looks really beautiful, doesn’t it?”

The voice startled him. He turned around to be met with your benevolent face, and he smiled politely, wiping his hands on his jeans. He swore he never sweated this much ever in his life, not since he was a teenager at least, and it’s shaping up to be embarrassing.

“Haven’t seen somethin’ this beautiful in quite some time,” Joel admitted, his eyes stealing glances at your figure.

Then you noticed the blanket and the food, smartly concealed from the rest of the world, but not to you and him apparently. You smiled in the slightest, albeit your confusion.

“I’m gonna go on a limb and say this was your doing,” you said, pointing at the blanket.

“Yeah, this was me. Nothin’ fancy, just a lil’ spread. I figured… y’know, you’d be hungry.”

“I am a fan of food.”

Joel chuckled a little nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a, ah… what do you call it? One of those things.”

You noticed that he was more talkative than usual, by a lot, and that he was quite fidgety, which could mean one thing.

“Joel, is this a date?” you asked.

“I—I told the kid I ain’t good at these things, it’s been a long time and it’s stupid. Who does this in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse? Jesus Christ.”

“Wait, was this Ellie’s idea?”

Joel huffed, hands frantic through his hair as he moved around.

“It kind of was. I wanted to do somethin’ nice to show you…”

“What?”

With Joel, it was the little things. You knew the kind of man he was, the heartbreak he’s had and the loss that caused it, and so he stopped longing for big things. He only cared about the small things. A blanket to keep Ellie warm; carrying a backpack when it gets too heavy for her, holding her hand when you’re crossing a bridge because he doesn’t want her to fall.

You didn’t expect anything else when it came to romance.

Or something close to it.

“What did you want to show me, Joel?” you asked sweetly.

“That you’re… important to us,” he muttered. “To me.”

You didn’t want to make this any more difficult for him, so you simply smiled and thanked him, not asking for more clarification. It was pretty evident that the picnic, while Ellie’s idea, was his intention of spending some time with you, and you were grateful for being able to do just that.

The years hadn’t been kind to you either despite your perhaps unfair advantage of immunity. But you could take comfort in knowing that Joel was one person on that earth who truly understood you. The years might’ve greyed his hair a little, added a few more wrinkles here and there and dark circles under his eyes, but Joel Miller was still a very handsome man. He was probably unaware of how he was perceived, or he couldn’t have cared less, but either way, in a post-apocalyptic world he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“You know, Ellie kept talkin’ about your broken watch,” you said, closely watching his reaction. “Saying maybe she should get you a new one.”

Sneaking a glance at the watch, Joel gulped, finishing his food. He didn’t reply yet.

“But I told her you probably don’t want a new one,” you continued, much to his surprise.

“You did?”

“You probably have it from someone dear to you and it’s the last connection you have to that person.”

Astounded, Joel could only nod, still in awe that you figured out the whole thing before he even said anything.

“I’m guessing it was from your daughter,” you said.

“It is.”

You smiled, the gesture bittersweet. You reach into one of your pockets and reveal an old drawing. Joel took it in his hand, examining it. It was signed Layla, and addressed to Mommy. In that moment, Joel’s heart stood still, aching.

“My daughter drew this a few weeks before she died,” you explained.

“I didn’t know you had a kid. You never mentioned it.”

“You never really talked about your daughter.”

“It’s too hard.”

“I know. But if we stop talking about them, we erase their memory. Like they never existed.”

Joel thought about what you said, processing your words. Indeed, the memory of Sarah was farther and farther away. It ached a little less, but he knew the pain would never be gone completely.

“What happened to her?” he asked you instead.

“Crossfire. Some police officers thought we were infected, and a group of bandits. We got caught in the middle, and my daughter got the worst of it.”

It still ached you too, as Joel noticed, but he did find odd comfort in knowing that someone could fully relate to him.

“I know this drawing won’t pass the test of time, but for as long as it’ll be here, I’m content with it.”

Joel didn’t think much about what he was doing then; next thing he knew, his fingers were intertwined with yours, hands curled together. He looked down, painfully aware of the touch, but didn’t pull away, especially not when you flashed a little smile down his way.

“Thank you for the picnic, Joel,” you said.

“Least I could do.”

“I think we both know it was more than what you thought you’d do. And I really do appreciate it.”

You gently squeezed his hand, and Joel’s heart nearly stopped. He settled to gaze at the sky with you, with nothing else to be said. For now, at least.

next

[heathersproship]

guys i dont mean to hate or anything i really don't, so i'm sorry if it sounds like that. i'm just a little confused, though. i really just wanna see proshipping from your perspective since i'm very confused and i wanna see it from all perspective. also i'm really sorry if this seems rude i swear i'm not trying to be i just wanna understand 😭

You’re good, no worries!

