#SHE BEATS THOSE FUCKERS AND LIVES AND SURVIVES THEM
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there's so much freddie hate in the hannibal fandom purely because of how competent she is at her job. from day one she clocked will as the freak he is. she was on it and everyone immediately pinged her as just some nosy journalist (correct) looking for a story (correct) to make out of an innocent man who is just doing his job (incorrect). freddie is more than the "girl boss" character i feel like a lot of people who do like her flatten her out to be. her motivations extend beyond just being good at her job, and i would argue a lot of her character is dedicated to the truth even if how she presents it is sensationalized. she digs for a truth that not a lot of people are going to like or easily digest, and she's motivated enough to use her body to get the story out there. freddie is willing to go to great lengths to get a hold of the narrative, and even though a lot of the show centers around the articles she publishes, no one ever really talks about how it's freddie's actions that get to them. she is a morally gray character with the lines, laws, and boundaries she's willing to cross in order that people might see the killers she is seeing. she's whip smart and has great intuition, and no one suspected will, or abigail for that matter, until her articles about them put that at the forefront of everyone's minds. even hannibal could be swayed by her articles and he used them regularly to check up on will and the various other killers around because freddie was that good at doing her job and keeping tabs on those that were suspicious
#nbc hannibal#freddie lounds#it sucks that a lot of ppl dont like her just bc she gets in the way of the cannibals happily ever after#AND ALSO THAT SHE LIVES#SHE BEATS THOSE FUCKERS AND LIVES AND SURVIVES THEM#soooo annoying when people shove her under the bus when she is literally doing her job and exposing bad people#like yes she does her job a little outside of the law but every good journalist does and if they dont theyre working for the govt
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SEEING YOU, SEEING ME (4/7)
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Summary: After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.
Warnings: 18+! No Minors! Pre-TLOU, One Bed Trope, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Manhandling, Light sadism, Touch Starved!Joel, Mentions of death and violence, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Semi-Enemies to Fuckers, Alcoholism
( Read on AO3 )
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CHAPTER 4: CAN'T QUIT YOU, BABY
Joel has been gone for hours.
You’ve laid in his bed this entire time, thinking.
You shouldn’t; this new world can’t afford daydreaming, that much you’ve learned the hard way. Breathing, eating, surviving — those are the only important pieces of the puzzle they call enduring, but you can’t find a reason to want to eat right now and the image marinating in your head is making it a little tough to breathe.
Because you can’t stop thinking about him. Joel, Joel fucking Miller, and the way he stared down at your lips in plain sight. The way you witnessed a momentary lapse of judgment in real time, making him just as human as you. The way his fist curled white-knuckle tight when you toed the line of a conversation better suited past midnight.
You came here forty-something hours ago thinking Joel Miller hated you.
He may be disinterested or, God forbid, indifferent, but he doesn’t hate you.
You’re now not sure what is worse.
Because you certainly don’t hate him.
The opposite — you smell him on these sheets, these pillow cases, and if you shut your eyes hard enough, then you can see him: Joel staring from the other end of the table — staring at you — like he’s seen you this whole time.
Before you’ve realized, your fingers have unbuttoned your worn denim jeans and found their way slipping under the waistband, seeking relief.
You shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.
You shouldn’t, but it’ll be quick.
(You’re already halfway there.)
The second your fingers touch your clit, an audible gasp leaves your mouth. Electric; you waste no time getting to it, circles tight and deliberate. Brutal.
Exactly how you think he’d do it if he were here, staring down at you, wanting to take everything from you and then some. He’d be merciless, accepting nothing less than driving you past the point of pleasure and pain.
Maybe he’d hold you down.
Maybe he’d put his hand over your neck.
(Maybe I can make you feel alive, darlin’.)
The imaginary baritone voice in your head causes the orgasm to crash like the wave of a cresting hurricane, and your back involuntarily arches off the mattress. The world — the quarantine zone, the apocalypse, the end of times — disappears in a blissful blank space.
A space filled with the scent of him where you can drown.
It feels like minutes pass where you linger in the aftermath, muscles melting the stress of the week away.
Click.
And just like that, the bliss is gone as the front door of the apartment swings open.
Ripping your hand from your jeans, you scramble to sit at the head of the bed and out of view. Joel’s heavy boots glide through the threshold of the house, locking the door behind him.
“You still in bed?” he muses, calling from the living room.
You frantically re-button your pants, struggling to find your voice.
“Hey!” you call, uncharacteristically chipper and out of breath. “Hi, sorry, I took a nap.”
By the time you’re fussing with your mangled hair, Joel’s already in view. He leans forward against the divider, watching you, forearm raised over his head and pressed into the trim. His other hand finds its way to his hip.
“A nap?” he repeats with a hint of surprise.
“Can’t really afford them most days,” you reply, belated glancing up at him. “I thought rather than snooping, it might be productive to get some shut eye.”
He considers it for a beat, nodding to himself before raising a brow: sure, whatever. Joel’s hand gently opens and taps at the wall.
“Gonna make some dinner in a bit if you’re interested.”
“It’s already dinnertime?”
That raised brow drops to knit with the other. “How long were you out? Sounds like one hell of a nap.”
The guilt pools in the pit of your stomach.
“I’d love dinner,” you swerve, nodding eagerly. “Thank you.”
Joel lingers, thinking about something he isn’t saying out loud, and taps his fingers one final time. That hand pushes him from the wall and towards the kitchen where he begins prepping for dinner, leaving you still in his bed.
Eventually you leave the mattress to join him in the conjoined kitchen and living room.
For most of the night, you say nothing.
Waiting.
For food, for nightfall, for another day where Tess isn’t coming home and you’re stuck with these parasitic thoughts of the older man generous enough to share his food.
Now it isn’t just the dim light that he’s attractive in: it’s every fucking angle, every goddamn sound, every single movement.
(So this is what it’s like to feel.)
Dinner is relatively silent. The scrape of forks to ceramic fill the apartment once again, and he’s already positioned his glass container of whiskey in the center of the table.
Something of a nightly ritual for the smuggler.
He’s already working on his second glass, as are you. The combination of surviving on little food and the haze of the alcohol brings an idea to mind.
“Does the radio work?” you ask out of nowhere, surprising yourself with the intrusive thought out loud.
Joel, nearly finished with his rationed portion, looks up with suspicion.
“The radio?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” you answer dumbly. “For music. Jeanine in the south quadrant has a radio station.”
“Does she?”
“You didn’t know that?”
“You think I talk to Jeanine in the south quadrant?”
“Fair point,” you reply. “But yeah. She’s figured out the whole radio thing and I thought… since you had music the first night I got here—”
“Sure.”
