#since no one EVER wanted monsters to be fought EVER in their ENTIRE LIVES so ... it was slacking

[moeblob]

So with the Community Center done + both harem routes taken... Asmodeus♡ proposed! In Marnie's kitchen. Like a classy individual.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

how do you sleep?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel's always there to comfort you with his words and a warm bed after a nightmare, but tonight, you need a little more

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, comfort, undefined relationship, getting together, mentions of nightmares & insomnia, smut, unprotected piv, slow/intimate sex, creampie

word count: 3.3k

“Whas’wrong?”

You didn't mean to end up here again. It's the third night this week you swiped Joel's key from under the doormat and found yourself standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Can't sleep," you reply, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion seeps into your voice, permeating your limbs the longer you remain standing.

He already knows why you're here. Ever since you, Joel, and Ellie arrived in Jackson and were offered homes of your own, rest evades you more than it ever did on the road. It's too quiet here, and your racing mind fills the silence with the horrors of a life lived in constant fear.

You know you're safe now. You know that, but it's not enough to convince your body or quell the ever-present tightness in your chest telling you to run, to hide. Your fears are more potent in the dark, and the shadows creeping from wall to wall have sharper edges. Teeth that threaten to tear you apart and rip away everything and everyone you've fought so hard to protect.

The walls and floorboards creak with life that shouldn't be present in an empty, two-story home—too big for a single person, and yet still yours—and quickly begin to sound like impending death.

Nowadays, more often than not, you seek out a different kind of shelter. The familiar, comforting embrace of the man who kept you warm and protected through harsh winters and from monsters prowling in the night. That's where you belong.

Crisp bedsheets rustle in the dark and then you hear Joel pat the mattress twice—an invitation to occupy the space beside him, the one he always leaves empty just in case.

"Well, c'mon then. Hurry up," he grumbles, still half-asleep. But he isn’t frustrated. He's tired, just like you, and he'll probably sleep a lot better knowing both of his girls are resting soundly under his roof.

You trudge over and waste no time burying your face in his bare chest, breathing in pine and cedar wood shavings before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. Throwing a leg over his thighs, you mold into him, rubbing your cheek into coarse curls and marveling at the calm, steady rhythm beneath you.

It feels good to be home. You're not sure why you let Maria give you an entire house to yourself when everything you could ever want or need was right across the street. Every time you end up back here, you wonder. And every time you leave, you wish you'd stayed.

He wraps you up in his arms and tugs you into his side, murmuring your name with soft lips that tenderly caress your forehead. They're so warm, just like the rest of him, and you find yourself aching to feel them on yours. It's a line neither of you have ever crossed, but tonight's been rough.

For what felt like days, you were forced to watch as your worst nightmares came to bloody fruition. You were dragged through the most brutal outcomes of events you already survived and could do nothing more than pray you'd wake up soon. When you finally came to and checked the clock, it had only been an hour and a half since you'd passed out. The moon was still high in the sky, taunting you with the promise of more. More dread, endless brutality.

Joel can make all of that go away, if only for a few hours. He always does, but tonight...you don't want to talk about it tonight. You don't want to think about it, about anything at all. You just want him.

You'd feel selfish asking for more if there wasn't already something between you. Something nurtured and gradual that's been building for months, beginning on your travels across the country and coming to an unignorable head here in Jackson.

Back then, it was stolen glances while you bathed together in streams and fleeting touches in your shared sleeping bag under star-filled skies. It's more intimate these days. He holds your hand when you're anxious, and you kiss away the frown lines and frustrated wrinkles that mar his skin.

Every day, you skirt the line between platonic companionship and whatever's starting to simmer below the surface. You're scared to hope he feels it too, but the thought of remaining in this undefined middle ground scares you even more.

The furnace drifting in and out of consciousness next to you radiates with an addictive heat you've told yourself to ignore for a long time, but it's quickly becoming an impossible feat. Pressed into his side, you're trying and failing not to writhe against him. But he's starting to notice.

His hips jerk every time your core drags against his bare thigh, a slow, repetitive grind you really shouldn't continue, but feels so fucking good combined with the slick pooling between your legs. You should stop—really, you should—but his breathing's changing and hitching, catching in his throat every time the growing tent in his boxers meets the friction of your inner thigh.

Then, he gasps something cognizant and urgent, and you know you've been caught. His hand snakes down to your ass and traps you against his side with a grip so firm, plush skin spills between his fingers.

“Woah, hold on there," he breathes out heavily, and his gaze drops to yours curiously. His eyes are wide open and alert, shining with the faint reflection of moonlight streaming through an adjacent window. Bright and yet pitch black as his sleep-addled brain struggles to catch up with his body. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating whether or not to ask for his help. His expression is gentle but otherwise unreadable, and there's a chance this could go very, very badly. Maybe you'd be better off apologizing, but you don't want to. You're not sorry for needing him.

And the longer he waits for an answer, the more his body convinces you that he wants the same things you do. His hand is still on your ass, kneading as he urges you to rock into him, but he doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. Then, his thigh flexes and a rush of wetness coats your already soaked underwear. His expression falters, and you know he can feel it.

His voice is tighter when he speaks again, but that tinge of concern is still there. He wants to make it all better, but he can't unless you tell him how. Your hand tenses where it lies on his chest, and he covers it with his own.

"What can I do? Just tell me how to help you—whatever it is, I'll do it," he murmurs, brushing his thumb reassuringly across your skin. You tilt your chin up and suddenly you're close enough to breathe his air. Closer than you've ever been and yet still not close enough.

"I need you to...," Fuck me. But it sounds too crude. A quick fuck isn't what you need right now. You need to be full of him, to hold him deep inside you and keep him there for as long as this night will allow. "...make me feel safe again."

"Tell me how," he repeats as you struggle to bite back a moan. He's working you against him intentionally now, encouraging you up and down his leg, and it's making your brain go a little haywire. "What do you need, baby?"

"Joel," you whine at the endearment, an intense heat building at the apex of your thighs. That's new. You want to hear him say it again, to devour every word as he buries himself inside you over and over. You will him to understand. "I need you."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, steeling himself before nosing into the hairs at your temple. The gesture is so tender and affectionate even as he bucks into your thigh, and it's painfully obvious how hard you're making him. He nods slowly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.

"Okay, baby. I got you," he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your eyelids, then the apple of your cheek. "I'll make it all go away, alright? M'gonna take care of you."

And you believe him. He rolls you onto your back and you gasp as his entire weight presses you into the mattress. It's more than just comforting. You feel protected. He's shielding you from this horrible, broken world, somehow managing to prove that there's still goodness to be found. And it's on top of you, broad and strong, and wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Big hands cup your cheeks and his lips meet yours, so much different than the familiar press against your forehead or the top of your head. You're in unknown territory, but he guides you carefully and moves slowly, taking the time to explore and savor. The taste of spearmint begins to overwhelm your senses as the kiss deepens, and you lick into his mouth impatiently, already craving more.

But after years of quiet observation, Joel knows better than anyone how to temper you. Ducking down to bury his face in your neck, he kisses along the underside of your jaw, regaining control of the pace with a sharp, halting suck. And while he refuses to let your urgency rush him, he still allows your hands to roam his skin and tug at his boxers, letting you take what you want—like his only goal is to make sure this lasts long enough for him to fulfill his promise.

A disgruntled groan bubbles in your throat, and you feel him chuckle. "Y'know, patience is supposed to be a virtue," he mumbles, amused, his beard scratchy and grounding against your skin. You huff in response.

Tonight doesn't feel like a night for virtues. Not when things are finally changing in your favor. After so much time, so much running, you actually have somewhere to go—and stay. You're not running away anymore. You're moving towards something that feels real, and dependable, and safe, and you're doing it together. And now that you're so close you can taste it, you're done waiting.

"You're really gonna start caring about virtues now?" you ask skeptically, slipping your hands past the waistband of his boxers to grab his ass.

He hesitates, then huffs out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."

And with that, you both know the time for talking is over. Something shifts and you're on the same page, ready to take as much as the other is willing to give.

Joel begins to drag your shirt up to reveal more, but suddenly feeling stifled, you take over and remove it completely. The look on his face makes it more than worth it. It's not the first time he's seen you naked, but as his eyes rake over your bare curves, it feels like it could be. Reverently, he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply before charting a path lower.

His mouth feels hot as he laves and nips across your collarbone, and he shimmies further down the bed until he's just barely ghosting the swell of your breasts. You gasp, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a bruise below your nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. Licking a wide stripe past the darkening mark, he captures the bud between his teeth, another hand sliding up your stomach to cup your other breast while he alternates between swirling and sucking.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The ache between your thighs worsens the longer he continues, but instead of squeezing them together for relief, you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him onto you. By now, you're so wet, there's no way you're not soaking right through your underwear and into his boxers, and you hope he can feel it. If your increasing volume isn't enough of an indication that you need him inside you, then maybe this will be.

He lets out a pained groan into your chest, and you clench in satisfaction. He immediately grinds down, thrusting into you like he's forgotten about the layers of clothing still separating you. You don't bother to remind him.

Bucking him off, you quickly wrench down your underwear then reach for his, yanking them off while he sheds his t-shirt. Your fingers close around his cock before his shirt hits the floor and he startles before melting into your grip, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting around a cross between a sigh and the neediest whine you've ever heard.

You feel that telltale whoosh between your legs again, and after pumping him a few times, you guide him toward your entrance. In the back of your mind, you know you're taking a risk without a condom. You should be safer, more responsible. But it's Joel. It's always been Joel.

His eyes shoot open once he realizes where you're leading him, but you only bite your lip and nod, your expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. An unspoken agreement passes between you, a quiet understanding cultivated through years of friendship and now something more. Then, he presses inside and your mind goes blissfully blank.

No more horrors, no more fear. Just Joel keeping his promise and doing exactly what you trusted him to do. He encompasses you entirely, pressing the length of his body flush against yours as he works himself into you. The stretch was nothing you ever could've anticipated, but it grounds you in the present moment. It's everything you told yourself not to hope for when you showed up on his doorstep tonight.

His movements are slow but powerful, and he rests his forehead on yours, eyes alert and acutely aware of every change in expression. The intensity of his gaze and the slick sound of him burying himself to the hilt should make you self-conscious—it's all you can see and hear, but that's the point, isn't it? To get lost in the way he drags so perfectly against your walls and grinds his hips into yours on every thrust, slow and steady.

He's attentive, cataloging whenever he makes you moan a little louder or your eyes roll, and repeats it again and again until you're writhing underneath him. Your nails rake down his back and scratch at his scalp, and he jerks forward whenever you're a little too rough, hitting so deep, it feels like he's grazing your cervix. But the longer he continues to give you everything you want, the more his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

You know Joel, and you can tell when he's resisting an urge. His biceps tense where he's propped on his forearms, bracketing your head, and there's so little space between you, you can feel his abs flexing every time he plunges back inside you. He needs more and you want to give it to him.

Lifting your head, you bridge the tiny gap to meet his lips. "Joel, c'mon. You can fuck me harder than that, I'm not gonna break," you mumble between open-mouthed kisses. That catches him off guard.

He accidentally lets himself go for a thrust or two, and you're cut off by a moan, your walls squeezing him so hard, it's painful. Somehow, you manage to recover just long enough to gasp out the rest. "It's okay if you need something from me, too. Just take it. I trust you."

For an agonizing moment, Joel pauses to observe you, waiting for something in your eyes to contradict the permission you just gave him. But when he doesn't find it, he shakily exhales the breath he'd been holding and his head drops to your shoulder. The groan that follows rumbles so deeply in his chest, it makes your stomach drop. Then, without warning, his hands are gripping your thighs and he's rutting into you like a caged animal finally set free.

There he is. The man who never hesitated to gun down anyone who threatened the safety of his loved ones and did whatever it took to bring his girls home.

Recognition washes over you and fills you with a familiar feeling of security. It's something only Joel has ever been able to give you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his hair, hoping to return even a fraction of that feeling.

As he gives into his body, he starts to ramble, his words muffled and lost to your delicate skin. But you don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. With every thrust, the bed frame rattles and gets the message across loud and clear. Your heels dig into his back, encouraging him forward, begging him to keep going, and he obliges, quickly reduced to helpless grunts and curses.

The room gets increasingly hotter and more humid, and the cool air flowing through the window isn't nearly enough to provide relief, but neither of you seems to care. You're a little in love with the way your bodies slip together, sweat and slick intermingling seamlessly.

Everything is so wet, and it feels incredible—your skin against his, your walls pulsing around his cock. He's molding into you, so close that you can't do much more than swivel your hips into his, and it's sending you hurtling toward the edge faster than you can fully process. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit just right, and when he adjusts the angle to fuck you deeper than before, you hit your peak.

You dissolve into a whimpering mess beneath him, desperately riding out your orgasm as he groans and abruptly bites down on your shoulder. Releasing your legs to grab your waist, he forces himself impossibly further inside you and grinds into your spasming walls until he's coming with you. He gasps his way through it, stilling while he lets you milk him dry, then collapses on top of you and gathers you in his arms.

For a while, you both struggle to catch your breath. The mattress is bare save for the fitted sheet, your clothes, pillows, and blankets having been kicked or tossed onto the floor. It feels nice like this—to savor the winter air cooling your bodies and to just be held. Without letting you go, Joel lifts his head to kiss the teeth marks he left on your shoulder apologetically and then shifts higher to press his lips against the underside of your jaw.

"You alright?" he asks gently, his voice a little gruffer than usual from the exertion.

"Mhm," you hum, nosing into his temple. "More than." He sighs and almost sounds relieved.

The thought makes your heart ache. If he's worried he crossed a line, well. He did. You both did, but it was a long time coming and you don't regret a thing. You squeeze him a little tighter as if to tell him, and he allows himself to melt into you briefly. Then, he draws back to cup your cheek and guide your lips to his.

He kisses you slowly, taking the time to appreciate the sensation of your mouth against his without any urgency. "Feel better?" he murmurs after reluctantly parting from you. You keep him close.

"I don't think we have to worry about any more nightmares tonight," you reply with a small smile. He returns it, eyes crinkling fondly, then rolls you onto your sides to settle in for a good night's sleep.

As you start to drift off, you hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that you don't quite catch. But it sounds a lot like, "Might be time for you to finally move in."

thanks for reading!

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Fourteen: We're Running Out Of Time

Gates Of Hell [Masterlist]

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, horror, blood, this is not proof read and that's probably the biggest warning

[A/N: I rushed through this entire chapter so I'm so sorry if it is terrible but I just wanted to write one specific scene and- I'll shut up now. Enjoy :)]

We're Running Out Of Time

“... what?”