Proship is being decent to your fellow fans. It’s recognizing we all have different tastes, and understanding that those different tastes don’t mean one of us is automatically wrong. There’s no “right or wrong” when it’s a matter of opinion because opinions are not facts.

Here’s an analogy I hope will help.

Think of fandom like a party. Parties are fun. You come here to have fun.

Now think of fiction as the food you find at the party (since we consume it). To really narrow it down, let’s use pizza.

There’s the classic cheese pizza (genfic), pepperoni (fluff), olives (angst), olives and pepperoni combo (hurt/comfort), sausage (smut), and pineapple (darkfic) to name just a few. They’re all side by side at the table, and each one is in its own big pizza box labeled with large letters so you know exactly what you’re getting from which box. CHEESE sits on one end of the row, PINEAPPLE sits on the other. None of them are touching each other.

Let’s say you really like cheese. You’ll eat all the cheese pizza you can get your hands on, but you hate pineapple. You think it’s the most disgusting thing in the world, and you wouldn’t eat it for $1mil. In fact, you wouldn’t eat it if it was the very last morsel of food on earth and you were starving.

You arrive at the party and make your way to the table, ready to chow down on some quality food. But on your way to your beloved cheese pizza, your precious, you pass by the icky and dreaded pineapple pizza.

What would you do?

A) ignore the pineapple pizza, take your cheese pizza and walk away from the table

B) warn other people not to take the pineapple pizza because “it’s disgusting!”

C) make a scene about it, screaming “OH EWWWWWWWWWW WHO PUT THAT GARBAGE ON THE TABLE WHERE THE FOOD IS?? YUCK! GROSS! THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE!”

If you answered A, that’s what being proship is. Proship isn’t blindly approving of everything at the table just because it’s there for you to consume—it’s supporting the right for everything to be there even if it doesn’t do anything for you. (ex. I like incest, but I don’t care for smut, and if I happen to see that my bestie is reading smut while sitting right next to me, then I hope she’s enjoying herself!) It’s labeling the pizzas so people can take what they want and avoid what they don’t want. You understand that there are other people at the party, and not everything there is exclusively for you, and that’s okay. That’s great, actually, because you can eat cheese with party friends who also like cheese, and for those friends who don’t like cheese, guess what? More cheese for you! No one feels bad, it’s a win-win all around! Party on!

If you answered B, that’s less okay. While your intentions may be good, it’s ultimately not your call whether others will find the pineapple as disgusting as you do. While you could be saving someone from a potentially horrible and traumatizing experience, you could also be depriving them of a really good one. It’s up to them to decide whether they like it or not, not you. Things are a little awkward, but still salvageable.

If you answered C, you’re an anti. You make the party a lot less fun with your outburst, and now people are afraid to go near the pizza for fear of taking the “wrong” one (even though there’s no wrong answer—never has been and never will be). You think everyone who likes, much less actively chooses to consume, pineapple pizza has something deeply wrong with their brain, and if you find out a disgusting pineapple-lover so much as breathes in your direction, you’re going to personally kick them out yourself because people who eat the literal garbage that is pineapple belong outside like the disease-ridden RATS they are, not inside at parties where they could poison everyone—especially the young, vulnerable, impressionable CHILDREN—with their RABIES. And while you’re busy moralizing over pizza, making it your business what other people put in their mouths, the other party-goers are feeling bad about themselves for the crime of... simply having a different preference to yours. They can’t help what they like or dislike any more than you can. They’re not rats, and they definitely don’t have rabies. They’re not going to infect you or the (literal or figurative) children with rabies they don’t have. Some of the pineapple pizza lovers might be children, are they condemned too? Or have they simply become “lost” and you’ll “fix” them to like the “right” things? Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. Once the pineapple is gone, then sausage is the Bad Pizza, and then olives (oli&pep combo is on thin ice), until there’s only one or two “safe” options to pick from, and if the party-goers don’t like them, they’re just as bad as the pineapple-lovers, and the sausage-lovers, and the olive-lovers. Filthy vermin, all of them! Banished! Begone! And when that party has died down, you’ll find another party to go to and do it all over again! Sounds exhausting, and I don’t recommend.

...this kind of got away from me but I hope it gives you something to chew on! Let me know if I need to be clearer! I tried to make this as short as possible!