Your voice dies on your tongue with Joel’s flippant agreement.
(You expected a flat-out no.)
Sliding out of your dining table chair, you cross the room and pointedly avoid the Top 100 book still sitting where you last left it. Crouching over the fragile relic of a box, you meddle with the dials for a few minutes until a familiar voice croons from the station.
It’s Led Zeppelin’s I Can’t Quit You, Baby clear over the radio waves.
Right at the beginning, too, bringing a large smile to your face.
“Fuck, I missed this song.”
It’s under his breath, but there’s a chuckle from Joel somewhere in the middle of the room.
“Have you ever heard of Led Zeppelin?” you ask over your shoulder.
“Have I ever heard—” The audacity of the baited question switches up his typical monotone approach. “Kid, I grew up listening to this. Don’t talk to me about Zeppelin like I don’t know ‘em.”
“So did I,” you supply in a sing-song, standing up straight. “See? Not so different.”
Joel sours, crossing his arms over his chest. You turn to face him, slowly moving your shoulders to the beat of the bass. “I’m sure you never saw them play live, though.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. Final tour of ‘77. I was eleven.”
“Shut up.”
“I did. They came to Houston.”
“Shit, you really are old,” you tease, scrunching your nose as you sway. You're met with a large roll of his eyes in return. “You're lucky. I never got to go to a concert before all this.”
“Damn shame.”
“I know,” you agree, "but I’ve seen photographs in books. Richie Thompson, you know him?”
“Sure.”
“He was somehow able to keep old photographs he took twenty years ago at a… festival? He showed me them a few years back. They were sick.”
“I can only imagine.” Joel’s scowl returns slowly as the sway of your shoulders begin to influence the rest of your body. Your torso twists with them, slowed in your impromptu dance as your head moves in time to the guitar solo. The older man clears his throat. “What’re you doing?”
“What am I doing?” you repeat, raising your hands with your pointer fingers up. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t know,” he bluntly responds. “S’why I asked.”
“Pretty sure it’s called dancing, Miller.”
“Dancing?”
“Yeah.” You curl your fingers, one then the other, to the rhythm and make small steps towards the sitting man. “Danc-ing. Oughta try it sometime.”
“I don’t— Wait.”
Yeah.
You should wait.
Because your hand has found its way playfully to the shoulder of his denim shirt, suggesting he stand with you. You begin to crouch towards him, grinning ear to ear. Your hips wiggle behind you as you bend closer to him with tipsy abandon, and Joel’s eyes dart from your face to behind your ear.
The chair scrapes in a screech against the floor.
Joel stands tall, assertive, and drags you into him by your right elbow.
“Stop.”
You freeze in your sway at the growl in his voice.
The flat of his palm curls around your waist, forcibly keeping you close. He steps a boot into the space between your feet.
Suddenly Joel Miller is crowding you, hovering there, and you lose your breath.
“Did I do something?” you ask despite yourself, but you don’t recognize your voice. It’s small, needy, and it flickers an emotion across the tired lines of his face. In this proximity, the warmth of him radiates through his denim shirt. “I’m sor—”
When you lift your chin to meet his eyes, your head juts back to avoid going nose to nose with him. From here you see every single tired line, every single scar, every twitch in his face. Joel is on top of you, zero to sixty, and hasn’t moved yet.
Fuck.
You eyes round at the implication, but Joel doesn’t notice.
Not when he’s too busy staring at your lips.
And it stays that way for a minute.
“I can’t do this.”
He finally speaks, but he doesn’t move away. From beneath him, you can taste the whiskey on his breath.
“Okay,” you agree with an unconvincing nod.
(Do what? is a question you won’t ask.)
Joel’s hand squeezes your waist with purpose, jolting your body as he lulls in closer.
“Had too much to drink.”
You nod again, but say nothing to his statement. Wouldn't dare; not when he's so close that you'll brush his lips if you try.
(He’s barely touched his second drink.)
The hand at your waist and the combination of his forward foot push you sidelong, a half-hearted sway, then directly backwards — a second step, a third — until you're both walking past the threshold of the living room of this open-space apartment—
Right into the makeshift bedroom.
Joel takes the lead with hesitant precision and you allow him, heart pounding in your ears.
Then the possessive hand on your waist twists and pushes, abruptly spinning you around. Your hands collide with something cold, flat, to steady your legs.
The wall.
The only divider skewing the view of the bedroom from the front door.
Joel is warm and solid behind you, broad chest pressing you into the flower-scattered wallpaper with purpose. You glide your cheek against the wall where the paper chips and ebbs on your lips, nose, until it presses to your forehead.
His large hands raise to encase yours, pinning your palms to the surface.
“M’not a good man,” he admits against the shell of your earlobe, and you want to outright moan. From this proximity, the baritone southern drawl vibrates through your head and shoots straight down. “I’ve done things—”
“Everyone’s done things,” you tell him weakly, cutting off his confession.
“Not like me,” he assures, hawkish nose nuzzling the hair at the nape of your neck.
You lean back, using both pressed palms as leverage to arch your hips into the crotch of his jeans. The strained sound that falls from his lips is deliciously sinful.
Only a thread away from snapping.
Your head drops back to his shoulder just enough to breathe to the ceiling. His salt and pepper beard tickles your skin. “You don't scare me, Miller.”
“I should.” His lips hover along your neck, tickling with ever labored breath. “Ain't got nothing to lose at my age, but you—”
Of course.
Of course this is what it boils down to.
Anger bubbles in your belly, twisting the arousal. Joel’s grip on your hands loosen, offering an opportunity to counterstrike: you rip them from the wall, left then right, and spin before he can stop you — and he does try, yet it's too late by the time he slams you back into the wall, now face to face. Your hands find their way to the pockets of his denim button-down, angling a forearm barrier between you.
The way Joel Miller’s eyes have blackened since you last saw them is downright wicked.
You blow some hair from your flushed face, chest rising and falling with anger.
“Is that the only thing stopping you? Huh? Because you're a lost cause at your big age?" When he doesn’t answer, you crane your neck to hiss closer to his face in a mockery of his drawl. “I've done heinous shit. You still got your whole life ahead of you. You could settle down while the world's ending and be as fucking ignorant as the rest—”
"Hey."
His hands, now finding purchase on your shoulders, push you harder into the wall as he growls in return.
“Watch. It.”
You’ve kicked the hornet’s nest.
And in the moment, you can’t find a single fuck to give.
“I may not be a year away from earning an A-A-R-fucking-P card like your mopey ass, but I’m not untouchable, Joel.” The lines of his face smooth at the sound of his first name. “I'm not some fragile thing wearing white. And I sure as fuck don’t need someone to tell me what I have to lose, so quit acting like you're saving me.”