Everything was frozen in a compressed motion, only the erratic beat of your heart ensuring you were still living, breathing, in the moment.

Three weeks ago, you had followed El through the mothergate, a silent promise to find your sister when she was nowhere to be found. You had fought your way through the Upside Down, slaying monsters, collecting scars and bruises.

And three weeks later, you find out it was all for nothing. El didn’t need to be found.

She was never missing.

A voice that undoubtedly belonged to her was telling you all of this through the radio gripped tightly in your hand, feeling like your mind was drifting in and out of consciousness. You had been tricked so easily. A shapeshifter- a mirage. It knew exactly what buttons it needed to push, the nuclear code that led to your heart, your guilt. And now, three weeks later, you were sat on the floor of the Radio Shack in the darker version of your home, beside a boy that didn’t deserve this. Steve didn’t deserve your foolishness.

Maybe he was right, back in that arcade mere days before freshman year. You could only ever ruin people.

“Y/n.” Steve reaches out to take your hand, gently rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. You look up at him, frowning.

Rather than speak, you silently hand him the radio and slip away, resting your back against the very wall he had broken down on earlier.

“Hello? Anyone there? Over.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re-” Steve pauses, eyes widening. “Henderson?”

“Son of a bitch!” Dustin responds in a gleeful tone, striking a smile on his face. “I knew you weren’t dead! Over.”

“Yeah, man, all safe and sound down here.” Steve risks a glance over to you, but your eyes are focused somewhere else, glazed. “Wait, how the hell is this possible right now?”

There’s a long pause and he thinks the radio must have lost contact until Dustin’s disapproving tone drops in.

“You didn’t say over. Over.”

If Steve wasn’t so happy right now, he’d find a way to reach through that phone and tackle him. “Whatever. Over.”

“Okay so basically I have been playing around with the idea of creating my own ham radio. That’s a big radio for longer distances by the way. Over.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, get to the point. Over.”

“Well, we weren’t sure if it was gonna reach down to you. Cerebro, that is. Like in X-Men? When Professor X needs to locate other mutants- Ow! What the hell Mike?- Oh, right, yeah. Anyway, I recorded a message on this thing maybe two weeks ago and we’ve been broadcasting it ever since. Pretty sweet, right? Over.”

“Pretty, uh, pretty sweet, man.” Steve praises, running a hand through his hair as his concern centres on you. “Any chance you’ve built a portal back to the real Hawkins?… Over.”

The static blares into the silence again and Steve tightens his lips. You finally meet his eyes, offering a small smile with all the willpower you could muster. He really can’t imagine how you out of everyone must be feeling right now. He understands it, at least. Being strong enough to sacrifice and protect, but too unprepared to deal with the consequences.

“Hey, Mike here.” Mike speaks and Steve returns his attention, taking a deep breath to recentre. “So, it’s a long shot, but… we might have a way to get you both out of there.”

You’re beside him in a flash, gently taking the radio into your own hands with determination. “Seriously.”

“The gates haven’t completely disappeared.” Mike explains, a faint sound of rustling in the background. “They’ve just been opening and closing one at a time. Hopper has been trying to track them down but they haven’t stayed open long enough to catch ‘em.”

“There’s no pattern?” You ask, scrunching your face. The last thing you want to do is run around Hawkins hoping a gate would appear, especially not with the demons lurking down here.

“Actually, yeah. They’ve opened at Lake Jordan, Lover’s Lake, even the community pool.”

“So it’s water-based?”

“Exactly. Except the thing is, we’ve ran out of water-based gates- what? - I’m not saying that, it’s stupid- No- I… ugh, fine. - The watergates hit every lake and pond. We’ve pretty much ran out of water so, we have no idea where it’s gonna hit next. - What now? - No, go away, I already said your stupid name. - Beca-”

You assume the boys are continuing their fight as you let out a breath, brows scrunched together.

“Great.” Steve mutters, shaking his head. “Now we have to figure out where the next gate is gonna be and, I’ll be honest, I’m not great at hide and seek. Not the hide, and especially not the seek.”

Something clatters in the distance and you both turn, on high alert.

“Sorry, Mike again. Dustin was… Dustin.” He returns, panting slightly. “We’re gonna keep working on it but at least we found you now. Hopper should be back soon and I know you’ll probably have a lot to talk about.”

The static blares out, feeling heavy in your hand as Steve slowly stretches from his crouch to peer over the top of the shelves. Nothing was in here with you, thankfully. But he can just make out a shadow outside, growing bigger and bigger…

“Hello? Guys?”

Steve’s head whips to the radio, stomach plummeting. “Shit, turn it-”

The shrill sound of glass shattering makes him duck down in an instant, something breathing in heavy and uneven intervals, crashing between the shelves and hurtling towards you.

You scramble to shut off the radio, cutting off the cries from the kids and shoving it into Steve’s bag. You could deal with it later when you weren’t dead.

Steve swoops up the backpack and holds a finger to his lips, the other hand pointing down the aisle furthest to your left. You both keep low, eyes on the ground to avoid stepping on anything that could announce your location to whatever was hunting you. And, just as you follow Steve around the corner, you both hear it searching the aisle beside you, grateful to have made the right decision.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t as slow as the other things you’ve battled and, much like everything else, you figured it depended on hearing. You and Steve weren’t amateurs in this game of prey and predator, especially since finding literally everything down here wanted to eat you. Escaping was your speciality, and right now you feared it was the only option.

As you take slow and silent steps, crouched on the opposite aisle, you can just make out its dark black shape stalking between the shelves.

You don’t feel like you can breathe, hands balled into fists as you use your peripheral vision to guide you towards Steve, eyes never leaving the shadowed figure. You’re scared that if you look away, it would immediately find you when you were distracted.

That was a crucial mistake.

Your next footstep landed directly on a musty wrapper, a sharp sound of a crinkle echoing out when you accidentally crush it with your boot.

Steve’s eyes go wide, head snapping back to you as your blood ran cold, a fearful gaze meeting his. Fuck.

You anxiously look back between the shelves.

Pale white eyes are staring directly at you, unwavering as terror slices through your spine.

And then it screams.

Its wail is ear-piercing, inflicting pain on you both as you tumble over, trying to cover your ears to muffle out its sound. You couldn’t run if you wanted, feeling completely paralysed by the high-pitched drone of this creature’s cry.

Steve feels something damp against his palms as he groans against the relentless stabbing against every nerve in his brain. Whatever this thing was, its screech was damaging you both beyond repair. He needed to get you both out. He needed to stop it before there was no coming back.

In a split second decision, Steve bears the pain long enough to prop himself up on one knee and use his free leg to kick as hard as he can against the shelves, boot shaking the frame. The display topples over, landing with a heavy thump against the creature and cutting off its cry.

Steve sighs in relief, blinking back into the blissful silence. His headache was booming as he clicks his jaw, desperate to relieve the stress on his eardrums. He turns back to you, noticing how you’ve brought both hands in front of you, staring down at the red dye with a tired concentration.

There were trickles of blood coming from your ears and down your nose, the aftermath of the screech. And, judging by how wet his upper lip felt, he knew his own face matched.

He sees the body beneath the shelves start to twitch, trying to regain consciousness below the rubble of trinkets.

“We have to go.” He tries saying, his own voice muffled by his ears.

You don’t hear him and he groans, steadying himself by gripping onto the fallen wooden frame and pushing himself to his feet. The world span as he wrapped an arm around you, pointing to the exit.

Steve wasn’t sure if you would both make it to safety stumbling away from the crime scene, and that thought stayed with him even when you were both out of view of the Radio Shack. It lingered, like the thought always did whenever you both set out for your search.

Mostly, he was just afraid he was going to lose you at any second.

Never before was Steve so relieved to be stood in the murky Motel 6 bathroom, staring at his worn expression. Every time you both make it back here, he can’t believe he’s still alive.

He had torn up an old t-shirt you had found rummaging through what would have been the Byers house, the fabric easily wiping away the larger chunks of dried blood on his face. How many new creatures did that make now? 10? 11? He lost track too many fights ago.

Feeling much better, he takes the moments to simply breathe, flexing his fingers against the ceramic sink. This was a lot harder than he thought. Mentally. Physically. He couldn’t be more grateful he wasn’t doing this alone.

His head snaps up, suddenly aware of the ghost of your presence.

“Hey,” He peers around the door, walking out. “Bathroom’s free if you…”

Steve stops. You never even made it to the bed, back against the front door, eyes drooping.

“Shit. Hold on.” He rushes over to you, grabbing your face in his hands. He knows you were slightly closer to the blasted scream, but not far enough to be affected any worse than he was. But you looked physically weak, your attempted speech slurring as you have to blink yourself back into consciousness.

Steve helps you to your feet, guiding you towards the bathroom to sit you at the toilet so he can tear another rag from the tee, constant glances of worry being sent your way.

By the time his hands found your face again, you were wide awake, frowning around you. You didn’t even recollect making it to the motel.

One hand cups your chin as the other gently wipes away the blood from your upper lip. You try to protest, claim you could do this yourself, but Steve wasn’t taking objections. He tilts your head to the side, swiping away the trickle of blood from your ear down to your neck…

He pauses, breath hitching. Your eyes squeeze shut.

Black veins were creeping up out of your collar, slithering along your throat and stopping just below your chin, marking you cursed. Steve should have known your ail wasn’t from the monster you just encountered.

“It’s okay.” You say, trying to meet his eyes.

“None of this is fucking okay.” He says, but it comes out as a whisper despite the endless echo of screams raging through his mind. He tries to go back to finishing up on your nose when you gently lower his hand, holding it between both of yours.

“Steve.”

“I thought we had more time.” He admits, a sad laugh falling in a broken sob, trying to hold it together.

“Maybe we do.” You try, smiling up at him. But your eyes were telling a different story.

Steve had been noticing it but never acknowledging it for as long as you’ve been trying to hide it. The breathless exhale of excursion any time you had to face a beast. The way you’ve only been able to hit two locations before your body screams for rest, muttering excuses to get back to the motel. And that smile you always gave him, slowly losing its shine like a lost star plummeting from the sky. He ignored it all because some part of him was stupid enough to think it wasn’t going to end like this.

“This isn’t fair.” A single tear rolls down his cheek and your breath hitches. “You don’t… you don’t deserve this.”

For a moment, you don’t speak, mouth opening and closing with words scratched away before they could hit the air.

“Do you remember the day this all started?” You suddenly ask, looking up at him. His brows are furrowed, nodding his head. “I remember… I remember being sat in that chair dreading ever leaving it. I, uh, I thought detention was going to save me from facing my problems. That’s why I was in there in the first place. I found an opportunity and I exploited it enough to bide myself some more time before I had to realise what a shitty human being I was.”

“You’re not a shitty human-”

“But I was.” You shrug, pushing the hair away from your face. “I was so selfish. And arrogant. And before those screams echoed out, before Holloway disappeared, before you even walked into the room, I was realising that I had ruined myself. I was so adamant on proving I didn’t need anybody that I was completely and utterly alone.”

“And then,” You look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And then the freaking apocalypse started and as awful and wrong as it sounds… it’s starting to feel like it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because I found reasons not to be selfish anymore, and- and to realise I didn’t have to alienate people just because I was afraid they were going to leave.”

Your hands start to intertwine themselves with Steve’s.

“Even though that thing bit me… I’m perfectly happy knowing that I was becoming the person I always should have been. You made me not want to be a shitty person anymore.”

His hands squeeze yours, his body leaning forward to rest your foreheads against eachother. Tears start to escape your eyes in silent paths, feeling completely and utterly comforted by the boy you once called an enemy.

“I was starting to wonder when you’d say something nice about me.” Steve eventually quips and you laugh, pulling away from him.

“Don’t get used to it, Harrington.” You chuckle, your hand involuntarily reaching up and brushing away the hairs that fell in the path of his eyes. You notice a look in his eye you had never caught before, smiling. “What’s that look for?”

He flickers between your eyes, softened and sad, his thumb reaching up to brush against your cheek. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but your heart starts to race. You’ve grown used to a pit in your stomach since being down here, a dread. But this was different. Butterflies. And the way Steve was looking at you sent them soaring.

Steve leans in closer, glancing down at your lips. Every nerve in your body was alight, the incomprehensible tension building when you don’t pull away to the moment he finally speaks, words feather-light like you were the only one who deserved to hear them.

“I’m not ready for you to leave me.”

The first touch of his lips against yours was tentative, a feather-light connection that sent shivers down both your spines. It was a sweet and slow, the world around you fading away as if you and he were the only two souls in existence.

The kiss deepened once Steve realised this wasn’t a dream, pulling you impossibly closer with his hands cupping your cheeks, a mixture of passion and vulnerability woven into the embrace. Only the sound of your heartbeats could remind you time wasn’t truly standing still.

When you finally pulled away, both of your eyes still remained closed, trying to live in the moment as long as you could before reality could pull you back into its cold embrace. Steve wanted to stay here for as long as it could, holding you. He would willingly bend time to relive this moment over and over until it was the sweetest broken record.

“We, uh…” You start in a whisper, chest rising and falling in desperation for his lips to fall against yours once again. But you couldn’t fall back into it from fear of never leaving it again. “We should probably get some rest.”

“Yeah.” He whispers back, barely a breath away from you with a hand resting on your cheek. “I, uh… I’ll take first watch.”

It took his manual control of every muscle in his body to step away from you and not pull you back into him once more, choosing to leave the room before he imploded. He exhaled a long breath, a hand running through his hair as he smiled against the warmth of his flushed face. Part of him still couldn’t believe this was reality. Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps it truly was in his greatest dreams.

You leave the bathroom a few seconds later, hiding a smile behind your hair as you lay on the bed. You watch as he settles himself on the ground, back against the bed frame and preparing for a long night of staring at the door.

You felt light-headed in the most wonderful way, giddy. It was almost impossible to have a rush of these emotions fluttering in your chest, but it was there, acting as a safety blanket around your heart. But once you close your eyes, its like they’re being snatched away from you as the fear comes rolling in.

The virus was almost at your brain and soon, you would be nothing but a mindless monster hell-bent for the thirst of blood. And no matter how many times you convinced Steve you were okay with it, never once had you managed to convince yourself.

“Steve?”

Your small voice was a surprise, calling out to him in the darkness. He twists himself to find your form, resting his arm on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” You pause, striking his curiosity with your hesitancy. “Nevermind.”