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

He knows he promised Robin he wouldn't smoke anymore, but honestly, he thinks he's earned this one. Saving Eddie from his stupidity had been a full time job that still amounted to Steve getting a repeat chow down from the goddamn bats. Not that Eddie made it out much better, but fuck, if Steve hadn't been here to keep Eddie in the trailer for the extra five minutes, all of Eddie would look like hamburger instead of his sides looking like steak (all of those five minutes spent fucking wrestling each other while Dustin kept screaming at him to stop Eddie, don't you fucking dare let him out that door, Steve).

Not that Eddie had won the wrestling match, Steve wasn't joking when he said he knew Eddie wouldn't be able to overpower him. Instead, Eddie'd given up, rag-dolled in Steve's grip with a quiet sob.

"Steve, I have to. I have to make sure they have enough time. That's my uncle!"

And yeah, Steve was surprised to learn Wayne isn't his dad, but that took a backseat to the new issue wiggling its way into his brain. Vecna had taken Chrissy. Had threaten to add Gareth to that list. The fear of losing the only family you have... "Fine. But we go together. A loop around the park and back here. I swear to God, Munson, if you get us killed, I'm ruining your afterlife."

"What!? Steve, no! Steve!" Dustin screams above them.

"As if we'd end up in the same afterlife," Eddie had huffed.

And it had worked well, until the end there. Eddie went down, tripped over a dropped bike just yards from the front door of his home, and Steve couldn't leave him there to become bat dinner. They'd held their own, barely, and then the bats had started dropping.

They'd exchanged startled looks before bursting into hysterical laughter of relief that only slowed when Dustin came busting through door, screaming at them some more.

So, yes, Steve earned this cigarette, which Eddie had climbed the sheets to fetch a pack from the stash in his room. He'd offered to bring a joint back if Steve wanted but he'd declined that, citing Dustin as his excuse. He doesn't feel like having to explain why he doesn't get high anymore, especially since he used to be a frequent customer back in the day. Goddamn Russians under Starcourt.

Eddie and he sit on the porch, side by side, and watch the horizon for any sign of Wayne, Robin, or Nancy.

The monster falls from the attic, and they all advance to look down at the smoldering body. "You girls go down and confirm he's dead."

"Yes sir," Nancy says while he hears Robin mutter, "confirm!?"

He waits for the girls to be down the stairs before he draws his pistol and takes aim. The burning has slowed, and with as much buckshot is in the bastard, he should be dead. But Wayne follows his training anyway. He takes aim, and fires three shots in a row. The first lands next to Vecna's head, and he sees the body startle, but the next two land true, and there's no movement after that.

The girls appear soon after and he watches as Nancy pulls his matching pistol out with no hesitation and doesn't even flinch as she fires point blank.

Well, he's certainly dead now.

Wayne joins them shortly. Vecna's dead, for sure, but the girls hesitate. "What's wrong?"

"It always comes back," Nancy says, "I just. What if it's not done? What if Vecna wasn't the source? If there is something worse out there? What if he's just faking it?"

"Whoa," Robin says, placing a hand on Nancy's arm slowly, both girls tracking the movement, like Nancy's a wild animal. "I am the one who freaks out like this, so you can't be doing that, because then what will I do?"

That gets a laugh out of Nancy. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"What'll make you feel better about this situation?" Wayne asks.

"I don't... How do we know he's dead?" Nancy replies.

"Well, he's a man, ain't he? Magic or not, ain't no man survivin' what we just did to him."

"Sure, he was a guy once but now he's. Look at him!" Robin flaps a hand in the direction of the body without looking at it.

Wayne does look down at him. He doesn't much resemble any person Wayne's used to seeing, but he's distinctly human. Still, the girl's going to worry. "Right. Well, someone give me a hatchet. I'll remove his head."

Robin reaches for her hatchet, the one Steve gave her, but something predatory reflects in Nancy's eyes and she reaches for the hatchet first.

"I'll do it," Wayne says, "you shouldn't have to. You already killed 'im."

Nancy just looks at him. The girl looking back isn't a girl anymore. She looks as hardened and haunted as any other vet he knows. "I got this."

Wayne reaches for Robin instead, pulling her into him so she doesn't watch. He does, though. Watches as Nancy raises the hatchet up and brings it down on Vecna's skull with a scream filled with grief and anguish and repeats that process again and again and again.

The ambulance doesn't have room for all of them, so Lucas, and Max shuffle into the back of Chief Powell's police car. Erica climbs into the ambulance with Gareth in it. Lucas doesn't know what Gareth did to earn Erica's loyalty and worry in such a short amount of time but he also isn't thinking too hard about it.

Chief Powell follows the ambulances to the hospital. Ambulances because there is one for Gareth, and one for Jason Carver.