The pressure remains, but the smuggler stays perfectly still. His nostrils flare with every inhale. You rest the back of your head against the wall, allowing the light from the open window to illuminate the bottom half of your face.
“Whatever it is you think I deserve? It isn't what I want. I see you, Joel, and you see me.”
Joel studies your face in what little light remains, Adam’s apple bobbing with apprehension.
Then his left hand leaves your shoulder, seizing your jaw mercilessly in his hand with his fingers. You make a noise, small yet audible, and have no choice but to obey when he drags your gaze higher to his face.
“Don’t ask for things you don’t understand,” he warns, low and venomous. “I say you’re young ‘cus you are. I had my time to date. Hell, I had my time to divorce. Been way past that puppy dog shit. Nothing about this would be soft—”
“I don’t care.”
“—or kind—”
“I don’t care.”
“—or real,” he emphasizes by squeezing your face to the point where he could bruise. You wince, standing on the toe of your boots to accommodate the pain. “I ain’t like that anymore. So when I say you don't want this, m'telling you because you deserve better. More. Not something... hollow or broken. Because when I touch something, it always—”
He catches himself there, realizing the emotion bubbling in the back of his throat before it can rise. He lets go like your skin has burned him, backing away by a full foot.
You stay pressed to the wall, watching with a wide gaze of regret and longing.
(You didn’t mean to push him, just like he didn’t mean to make your jaw sore.)
Joel runs a hand down his face, fighting to get a grip on reality between several blinks. He turns to make his way around the wall, but you see it: the way the same hand drops to adjust himself in his jeans.
You want to follow him and drop to your knees and—
“Go to bed.”
Joel breaks the fantasy before it can start with a growl of a demand, back turned to you.
“Go to bed. Don’t come out here. Just forget about this.”
“Joel—”
“I ain’t askin’ you, girl.”
He barks over his shoulder, scowl flaring his nostrils. The yell makes you jump, but you listen: step by step you venture backwards, away from the wall you once found yourself pinned against until your boots hit the edge of the mattress.
After a moment, the crooning radio flickers to silence.
You hear the couch creak with the weight of him when he flops down onto it.
He doesn’t say goodnight.
Author's Note: How are we feeling, Joel Nation? I hope his manhandling wasn't too jarring. Since this is pre-TLOU, I imagine Joel is very touch starved/averse, so it made sense to me to write him as such.
As always, reblogs/comments are everything. Thank you so much for all of the support on this little story! ILU all.
#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#tlou#tlou spoilers#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#fanfiction#joel miller imagine#wip#pedro pascal#amywritesthings#seeing you seeing me
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Soft Spot [J.Miller x Reader]
Summary: It's not like he asked you to knock up on his heart and he let you in, instead, you slowly crawled inside it without notice and when he saw, there wasn't much he could do.
Warnings: Just fluff, nothing more, nothing else. Mentions of living a shit life on the QZ. Fluff/hurt/comfort. Sunshine X Grumpy trope. Mentions of Ellie. The reader age isn't metioned but they are on they on their 20's. Age gap (?). Gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N.
A/N: Pedro's got a chokehold on me and it isn't gonna fade away quickly, enjoy!
There was a lotta things Joel Miller was: he was insane, a houndog, a fucker, a wall of muscles, the grumpy folk, Tess bodyguard and whatever he has ever heard people say about him.
But there was one thing that Joel Miller wasn't and that was being soft. He could beat up a thousand people, kill them with cold blood and don't be sorry about any of it. He was surviving, after all. Joel Miller was rashed uppon the edges, the loss of his daughter in the beggining of the pandemic made him a stoic case that wanted to keep out any sort of affection out of his life.
He had plenty moments, plenty opportunities where he thought that maybe wasn't a bad idea to let Tess in, but he didn't want it, he didn't want her to be another person that would get on his life one moment and then the other would be out. But then he met you and next he met Ellie. And suddenly was like things clicked in time.
You had met him trough Tess, she took you under her wing once and never let you go again. When you first met Joel, it wasn't hard to notice that not only he was a man of few words but he also was a man that didn't let any strange get anywhere closer to him. He was a pure asshole when you first met, said that someone like you couldn't even know how to handle a gun properly to shoot before getting killed by infecteds. And man, didn't he eated up his words that day. You not only could take care of yourself, you also helped him to get his back safe so he wouldn't be dead.
You never took to heart the harsh things Joel told you when you first met, no, and the thing is because you knew, from the very first moment you met him, that he was a broken man. You had no idea of what he had gone trough pre-outbreak, but whatever it was that happened, you knew that it was the reason for him to be like that. But you were patient, you lived a few years alone before getting to the Boston QZ, you have had too many time to work on your patience. So you had the patience to wait for the day that Joel would make a open for you to get close to his heart.
That day happened one year after you met him, it took long but he finally was able to let show, at least a little, of what he really is: a protector. Someone that will make sure that those around him are safe and sound and that only started because he got concerned for your well being when you got back to his apartment with a bruise on your ribs and a bloody mouth because a job went wrong.
He was pissed that the job you went to do was taking longer than what you have said, he was ready to get a hand on his gun and jolt out the door to search for you when you suddenly stumble in his apartment, holding the side where your ribs hurted like hell (maybe you had one or two broken), split lip and tired stance. He never runned faster to you before that moment, he took you to his couch and tended to your wounds, hands on your face to lift it up so you wouldn't fall asleep, fearing that maybe if you had a concussion, it was better to keep you awake.
It was the first time Joel Miller showed concern for you and took care of you, since that day, there wasn't a day where you would be exhausted or beated up that he wouldn't take care of you. He wasn't soft, no, Joel Miller was a lot of things, but never soft. At least that was what he tried to convince himself everyday before you entered his life and tried to keep you anywhere closer than you already got. And he was making you sure that you stayed safe while trying to keep you away, not that he suceeded on the task.
It didn't took long for him to start with lingering touches: a finger lifting up your chin, a hand on your shoulder, a hand carefully on your cheek, a soft ghost of the point of his fingers when you slept with your head on his shoulder once, a tender embrace at night where he would hold you against his chest if you were having nightmares. Truth was that Joel Miller was a little bit touch starved, he wouldn't tell you outloud how he felt.
But Frank noticed. Frank was a sweetheart, he was happy when he met Tess and Joel and that joy doubled when you visited them for the first time.