“Tell me.” He says softly, propping one of his legs up as he shifted on the floor.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

It took all of five seconds for Steve to abandon his post and walk around the bed, propping his bat against it as he lowered himself next to you. He felt nervous, unsure of what you truly meant by your request.

And then you roll over, slotting into him perfectly as he automatically wraps his arms around you, holding you.

Steve was the first to wake up, blinking up at the ceiling before mentally punishing himself for falling asleep in the first place. He was meant to take the shift tonight.

Gently shifting out of your embrace, he moves to the small mirror in the bathroom and pushes his hair back, taking a deep breath. And then he remembers, a smile spreading across his face with a small yet noticeable dimple denting his right cheek.

And then the reality hits, blinking him out of his own happiness. He promised himself he would get you out of here, back home.

He grabs the forgotten radio after rooting through his backpack, switching it back on and spewing out tiny curses under his breath. Shit, would this even reach them anymore? How would he even contact them? What if that was your only chance to-

“This is Echo Base, come in Falcon. Over.”

The familiar recorded message almost brought a tear to his eye as he brings it to his lips.

“Hey, it’s Steve. Anyone there?”

Static blares through and then the message starts again. Another muttered curse.

“It’s Steve. We’re here. Over?”

He waits all of five seconds before the static cuts out again, this time answering his call with a voice he never wanted to hear ever again.

“Well if it isn’t Harrington. We all thought you were roadkill.”

A shot of anger festers in his chest. Billy.

“Where the hell are the others?” Steve asks through gritted teeth, not in the mood for Billy’s antics.

“Busy.”

“Great.” Steve mutters to himself, taking a deep breath and reminding himself he only needed to get through this one conversation. “We, uh, we got cut off last time. We were trying to find out how to get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, I can probably help you with that.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll give some instructions.” A pause. “Only gonna tell ‘em to Y/n, though.”

Steve’s blood boiled.

“Tell me what?” You showed up, looking sleepy but mostly confused.

You were using your fingers to brush through your hair, a hazy smile on your face as you met Steve’s eyes. His shoulders relaxed, admiring how he could feel this deeply about you even barely 3 minutes out of consciousness.

“Uh,” Steve clears his throat, holding out the radio. “Billy wants to speak to you.”

You roll your eyes, taking it from him and making him chuckle at how uninterested you seemed.

“I’m here.” You say, waiting for the response.

“Hey, princess.”

Steve wrinkles his nose in disgust and you pinch the bridge of yours, shaking your head.

“I told you not to call me that.” You sigh, leaning against the door frame. “What have you got for me?”

“Damn, I don’t think I can say when there’s kids around- ugh, fucking hell, fine. Take it.” He scoffs. “Later, princess.”

“Later, princess.” Steve mocks under his breath, looking back in the mirror. He catches your smirk in the reflection.

“Hi, it’s Max. Sorry about that.” Max cuts in and you find yourself smiling. “We’re currently on shifts so the boys aren’t here but Dustin did leave a message. He wanted us to tell you that they’ve been tracking some kind of signature using… shit, I don’t know, fancy technology or whatever. It can detect when another is gonna appear except it uses some kind of tracking in the water? Does that make sense to you? They know the gates appear at the heart of the bodies of water… okay, this makes literally no sense, I’m gonna kill him.”

Steve frowns. Heart of the bodies of water? They had already ran out of lakes in Hawkins, ponds were few and far between, there was no other possible options-

You gasp and he looks at you inquisitively while you bring the radio closer.

“I know where the next gate will be.”

Chapter Fifteen: Sattler's Quarry ->

taglist: @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby

[drchenquill]

✨ Writerblr intro ✨

[Because my old one was crusty and in dire need of a revamp]

Hello lovely person who stumbled upon this blog! I'm glad to have you and I welcome you to my writeblr! Let's start with a little writer introduction, shall we?

About me~

✨ 21+

✨ she/her

✨ You can call me anything you want! I don't have preferences in names!

✨ Animal lover! (proud owner of four dogs and four cats!)

✨ English is NOT my first language. Motherlanguages are Italian-German.

✨ I only write in German so everything you see here got translated.

✨ You can go check out my Pinterest where you can find boards of some of my OCs!

About my writing~

My favorite genres to write in are fantasy and romance (I dabble in other genres, but those are my main ones). I just love the fluff, the angst, the magic, everything to do with those genres.

I have a lot of WIPs, and I won't bore you by listing them all (because, let's be honest, the number can change at any moment.) But I do have some stories I've finished and translated that I can list!

Who's to judge?

"Humans, vampires. They always existed, they always fought for a place in this vast world. Some succeed, some lose themself in the journey to freedom. Thana was different. She never fought, she never stepped out of line. Thana gave up. She had nothing to fight for, nothing to hold onto.

But what would happen if one accident forces her out of her comfort zone? What would happen if she had to fight for something she had long forgotten? Fight for people she thought meant nothing to her?"

Crime/Mystery/Thriller/Vampires

The Monster's Pearl

"There was once a castle. It was huge and dark, not a soul dared to go near it. It was called "The Gate of the Underworld" because a lonely man lived there. Rumor had it that he was a demon who had crawled out of hell.

There was once a simple family. They had a healthy boy. He had black curls. They were so dark that even the night was afraid to get lost in them. His eyes were so bright that even the sun had to look away to avoid being blinded. His voice silenced the birds so that they could listen to him.

The little boy grew up healthy, unaware of the background to his birth. On his eighteenth birthday, he received two suitcases and a letter that would change his whole life.

Will he be able to adjust to his new life, or will he throw it all away?"

Romance/Drama/Fantasy/LGBTQ+

The Shadow of Her Dreams

[currently being translated]

"Molly Potts is an ordinary young woman who lives with her family in a small village in the middle of nowhere. Despite her peaceful life, she feels a great need to leave, to go somewhere where she can experience something instead of dying of boredom. But her monotonous life is quickly thrown off course when she and her brother discover something that will shake up their entire lives. And who is this woman who keeps appearing in her dreams?"

Fantasy/Adventure/Romance/Greek Mythology insipired

Short Stories

"As the title already explains, this is a collection of short stories that are too short to become a book, but still wanted to be told."

a lot of different genres

WIPs

There are some WIPs I mentioned here and there, so I will make a little introduction for those~

Him and Me - Bound by Fate

"Leon Martens. A young art teacher ready to start a new life. He has a new job, a new apartment and maybe a change for peace. Sure, he struggles with human interactions and he'd rather not meet any humans in general, but he's happy with what he has. But since fate was something Leon couldn't prevent, he was thrown into a whirlwind of situations that made him question reality and, more than once, his own mental stability."

Fantasy/Mystery/Romance/LGBTQ+

Daisy

"Daisy ran, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She fled from a fate that was being forced upon her. She fled from her pack, or rather, from her alpha. The young Daisy was an omega. Ever since she was born, she knew that being born an omega was a curse. Her alpha believed that she belonged to him, that he could mark her, but Daisy wouldn't let that happen. Daisy wanted freedom, but what if her freedom led her into another pack? Will they be the same? And who is this nameless alpha that is considered as monster but manages to make her forget her fear?"

Werewolves/Romance/Drama

The Memories of The Future

"Sophie is an easily excitable, cheerful young girl. She lives with her aunt after her parents tragically passed away. Unfortunately, she doesn't remember much about them since she was just a baby. Her aunt and her border collie, Pepper, are the only ones Sophie has in her heart, and she'll spend the rest of her life with them. The only problem with her idyllic life is that little old Sophie has the attention span of a squirrel and it's hyperactivity. She misplaces, forgets, runs around, misplaces again, and those silly dreams and sudden flashes don't help. Also, who is this tall man who suddenly appears and claims that Sophie has visions? No, those are not visions, she just has a very vivid imagination, right?"

Fantasy/Adventure/Comedy

Adelaide

"Adelaide Blackmore, the gossip of all Povington. Growing up as the youngest of four children, with three full-grown and well-behaved sons, she was the worst thing that could have happened to her parents. Wild red hair that the maid had to style every day in vain. Her chemise dresses always had to be dark in color, as she didn't feel the need to avoid puddles or stay out of mud. The look in her dark eyes was penetrating, never receding. She grew up with three brothers, her whole childhood was spent fighting with the boys, so her noble mother couldn't expect her to grow up as a lady, not when she had to assert herself on a daily basis.

But Adelaide must be married, or her poor mother may never rest in peace. Enter Mr. Duncan Gilingham. A young man in his early 30s, he has just moved to Povington with his dear mother to find peace in the country. How nice, he was not married yet! But… oh dear, no wonder he is not married, the poor man was blind. How will Adelaide deal with this? Will she have pity on him, or is not even his blindness safe from her sharp tongue? How will she react when she finds in him a match for her rude nature, a man she thought incapable of taking care of himself?"

Romance/Drama

Foliè

You can read it directly here!

The latest chapter!

Dystopian/Fantasy/Psychological

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I am not a big rambler because I don't want to annoy anyone but I'm always open to questions or any sort of interactions. Also, i'm very tag game friendly!

Thank you for reading this far, I appreciate it! You are an amazing human being, don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

[eepyghost]

im putting it in a diff post just for easier access.

TITLE: what the ocean stole WORD COUNT: 1.7k DESCRIPTION: after finding arlin in the black sea, chip is forced to choose between saving him, or saving gillion. CW: major character death, the usual depictions of heart-wrenching grief that u see in j rune fics, strap in. credits to @lesbianchipbastard and @keysinthecouch for the pain they've caused /lh

Chip could see him. He’s everything he had remembered.

Arlin James stood before him like a personified memory, a body encapsulating everything warm, everything kind. His childhood memories had opened their arms to him, offering solace from a world that had been so cruel, and the solace came in the shape of a familiar Goliath. A Goliath that Chip had dreamt of seeing again since he was ten, since the ship he called home had been swallowed by the unforgiving mouth of the Black Sea. In a world that was barbaric, that was wretched, he still had the escape of imagining seeing Arlin again. 

It was selfish, he knew it, but there was always a deep-rooted part of him wondering why he was the only one on the ship without closure. Jay had Drey back. Gillion had lived to see his grandfather again. But Chip? He had a memory, a childhood figure that lingered in his memories like a spirit. 

But there Arlin stood, cloaked in darkness, but unmistakable.

His beard had grown out beyond a bit of whispy stubble, peppered in gray, but it was still Arlin.

His eyes, once lively and gentle, were painted with darkness from the lack of sleep. But it was still Arlin.

He’d changed. He’d grown. The years had gone by. But god dammit, it was still Arlin.

But it wasn’t that simple. 

Why could it never be so simple? Why had the world insisted on ripping everything kind from him?

Chip wondered, vaguely, if he was meant to be another ghost, lost to the ocean’s arms.

**

It’s like he’s waving in and out of consciousness. 

He tastes blood. He thinks it’s his own. When had he bitten down on his tongue? What words did he have to swallow back?

He hears it. A command. A bellow from a voice he does not recognize. Both Arlin and Gillion stood before him, grappled.

It’s your choice, pirate. Your past, or your present.

One must go. One will return to the surface.

Chip couldn’t feel his own face.

**

Chip had once dreamed of the world where Arlin would join them on the ship, a part of the crew. His crew. Their crew. The dream was so child-like in nature, like a piece of his younger self was still living in his ribcage, begging to be released one, final time. He would’ve showed Arlin everything. He would’ve told him every story, every adventure. I fought monsters. I defended my friends. Gillion tried to kill me once, too, can you believe that? I kissed him, too - Gods - I grew up, Arlin, but I carried you with me. The entire time. 

Everyone’s waiting for you, do you know that?

I was waiting for you.

He didn’t want to think of a world apart from Arlin ever again.

Gillion and Arlin were barely ten feet away, but they felt miles apart. Chip could taste the bitterness of their distance. He wants to reach forward. To touch. To prove.

He can’t.

**

If you had asked him this same question years ago - Gillion or Arlin? - he would’ve said Arlin without a moment’s hesitation. Before he’d ever thought of pulling the triton onto the ship. 

How long ago had that been? Chip could barely remember. The memory came in flashes of color, of feeling. The color of Gillion’s sea-kissed skin hitting the light of the afternoon sun. The sensation of his cool fingers intertwining with Chip’s. The moment of their eyes first meeting, deep brown meeting cerulean, the sea crashing into the shore. 

Jay had been so insistant on letting him go. He’d felt like a child, begging his mother to let him keep a stray cat he’d found, but both of them knew it was meant to be more than that. Gillion Tidestrider had left his mark on that ship the day he’d first set foot on the deck.

He would’ve been alright, living in a world where it was just the three of them. 

He would never be so lucky.

**

The past or the present.

One will remain.

Chip could practically taste the guilt that rose in his throat like burning hot bile. It rises from his chest, fogs up his mind, blurs his eyes with unshed tears. A captain doesn’t cry in front of his crew, but Chip wasn’t confident that he wasn’t about to shatter. 

Past or present.

He’s meant to choose.

Instead, with a broken, trembling whisper, Chip shakes his head.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he hears Jay screaming. He wishes he had the voice to apologize to her.

I’m sorry, Sureshot. I know you’ll be more of a captain than I could’ve been.

I know you’ll rip this ocean the fuck apart. I know you’ll lead with the same fire you live with. I know you’ll be the most revered pirate this side of the Black Sea.

And I hope you forget about me. For your sake. For their sake.

For my sake. If you’ll let me be selfish, one last time.

**

When Chip came to again, he’s left to the mercy of the darkness.

There’s a body beside him. Breathing shallow. Hitching, desperate tears. Teal skin. Webbed fingers, holding onto his legs, curled up like a frightened child.

He recognized the sound, and found himself reaching forward, skin meeting skin. Gillion sat beside him. 

“Gillion-?”

No. No. It wasn’t meant to be like this. He’d given up his own life for two others. Gillion was meant to go and do what he always did - fight. Live. Thrive. He was meant to live decades on. But he sat beside Chip in a trembling heap.

It clicks all at once. 

Chip wants to throw up.

“No, no, no-” he hurries to his knees, reaching for Gillion, blindly groping towards a shadow. “You aren’t supposed to be here - where’s Jay? You need to be with Jay, what the fuck are you thinking? I made my choice!”

There’s a piece of him that wishes he had the ability to ignite that same anger from months ago, the same anger that drove Gillion to press a sword against his throat, surrounded by an arena of ice. That anger would be strong enough to separate them. That anger would be enough to taint Gillion’s memory of Chip, to keep the grief from soaking into his bones.