Jason. Who had shown up with a gun and pointed it at him. Gareth, who'd taken that shot instead and-

"Hey," Max says in a whisper, squeezing his hand hard, pulling him from his own mind. "Hey. They said you did good. That you bought Gareth time. Like... like, hopefully, we did. For..."

"We had to of. It can't be for nothing," Lucas whispers back.

They arrive at the hospital, where Erica and Max are given a look over, since Erica was tackled by a boy twice her size and Max was limping down the stairs after the paramedics. Erica has a scrape on her arm where she landed on a rock, and Max's ankle is sprained, but otherwise they're fine.

They get shuffled into the waiting room, where Chief Powell stands guard while their parents are on the way to collect them. They do get left to themselves, so they brave talking in public.

"El was there," Max confesses, voice low. "She found me and was fighting him. I don't know if she got to finish him. Or if they did."

"I don't like not knowing," Lucas says.

"They had help," Erica says, causing Max and Lucas to whip their heads to her. "I followed Gareth to the payphone. He wasn't calling his mom. He called Eddie's uncle instead. Said he could help them."

"He what?"

"Shhh!" Erica shushes him, looking around the empty waiting room before leveling a glare at him. "I know, okay. But Steve's not a real adult and we needed a real adult."

"Steve's a real adult."

"Sure," Erica agrees, using the tone that Lucas knows means she doesn't agree. "He's also the guy that sacrificed himself to the Russians and had to be saved by Dustin and me, and it hasn't even been a full year since then. So, hopefully having a real adult made him not take stupid risks."

"Well, we'll just have to wait to find out," Max says, then adds, "do you think Chief Powell will let me go with you guys when my mom doesn't show up?"

Gareth is released from the hospital into his parent's custody two days after getting shot. He is a little surprised the hospital stay was so short -he was fucking shot- but with no organs hit, Gareth was released after minor surgery to remove the bullet and a full day of monitoring him.

It's been a whirlwind. Police wanting statements, and his parents screaming at the police every time they show up to get those statements, that they're pressing charges on Jason as soon as possible. (Which might not happen, because Jason hasn't woken up yet.) The kids come in and out, and he gets to learn that the only person dead in the Upside Down is Vecna. Robin looks very haunted as she says it, but he can imagine that killing a telekinetic wizard is a haunting ordeal.

Steve makes an appearance at his beside and lies to his parents, claims he was out of town and got back to hear the messages on the machine too late for Chrissy's funeral but just in time to hear about Gareth getting shot. Gareth lets him have the lie. How can he explain to his parents that Steve wasn't at the funeral because he was too busy hunting down Chrissy's real killer?

Before he leaves, he asks if Gareth wants to come over, once he's well enough to.

It takes Gareth three more days from his hospital release before his parents agree to drop him off at Steve's. They're worried for both him and Steve. They know there's been a rift in their friendship, and his mom sniffles when she says she's so sad that it took Chrissy's death to reunite them again.

He's not going to say it out loud, but Gareth's sad about it, too.

His dad doesn't walk him to the front door but it's a near thing. He does sit in the driveway until Steve answers the door and gives him a wave. Even then, Gareth doesn't hear the car leaving until he's beyond the threshold of Steve's house.

Steve lets him sit on the couch before apologies and explanations start pouring from him.

"Gareth, I'm so fucking sorry. For everything. For pulling away, and staying away, and also for ever agreeing to act like we weren't cousins to begin with. I should-"

"Steve, shut the fuck up."

And Steve does. Blinks at him, surprised.

"I don't care. None of that matters. You were- fuck, how long have you known about this? About monsters and shit?"

"Since, uh, since '83. With Will Byers and Ba-Barb Holland... They weren't just missing."

"Was that... related to the other dimension?"

"Yeah. A demogorgon took 'em. Will got away. Barb didn't."

"And it's been like... a yearly thing?"

"Yeah. I didn't want you or Chrissy involved, and look what good that did."

"Dude, I'm involved because of Eddie. I didn't go looking for you."

"Chrissy's dead because of me!" Steve shouts, "I pulled away! And we- I tried to reconnect and it wasn't enough. Chrissy was struggling and she didn't tell me."

"She didn't tell me, either," Gareth says, voice quiet and even. "Is it my fault she's dead, too?"

"What? No, of course not."

"We reconnected. Last year," Gareth confesses. "Hung out every weekend until she got with Jason. Then it was less, once a month about. But we talked, were friendly. And she didn't tell me what was bothering her. It's not your fault any more than mine."