You clicked right away with him, you would talk about a lot of things that made and didn't make sense and Frank was many things, but one thing he was, was that Frank was an observer, he knew how to look on things around him and pay attention to what surrounded him. And he noticed Joel care for you, just like the same care Bill took of him, Frank knew that Joel always took care of Tess but with you, with you was a whole different thing.
Even if the woman had quite the romantic feelings for the cranked man and they had quite the partnership, his care towards you was a tender one, not one that made you feel like a kid but a more of the kind that you would feel special in every tender care he had with you, very opposite of the care he had with Tess. It was on every little thing he would do for you: brush a single stray of hair out of your face, tender to the little cut you made to yourself with the knife while helping Frank in the kitchen, pay attention to what you were saying about a few plants from a book you burrowed from Bill's collection, when he held your hand to help you up the comfortable couch that they had on their living room.
Maybe Frank was wrong and Joel was just doing this because even if Joel cared, it didn't mean that it was in a romantic way as he was thinking but he knew he was right when he swore that he saw a hint of a smile on Joel's face once when he catched you and him savouring the wonderful strawberries he and Bill had on their backyard seeing you almost shed tears of pure joy for tasting the fruit for the first time, but he knew that the care that that man had for you was love when he cradled your face on his hands and slowly brought your lips together, a soft blush on your cheeks before he went away to let the both of you to have your moment, a few little giggles behind him as he left.
He wasn't surprised when Joel got into the kitchen and delivered a soft kiss on your forehead before sitting down by your side and chugging on his breakfeast the next morning, and he wasn't less surprised to see him holding your hand as the three of you said your goodbyes to both him and Bill when it was time for you to go.
So yes, Joel Miller wasn't soft, a lot of things he was but soft wasn't one of them, but he was soft for you, you were his soft spot. That said spot was the same he foughted it so long to try and keep you away in hopes that you will forget about him and leave him be before he would let you get free pass and he would end up losing you too. But he got to a point where he couldn't ignore the way he felt towards you, not after all the times you cradled his face on your hands and kissed his forehead or in the time that he woke up from a nightmare with Sarah and told everything about her and you just cradled him in your arms while let him cry his loss.
You were the little part of him that still believed that there could still be chance to the world, where he would let loose and dream of a possibility of normalcy, where he would let himself dream of a scenery where you would have a house for yourselfs, where he would give you a good morning kiss and went to wake up Ellie so the three of you could have breakfeast together.
Joel Miller wasn't a soft man, he was harsh on the edges with a daily scowl on his face, but he was soft for you when you were alone, he had that soft spot reserved only for you, and he would make sure to keep that up, till his bones wouldn't take it anymore.
#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller#the last of us hbo#reader insert#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#the last of us x reader#the last of us imagine
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here's the official Lumberjackass lore post (1/?) because my brain cannot contain the worlds it creates in juxtaposition with Nebada.
Establishing biological consistencies/canon first, grunts are not born, but created. The exact process by which I am not intimately familiar with but the process is almost entirely "unnatural" or artificial, basically pumping out identical copies of the same fuckass dude with the only notable exceptions being Visible fuckups in the code (dominant phenotypical mutations) and invisible mutations that change internal or recessive factors.
Grunt making machine makes grunts. A.A.H.W. has a need both for soldiers to throw at the one of the only threats to the Auditor, and for training subjects. Logical conclusion is a seedily ran mass cloning and "training" facility that literally just. Produces guys, makes them fight each other or trained and armed Agents, and if you die they make more. If you live, however, things don't get any easier. Your promotion is increasingly cruel and difficult daily "sparring" with armed and overpowered Agents who are outnumbering you in one way or the other. Most do not survive the first month, and ones that survive more than a year are extraordinarily rare and viewed as somewhat valueable training assets.
This brings us to #303N-52, one of the routinely generated grunts. She isn't special or noteable in any particular way, aside from small genetic deviations that don't set off any sort of worry. The only thing exceptional about her is that she survives.
And she just keeps doing it. Over and over. Head tilting, curiousity inducing resiliency and instincts in self defence and preservation. Longer she survives, the more days and trials she pushes herself through, the more conscious and "her" she becomes. As time passes, her body hardens, coming back from the brink of death, blood loss, bodily and mental trauma over and over again. She becomes a popular target, almost entirely out of curious bemusement from those who wonder when she'll give out.
Her movements are hard and slow, tanky. She nigh exclusively grapples and does hand to hand both out of neccessity and preference. When she disarms Agents she typically doesn't bother picking up the weapon unless she's certain it would end the fight sooner. Her knuckles are nearly constantly split and bleeding at this given point, and the scar tissue fights the splits in a desperate attempt to close the wound. Her preference for hand to hand is entirely because of nearsightedness and her physical proclivity for the tactile satisfaction of beating people.
The incredible cruelty and immorality even for the standards of the AAHW meets displeased ears, and multiple differently aligned factions work against it's existence until it is effectively defunct. However, upon going defunct, the AAHW fuckers kinda just. Leave. And leave the "subjects" locked in the defunct and essentially abandoned building. This is where you come in. (if you want blinks animely)
Whoever fits the narrative (Hank, random guy 15, the girl reading this) comes by the fucked up newly abandoned building, breaks in, sees a bunch of corpses in various states of decay and Oh My God Why Is She Still Alive. Jesus Fucking Christ.
And thats just the establishing shot this is just part one please have patience with me. Or don't. I'm not your dad.
#madness combat#madcom#madness combat fanart#madness project nexus#madcom oc#madness combat oc#madness combat original character#guarden/art#should i make a tag for her idfk yet hm thinks thinks#lumberjackass
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(yes i wrote something about fir and antler because they are my skrunkle guys. yeah. also i thought that ferric looked similar to ant. so here we go.)
The soft light dappled the forest floor as the fox trotted across the leaves. He ignored the screech of some various animal being snuffed out behind him. Maybe by that weird mouse. It seemed to like him. But whatever, he had a mission. He needed to find his friend, the bat. He never really knew where the little creature went, but they were closer than he’d like to admit. He had found the thing in the hellscape plain, trembling and developing heat stroke. It was even snappy back then.
He sniffed. The notable stench of blood hit his nose, and he recoiled. But there was a.. familiar scent coming with it. He noticed the smell of those Fire corporals. He actually respected them. A canine and a flying creature? He could relate. They had actually had some meaningful conversations as well. Ranger respected him, at least a little. He heard wingbeats, and looked up. The damned bat was hanging off the tree, still righting themself.
“Little fucker. Get down here, Fir.” The fox growled.
The bat chuckled, then flitted down and perched on his shoulder. “Cheer up, Antler.”
“You know I can smell the corpse. Who is it?” He went for the calm approach- his go-to. But he made sure to add a hint of aggression to get the point across.