Gillion inhaled. His breath shook. Chip no longer knew if it was from the pain or from tears - he couldn’t see.

“And I made my choice alongside you,” he replied. “I would rather die beside you than simply die knowing you.”

“But-”

“No.” He speaks with such certainty. A martyr, dying the way he was meant to. 

“You could have lived, you could’ve done so much-”

“Not without you by my side.”

“-you could’ve settled down when you were older, you could’ve forgotten about me-”

“Forgotten about you?” It’s the one phrase that shakes Gillion to his core. “You think I could have forgotten about you?”

There’s no filter left for him to use. He spills it all like he’s bleeding himself dry.

“I was already dead,” he says, “I - I was just another captain, you and Jay - fuck, you would’ve been so much better off without me. What the fuck was I going to do in a few years? I don’t have anything-”

If he could see Gillion’s face, he’d see the budding tears. The tightness of his jaw. Shedding the same tears that flowed heavy down Chip’s face. Chip heaved a sob. The air felt too thick for him to properly choke down.

If he could see Gillion’s face, he’d see the way he watched Chip with solumness. Heartbreak.

But never pity.

“You were everything, Chip,” Gillion said, as he reached a hand out and intertwined their fingers together in the dark. “And I will die blessed to know you and to love you.”

Chip doesn’t know which word lingers longer. Was seemed to leave the same handprint on his soul that Love did.

Like he was already gone. Like the love they shared was already in the distant past.

Perhaps he was made to rot the same way he lived; lingering with overwhelming, soul-encapsulating love.

**

Jay Ferin would spend her life in the open sea, leading a crew all older than her. In the back of her mind, there would always be the need to find the final resting place of her two closest companions. Two bodies lost to time, lost to the sea. She hopes death is merciful. That the afterlife, if there may be one, is kinder than the world they once resided in.

She doesn’t have the same hope that Chip once did for Arlin. 

Arlin. 

She’s so certain he would’ve been such a kindhearted man, a joy to be around, if she’d met him under different circumstances. He’d lived his life wracked with guilt, stuck in a memory of a son he never truly got to reunite with.

If the crew ever returned to Zero, if they ever met Ollie again, she knew he would ask where the other two were. He’d ask in the same, gentle way that he always had. Miss Jay, where did the others go? Are Chip and Gillion coming over on a different boat? That’s so cool!

She wouldn’t know how to tell him otherwise.

And lord - Lizzie. The way her face had fallen so knowingly when she’d seen them. A crew with two missing. Perhaps working with Chip had given her some semblance of hope, and death had done what it always did: ripped it away.

She didn’t even want to think about meeting Edyn again. That day would come. She’d see the empty space where Gillion Tidestrider had once been, and she would see the ghost of a martyr.

She’d sleep beside Chip’s old jacket and Gillion’s sword until then. And she’d whisper to the stars, as if they were there to respond to her. As if they were standing beside Ava in the night sky. As if they were all drinking on the deck again, dreaming of another world. Another adventure. Another Riptide Pirate’s promise.

She’d fuck shit up for as long as she could. But it wasn’t with them.

[tobiasdrake]

Great, now I have my old unwritten and extremely derivative novels on the brain and the construction outside is making work on Digimon impossible so I'm just going to ramble about things I came up with when I was about 10-15 years old and never wrote here.

So, the basic idea I had was that this wouldn't be the story of any one particular character but rather the story of a world. Like Marvel, one of my many many inspirations, I wanted it to feel like a sandbox that countless interesting lives could exist within.

The basic idea of the world was this. Eons ago, there was a great red dragon and a great white dragon. I don't know why I picked those colors. The two dragons fought each other for control over the Earth. Whichever dragon won, the races they governed would supremely rule the entire world.

The red dragon won and banished the white dragon and its chosen races from the Earth, condemning them to live in a dying world with scarce resources.

This was supposed to be a perspective thing. The people who know the ancient lore would describe it as the red dragon saving us from wicked creatures, but in the world of the "demons" as we call them, they describe it as a great evil that was done to them by a cruel usurper. Neither dragon is actually good; This was just politics. Two feudal kings wanting to claim each other's land, with a winning and losing side writing their own histories.

The red dragon, upon banishing the white dragon and the demons from the Earth, fell into a great slumber in its domain outside of reality. The humans built a great temple there accessible from a thousand secret doors in a thousand places across the planet. There a secret society worships the red dragon to this day and keeps the red dragon's idea of peace by hunting and slaying demons who cross the barrier into our world.

I originally conceived of the "Hunters" running around using swords and axes but later redesigned them to be a modernized military force with tactical gear and guns. This is because I realized it'd be silly for a secret society of monster fighters to not update their arsenals as weapons technology evolved.

There are also vampires, who are basically the middle ground between human and demon. Too human to fit in among demons and too demon to be accepted by the "Hunters".

My vampire rules were that vampires are super strong and fast, they regenerate from injuries, they never age, and also they each have special powers. They drink blood because of a biological need; They'll waste away without it. Any kind of water burns them, the sun takes away their powers but doesn't directly harm them, and being impaled through the heart paralyzes but doesn't kill them. They can be killed by decapitation, fire, or by being completely submerged in water.

There were also four eight Elemental spirits because I wanted there to be more than four so I made up four extra elements. The eight "Guardians" are the protectors of the Dragon Temple and have a sacred duty, but it's been eons since they were called to that duty and they've all just sort of flitted off.

Each of the Guardians has a Final Fantasy crystal embedded in their heart, basically parasitizing the human it's implanted in and merging their identity with the persistent ongoing identity of the Guardian. You take in the crystal of "Blaze", the Fire Guardian, and basically merge with the Blaze lineage, acquiring eons of memories and knowledge from everyone who's ever been Blaze before.

The idea was that the eight Guardians would rarely show up together in a story but any one of them might crop up somewhere. The Lightning Guardian is a mercenary who does paid jobs for demons. The Water Guardian is literally the Lady in the Lake and safeguards the holy sword Excalibur, forged from a fang of the red dragon. The Fire Crystal gets experimented on by Not Umbrella Corporation "Biodyne". Etc. etc.

To open the door to the inner sanctum of the temple where the red dragon sleeps, the eight of them must come together and combine their powers. But there hasn't been a reason to do that in over a thousand years and they aren't just gonna hang around the temple forever. They have lives to lead.

Over on the other side of the barrier, there are many races under the white dragon who are colloquially called "demons" by humans. They have their own societies in a decaying and dying world, though much of their culture is simply built around survival.

Over time, the barrier between worlds grew weaker, and the demons have started to cross over more and more. Though many are refugees just looking for a better world to live in or to escape political persecution, whether the Hunters distinguish between them and genuinely dangerous demons is a crapshoot, often up to the individual.

The demons are governed by meritocratic aristocracies united under the guidance of a Lord. The aristocracies have wealth and privileges above the common serfs, but also a culture that allows leaders to be directly challenged by their underlings. If one of your workers can prove that they can do your job better than you can then they can lay legal claim to your throne.

On paper, anyway. But they're also a rigid society whose current leadership polices their followers through dogma. The Demon Lord throne is presently occupied by a medieval human warrior king banished from his lands by Plot whose policies discourage his followers from independent thought.

Under the present Demon Lord's dominion, groupthink is rigidly enforced, and individuals who speak against the common good - as he defines it - receive Outcast brands over their left eye to identify them as having lost all citizenship rights and protections.

This is pretty much a complete violation of the spirit of the meritocratic culture that he usurped. A fact that has not been lost on recurring character and Token Friendly Demon Leminice (pronounced Leh-minn-iss), who was the prince of a noble house until he was branded Outcast for educating himself on forbidden ideologies.

Leminice and his human bestie, a Hunter named Electra, were basically going to be set up to be the Agent Coulson of the series. They would appear in supporting roles for many of the stories, not as the main characters but as part of the overarching mythos being built from one seemingly unrelated story to the next.

There were a lot of complicated ideas swirling in my head for this universe and the many, many characters I created to live in it. But it was all hamstrung by the fact that I grew up on action cartoons and battle anime, and didn't know of any way to tell a story other than "And then they FIGHT."

So the actual story wound up full of stuff like "And then the Demon King personally comes to San Francisco to invade it, and the hero beats him in a swordfight and saves the world! And everyone immediately stops fighting when he dies because I guess he was a loadbearing boss."

I never could figure out how to make it work as a series of novels, especially since my brain is more configured to think in terms of TV and film than in text anyway so a lot of my ideas had specific camera angles and stuff that I couldn't figure out how to translate into words.

Multiple attempts to start were made, but they all inevitably petered out. I'm just not equipped to be a writer. So eventually it was all just left behind.

[marshmallowprotection]

The ending of Saeran'AE would have been better if Saeyoung had beaten the PM to death with MC cheering him on in the corner (With detailed CG included and Saejoong screaming).

...Nah, let them join in too, Go for it! 👊🏻 hahaha.

Oh, that's absolutely what happened in the hospital and I think the only reason Vanderwood was with Saeyoung was to make sure that he didn't bludgeon Saejoong Choi to death. I'm certain many folks in that hospital turned a blind eye for sixty seconds.

I do not doubt what happened that day as soon as the Prime Minister left the room with Saeran and MC. I do not doubt how fast he was hit and taken down. Those facts are clear-cut in my mind. I... will say one thing, though, he willingly walked into the hospital hallway knowing that his son was going to beat the ever-loving fuck out of him. 

Don't get me wrong, Saejoong Choi is a piece of shit and deserves no praise for the bare minimum he owes his sons. But, he spent hours in Saeran's hospital room and we don't know what they talked about. I'll place a bet on Saeran scolding his father and telling him that if there is any remorse in his heart whatsoever, then he needs to do the right thing for Saeyoung and let Saeyoung be the one to not only take him down, but accept whatever punishment Saeyoung wants to dish out before that happens.

Saeran knows Saeyoung has a different view in life. His brother does not need to forgive their father, that's not what he needs to find any peace in his heart. Saeran forgave his father to learn how to forgive himself for what happened in Mint Eye... and Saeyoung deserves to hold onto his hate because it's not hurting him or anyone else (who doesn't deserve it, anyway).

He might not have had the opportunity to be with his brother since they were little kids, but if he knows anything about his brother? It’s that Saeyoung has always been just as afraid as he was. Saeyoung spent years… trying to be brave… trying to be strong… trying to be the adult he and Saeran needed because their parents were never going to do that for them.

Saeyoung has felt powerless his entire life, and Saeran knows his brother would never admit it.

I feel like that's why he pretended to be asleep for as long as he did in his hospital room. It wasn't about feeling strange around his brother after being separated for so long, nor was it just about the fact that they had different perspectives on life.

On that day, his procrastination to speak with his brother face to face wasn't about himself. It was about making sure his brother had the opportunity to reclaim his power. 

No longer will Saeyoung choke on fear, that’s what Saeran thinks. My brother won't have to be afraid anymore. My brother won't have to go out of his way to do everything he can to make sure we stay alive. My brother can take down the monster who has terrified us since we were kids, and in this way, he can finally have the life he deserves. My brother might want me to live a life where I have everything I could ever dream of, but I want him to have the same thing, and for him to have that, he needs to be the one to take down our dad. 

He knew what his brother needed more than anything. Saeyoung needed to put away their father with his own hands. He needed the chance to make sure that monster would never come after him or his father ever again. He needed to know that he would never have to be afraid ever again. There is no way for him to feel that way unless he is the one who personally makes sure his father can never see the light of day again.

Saeran fought to give Saeyoung what he needed by standing up to their father who came crawling back in the hospital to talk to Saeran after the day on the lake. I will never ever imagine that very scene any other way.

Saejoong didn't turn over a new leaf because Saeran gave him some understanding instead of hatred, and he says that himself. That man knew he would go to prison forever, but decided to face his sons one final time... for reasons we'll never know. I think he knew he was in a corner and it was only a matter of time until people took him in and he rotted away forever. But, we'll never know why he choose to face his illegitimate sons.

We will never know what was going on in that man's head. But, at least the very last thing he did for his sons was stand there and take everything they had to give. That is the least he could give them and God knows they deserve more... they deserve so much better than... than that man. But, hey, he laid there and let Saeyoung beat the shit out of him until he was bloody and bruised.

Saeran is the one who told his father to do it.

And, for whatever reason, Saejoong Choi let Saeyoung absolutely beat the shit out of him.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

OC in 15: Kira Sato

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

thx for the tag!!! @topaz-carbuncle

YOOO THE WAY I GOT SO EXCITED TO DUST OFF MY OC

anyway, i screwed around with the raildex universe and created an oc based off that. unfortunately none of this is published because i basically rewrote the entire thing to the point that it's like in a place where it's not original fiction but also not *quite* fanfiction anymore

1) “How does it feel, hmm? To have someone wrap their fist around your heart? Don’t be prepared to dish out pain unless you’re willing to receive it.” Upon seeing his lack of a response, she slightly tilted her head. “I wasn’t able to do Blood Flow before. You and your ‘sensei’ knew that better than anyone, but ever since you attacked me, I’ve only been able to control one medium at a time. Man, I was pissed, but it turns out I have more control if I’m only controlling one. I was never able to do this before, but now thanks to you, I can. Do you understand what’s about to come next?” 

2) “I’m killing again for the sake of this power.” Now that they were dead, the grief returned. She leaned back against a wall, sliding down, her head buried in her hands. “The only way to repay them is to perfect my power. I need to get stronger so I can protect them. Yes, that’s the only way to make sure they didn’t die in vain.”

3) “Oh? So you were wanting to kill me. I should kill you a million times for that, you know!” she yelled out as she squeezed down on her neck. “My abilities let me heal, you fucking idiot. If you’re gonna try to kill me, you gotta make sure you finish the job.”

4) “I really did expect just a little bit more of a challenge from you. The times that I’ve fought next to you were quite amazing. Really, they were. It’s amazing how befuddled people get when they realize that your right hand can cancel out abilities. The only thing with me is that I know how to counter that right hand of yours. After you take that out of the equation, what else do you have left? What else can you do?” Kira gave him a gentle smile. “You made a good effort. You made a really good effort. So it’s about time you had a rest!”

5) “I’m not the type of person that saves people.”

6) “I’m not a good person,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you, I-”

7) “We’ve played this song and dance before and to be honest, your track record isn’t working in your favor. The only way you’re getting out of this is to tell me where she is and maybe, just maybe, I’ll kill you quickly.” 

8) “If I have to forget who I am to save her, I will,” Kira said with an empty look in her eyes.