Steve's pinched face says how much he wants to argue, and because he's Steve, he opens his mouth and argues verbally, too, "I knew about the Upside Down! I should have told you guys. Warned you about it!"

"Dustin said you guys didn't know Vecna existed until this year. What would you have warned about? The Demogorgon I've heard about but never saw?"

"Well, they were in Russia this time, apparently, so-"

"What do you mean they were in Russia!?"

"Oh, uh, not important right now. But. I just..." Steve huffs and deflates against the couch. "I thought I was doing the right thing. For you, and for Chrissy. By keeping you at arm's length. Pretending I didn't know either of you. And then it wasn't pretend! I don't know you, not anymore. But I... You got hurt anyway. And- and Vecna had said- Fuck!"

Gareth blinks at him. "Hey. You did your best. We were safe for years, and it's. This situation is shit, and fuck, we'll miss Chrissy the rest of our lives, but she'd want us to keep living, right? Even if you think you didn't know her anymore, you have to know that. So, fuck whatever Vecna told you in your head. Whatever it was, it's not true."

And that. That makes Steve sob. A full, loud, choked noise before he curls in on himself, shaking his head. "It is true. He said- he made all of you say- and it's true but the truth is-isn't e-even the worst of it."

Gareth scooches down the couch to rub awkwardly on Steve's back. "Um. It's. He lies, right? Twists things in your mind to make them worse. That's what Max said wh-"

The mention of Max brings out a whole other sad, wailing noise from Steve and Gareth is not equipped to handle this. He needs Robin. Or Dustin. "Hey, hey. It's okay. Shhh. Shhhh..."

He keeps shh-ing until Steve's sad noises gives way to a hiccuping laugh.

"You're shit at this comfort thing," Steve says.

Gareth snatches his hand back, offended. "Well, fuck you, too."

Steve looks at him, eyes red but otherwise looking like regular, snarky Steve. "Hey. Are we... okay?"

"Man, I forgave everything when Vecna was giving you that shit vision, or whatever. Nancy told me it was Vecna's curse and I just. I thought you were gonna die. All the anger left. I thought it might come back but I'm still just glad you're alive. So, yeah. We're okay. Friends again?"

Steve nods, smile a little watery. "Alright. Then, can I tell you a secret? I haven't even told Robin yet."

"Shit, dude, spill. I love secrets."

"I- I think I like guys, the same as girls."

"Good for you man," Gareth says easily.

Steve looks at him like he's surprised. "That's it? Your- it's okay? That I do?"

"I'm not the police of you," Gareth scoffs, "whatever makes you happy, dude."

"Cool. Cool," Steve nods to himself, then looks at the time on the clock. "Oh, shit. We're late."

"Late? To what?" Gareth asks.

"Well, just to going to the basement. But it's an important basement trip, so come on."

"Are you going to murder me now that I know your deepest secret?"

"I will if you keep talking about it," Steve says as he stands from the couch, heading towards the door to the basement. "Seriously. The surprise down there involves people so you cannot say shit once I open this door."

"Got it. Wait. People!?"

The surprise, it turns out, is Eddie and Wayne. Eddie, still wanted while someone works on clearing his name, has been hiding here with Steve apparently, and Wayne comes and goes, but is here to thank Gareth for calling him. Wayne seems to be under the impression that if Gareth hadn't, he would have lost Eddie forever.

Steve is avoiding Max. Hopper has come back from the dead. The Hopper-Byers have moved back to Hawkins. Eddie has been cleared of all charges thanks to government intervention and many eye-witnesses putting Jason Carver at the scene of all crimes (does not help that the police found him holding Patrick's body, nor that he can dispute the chargers, what with being brain-dead, possibly. Still comatose for sure). Wayne and Eddie have moved into a little duplex near the Hendersons.

All these things happened before Steve spoke with Max.

He'd still be avoiding her if it wasn't her on his doorstep currently, two months post-Vecna. He was expecting Dustin when he pulled the door open in annoyance. "Max."

"Steve."

"I-what-why are- do you want to come in?" Steve asks, wincing at himself.

Max rolls her eyes. "No. I just have something to say to you before I head to El's."

"Ah."

"I forgive you. But I'm still..." Max pauses, breathing harshly through her nose as if mad at the situation. Or Steve. That would be fair. "I'm still hurt, but I get it, so I forgive you."

Steve swallows. "He told you. Didn't he?"

"Vecna? Yeah. Said he asked you to pick, and you picked me," Max says it, so matter of fact. The grass is green. Sky is blue. Steve would rather Max die than Gareth.

"You shouldn't forgive me until I apologize."