Fir hesitated, then went with “I can’t tell you directly. You’ll have to see.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Antler murmured, but entered the small area in which the scent of rot was strongest.
Instantly, he had to take a step back. The stench was coming from a horrifyingly familiar fox, clearly dead, organs ripped out and all.
“...Ferric?”
The single word was uttered before Ant could stop himself. His calm demeanor melted away in the fearful panic beating through his heart and the little prickles through his skin. His cousin. His only relative in Defiance.
“Holy shit.” Fir let out a shocked little chuckle. “I didn’t.. I thought she would be less brutally killed than that, but it is the murder cult.”
“Fir, this is no time for jokes. Please.” Antler’s voice was strained.
“..I know. I’m really so sorry. I heard that she tried to desert.” Fir sounded resigned.
“..Fir, you’re a good friend. I hope you know that. My closest friend, in fact. But I need to be left alone.” Antler gently shut Ferric’s eerie, blank eyes with a claw.
“Okay.” And with the simple word, Fir flew away. It hesitated in the air, turning back to look at the fox, then flew off.
Silence was in the clearing for a while. Antler was burying the body for what seemed like hours. As he finished the mound, he sat down. “...Ferric. I hope you find a soft place to rest.” Of course he didn’t say much. But he had to let her go somehow. He shook his head softly. “Goodbye.” And with that, he turned away.
“What did you overhear?” He asked his companion softly.
Fir chuckled. “From the combination of it? There’s a shit ton- well, not a shit ton, but a notable amount of cats living in that hellscape desert or whatever you call it. They somehow have been surviving, for a while.”
“So what you’ve heard Rainhaze mumbling is true?” Antler responded, tilting his head.
“Oh, yeah.” It chuckled, “Being small has its perks. I don’t think he even knew I was listening.”
“Everyone should have a little bat buddy.” Ant commented, letting out a small laugh. “To spy on animals who shouldn’t be spied on. Like Deepdark. Or the corporals.”
“Aw, fuck you. You keep me around for much more than that.” Fir flitted away, then returned soon after.
“Did Ferric try to desert?” Antler asked suddenly, suddenly a bit more subdued.
“Yeah. I asked Hacksaw. She confirmed it, she did attempt deserting. She also said that she didn’t care that the body had been buried. Hacksaw’s honestly really fucking cool.” Fir responded.
“Absolutely. But anyways. It’s always a bad decision to desert. She could have told me. I could have tried to help her.” He whispered, sitting down.
Fir made sure to flit around the area, checking for any prying ears, then whispered back: “You could have gotten caught, though. They wouldn’t kill you, yeah, but the punishments…” It huffed, making a frustrated face.
“It’s fine. I didn’t, so we don’t have to think of the consequences.” Antler said, tapping his tail twice on the ground. “Should we check the hellscape? Maybe we could catch a glimpse of those weird cats.”
Fir’s eyes widened and it grinned maniacally. “Oh fuck yeah.”
It was always so hot in the hellscape plain. Heatstroke was a looming threat, as the sun scorched the earth so indefinitely you never know when rain will quench the thirst of the water-starved ground. He had only seen it rain once, passing through. He had the satisfaction of killing a skinny, starved little weasel thing back then. Now, of course, Fir flitted along with him.
“Fuckin’ hate this place. Too hot, bad memories.” Fir sniffed, fanning itself with its wings. It went from flying to perched on Antler’s head, right between their ears. It was a move it had seen Ranger and Hacksaw do, and proceeded to copy. Of course, the coyote and the hawk didn’t mind Fir being a copycat. Everyone loved the little fucking murder air mammal. Including Antler, though he would never admit it.
“Have you ever encountered a little blue cat out here?” Antler asked, tilting their head, trotting across the plain. A day’s travel to the edge of the territory where, depending on where you were standing, you could see the blue cat, from Antler’s experience of checking the area.
“Once, actually! A little blue cat, like Rainhaze talked about, with some white scruff on the chest, and yellow eyes. I mean, that’s what I remember. He was stalking a field mouse or something, and you bet I swooped down and took that little guy. I flew up pretty high, and dropped the mouse, right in front of him. I swear he went ‘A bat?!’ and then I yelled ‘You're welcome! Guaranteed free food, bitch!’ and flew off.”
“Yeah, I kind of assumed you’d do something like that.” Ant chuckled softly. “When I’m out here, I observe the territory and watch any predator animal I see. Sometimes I see the little blue cat, and he almost always notices me…” He trailed off, thinking.
“Observant pointy animal.” Fir chuckled, then paused. “Wait. Movement over there. I hear something.”
Antler squinted, creeping forward. In the distance, near a small patch of some sort of plant. There was some movement, but the shape was blurry from the heat striking off the ground.
Fir huffed. “Can’t see the bitch from here. I’m goin’ over.” It shot off Antler’s head, leaving the fox making a cross face, a slight pull to the lip. He saw the little shape flit over the bigger shape, then return.
“Sure as hell is a little blue cat. He’ll probably come over. Good thing our settlement is close to the hellscape plain.” It chuckled, flitting around and then landing between Ant’s shoulders.
“We are really inspecting this cat. He is like a little bug to us. You know those isopods? The little rolly guys?” He sniffed, watching the little shape, which was moving towards them warily.
“Of course I do. You literally collect them. I wake up and there are like thirty of them scattered around sometimes. I’ve seen them fully cover the floor of the den sometimes. The den is big. How are you even fucking achieving that.” The bat chuckled. It flapped its wings a couple of times, as if shaking the bugs off of it.
“I get help. Some of the deeplings and a surprising number of general Defiance members like them and want to collect them with me.” Ant said, watching the shape come close enough to properly see the color. “That’s definitely a blue cat. You weren’t lying.”
“..You’re saying that Defiance members, animals part of the murder cult, like little bugs enough to fill a den with them?” Fir murmured.
But, of course, the cat was creeping over to them, so Antler ignored the bat, and gently moved towards the cat. He stared in fear at the fox, who stared back, emotionless. Fir flew around the cat, watching, silent for once. The two had a moment, then Antler broke the tense atmosphere by taking a little isopod from his neck fur and gently setting it down in front of the cat.
“HOW MANY OF THOSE DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?!” Fir yelled from their overhead flying.
Antler didn’t respond, and instead beckoned Fir down, and turned away, leaving the cat prodding confusedly at the little bug.