9) "...monster I was always meant to be. That's right. Kihara Kenkyuu had always said that something was special about me. Takaki Yoshi said that my abilities were different. Maybe I really am a monster."

10) "Do you want to live or die? It’s your choice. That damned Kihara Seigo might have made it so that I can’t control who the hell I kill when I touch them, but that’s a different case with you, isn’t it?” Kira currently held up one of the Hound Dog lackeys that was unfortunate enough to have gotten separated from the rest.

11) “Do you ever shut up?” spat out Kira to silence the man. She grabbed the piece of steel stabbing into the man. “What a pain in the ass. Just asking me to kill you is too vague. I’ll move this thing around to tear your insides to pieces if you keep going down this route.”

12) “Do you really think there is any path left that will save you? After living in this world, trampling on so many people, and making enemies of me and that bastard Kihara Seigo, do you really think you can still live a happy life? That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re utter trash. How many people have you killed?” 

13) “Oh? Then you need a hospital,” continued the Level 5 with a grin. “Of course, I could heal you, but-” Kira shrugged and then looked towards him with scorn. “You idiots took that control away from me. So it looks like there’s no salvation for you here, but you won’t die. Not this easily. I’ll make sure your suffering lasts. Keep living on that hopeless path of life so I can relieve some stress.”

14) “Sorry about that,” Kira said with an uninterested look on her face. “I swore to a certain someone that I wouldn’t be participating in this shit anymore, but it looks like I fucked up.” A laugh leaked out. “You see, if I had my abilities, I probably could have ‘adjusted’ the trajectory of the shell so that it would’ve landed in your leg and removed your ability to walk temporarily or something like that. But oh wait,” Kira looked at the woman with a mocking expression. “You fucks took that away. Karma really is a bitch, you know.”

15) “Sorry,” apologized Kira while cutting her off. “I may be trying to walk on the path of good now, but you lot really pissed me off. I just can’t rest peacefully without finishing the job.”

tagging writer moots :3 (sorry if you don't have oc's or reader lines to use ksjdflskdjf): @chaotic-on-main @leviismybby @lucysarah-c @jayteacups @the-traveling-poet @sixpennydame @flametrashira @kingkonoha @wyvernslovecake @peachdues @postwarlevi + anyone else that wants to show off their oc's!

[thetravelerwrites]

Sheb and Meetak (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: FTM Goblin/FTM Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Goblin, Minotaur, Transgender Characters, Transgender Monsters, Puppy Love, Orphans, Sex, Oral Sex Series: Shelter Forest - The Towns Words: 4,824

The story for @tiny-werebear​ continues! After the two boys finally confirm their feelings, a new problem tears them apart, possibly for a very long time. Please reblog and leave feedback!

Medieval Monsters: The Towns (Beyond Shelter Forest)

Despite having lived in the city for several years before going to train in the country, Sheb and Meetak had never actually been to the arena. Fighting in general wasn’t to Meetak’s taste, and Sheb felt demoralized by watching professional fighters excel in the ring while struggling to even qualify in the knight’s competition, so the pair had never felt the desire to set foot inside.

Now, however, with retired champion Sheng at his back, Sheb walked into the ring with wonder in his eyes. Meetak and Mrs. Tillman had declined to accompany them and instead went straight to the city house to get Chen and Chu-Hua settled and begin the arduous task of preparing for the new school year. 

It was one of the few off-days and there were no fights scheduled, so many of the fighters were training individually or sparring with each other informally. Many of them stopped for a moment to salute Sheng or yell out greetings, which Sheng returned. Sheb looked around at the other fighters with an open, unguarded look of excitement. 

“Now,” Sheng said, bending to put a hand on Sheb’s shoulder. “You know why we’re here?” 

“To take my training to the next level?” Sheb said. 

“That, and to make a name for yourself,” Sheng said. “It’ll be far easier to make the cut when everyone knows your name, and the best way to do that is to show the entire city that your skill is undeniable. This place is designed to do just that. It’s sad to say, but the tournament is as much a popularity contest as it is a competition.” 

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that,” Sheb said darkly, recalling his many defeats. “Did you train knights as well as pit fighters?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Sheng replied. “Half of the younger fighters leave the arena to join the knight’s corps after gaining fame and recognition in the ring. Although, I will say, pit fighters are trained to be showy with their maneuvers, drawing a fight out to make it entertaining, whereas knights are trained to defend and kill quickly, since showboating on the battlefield could swiftly be the end of them. The styles are completely different, but a fighter can benefit from experiencing both.”

“Were you ever a knight, sir?” Sheb asked curiously. 

“No, no, I’ve always been a pit fighter from the beginning to the end. Sometimes, though, when the crown is in dire need of swords to repel an enemy or invasion, they’ll hire pit fighters as mercenaries to pad out their fighting force’s numbers. I fought in two such events.”

“Whoa!” Sheb breathed. “That’s amazing!” 

Sheng shrugged. “I much preferred the pits. Killing folks who didn’t even know what they were fighting for didn’t suit me at all.” Sheng cleared his throat and looked at Sheb sheepishly. “Not that I’m saying anything bad about the knights, of course, they do a necessary job. It’s just not something I’m built for, is all I meant.” 

Sheb nodded sagely. “I understand.” 

“Now, today I’ll be introducing you to some of the fighters here. Some of them have agreed to teach you a few tricks, and some of the others will be potential opponents. For the next few weeks, you and I will watch some of the fights, paying attention to the fighters’ movements and footwork. Got that, son?” 

Sheb nodded, his long ears flapping. 

“There’s someone in particular that I want to introduce you to,” Sheng said, looking through the fighters and gave an unintelligible shout, motioning at someone to come over. “I think you can learn a lot from her.” 

Trotting over toward the pair was a kobold with shining red scales that glittered in the sunlight, scattering motes of light on the ground around her as she moved. She was barely taller than Sheb and was much skinnier, and that was certainly saying something since Sheb was as lean as a whip. Her large, wide, emerald green eyes took up half of her face, and she had two pairs of ivory horns jutting up from her head. She wore only simple-cut training trousers made of muslin and no top, but since reptilian races did not possess mammary glands, wearing tops wasn't necessary.

“Tokai!” Sheng said, opening his arms. The small kobold launched her tiny body at Sheng, and he gave her a bone-crushing hug. “How have you been? Whipping the lads into shape?”

She laughed heartily as well, her voice deeper than Sheb would have assumed based on her size. “Of course! Just like you taught me, old man!”

“Good, good!” Sheng put the woman back on her three-taloned feet and introduced Sheb. “This is my protege, Sheb. Sheb, this is a youngun’ I trained before I retired, Tokai.” 

“Ah, yes, is this the lad you wrote to me about, right?” Tokai said, looking Sheb up and down appraisingly. “He seems fit. Your training still seems effective, despite being retired.”

“I’m still a professional,” Sheng said in mock offense. 

Tokai held out her hand, which consisted of only two fingers and a thumb, for Sheb to shake. “Nice to meet you, hatchling.” 

Sheb took her hand in both of his and shook it vigorously. “A pleasure, ma’am.” 

“Tokai is a vicious fighter,” Sheng said. “Her specialty is taking down opponents even bigger than me. She’s knocked the stuffing out of me on several occasions.” 

“Really?!” Sheb exclaimed, staring at Tokai in awe.

Tokai laughed. “Yeah, it’s no sweat. I’ve taken down bigger fish than this lug.” She smacked Sheng’s belly with the back of her hand, something that both mortified and fascinated Sheb.

“How did you do it?” Sheb asked in astonishment.

“That’s why you’re here, eh? I’m going to teach you how. Ready to get started?” 

“I came here ready!” Sheb replied with excitement.

“Hold your horses, you two,” Sheng said, prying the two of them apart. “We’re only here to observe for now. Basic training only until I say otherwise.” 

Both of the shorter fighters groaned in disappointment in much the same way, deflating.

“Can I at least train with Tokai during my basic exercises?” Sheb pleaded.

“Oho, I see how it is,” Sheng said. “Replacing me, are you?”

“No, no, I just–” Sheb stuttered. 

“He’s just teasing you, kid,” Tokai said, chuckling, and turned to address Sheng. “My goodness, he’s earnest, isn’t he?” 

Sheng nodded and laughed. “He’s much like you were when you started.” 

“Hopefully less foolhardy,” Tokai replied. 

They set about doing basic exercises, and Tokai corrected a few of Sheb’s habits that Sheng couldn’t given their differences in size, since what works for a big fellow couldn’t possibly be effective for a small fellow, but there’s no way for the big fellow to know that. Tokai then started showing Sheb a few evasion tactics while Sheng watched the pair of them proudly. By the end of the day, Sheb had dropped some bad habits and picked up some good ones, and the two small fighters walked away with high hopes for the next day. 

Sheng walked back home with Sheb riding on his shoulder to the middle ring of the city, which was the nice-ish neighborhood for the kind-of-rich-but-not-wealthy types, a category into which Sheng and Mrs. Tillman squarely fell. Sheng had saved an extraordinary amount during his pit fighting days, and according to Meetak, Mrs. Tillman had amassed a small fortune during a few years of working trade routes on the sea and maybe a little bit of piracy, though Sheb wasn’t sure he believed the second part.

“So, we’ll actually get to watch bouts tomorrow, right?” Sheb asked, bouncing around. 

“Oi, sit still, minnow!” Sheng said, poking him. “Yes, we’ll be at the arena bright and early tomorrow.” 

“I’m excited,” Sheb said.

“I can tell,” Sheng replied. He picked up Sheb by the scruff and put him back on his feet as they walked up to a nice single-level terraced house with a red roof and a small-but-well-kept herb and vegetable garden surrounding it. “But temper your expectations, lad. We won’t be there the whole day; tomorrow afternoon is when this week’s round of death matches are lined up, and I’m not exposing you to that mess. My missus is working on legislation to have those banned, but there’s been a lot of pushback from wealthy higher-ups who enjoy that sort of thing.”

Sheb had heard some horror stories about the death matches: even people who survived weren’t the same afterward and the money they earned did little to assuage their guilt. Sheb shuddered. 

“Will I get to see Tokai fight?” Sheb asked eagerly.

“Oh, yeah,” Sheng said. “She’s currently the top of her weight class, so she’ll fight the bulk of the featherweight bouts. The only way you’d avoid a fight with her is if she lost three bouts in a row and was pulled from the rotation, and that’s not possible.”

“Awesome,” Sheb said.

Sheng opened the door and walked into the antechamber, whistling. A small brindle-colored dog skipped from around the corner and yapped at Sheng’s heels. Sheng bent and scooped up the dog, holding it like a baby. 

“Sheng, is that you?” Mrs Tillman called as the two of them came into the main chamber. She came into view with Chu-Hua on her hip.

The main chamber was made up of a kitchen, dining table, and a small sitting area. On either side of the main chamber were two doors, one of which was the family’s bedchamber and the other was a library and office space, where Sheb and Meetak would be sleeping. The fact that their house was made of wood and had more than a single room was a testament to their status: peasants in the country, if they weren’t renting from someone who owned land, had single-room huts made of mud and straw. Peasants in the city typically rented a single room in a dormitory-style building. Sometimes a family of six or more would be crammed into a ten-by-ten foot room. Having any sort of structure that someone personally owned with more than a single room was highly unusual for peasants, especially in a city as overcrowded as Dunmountain.

A maid hired to work while the small family was in the city, another symbol of their wealth, bustled behind Mrs. Tillman, laying out the evening meal onto the large table. 

“Welcome home, my love,” Mrs. Tillman said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Sheng’s cheek, who still had to bend down a bit for her to do it. He took a giggling Chu-Hua from her arms and kissed her little chubby cheeks. 

“Thank you. Where’s Chen?” 

“He’s in the garden, asleep. He climbed up and down the oak for about two hours before knocking out.”

“Sounds about right,” Sheng said, nodding. “Meetak out there with him?” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Tillman said. “He’s a good helper. Sheb, will you go and fetch the lads for dinner?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Sheb said, darting out of the door just off the kitchen. 

Meetak was indeed under the large oak in the back garden, weaving grass rings with Chen sleeping starfished next to him. He looked up as Sheb trotted toward him. 

“Oh, hey!” He said, brushing the grass out of his lap. “How was your first day at the arena?” 

“Great!” Sheb said, poking Chen’s bare tummy to wake him. “I met one of Sheng’s old students! She’s amazing! She’s almost smaller than me and she can take down big guys like Sheng! I can’t wait to start training with her.” 

“I think I’ve heard her name in passing,” Meetak said, standing as Chen ran for the kitchen door on all fours. “Is she really good?” 

“I haven’t seen her fight yet, but she did my basic exercises with me, and I can already tell she’s incredible. She showed me some things that even Sheng doesn’t know, because he’s too big to do them.” 

“That sounds really promising,” Meetak said. “Hopefully you’ll learn a lot from her.” 

“I’m sure I will,” Sheb said, running ahead. “I really like her.” 

Sheb couldn’t help but notice that Meetak’s face went a little blank, and a frown set his eyebrows downward momentarily.

“What’s the matter?” Sheb asked.

Meetak shook his shaggy head and smiled, standing up and dusting off his hands. “It’s nothing. Let’s go get cleaned up to eat.”

Six months passed in the blink of an eye. Sheb, now eighteen, had gained exceptional techniques by training with Tokai, and today would be his first bout in front of paying spectators. He was starting small: he would be fighting amateur people from the common populace in his weight class who had paid to compete, betting on their victory. If they won, they would earn double their bets, but if Sheb won, he would keep the money they paid, with a fifty percent cut taken out for the arena. 

There was extra pressure to succeed on that fact alone. If he got too deep into debt to the arena, he would become an indentured fighter and wouldn’t be able to leave. It was a gamble, but it was the only way.

Meetak had decided to come out to watch Sheb’s bouts. It was the first time he’d ever set foot inside the arena, and though it wasn’t his taste, he wanted to be supportive of Sheb. Meetak knew Sheb couldn’t see him in the stands from where he was in the ring, but Sheb had told Meetak before going to the holding area that knowing he was there was really comforting.

His first bout was between Sheb and a human man; short, middle-aged, and unhealthily skinny. He seemed like a person who had once been quite strong but had lost all his strength for whatever reason, perhaps through a long disease or simple mismanagement of his lifestyle. He carried himself with the countenance of a far larger man, as perhaps he may have once been, swaggering and smirking snidely. It was this false bravado that made Sheb’s instant defeat of him that much more satisfying.