"No, don't think I want to hear it. 'Cause here's the thing, Steve. I get it. Billy was awful, and I hated him, hate him so fucking much. But if he were still alive? If he were, and Vecna said him or you. I'd give you to Vecna. And it's fucked up, hell, it's worse than the choice you were given! At least Gareth is worth having a life, getting to live, and Billy's not but. Like I said. I get it."

Steve is stunned to silence. He doesn't know what to say, or if there's anything he can say. Doesn't really have it in him to call her on all her cussing either, because if any kid has earned swearing around him, it's Max. "Max. I am sor-"

"DON'T!" she shouts, "I'm not ready to hear it yet! I'm hurt, and I- that might take a while to change or whatever. But. I know you. So, I have to tell you that I forgive you. Or, like, I will one day. It was a shit choice to be forced to make. I get it. So, just take the forgiveness and quit avoiding me while walking around like a kicked puppy. It's unbecoming and I'm never going to really forgive you if you avoid me."

"Ok. Alright. No more avoiding."

"Good. You still got that letter I wrote you?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Do you... want it back?"

"No. I want you to read it after I've actually forgiven you, and not a second sooner. Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Good," and she turns on heel and heads down the drive to a car Steve doesn't recognize, and realizes it's because he's never seen it. The driver is Max's mom, and she gives a small wave to Steve when they make eye contact. At least until Max bats her mom's hand out of the air and then must say something that makes her mom laugh.

Steve stands in his doorway and watches them drive away.

Max is hurt, and that's his fault. But she's not mad at him, so that's great. Max is a woman of her word, so Steve thinks that one day, they might be good again. One day, he'll be able to look her in the eye and not feel like the scum on the earth.

Until then, he'll be okay. Gareth's back in his life, he has a new crushfriend in Eddie Munson, and Robin and he have been gotten even closer since he told her he likes boys, specifically one boy at least.

Chrissy is gone, and Steve will always mourn that. Will probably always feel like it's his fault, deep down. But he's got reasons to make it to each new day, and that has to count for something.

[aardvark-123]

~Fallout 4 Companions React to a Quiche Lorraine~

Ada would be mildly interested. "Ah, a savoury pastry dish with a cheese, egg, and bacon lardon filling. Packed with energy for a hard day's scavenging. It isn't often you find something that nice out here."

Cait would stare at the quiche in a mixture of desire and trepidation. "Janey Mack..." she'd whisper. "I haven't touched a quiche since my parents tried to drown me in one! Held my face under the delicious, creamy, cheese and onion-based filling until I blacked out, so they did, to punish me for sneaking food earlier. Bastards." Whoever offered Cait the Quiche Lorraine would be so horrified by her tale, they wouldn't notice her devouring the whole pastry without leaving them so much as a slice.

Codsworth would be pleasantly surprised to see such fine cuisine two hundred years after the apocalypse. "By George, where on Earth did you manage to find that?!" he'd exclaim. "Did you bake it? Good heavens, I simply MUST have the recipe!"

Curie would be worried about the quiche at first. "Alors, you cannot be certain zis dish is safe to consume! Given zat it smells so good, it cannot contain much in ze way of preservatives..." Then she'd take a small bite, and her eyes would light up. "OH! Sacre bleu, ze quiche, it is making LOVE to my tongue! Oh, help, I fear I shall BURST from ze sheer pleasure of it! Aaaah... If zis is ze last Quiche Lorraine in ze world, I shall die..."

Paladin Danse would grab your hand halfway to the quiche. "Not so fast, soldier," he'd say sternly. "One of our rules is that a knight cannot feed themself until they've fed the Brotherhood. Luckily, as I am also in said Brotherhood, you can fulfil your obligation by cutting me a slice first..."

Deacon would wear the Quiche Lorraine as a hat, after which he'd be too busy laughing to eat much of it.

Dogmeat would sniff the quiche. His ears would prick up in delight, and he'd give you a pleading look, as if asking for permission to tuck in. If you gave him the go-ahead, he'd spend five minutes chowing down on the quiche, as quite possibly the happiest dog in the world.

"Heheheh... Now, there's a tasty dish!" Porter Gage would laugh. "Reminds me of all my favourite things, like torturing innocent victims, and selling children into slavery. Good times!"

Glory hasn't had much contact with baked goods before, and at first she'd be confused by the Quiche Lorraine. She'd get the picture after a few mouthfuls. "Man! Now, THERE'S a pie that can look a girl's tongue right in the eye!" she'd exclaim upon finishing the quiche. "Just needs some chips, coleslaw and a side salad, and maybe some mustard... Wait, how the Hell do I know what those things are? Weird."