-
afterthoughts: literally love that i made defiance like little bugs. my 1 crowning achievement.
also plot twist fir eats them sometimes out of spite
the doc is called "live antler reaction" and i think that's funny. thanks me from 4 days ago or wheneever i wrote it
(@barrenclan for the @)
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wrath
Once upon a time, she'd have moved the stars for her crew - for her friends... her family. People she'd thought had accepted her flaws as readily as she'd accepted theirs. Of course... she hadn't known them well enough to know all their dirty little secrets until it was too late, it seemed.
And she was becoming just like him, now.
Her own ship. Her own crew. Her own dark deeds. Either a flask, or a joint always at hand.
She wasn't, usually, all too interested in things like fury - why bother, really? Anger is a quick burning fuel that leaves you worse for wear, most days.
Better to laugh, and live, and indulge in the now.
But when it came to a broken vow - when it came to the person who said they'd be there... blaming her for what was done to her? The things that haunted her, day and night, those things were her fault? Accusing her of... of being something she wasn't, now.
He'd looked at her with disgust, after all her suffering. After she fought to get back to her 'friends'... back to the man she respected, and admired - suspicion and revulsion were all she got.
"Yeh aren't me Lily-flower, yeh sick fekk. Yeh dunnae get ta use 'er against me."
The memory was as stark now, as the moment had been, then - and still made her stomach churn in a way nothing else could.
A knife right in the heart of the girl who had held on. For him.
For all of them.
Once crew, always crew.
"What do I have to do to prove that it's me, it's really...honestly me? How do I prove to you that you are why I held on? That I hit rock bottom, and I endured horrific things because you told me that's what a bilgerat does - that they survive no matter what. You taught me not to play fair, so I beat the fucker at his own game in the end."
Long, thin fingers drifted upward in the mirror, to set lightly at the silvered lioness pendant she still wore - the one the Marquis Vynguld had given her so long ago, now. He'd told her to embrace her 'Lioness'; to embrace the parts of herself that she'd always been afraid of - forever the doormat, the lap cat... never embracing herself in full, never stretching her legs, or her own claws... unless at the behest of another.
Iloam's words had been a slow-acting poison - and the only sort that could harm her now; a poison that gnawed at the edges of her as surely as the demonic impulse did... his revulsion. The man who'd given her a home, and a purpose, and a family when she'd had nothing.
She disgusted him now. She'd survived... and for what? To see loathing in the eyes of her loved ones?
Perhaps anger was best left to simmer - perhaps, if they wanted her to be a monster, she would in time. Perhaps, like that lioness, she should be patient - she would, after all, outlive everyone, now - and the 'sins of the father' were the sort of thing to linger, after all.
So she would respect his final words to her, and leave him alone.
"Yeh aren't goin' ta fool me - so next time yeh see me, walk t'e ot'er way."
Love betrayed had a way of rotting inside a person - of twisting, and befouling waters that once were pure - and rejection of a hand reached out in desperation had a way of amplifying that effect.
But as much as she hated the things he'd said to her - the false accusations, and his paranoia that she wasn't even herself... she hated even more that she was becoming just like him.
#sin'dorei#felblood#wow rp#world of warcraft rp#old rp#thanks for asking!#7 deadly sins#wrath isn't a common one for her#but fighting to get back to someone who helped redefine your life only to have them be disgusted by you bc of what was done TO you?#that was a slap in the face#so she has a complicated set of emotions regarding all this#love and hate and heartbreak and anger#alas she'll probably never get the chance TO try and speak to him again#so this'll just fester for a few centuries
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Another headcanon for (some) characters from a hat in time (retail, cut content and ARG).
Retail:
Hat Kid has a personal enjoyment of military history, this stems from the fact that apart from those who were directly involved she is the only one that knows what actually occurred and as such has signed an NDA.
Bow Kid is a closeted sadist.
Mustache Girl's main dream before the mafia arrived on the island was to join the local fishing business.
Following the downfall of Mafia boss the mafia essentially fell apart from the inside, some stayed on the island but the islanders kicked them off, the rest went to someplace.
Mafia boss currently resides in La Felin as a permanent guest of the Empress following the events of a hat in time.
Goofy mafia is the only remnant o the mafia still living in mafia town following the events of a hat in time.
Cooking Cat arrived in Mafia town on the same ship the mafia arrived in, apparently mafia boss and her knew each other even before the mafia came to mafia town.
The Conductor is still trying to authorize the FUB government for a new locomotive for the owl express, he still hasn't received a response.
Dj Grooves once tried to create what is basically the bird version of high school musical, it was his biggest flop yet and has never been sold or seen since its original viewing because the penguin pulled it from everywhere out of embarrassment.
Snatcher might say that he doesn't care for the kids but deep down he really does care, among those is filling the fridge with healthier foods and the letter stealing thing he does for his minions.
Vanessa once enjoyed bacon herself however her mother was a bitch.
The Nomads have been around for countless years however nobody knows where the corpses of the dead go, these are fed to the goats who gladly accept them and the lazy paw get nothing.
The Lazy Paw first started out on the moon but fled into the mountains when the FUB sent in the national guard.
The captain has a wife and a child, he has also been on the S literally cannot sink since he was a young wireless operator, using a Marconi wireless which he kept serviced with his own tools.
The Empress actually was once a rich business woman that did some slight crime on the side but after one of the older Nyakuza bosses killed her family and took her eye out she went into crime fully and eventually beat the fucker to death with a crowbar.
Cut content, the prototype/alpha story took place years before the events of the retail game:
Beta kid was originally stitched together by Tim to act as a servant but after some timepiece shenanigans he modified her in order for her to be able to fight back if pressed.
Timmy's first time with a skateboard ended with him accidentally taking both him, Sam and Thor into the sea, they were rescued and Sam taught Timmy how to skateboard since he used to skateboard as a kid and wanted to teach him.
The first and only time Sam used his snub nosed .357 magnum revolver was when he was ambushed by Nyakuza agents while investigating the 'rush hour incident', he was also almost shot by a paranoid Hat Kid when trespassing on her ship to find clues if she was related to the Nyakuza.
Tim the CEO of Time actively takes anti-stress medication as a precaution against meltdowns, it probably doesn't work but he don't take no chances after the 'incident'.
Thor has been inventing since he was a child, his first invention was a mini zeppelin he flew himself.
Beta Mafia Boss' real name is called Jason while the retail one is called Matt, the two hate each other but while Matt's existence is depressing Jason is dead.
The retail mafia and the Beta mafia used to be the same group but a particularly nasty incident lead to a schism.
Moonjumper may be dead but his existence in the depths of Subcon Forest as some sort of deity showcases just how powerful he was when he existed.
TV head narrates everything in his life in the first person.
The Worm once fell into a giant blender, how he survived is beyond me.