The next fight was with another goblin, one who was a bit older than Sheb and seemed quite drunk, perhaps put up to the fight by his friends, who were in the stands loudly cheering him on. Sheb smirked slightly, recognizing an easy win, and dispatched this one as quickly as the last. 

“Why are they only letting him fight those people?” Meetak asked Sheng. “They’re not exactly a challenge. I could knock those fellows out.”

“‘Flogging the fools,’” Sheng said. “That’s what we call these bouts. It’s an easy way to gain notoriety, and it’s completely fine to finish these quickly and without much showmanship, since a new fool will show up right away to replace the old one. There’s honestly no end to the stooges who’ll show up with no prior training, trying to win some money. The ones you see in the ring are only a tenth of the ones who show up. We have to weed out the ones who are sick or being coerced, otherwise there could be a huge legal mess. As much as people like the death matches, it’s another thing entirely for some kids to watch their grandpa get stomped to death.” 

“So the ones Sheb is fighting are the ones who make it through?”

Sheng nodded. “Since Sheb still ranks as an amateur, fool bouts are all he’s qualified to fight, but if he’s undefeated by the end of the week, he’ll move into the official line-up as an amateur champion. He’ll be somewhere between amateur and professional, which is right where he needs to be if he wants to be a knight. Going pro would be detrimental to his plans.” 

“Why?”

“The knight’s order rarely takes on squires who were professional ring fighters. By professional I don’t mean their reputation, I mean it’s how they make most of their money. I’m not sure why that’s the case, but it was a law that was passed a few decades ago. It’s probably because of money. Most laws exist because of money, in some way or another.” 

“Huh,” Meetak said. “I didn’t realize the ring hierarchy is so complicated.” 

“Ah, yes,” Sheng mused. “And it changes constantly. Whoever’s the champion today may not be the champion tomorrow.”

“Weren’t you the champion of your weight class for decades, though?” 

Sheng grinned. “I was a special case.” 

Sheb won another seven fights against the “fools,” as Sheng had referred to them, before exiting the ring for the next weight class. By the end of his bouts, it was clear even to Meetak’s untrained eye that Sheb was in a far higher league than any of the people he’d fought that day, so much so that it seemed asinine to make him wait a full week before moving up the ranks. 

Even still, the next week played out in the exact same way, and when it was announced that Sheb had been moved into the champion’s line up, it was a huge triumph. When Sheb heard it, he jumped into Tokai’s arms, joyfully hugging her tight. 

Meetak felt a sudden cold sting of jealousy wash over his neck and shoulders from where he sat in the stands, watching. He was sure Sheb meant it innocently; he had always been a bubbly, enthusiastic person. But still… it bothered Meetak. 

It didn’t help that Sheb talked about Tokai constantly, to the point that Meetak was sick of hearing about her. Meetak had met her briefly before, and she seemed like a perfectly decent person, but… Meetak couldn’t bring himself to like her. He knew it was petty jealousy, but it didn’t change anything. 

It also didn’t help that since Sheb’s transition to being completely physically male, they hadn’t explored their feelings for each other any further, putting anything related to their relationship on hold so that Sheb could focus on training. Meetak didn’t want to be selfish and insist that Sheb define their relationship formally, since he was so close to achieving his goal, but… they were both adults now, and what Meetak felt for Sheb was more than just teenage infatuation. He was genuinely in love with Sheb. 

And now this other person was in the way, and it just made Meetak anxious and insecure. It felt like Sheb was getting farther and farther away from Meetak, and he didn’t know what to do to stop it, if he even could, and Meetak felt as though Tokai was his biggest obstacle.

The night Sheb was accepted into the champion’s line-up, Meetak and the family had a congratulatory dinner in Sheb’s honor, where Sheb’s favorite food, fire-roasted trout, was served with a variety of vegetables and some rare dried fruits. After the dinner, Sheb decided to turn in early, since he’d be starting in the champion bouts the following morning. Meetak followed him.

“I actually get to fight Tokai in the ring tomorrow!” Sheb said, instantly putting Meetak on edge. “I know I won’t win against her yet, but she says it’s only a matter of time before I surpass her!” 

“Oh, well, if that's what Tokai says,” Meetak said sarcastically before he could stop himself.

Sheb narrowed his eyes at Meetak. “What’s your problem? I thought you liked Tokai.” 

Meetak sighed. “Do you… like Tokai?” 

“Well, yeah,” Sheb said, confused. “She’s a great fighter, I’m learning a lot from her.” 

“No,” Meetak said, scrubbing his face. “I mean, do you like her? Are you attracted to her?”

Sheb’s mouth dropped open and he didn’t answer for a full minute. 

“So you do?” Meetak asked, defeated. 

“No!” Sheb insisted, jumping to his feet and launching himself at Meetak. “I don’t like her like that! I love you!” 

“You promise?” Meetak asked, squeezing him tight. “You really do love me?”

“Of course! I told you I did!” Sheb pulled back and looked at Meetak with a grin. “Are you jealous?” 

Meetak frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.” 

“I’m not! I’m happy! You never said anything after I became male, so I thought you didn’t like me anymore now that my body was different!” 

“What?” Meetak said, aghast. “That’s not true at all! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Sheb admitted shyly. “I was scared you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“That’s nonsense! Everything I’ve done, I did for you! Honestly, I’ve been really curious about it,” Meetak said, blushing under his fur. “Your new body, I mean. I’ve wanted to… see it… and… touch it… I’ve wondered… if… touching it feels good. If you’d like it if I touched it.”

Sheb gulped and he leaned forward to kiss Meetak slowly, deeply, before pulling back and saying in a trembling voice, “You can touch it. If you want to.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.”

Meetak set Sheb back on his feet, and Sheb slowly began to undress, blushing furiously. Once done, Meetak could see his body fully, including the organ sitting half-hard in between his legs. Sheb was visibly shaking, and as Meetak lay his hand on Sheb’s flat, mildly muscled chest, raking his fingertips over his nipples, Sheb shuddered, his legs quivering. Meetak made slow progress downward, and Sheb’s cock continued to get bigger and harder. Finally, Meetak’s fingers brushed the base of the cock, and Sheb nearly dropped to his knees, gasping. 

“Did that feel bad?” Meetak asked, stopping but not removing his hand. 

“No,” Sheb breathed. “It was good. Really good.”

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

“Please. ”

Meetak closed his hand around Sheb’s cock, squeezing gently and slowly pumping it up and down, and Sheb moaned. Due to the height difference, it was a little awkward to reach down, even while Meetak was kneeling, so he picked Sheb up and sat him on the reading desk and sat at the chair. Now, he was able to see and feel better, though Sheb’s blush crept down his chest. 

Sheb’s cock wasn’t long at all; it fit into Meetak’s large hand completely with room to spare, but it was thick and bulbous in the middle, and it jumped in time with Sheb’s heartbeat, which was going pretty fast. The thought that Meetak wanted to taste it stuck in his mind and wouldn’t come out, so he bent his head and licked the tip, making Sheb yelp.

“What are you doing?!” Sheb screeched. 

“Did it feel bad?” 

Sheb huffed and considered it. “...no, but… isn’t it gross?”

“No,” Meetak said. “It feels nice.”

He leaned forward again and licked the shaft, making Sheb throw back his head and groan. After circling the head with his tongue, Meetak sucked Shebs member fully into his mouth. Sheb hissed and bucked against Meetak's mouth, grabbing his horns to steady himself. Meetak gripped Sheb’s hips and held him in place.

Sheb lay back on the desk with his legs dangling over the side, his head thumping slightly on the wood, allowing Meetak to do as he pleased, clearly enjoying it. His breathing was heavy and uneven, and he thrust upwards a little as Meetak continued to suck. 

“Meetak, stop, I’m–!” Sheb wheezed just as warm, thick fluid shot into Meetak’s mouth. Sheb moaned over and over until he was spent, and then laid limply on the desk. Meetak released Sheb’s cock from his mouth and wiped his lips. He lifted Sheb off of the desk and laid him back in his bedroll completely nude. After a moment, though, he sat up, looking at Meetak with misty eyes. 

“That was… really nice,” Sheb said. “I really enjoyed it. I’ve touched it a few times myself, but it didn’t feel as good as that. Do you… want me to… play with you?” 

Meetak shook his head. “I’m still… not alright with my own body just yet,” He said, shrugging. “I’m too self-conscious for it to feel good.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Meetak nodded. “It’s alright, really.” 

“If you say so,” Sheb said. “Wanna make out a little?” 

Meetak grinned. “Yeah.”

Another three months later, Sheb decided to enter the knight’s tournament. Sadly, the tryouts were not open to the public, so Meetak wasn’t able to watch, but he paced in front of the knight’s square gates, waiting for news. 

It seemed like it took all day, but eventually Sheb came out of the doors, looking beat up. 

“Well?” Meetak asked. 

“Meetak…” Sheb said, jumping up on Meetak and kissing him. “I made it!” 

“You did?!” Meetak squished Sheb against his body. “Congratulations! I knew you could!” He set Sheb back on his feet. “When do you start training?” 

“Tomorrow!” Sheb said excitedly. “I have to report bright and early to get my assigned knight and start work as a man-at-arms.” 

“I knew you could do it,” Meetak said, hoisting Sheb onto his shoulder. “Let’s go tell Sheng and Mrs. Tillman the good news!” 

There was a celebratory dinner that night, and Sheb and Meetak stayed up late, talking about the future. The next day, Sheb returned in the afternoon from being assigned far more subdued. 

“What is it?” Meetak asked in alarm. 

“Let’s… go to the library. I have to tell you something.” 

Feeling his blood run cold, Meetak followed Sheb to the library and closed the door behind him.

“What’s going on, Sheb?” 

“I’ve been assigned to a knight,” Sheb said, sighing. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Meetak asked. 

“The knight I’ve been assigned to isn’t stationed here. He’s at the kingdom capitol, Holdwater.” 

Meetak’s heart stopped, then sped up. “But… that’s months of travel away.”

“Yeah,” Sheb said shakily. “They’re sending me out in a week.”

“A week?!” Meetak yelped. “Why so soon?” 

“Actually, they wanted me to leave today, but I asked to have a week to say goodbyes.” 

“So…” Meetak felt like he couldn’t breathe. “You’re leaving?” 

Sheb looked at the ground for a moment, then looked up at Meetak. “Do you want me to stay? You’ve done so much for me, this is only possible because of you. But you’re my best friend and my lover, and I love you. If you tell me not to go, I’ll stay.” 

“You’ll stay and resent me,” Meetak said sourly. 

Sheb shook his head. “No, I always knew me becoming a knight was a long shot, so I was always sort of prepared to fail. The only reason I succeeded is because of you. I don’t want to lose you.” 

“Should I come with you?” Meetak asked. 

“You can’t,” Sheb replied. “You promised to be Mrs. Tillman’s assistant for helping me achieve my goal. You wouldn’t be happy coming with me knowing you didn’t fulfill your promise. You know that.” 

“I know,” Meetak said fretfully. 

“Do you want me to stay, Meetak?” Sheb asked. 

Meetak took a big, big breath and released it slowly. “No. You have to go. I have to stay. For both of us to have our dreams… we have to say goodbye.” 

Sheb pulled Meetak into a hug from where he was sitting on the desk. “I’ll always love you, Meetak. Always. And I’ll write you letters as often as I can. And it may not be forever.” 

Meetak frowned. To him, it certainly felt like this would be a long farewell.

The week passed by far too fast, and before Meetak knew it, Sheb was packed and ready to board the cart bound for Holdwater. Meetak squeezed Sheb tightly, willing himself not to cry. 

“You have to become a great knight, Sheb,” Meetak said, his voice unsteady. “You have to be known all across the country. So that I can tell everyone that that wonderful, brave knight is my very best friend.” 

“I will,” Sheb said, his face buried in Meetak’s neck. “I swear.” 

Sheng gabe Sheb a bone-crushing hug, and Mrs. Tillman kissed Sheb on the cheek. Meetak picked Sheb up, placed him on the cart, and took a step back. 

“Goodbye, Sheb.” 

Sheb’s returning smile was quivering and watery. 

“Goodbye, Meetak.” 

The coachman snapped the reins and the cart took off. Meetak stood there, staring down the road, long after Sheb left his sight.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[vesselmade]

alright let’s talk about it.

yuji has not said a word since choso’s passing. not a word. he’s completely and entirely alone now. everyone he’s ever loved or cared for is gone. people are still underestimating him and his unwavering spirit but . . . it’s getting to the point where he’s becoming someone completely different. he has nothing to live for. no one to see when this is all over. the only thing he’s fighting for at this point is megumi if his soul is still intact enough to even save.

and to top things off? he’s just seen the dead body of his sensei, the man who saved him from being executed, being used as a puppet. i believe he didn’t know about the plan so i can only imagine what’s going through his mind right now. because if he had been there when they came up with the plan it’s so obvious that he would’ve fought hard to stop it from happening so satoru could rest peacefully.

and it should be known that he’s currently seeing red. his heart is broken, he’s desperate for revenge against all that’s happened to him . . . it’s not that he doesn’t want to save megumi but he’s so blinded by rage now that he was ready to shred sukuna apart and tear his heart out just to finish this.

he’s got nothing to lose now. i wouldn’t be surprised if he became a monster in order to destroy one.

[ddarker-dreams]

hi lock! sorry if you have answered this before but i tried searching your page for it and i couldn't find the answer. can i know what are your thoughts on the final scene of monster? i just watched it for the third time and i went back to reread your johan fics. if you have answered this before then feel free to just ramble on about monster... i read every ask and post you make and you are my inspiration for writing.... !

i don't think i've answered this before!! and thank you so much, i'm honored to know i can help inspire your writing some 🥺💖...

spoilers for naoki urasawa's monster below !!