Hancock would complain that the quiche was too salty and needed a side of apple juice.

MacCready would be ever so excited to have a delicious Quiche Lorraine, but he'd freeze with his fork half-way to his mouth. "Is this- is this paid for?" he'd stammer. "I don't have to pay for the quiche, do I? Just checking. I mean, it's probably worth a few caps, but I don't want any nasty surprises in the financial department. So are we all square? Right, good. Just making sure."

"Well, I'll be damned," Nick would chuckle, seeing the Quiche Lorraine just sitting there. "Genuine pastry and egg, just like old Mrs Calkowski used to make in that little place down on Mass Avenue. Times like this make a man miss having a stomach. No, don't feel bad, partner; you get some of that down you. It's cold out there, and you're gonna need your strength."

Old Longfellow would probably also eat the quiche.

Piper would cheerfully tuck in as soon as she was offered some quiche. She'd eat every crumb of the quiche, lick the plate (if there was in fact a plate involved), and immediately ask for an interview about where you found the quiche. "If there's still food like this out in the ruins, the public have a right to know! I want names, places, anything to do with the source of the quiche! This... is going to be big."

Preston would fetch some paper plates and start dividing up the quiche for everyone nearby, or everyone who needed it most.

Strong would dig out a rusty machete and hack the Quiche Lorraine in half. "Human! Eat pizza so you can grow big!" he'd bark, handing you half of the quiche. "Strong also eat pizza, so he can stay big," he'd chuckle, tucking into the other half.

X6-88 would be unimpressed. "Such a primitive pastry construction," he'd remark of the quiche. "This dish demonstrates poor nutritional balance, with excessive salt and fat. Eating too much of it may cause minor health problems. I recommend that both of us take a small slice, and we hand the rest over for molecular analysis. The Institute's scientists will surely be able to generate a better, healthier quiche."

If you've never heard of Quiche Lorraine before, it's a type of egg and ham quiche originating in Lorraine, which is in France. It's a tasty dish.

[edupiii]

Murder Drones Oc just Dropped ✨

Meet Ecko!(Echo)

It’s a Worker Drone who unfortunately got stuck underground at Cabin Fever labs while she was helping repair something with her human teacher. Surviving on its own hasn’t been easy but it’s tooooottallly fine! She definitely doesn’t have any long lasting effects of the shit it’s seen and the things she’s done to survive. It’s the pinnacle of health and happiness for suurrreee

wanted to do something with the sentinels since I think they’re designs are SO COOL, but not sure how practical this would really be (eh, they’re robots, they make up their own rules. Also tried to give her a bit of a steampunk or rusty look to her

more pics + backstory info below if you wanna check her out!

Backstory (tw: robot gore)

- an enthusiastic Worker Drone who was programmed to follow and assist a human mechanic who would teach it how to repair faulty tech or busted machinery (so that the drone would do all the work later on and the human wouldn’t have to work anymore) (not very good for the work force and keeping employment rates up but you know-)

- during Copper9’s core meltdown, Ecko was underground in the CF labs to fix up a torture chamber (the usual unfortunate). She was on her own for this trip since it’s human teacher was stationed at a separate facility to repair some human stuff (idk it’s not important cause they die lol)

- once on its own after the meltdown, Ecko realized something was up and decided to try looking around for assistance, from human or drone

- after a while of searching for an other beings, she heard the sound of something scuttling around and came across the sentinels, whom were eating some screaming Worker Drones

- with this realization, Ecko retreated back and began its journey of survival on her own -years pass by and the drone begins to lose it a little as the isolation and fear of the unknown consumed her. Nevertheless, it tried to make the best of her infinite amount of time by going on salvage trips to find anything she could fix or snag for itself. With all her free time by herself, Ecko brought up the hobby of tinkering

- through this tinkering, it was able to create the head/eat piece it uses to listen to music

- on one of her salvage trips for parts, Ecko went to an area it hadn’t explored much since it felt brave enough that day. Unbeknownst to her, a few sentinels had created a nest in said area

- hearing the drone killers calls, Ecko hid itself within her hood in an attempt to escape the flash bangs. However in her attempt to hide, it hadn’t noticed the quiet sentinel making its way up behind her, to which it snagged her by the torso and tossed the drone into the ground

- trying to keep her hood over its optics the worker struggled to crawl away from the approaching dino since she could, from what she felt, only use her arms. Her legs seemed to have disconnected. While crawling backwards from the sentinel, Eckos hand slipped on a small rectangle