ARG, the ARG lot appearing was an accident involving Hat Kid, alcohol and a slight but very entertaining trip into underaged drinking:
Tempus is a bit of a night owl and, thanks to Hat Kid, can take an RPG round to the face and not feel anything.
Puella has a bit of a sweet tooth and when she was younger she would spend money on sweets, under Tempus however she had little options unless Tempus gave some to her as a reward.
Aggripa and Puella are partners and fully intend to get married, Tempus doesn't want them to because they would be annoying to deal with.
Cavus wants them to tie the knot to annoy Tempus.
Among Hat Kid's favorite collective nicknames for the founders is 'the malformed ballsack'.
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He told me he feels his homelessness is a right wing issue they just try to kill American citizens for immigrant cost of living.....so I said the energy executives like Eichmann no one they don't educate and order them to or anything yea those behaviours problems are random not orders from technocrats or anything
There is no conflict the job is just a bitch sure?....no one has to apologize to women for calling their personality disorders the emperor of the study that actually engineered it
No one has to apologize to women for incriminating them for survival decisions or anything
I don't like a nation that feels it can incriminate its own people well over what it's people actually did and Africans were brought and that program finally gone now Russians and the job program finally gone....they act like they don't want illegal immigration and just peace conflict kept stalking people out of 9/11 reconstruction settlements
John wayne gacy.....they wouldn't stop coming around our homes and stalking me to work with men as repulsive aids....it won't take care of itself
Russians are proverbial Tex....obama and trump wouldnt do it.....but Russians with fuck you to Biden would finally humiliate its structure into constant incompetence felonnies
There was like over 200 heart attacks a day to have spring break around those job fucks
That's the golden gate bridge earthquake the traffick is such a constant annoying repulsive rApeist fucker that eventually they will mass slaughter car and driver for stalking poverty and it's culture out of gainful employment possibility
I wanted to go to the city and stay awhile and that's my apology I at least won't show up and territorialize it out for my country convenience
Although we thought about being that permissive it's I couldn't do that though I couldn't beat them
But now if they want to let out any revenge tendency they want someone let's them go do it for research purposes and I think that's Tex.....
I thought about letting people be punitive about alcoholism and price it out of consumption but I was like I couldn't do that though take away a compulsive act if I couldn't replace it compensationally......these though these will take the money and go live their fantasy nightmare
He didn't want me to buy alcohol so I didn't he just gave me a hard tea because they felt a little bad....
I think it's just how huge the population was here and not enough restrooms and please fast because it's all refusing to leave
I asked someone if Mexicans were refusing to host their spring break and they said no
But I think Mexico told them zappatistas are never forcibly controlled if their people is around so they have to stay here contain it and get it over with
Well I have to consider working for communists to instill strict regulations so it all is suppose to find police structure and improve it
Peace is immoral zappatistas were giving people constant heart attacks and no one started forcing people to go to reform ward seclusions until their health stabilized no one will process people for earth birth control
I have to know myself and try to make responsible decisions
A clockwork orange I was told jails are wrong and to be better to people then jail hobbesian philosophy life is misery then you die
No it doesn't care if veterans had to serve their country no it must be made to care about poverty yes poverty had to serve for its country
I told him some people don't feel a nation exists they feel metropolization does and to my friends they in high school if they thought about a culture produced knew to make logical decisions the states is just a geriatric fantasy and they were called Tokyo ites and emigrated and that I think is immigration here they to themselves were called American military and so serve for the states
Or to she she by high school and family was called latin american so she went to Costa Rica all on her own instead of try to make light terrorists understand why we don't do more then what we do
I do for some reason I was sent away to Europe awhile and they would be kind to me but I was raised in the states and so that's what I'm like to emigration even if I'm bullied battered raped and attempted murder on its how could I just go somewhere I wasn't raised and start selling the water....I'm not really right wing it's more how can you sleep with a lot of people you don't love
I'm not a right wing person though it's more about social control displacement exists and if social programs are stolen then you didn't like your dinner did you
Its probably if I look at what happened to me in high school it's your l.a.
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Rpg Anon: To answer your question: Simple. 1. They don't care. They're all "pure" of heart. They just want to do what their whimsical little hearts tell them do, free of any inhibitions or thinking. 2. Here's another way to look at it. They're all Nagito after he found out Hajime has no talent in dr2. He was an asshole to Hajime. Ironically tho, Izuru, the ultimate hope, a being that represented what Nagito would adore most is this world, is Hajime too.
They all adore the legend and beauty of the idea of The Savior (talent) but the minute they lay eyes on The Savior, they grow sick and repulsed at the fact they exist cuz it goes against what they feel. "Oh The Savior is so wonderful and graceful and gallant" >>> "How dare someone better than us exist?! How dare they tell us what to do?!" >>> "Oh the legends of heroic deeds that The Savior has done are wonderful, aren't they?" Rinse repeat.
I'm sure I said this before. Honestly, everything could have been avoided if 1. Those assholes did what they told to do and made the goddamn sword (don't ask) instead of being lazy or 2. Morgan (the "Makoto" turned "Izuru" antagonist character I showed the viewpoint of for you) also did what she told to do and SLAUGHTERED THEM ALL. Unbiased ruthless genocide of everyone. No saving them, no ruling them, just a wave of death and closing the curtain on everything. Honestly would have been a mercy kill to her actual good friends too.
Now I'm going to explain more I didn't get to say previously that will make things sound even worse.
Take this into consideration. Follow along with me and chronology of events to see why all these pieces of shit deserve to die. 1. Let's just say "God" (I can't spell his name) was a swell guy and created this entire land and all the people. They all worshipped him and there was love and peace for a while. Until they realized that "God" is above them as people and they didn't like someone better than them existing and telling them what to do. So they decided to kill his priestess/wife, throw her corpse down a pit, poison him (to this day idk how they managed to poison someone as fucking gigantic and all powerful as him but regardless), and seal him in that same pit. Sigh. 2. Then, the world itself summons Morgan to bring order and peace to the land now that god is dead for now. You already know how this turned out. 3. Next, the world itself told Morgan to kill everyone (yes that's right. Imagine if the entire planet itself was disgusted with its global population so much that it plotted to kill them all) and gave her a spear to do it. Morgan chose still to save everyone and betrayed the world. 4. So the world created Oberon (the third Junko character I mentioned) to kill everyone and more specifically beat Morgan. Honestly, this was an INGENIOUS plan. Morgan is downright TERRIFIED of bugs. However this plan got fucked over cuz Morgan had friends who took care of Oberon. Loophole. 5. And so the world decided to recreate Morgan. The next Savior/Chosen One: Artoria Caster (Castoria). ...the fuckers treated her the same way... The sole reason she survived long enough was cuz of Oberon. They treated her so terribly that Oberon himself, who was born to hate any Chosen One, felt that despite this, he was disgusted by those fuckers and how they treated her that he took care of Castoria in secret and taught her fire magic and awkward magic for survival.