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personally, i don't think there could've been a better ending to the series. it perfectly represents the themes that were explored throughout the story (the value of human life/do we have the right to play 'god' by deciding who gets to live and who gets to die, etc). it was also a satisfying end for tenma's character arc. i know i gush a lot about johan as a character and it's well-deserved since he was crafted with such methodical care, but tenma is absolutely essential to making johan work (and vice versa). tenma's thrust into this dark world where he's forced to confront the fact that by choosing to save johan's life that day, johan was able to go on and commit numerous atrocities. johan pretty much said this to him point blank early on in the series, which sets the tone for everything that comes next.

this (understandably) absolutely crushes tenma, who up until this point, has felt vindicated in his belief that all human lives are equal. it's a belief that's gone unchallenged ever since he saved kid johan, only to be challenged later on by adult johan. throughout his journey of chasing after johan while on the run from the authorities, he's haunted by this sentiment and sometimes considers choosing not to save another because they've done immoral things. what i really love about monster, though, is the quiet optimism in the presence of such overwhelming darkness. tenma's companions always bring him back whenever he threatens to lose himself to callousness.

after tenma's long journey to fix the decision he made almost a decade prior, he's faced with the choice to operate on johan or not operate on johan again. as a reader/member of the audience, we're essentially brought into the same dilemma as tenma. by this point in the series, we have enough emotional investment in the world to feel the same weight of the choice that tenma does. we've seen everything johan has done, know what he's capable of doing, and we we get to decide for ourselves whether we think saving johan is or isn't the right thing to do. naoki urasawa really is a genius for how effectively he pulls this off.

at first, when tenma goes to operate on johan, my reaction was Tenma My Fella wyd. after thinking about it more though, this act is far more significant/befitting of the themes in monster than letting johan die. tenma is denying johan's ultimate wish and sticking to the principles he once held dear; principles that he's fought hard for by this point in the narrative. it isn't so much a question of 'is this the right thing to do or not' but more of 'do i deserve to be the one to make the call over if someone gets to live or die?'

i normally have very mixed feelings when a story reaches its conclusion and the protagonist has this change of heart where they let the antagonist live, when the entire story up until that point was the protagonist going absolutely ham to kill the antagonist (cough the last of us 2 cough). it just... feels cheap, like the writer(s) wanted to make some profound point, but they didn't earn it. this is absolutely not the case with monster. naoki urasawa interweaves such a human element into his stories, idk how else to describe it. the act of killing is treated with the weight it deserves without being corny. one of my favorite quotes in the series comes from a relatively minor character, but by god if it isn't incredible:

“Killing people is simple. All you have to do is forget the taste of sugar.”

i could write an essay on this quote alone but i don't want to get too off-topic.

tenma would lose something vital to himself if he chose to let johan die. as for the infamous final panel of the empty hospital bed/the speculation over if johan actually escaped or if tenma was hallucinating, i love that choice as well. it further reinforces the point that we don't know, per se, if what tenma decided was the 'right' choice, in the same way we don't know if johan actually escaped or not. imo, by leaving it open-ended, we're forced the weigh the potential ramifications in our mind. life is defined by its ambiguity. we don't always know how a decision we're going to make will impact the future. does that make us responsible? or our we exempt from blame when unforeseen consequences come to pass?

i just . really love monster. it is a masterpiece through and through.

[lesbianlotties]

Oh we’re asking Ronance questions! Do Ronance move out of Hawkins? If so, where? Also is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about for them? Please take this as permission to talk away!

i'm SO sorry i took so long to answer!!! and no worried about your other message it's all good!!

i like to think that they 100% move out of Hawkins. I mean, judging by sort-of-canon Rebel Robin, getting out of Hawkins is everything Robin ever wanted. and Nancy simply deserves soooo much better. she's going to take over the world basically

i couldn't tell you where exactly but i can tell you they WILL travel Europe just like Robin dreamed, and they will be so cheesy and in love the entire time and it will be glorious!!!

since it's very obvious that Nancy does not share Steve's dreams, why not make it so that she wants the exact opposite? so Nancy and Robin wouldn't have any kids, and they wouldn't settle in a single place, they would live in so many many place throughout the years, staying a couple months in one city, then seven years in a different one, 2 years in another country, anything they feel like it! they're free and in love and they've fought monsters and demons and society together, they can make it anywhere they want <3

[redlegend-a]

@allthingsglittergold​ asked:

Examine: Your team!

These monsters saved your life. 

They are your best friends. They have all been through so much, and you grow with them to make sure that their lives and your own are being lived to the fullest. Charizard you remember holding in your lap and spinning until he threw up and then he wanted to do it again. Pikachu? You feel like you have known Pikachu your entire life. It feels like you should have been sharing a cradle but you haven’t. Pikachu knows you better than anyone in the entire world. The same can be said in reverse.

You think Venusaur was born old. She was ancient when there was a rescue attempt to get the oldest Bulbasaur he’d ever seen out of a hole under Nugget Bridge. You picked her up, and she grinned at you and kissed you on the cheek like you was her grandson. You’ve been best friends and confidants since. She’s old enough to remember when Viridian was just a bunch of sprouts in the ground.

Which is insane. And not surprising. At one point she says there were legends about lost children in the forest, who were escorted by a kindly old woman-witch. It’s her. She used to eat fairies, she says. Now she settles on swallowing the life out of anyone he fights.

They don’t need all of it, she reasons.

You think that she might have been human once. You’ve never had other family besides your mom, so she fits with you like a missing piece.

Blastoise killed someone. A pokémon trafficker. You showed up just in time to claim that it was just an accident (which you knew was incorrect), to spare the little squirtle punitive action. He became your responsibility with his spirit broken. He’s your best friend. You healed together, fought like mad together, and he taught you cunning and courage you didn’t know you had before meeting him. Blastoise makes sure you are safe, and you make sure that he is safe. Absolutely nothing can separate you.

Charizard? Your big softy and hardest fighter. His heart’s solid gold and his fire burns like the sun. You picked him because your names matched. Red like a flame. He’s the biggest member of your usual rotation by twice as much, and everyone busts his chops constantly because he has a sense of humor and can take it. He’s your best friend, and you almost died together at Silph Co. Without him? You don’t know what would have happened.

Snorlax is such a sweetheart that it’s hard to be unhappy around him. He loves food, he loves traveling, and he loves you so much. He hugs you all the time (despite the fact that your bones may pop one day), and likes to keep offering you new berries to try. He’s the guy everyone goes to for comfort and support. Every single member of the team likes curling up with him. He’s strong as hell and doesn’t mind setting the record straight either when he has to fight. Fighting’s his hidden passion. He’s your best friend. You like playing the flute for him in the morning.

Lapras is one of the kindest and most beautiful pokémon you’ve met in your life. She entranced the team. She can sing like she’s pulling her voice straight from the divine realm. She shocked Blastoise into tears the first time she met him. She was young, injured, and scared when you collect her, and now she’s one of the most ethereal members of the team. She loves you and loves your entourage so much that it’s almost painful. Sometimes, she’ll gum at your hair to “fix” it fondly. Blastoise always is sweet on her when she’s out. This is your best friend.

Espeon is your rotator in battles. She’s always around you. You got her from a woman in Celadon who bred pedigree eevee and this one? Absolute runt. You named her ‘Baby’ and she likes riding in your hood when Pikachu’s not in it. You can tell her anything without words, and she likes pressing her cheek against you and sleeping at the back of your neck to keep you warm. You kiss her tiny head a lot and she’s the one that surprises everyone the most in battle. She’s so tiny but you’ve seen her crack cement foundations. She is your best friend.

EXAMINING THINGS HERE || Accepting  

[ophelia-wilde]

If anyone asked, Delilah was born to kind parents. They were pillars to their small community, her dad was the mayor, her mom did charity work. Every Sunday they were in the front pew. The farm they lived on was small but productive. It all seemed so idillic that no one ever asked questions. Not once did they question the bruises. People just believed she was a precocious child. The truth was that her parents were punishing and they did it all in the name of the Lord. Telling her that if she could behave then God wouldn’t make them act this way. All because she was a little strange. 

Quickly she learned her place. She was to smile at all events. They put her into cheer because it looked good. Especially since football was everything to this town. Over the years she became quieter. Withdrawn at home in an effort to stay safe. And to the world she showed her smile. Cheering brightly at every game. Putting on the persona of perfection and always praying it would be enough.

The first time she ever got drunk she was thirteen. It was a high school party that she never even should have known about. But her friends older brother let it slip in front of her and said they could come as long as they didn’t snitch. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel pain. The weight of everything she had to be to survive just floated away. That night she danced and laughed and had more fun than she ever had in her entire life. Though the next morning came with a hangover…she didn’t mind. She just wanted that feeling back. The weightlessness of it all. Every weekend after that she was at a party. No one ratted her out, they didn’t want anyone questioning why they were partying with the mayors daughter and risking their parties getting busted. A few older brothers of friends kept a firm watch on her too, making sure she was always safe, not that she ever knew about that. All she knew was that thanks to vodka she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

At one party she met Nathan. He was her age and only there because it was his house and his older sister was throwing the party. They found each other and it was an instant connection. When he asked her name she told him it was Ophelia, preferring to go by her middle name anyway. It turned out he went to a rival middle school and played football for their team. Which to them made it all feel like some Romeo and Juliet moment. They’d sneak around to see each other, and during games had secret hand signals to let them know they were thinking of each other. When stating high school they were at the same one and were together from day one. The perfect couple. Everyone even placed bets on how quickly after graduation they’d get married.

Despite how good things were at school though, things were worse than ever at home. Her parents seemed to be going actually insane as they made her swear she was pure. That she was good and holy. Their abuse was no longer regulated to when she “acted up”, it was a near constant thing now. It seemed she only needed to breathe in the wrong direction to upset them. And it only got worse when it looked like her father would lose this next mayoral election. They blamed her, told her she was Godless and ruining their family. One night it got so bad that she ran out of the house with the intention to never return. 

She didn’t get far though until she saw something. It’s eyes glowed in the night and something about it was clearly wrong. All she could do was scream monster before it attacked her. And she fought. Tried to and found more strength than she expected. The thing cornered her when she tried to hide in the barn and it was a shovel that saved her. On instinct alone she grabbed it and drove it through the creatures heart. All she could think was that her parents were right. God hated her, he’d sent a demon after her because she was so awful. That meant she deserved it all, everything they’d done to her. Ophelia curled up on the barn floor sobbing. Horrified at what she’d caused. When her mom eventually found her she was just crying demon over and over again, saying she saw it, she was sorry, she saw it and she was wrong and sorry. Shortly after her parents had her admitted to the local mental institution because she wouldn’t move or say anything else.

When Ophelia woke up she was in a dark room with the soft glow of moonlight coming in through barred windows. Her arms were strapped to the bed and panic began to rise in her throat. She had no idea where she was or what was happening. Before she could scream though a nurse walked in. The nurse knelt beside the bed and shushed her soothingly before explaining where she was. They had only held her arms down to keep her safe because she kept scratching at her arms hard enough to break skin. Ophelia knew she should ask more questions. Or maybe even that she shouldn’t trust this woman at all, maybe this was all a lie. But she was too tired to fight. To care about where she was at all. Especially since the nurse was now undoing the locks that kept her bound. 

Everything was a haze from then on. She was constantly medicated. Doctors asked her about her bruises but she said it was the demons. Meds were adjusted. Food was bland. Every room was a soft place. She overheard that her father was gaining the sympathy vote from people gossiping at the nurses station. A month went by and that was when she was finally allowed visitors. It was Nathan that came first. He’d apparently called every day just waiting to be told he could visit. He said a lot of flowery things, promised her that he was here no matter what. As always he was an anchor in the storm of her life, keeping her from falling away from the world entirely.

Then came her parents. They cried their crocodile tears. Lamenting about their poor baby. Bringing her a stuffed animal and promising she would be released soon, as soon as she was all better. After they left she threw the toy in the trash.

When her friends came…they clearly didn’t know what to say. They seemed afraid of her. Or maybe just this place. It was the first and last time they visited. She barely noticed they were here.

After hearing several times that she would be released as soon as she was better, Ophelia realized it was a lie. She’d been at the institution for a year. Celebrated her sweet 16 here. Stopped talking about demons for at least a few months. But there was no end in sight. So she stayed. Quiet and medicated. Nathan still visited regularly. Her parents stopped in once a month to keep up the act, her father stopped after a bit though as he was too busy being mayor. She assumed that she would have to be released by her 18th birthday. Her parents couldn’t pay to keep her locked up when she was an adult, right? So she just…waited, no longer asking when they’d let her go just so they could lie to her again.

A month before her 18th birthday, she got the news that she would be released the day after. Nathan told her that he’d been offered a football scholarship to a school in California. All the way across the country. And he wanted her to come with him. To get away from this hellhole. Together. Of course she said yes, because her only other option was to be sent back to her parents who would either kick her out or fight to get her locked back up. After three years in this place she was ready to be free.

When they released her she was handed a bag with her few personal belongings and no prescription for a single medication. Despite having been half sedated for years. Nathan, sweet and naive, thought that it meant she was completely better. He promised it would all be okay, that he would take care of her and everything would work out. Ophelia wanted nothing more than to believe him. She needed to believe him. Her very survival felt like it depended on it.

They went straight to Berkeley. His parents had gotten them their own apartment and made sure everything was ready. That first night Ophelia had a nightmare. She’d not had one since she was a child, apparently it was the sedatives that kept them at bay. But now they were back full force. Causing to her to wake up screaming while Nathan tried desperately to sooth her. Eventually she just had nothing left. Her throat was raw from it and she fell back into a fitful sleep.

It was like this for months. He tried so hard to help. To be everything she needed and hold her together. But the truth was they were only kids. And she’d spent three years locked away, drugged up, barely a person. She couldn’t just be a person now, but she was trying. At first she wouldn’t leave their apartment at all. Too afraid of what she might see. Or what people might see when they looked at her. When she did finally leave it was only to a gym around the corner. Mostly just in the hopes of releasing at least some of this pent up energy that seemed to be burning a hole inside of her. 

That was where she met Buffy Summers. “We’ve been looking for you” The words turned Ophelia to stone instantly, terror clear enough on her face that Buffy quickly tried to reassure her. To explain. It might have helped if Ophelia wasn’t already in the throes of a panic attack. Soft but assured hands pressed to her back, guiding her gently out of the gym and towards a bench outside. Slowly Buffy explained why she was here. Waiting for Ophelia to calm down and understand that she wasn’t a threat. She explained slayers and Ophelia was sure she heard hellmouth, one of which she’d apparently been living on in her old town. She wanted to help Ophelia. To train her before sending her somewhere called Sunnydale where they would set her up. Where she could live and be safe and decide what she wanted to do with her gift. 

None of it seemed real. At first she thought she was having another psychotic break. Which meant they’d put her away again. Buffy invited her to go patrolling that night and show her that it was real and Ophelia agreed because really, what else could she do?

That night she saw her first vampire. Slayed her first vampire too. Turns out she was surprisingly spry for someone who’d been bed bound for years. Things for her finally started to make sense. It made her angry, too. The way they just threw her away after stealing her childhood. And now she could never really get any of that back. Not when she knew monsters were real. There was no coming back from that. Buffy said they could do her training in Berkeley if she wasn’t ready to leave and Ophelia agreed to that. Leaving now would mean leaving Nathan behind and she wasn’t ready to do that. 