- on instinct she grabbed it and whipped it towards the sentinel, trying to hit it or scare it off. While waving the black object around, Ecko soon noticed the small electric symbol on the side; it was a taser. Reading its charge, Ecko aimed the weapon at the sentinel but it didn’t seem to be afraid as it quickly snapped at the drones hand, causing her to drop the taser and the dino ripping off her right arm

- with the sentinel distracted from chowing down on Eckos lost limb, the worker swiped at the charged taser and jut it straight into its attackers lowered neck, causing it to shut down and fall to the ground

- now able to look over itself without fear of being blinded, Ecko gapped at the horror of her lower half being completely separated from the rest of its body, only holding on by a few wires. Frantic to find a way to save itself, it looked over to the fallen sentinel and a new idea popped into her head

- after a LOT of effort, she was finally able to get the head off of the creature and begin wiring itself to the rest of the creatures body. She believed she would succeed due to the sentinels and workers both being created by JCJenson, assuming they used similar parts for different brand models (and then it did work, hooray!)

- getting used to its new body wasn’t easy and since the sentinel fell onto one of its arms, Ecko had to remove it as it was too damaged from the blow, instead adding it’s lucky taser to the appendage

- she finds problems from time to time but for some reason, it doesn’t bother it as much as she had originally thought (the reason is cause Eckos software is now super fucked, it needs therapy)

[rjzimmerman]

Good story from Yale Environment 360, without a paywall (I think), about beavers, public land, wildfires, endangered species, the largest beaver dam in the world, the degradation of that land and the large pond behind the dam due to the tar sands mining activity in the vicinity. In other words, a microcosm of all the bad stuff and good stuff intersecting in one place in Canada. Excerpt from this story:

Wood Buffalo National Park, the largest national park in Canada, covers an area the size of Switzerland and stretches from Northern Alberta into the Northwest Territories. Only one road enters it from Alberta, and one from the NWT. If not for people observing it from airplanes and helicopters, and satellites photographing it, little would be known about big parts of it. The park is a variety of landscapes — boreal swamps, fens, bogs, black spruce forests, salt flats, gypsum karst, permafrost islands, and prairies that extend the continent’s central plains to their northern limit. The wood buffalo in the park’s name are bison related to the Great Plains bison. In this remoteness, the buffalo descend from the original population, and the wolves that prey on them are also the wild originals. Millions of birds summer and breed here. The park holds one of the last remaining breeding grounds of the whooping crane.

Other superlatives and near-superlatives: the delta in the park’s southeast where the Peace River and the Athabasca River come together is one of the largest freshwater deltas in the world; last summer, some of Canada’s largest forest fires burned in the park and around it; and — just inside the park’s southern border — is the largest beaver dam in the world.

The dam is about a half-mile long and in the shape of an arc made of connected arcs, like a recurve bow. The media has known about it for 16 years, and in that time no bigger beaver dam has come to light, so it’s still known as the biggest, and scientists believe it almost certainly is. Animal technology created it, but human technology revealed it.

Many of the beavers that have reestablished themselves globally are descended from beavers that were planted by wildlife biologists. The thriving beaver population of Tierra del Fuego (another place Thie has studied) is descended from beavers brought to Argentina from Canada’s Saskatchewan River, who are themselves scions of beavers transplanted from upstate New York. No reintroduction of beavers was done in Wood Buffalo Park. Thie believes that the beavers who built the dam are of original stock. Like the wood buffalo and the wolves, they were too remote to be wiped out.

The park is suffering the worst drought in its history. Flows are down by half in many places, owing to climate change, water diversion, poor seasonal snowpack, and dams on the Peace River, upstream in British Columbia. A danger that seems inescapable comes from the oil sands that are being mined for crude-oil-containing bitumen, and from tailing ponds that hold trillions of liters of mine-contaminated water. The ponds are near the banks of the Athabasca River, just upstream from the park boundary. They are fatal to birds that land on them. Given the direction that water flows, conservationists and native people fear the tailings will pollute the park eventually. Toxic chemicals have already been found in McClelland Lake, just southeast of the park. Locals stopped taking their drinking water from the lake years ago.

Gillian Chow-Fraser, the boreal program manager for the Northern Alberta chapter of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society, in Edmonton, travels in the park often by helicopter, canoe, and foot. She has described the park’s environment as “super degraded.” When I spoke with her by phone not long ago, she talked about a recent tailing basin leak that was not reported to the First Nations downstream of it for nine months. In places that used to flood regularly but now don’t, the land is drying out and vegetation disappearing. Though she crisscrosses the park, she has never seen the world’s largest beaver dam, but she’s grateful that it’s there and bringing the park attention.