For a little over a year she trained. Her favorite thing to do though was get lost in the library that Giles had built. She learned about prominent vampires, demons that seemed made up (even after she saw a few of them in person), weaponry and fighting techniques. Ophelia soaked up the knowledge and…couldn’t share it. Everyone around her already knew or didn’t care, and she couldn’t breathe a word of it to Nathan. Despite meeting slayers and training and actually having this new safety net around her, Ophelia felt so much lonelier than she expected having to hide this all from her boyfriend.

A little over a year later and she was more than ready to move. When she talked to Nathan about it she posed it as a job opportunity to work in a bakery since her cover for training had been culinary school. He flat out refused to go and she understood. He had been building his own life here unaware she’d been working on leaving this place behind. It was never really hers anyway. They came to the decision to do long distance until he finished university and then they would go from there.

Sunnydale offers her the freedom she really always wanted and needed. This is her own choice. Not following someone else, or running away. She has her own small apartment above the bakery she really will work in. When she has nightmares no one will witness it and her walls will be soundproof. For the first time she can make her own choices. Find her own life. Not have to be around people who can only see her past and the way it’s marked her. She’s finally free.

[1000-niche-interests]

oops new ocs

Okay well they aren’t actually “new”, I’ve had these two kicking around in my brain for a couple years now but I felt that since there is now one (1) observer to this blog who’s interested, I might as well post about them! This serves as a more longform introductory oc post to these two lovely ladies, though I’ll also put the brief information on my regular OC post too. Anyway! Vampire and Warrior Queen OC Ladies beneath the cut:

Sara Penderghast, Warrior Queen of Kalin: (Yeah I bet you’ve never heard that very predictable cool surname before! It’s not creative but it is what stuck). 

Born to Marcus and Gertrude Penderghast (nee: Harte) Sara inherited the kingdom of Kalin at twelve years old, after her mother died in childbirth and her father was assassinated (something she witnessed, and it still haunts her). Being their only child, Sara had been taught, pretty much from the time she could walk, to rule the kingdom. She was polite, prim, proper, and refused to be manipulated by her advisors... especially her court mage (he’d been her parent’s court mage, and it was decided he shouldn’t be replaced because Sara was so young). Sara grew up ruling a kingdom that was torn; some loved her, the girl queen, some thought she needed to die as she refused to let anyone else take the reins behind the scenes. So it was no surprise that, when Sara was sixteen, there was an assassination attempt. Yet it was here that Sara, in a last ditch attempt to protect herself, emitted a blast of True Power. Magic, and unlike anything anyone had ever seen. She survived only with the intervention of her court mage, who cut off the surge of power before it consumed her entire life force. This was when Sara discovered she was a Living Rune-- a person naturally imbued with magic, who could direct magic both in and out of their body through special techniques, and surges of power like what she’d experienced.

Sara was determined to harness this power, use it as a strength rather than a weakness, and so at eighteen she commissioned the elven mage Articia to forge a glaive that would allow her to use her power in short burst; power could surge from her hands to the blade of the glaive. At around the same time, a war broke out between Kalin and a dangerous warlord. This is when the legend of the warrior queen was born, as Sara fought beside her soldiers against the invader. When the sadistic conqueror was defeated, the rules of warfare also meant they gained his prize…. A captive vampire, tortured, beaten, kept in silver chains and a silver cage, starved of blood.

Naturally, Sara’s advisors and generals were wary of such a creature, but Sara ordered the vampire taken back to the capital (in the cage, for safety) and then released. However, Sara’s court mage had other plans, and wanted to experiment on this vampire to learn what made them tick, since the species was so little known of them. When Sara refused to let him do that, the mage planned to assassinate Sara (because of course.)

The vampire learned of this (court mage loved to evil monologue, I suppose) and used quite a bit of strength to escape her cage, her chains; and arrive just in time to stop the assassination by running the court mage through with her claws…. and then sucking all his blood.

This vampire had no reason to care about humans, but she cared about Sara. Sara had tried to have her released from her prison; Sara treated her as something other than a monster. This vampire saved Sara, and, still in her debt, requested a Blood Pact with her-- a ritual that would bind the two of them with a simple drop of blood into a magic circle. Sara, to just about everyone’s surprise, was honored to do this. Yet a Blood Pact is more than just a ritual. It’s a form of intimacy unlike anything most humans will ever feel; it links the emotions, feelings, thoughts and minds. 

That was about the time the two started to fall in love. Was it because of the pact? Who can say. All that matters if that their love is real, and true... It was also at this point that the vampire, who had long forgotten her original name, was christened Annabell, and pledged to protect Sara and all of her line with her life by becoming her court sorceress, thanks to her magical ability. And while many are afraid Annabell for what she is, Sara just loves her. She always will. 

---

Annabell, Vampire: Annabell comes from the race of vampires, which once held a thriving civilization before humans came along. Now, thanks to the curse which makes them immortal and hunger for blood, vampires are seen as monsters. Annabell, to that end, may have skin as cold and as pale as death, she may have red eyes, sharp teeth, claws and immense strength, regenerative ability... but she is no monster. She feels just as humans do, feels pain and sadness and anger. And love. 

(The only difference between her and a human is, she can regrow a hand in five minutes and she feels like she’s burning alive in the sunlight. And she drinks blood. Not such a difference, no? Ha.)

The truth is that Annabell doesn’t remember much about her life, or unlife, before Sara freed her from her cage. Perhaps her memories are repressed, perhaps she has simply truly lost them. What she does know is that she would trade every memory in the world for another moment with Sara.  Sara gave her purpose, and she cares deeply about for her warrior queen and will protect her by any means she can, always caring for and about her, even to the detriment of herself. To Annabell, nothing matters but Sara. After all, she is immortal, and she has all the time in the world. Sara... isn’t, and doesn’t, but like all humans she tries her best to make her mark on the world anyway, and that’s what Anna loves about her... one of the many things.

(lol I promise Anna has a past I just don’t have it all detailed yet.... maybe someday I’ll get there)

Anyway.... those are my two ABSOLUTE favorite generic/original fantasy ocs. The art/meiker is done by aukanemin on meiker.io, check them out if you like meikers because I sure do. https://meiker.io/user/aukanemin/63436

[justsomegalwhoshere]

Daddy’s Small Hero

Note: I’m back with another dad Bakugou fic bitches 😎 this time it’s Baku with an absolute chonk of a baby. Again, this entire thing was inspired by @hanji-is-life and the people who sent the amazing asks there. I can’t stop, they’re so good 😩 also idk how fast a baby’s development is. My little sister was a baby but that’s was 11 years ago- Criticism is welcome as always.

Warnings: cursing cuz bakugou, but just fluff overall. Not prof read

‘Had to go to the hospital quickly for an appointment! Katsumi and Sakura are at school already. Take Katsuo with you to the agency please!

-Y/N <3’

Bakugou sighed as he put down the note and headed to the living room where his son was. He woke up and was surprised to see you weren’t there in bed with him, and was only even more surprised he saw his son was awake in his playpen doing his thing. After finding the note tacked on the fridge however, he understood the situation.

Bakugou looked into the playpen and smiled. His son Katsuo. He looked exactly like his dad, ash blonde hair, red eyes, and an absolute monster of a baby. It’s not that he cried a lot, in fact he hardly cried at all. He was just extremely chunky. He was in 6 month clothes at 3 months old. He was a chunky baby, a chubby tummy and rolls on his arms and legs. Hell, he even had rolls for knees! He was currently in toddler clothes at 10 months old and was trying to shove his fat fist in his mouth. He took notice of his dad and started making grabby hands up at him.

Bakugou chuckled. “Hey squirt, ready to start the day?” His son gurgled.

Bakugou lifted his son up with a soft grunt. “Jesus, did you grow overnight? You get heavier every day.” His baby slapped a drool covered hand on bakugou’s cheek. “..I deserved that.”

After strapping on the baby carrier and putting Katsuo in front of chest, he began making breakfast. Starting with Katsuo’s. Sure, it was time consuming making breakfast for his infant son, but he refused to let him eat that processed shit from the store. Bakugou placed a strawberry and a banana on the counter. He wasn’t sure why he did this, but he let his son choose what fruit he wanted in his breakfast. He read somewhere it was good for development. “K, choose one brat,” he said softly. Katsuo stared before grabbing at the strawberry. “Good choice,” Bakugou responded before dropping a few strawberries in the blender and starting his breakfast. The entire time, he stirred up conversation with Katsuo.

“So what did you dream about last night?”

“Da!”

“You fought Endeavour himself and won?”

“Ba-da-ba!”

“No shit, what did you do after?”

“Baaab.”

“Nice. I’ll make note of that the next time I train then.”

…

After a quick breakfast and a diaper change, Katsuki made his way to the agency, baby bag in hand. It should be ok to take Katsuo today. All he had was paperwork and an interview. Katsuki didn’t want just ANYONE working for him. He needed to make sure those who were hired were reliable people. Bakugou stopped in front of the building and addressed his son in the harness, “this is where daddy works. He runs his own agency. Isn’t that cool?” Katsuo blew a little raspberry.

Almost all eyes were on Bakugou as he entered the building. They went from neutral to confused seeing a drooly baby harnessed on the pro hero’s chest, and even more confused seeing a baby bag in hand.

Ignoring all the prying eyes, Bakugou approached Kirishima, who also was gawking at the baby in the harness.

“What? It’s not a fucking alien, get a hold of yourself.” Kirishima’s eyes snapped back up and looked at Bakugou. He put a hand behind his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to seeing you with your son that often.”

“Hah!? Are you calling me a terrible dad?” Bakugou questioned as his eyebrows furrowed more.

“No! Just drop it, look the candidate for receptionist is already with the interviewer. Just make it quick, ok? And don’t send them running away in tears!” Kirishima called out as Bakugou grunted and walked towards his office. Bakugou stopped in front of his office door and addressed his son once again,

“This is daddy’s office. You excited to step inside?”

“Aa!”

“Well, today I am too.” Bakugou opened the door and saw some interviewer extra behind his desk and a female sitting across from it.

“Ah, you’re here Mr. Bakugou! Please, take a seat!” The interviewer chirped. Bakugou sat down in a chair on the side of the desk and unclasped the harness. He set Katsuo on a sitting position on the desk and dumped some toys there for his son. Katsuo took a chunky plastic block and immediately began to chew on it.

The female blinked. “Umm… is the baby staying here the entire time?”

Bakugou growled lowly. “He has a fucking name. It’s Katsuo. And yes, he is. That a fucking problem?”

“N-no, im sorry sir,” she replied as Katsuo cooed.

“Let’s get this started. What’s your name?” Bakugou said, calming down.

The female cleared her throat. “Akane, sir.”

The interview went along fairly smoothly, Akane answered the questions well and seemed reliable enough to work here, Bakugou noted as he played a bit with Katsuo. Still, Bakugou needed more convincing. He didn’t need another receptionist crying into his coffee cup in the mornings. The more the interview progressed, the more impatient Bakugou became.

“Can we hurry this shit up? It’s almost tummy time for Katsuo!” Bakugou barked. Both Akane and the interviewer jumped at the sudden outburst.

“Sorry Dynamight sir, just one more question and we’ll be done here.”

Bakugou huffed and put Katsuo on his lap, who was trying to shove the block in Bakugou’s face. He chuckled. “Stop that shit, that’s fucking gross, wasn’t it in your mouth?” Katsuo gurgled in response, still shoving the drool covered block in his dad’s face. Akane was distracted at this display. Dynamight, the number 2 pro hero, softening for someone? She didn’t think it was possible. Bakugou looked back up, scowling as he realized no one was talking. “The fuck are you looking at?” He growled at Akane.

Akane yelped and cleared her throat. “N-nothing! Just- just looking around” she said hurriedly as she straightened herself.

Bakugou squinted his eyes and looked down at his son. “What do you think of her, Katsuo?”

Katsuo was currently transfixed on shoving two chubby fingers in his own mouth. Once he finally did babble again, he slapped his thighs while bouncing up and down, making “da” sounds over and over. Akane thought the display was cute before Bakugou spoke up again.

“My son says you’re a terrible liar and that you’re on thin fucking ice.”

Akane shivered a bit. She was going to be here a while longer, wasn’t she?

…

A few more exchanges like that back and forth (Katsuo cooing and bakugou interpreting as a a threat), the interview finally ended.

Akane slumped on the wall outside the door and slowly sat herself down. God, that went terribly! She kept getting distracted by the baby! There was no way she was getting this job! She blew it-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched laugh. Akane registered it was coming from the office. Silently, she got up and peered through the door, which was slightly ajar.

Bakugou was blowing raspberries on his baby’s stomach while Katsuo laughed hysterically. Akane stood there dumbfounded. She never thought Bakugou was the fatherly type. Bakugou kept doing this and laughed along with the baby until he put them down in a sitting position. “Alright brat, it’s tummy time,” he grumbled as he spread a blanket on the desk and laid his son down on the blanket, back facing the ceiling. His son thrashed his limbs around a bit before calming down. Bakugou chuckled and pulled a couple toys out of his bag and settled them around Katsuo. His son tried moving around to grab the toys, cooing all the while.

Akane left before she was noticed. She was confused by this secret side of Bakugou.

…

Despite her doubtful thoughts earlier, Akane managed to land the job as the receptionist at Bakugou’s agency. She liked talking to the people she met everyday, and even met his wife a couple times.

Akane was typing away and noticed someone approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Mrs. Bakugou! How are you?”

You looked at Akane and smiled, carrying your son. “I’m just fine, thank you! I’m just wondering where Katsuki is!”

“Right here,” a gruff voice responded. Both females turned around and saw the hero approaching both of them.

You gave your husband a kiss and handed him Katsuo and a box wrapped in cloth.

“You forgot your lunch again, I’m starting to believe you’re doing it on purpose” you scolded.

Bakugou laughed and pecked your cheek. “I might start doing it intentionally if I get to see my beautiful wife and son more often at work.”

Akane observed this exchange before Katsuo turned his head towards her, looking at her with wide red eyes and made grabby hands that Bakugou paid no kind to. Akane, however, shivered and turned back towards the computer, typing more feverishly. Those red eyes that looked exactly like his father’s creeped her out ever since that interview. Sure, Katsuo was adorable, but what came out of his mouth was scary.