That's straight up the equivalent of saying Makoto was so abused and hurt by everyone that Junko herself, despite knowing that Makoto will end her in the future, couldn't take seeing him suffer anymore and taught him the power of Hope. Wow.
And here's something incredibly wacky as fuck. This goes to show how crazy insane those fuckers were. The village that castoria once lived at were originally going to ritual sacrifice her cuz they were assholes. Why didn't they? Was it cuz Morgan's army was coming? Did they gain a sense of heart for once? No. The sheer thought and joy of being able to sacrifice someone for no reason caused them all to, I kid you not, start having an celebratory orgyfest of killing each other, eating each other, burning everything down, and destruction. WTF. By the time Morgan's army arrived, they saw a wave of fucking crazy lunatic psychos doing wtf things so they did the only sensible thing and killed who was left in order to not have anymore of these heretics spread. Castoria literally slept through all this chaos.
Sorry for talking about this so much. I got a bit too passionate about how much love to hate this Avalon chapter. I'll just end it with this happy note.
2 years later, we did get swimsuit summer versions of Morgan, Castoria, Barghest (the "Sakura" character), Melusine ("mukuro" character), Baobhan Sith (can't spell her name, the "Mikan" character), and even hell a summer uniform for Oberon. All I can say I'm truly glad i finally see them all smile again. Pointers to Melusine who doesn't have to think about anything terrible anymore and can now focus on/have fun doing shoryukens, gushing over firearm artillery, gushing over being a fighter jet herself, drinking her favorite drink of soy sauce mixed with honey and alcohol (dragons have weird taste), and most importantly, her absolute joy and hobby to straight up CUCK ALL HER FRIENDS by constantly Constantly trying to fuck the protagonist despite the fact that her friends like them too and called dibs. Barghest can enjoy a life without her curse and enjoy being a fire fighter muscle mommy maid. Baobhan sith can just sit down and read a book for once instead of thinking about all the abuse she endured. And Oberon can enjoy being a neet hikkomori trolling us about melons. (We live in the fucking Artic; where the hell are we going to get fresh melon?)
//To me it just sounds like whoever wrote that chapter just has zero faith in humanity as a species.
//We have the potential to be the worst creatures on the planet, true, but we also have the potential to be the best.
//Nothing in the world is evil by nature, not even us.
-Mod
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Once Upon a Witchlight: Episode 44 (SPOILERS)
Richie at 45 degrees with his cool glasses on, Gricko would be proud
Andy and Derek are back in their normal spots, crisis averted
Nikkie so freely talking about her ADHD is so awesome, I love her so much and would love to be half as cool as she is
TWIG IS BACK!!!
Torbek admits he's touch starved and POOR BOY I'LL GIVE YOU SO MANY HUGS
Superman Torbek YESS
Nikkie roasting the live action beauty and the beast
Trucker Gricko yessss
BIG BROWN!! AND LITTLE GREEN!!!! (Big brown sounds very sus though)
“Polish your wood” GIDEON WHAT??
LITTLE RED!!
With our powers combined, we are all one fully capable adventurer
Spiderlily, maple and cowslip are sus to me for some reason
OH HELL YEAH, A WHISTLE! *My S/I immediately takes it and tries to play it*
TORBEK BROKE HIS WHISTLE (T-T)
Druid whistle!!
I swear if that QR code wasn’t a rick roll, I'm gonna be pissed at mikey /j
Torbek always goes through the five stages of grief every time Agdon longscarf is mentioned
Torbek doesn't wash his own ass Frost, how tf are you gonna make him wash the scarf???
Dance party mid episode yay!
Torbek being good at survival is so damn funny, bro my girlfailure of a bestie and you would NEVER expect him to be good at survival
Oh no, last time they were near mushrooms they got muppetfied and lost each other
Torbek eating all the mushroom people omfg
I image every mushroom person has their own distinct music style matching their hat color
“Those bird fuckers” “I was in a band called bird fuckers!” HAHAHA
“Kenkus on thanksgiving” “I’ll baste that Kenku” STOP, YOU'RE KILLING ME
My S/I would definitely dance and sing with these mushroom people
NAT 20 FOR KREMY LETS GOOOOOOOOO
“He spores all over you” GROSS NIKKIE WTF, DON’T SPORE MY DAD AFTER HIS NAT 20
OH GODS HE'S HIGH (and has true sight!)
“Papa, you’re high off your ass. Come down from the sky please” -My S/I after Kremy starts talking nonsense about 3’s and 8’s and thither being a clock
MEDIUM GREEN? NO! HE'S BIG PURPLE!! >:(
Oh shiiit, big ol monster that only Kremy saw. That's not good
THE JABBERWOCK??? OMFG THEY’RE GONNA DIE THOSE THINGS ARE FUCKIN HORRIBLE
Buck teeth lookin ass who can probably beat them all up, I ain’t a brothers grimm/mythology/musical theater nerd for nothing man
STOP TRYING TO EAT THE MUSHROOM PEOPLE
“Hey do y'all remember if you did this one specific thing 11 months ago?” HOW WOULD THEY NIKKIE, UNLESS THEY WROTE IT DOWN WHICH I DOUBT THESE IDIOTS DO, HOW WOULD THEY (I still love Nikkie don’t get me wrong)
ARE WE BACK IN THE MATERIAL PLANE???
NOOO THE MUSHROOM PEOPLE ARE DYING NOOOOOOOO
Don't put the mushroom dudes in the same mason jars as the witches brew Kremy, we don't need evil mushroom people
#self ship#self shipping#self ship stuff#self ship community#self insert#canon can suck my metaphorical dick#a family can be a bunch of criminals and their adopted satyr child
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Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓
IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3
39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."
It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.
She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.
This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.
“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.
“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.
“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.
His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.
“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.
“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.
He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.
“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.
“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.
“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.
“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.
They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.
“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.
“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.
“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.
“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.
“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.
“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.
If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.
He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.
It hurts. It hurts so bad.
His heart weeps.
His soul aches.
When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.
He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.
She was the happiest he had ever seen her.
It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.
Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.
“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.
“No.” Niall sighed.
“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.
“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.
In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.
Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.
He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.
He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.
To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.
his only reason to live.
His only beloved.
.
The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.
The spring being their heartiest month.
“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.
“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.
Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.
She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.
Their ever source of happiness.
Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.
A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.
Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.
Never.
Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.
“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”
“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.
“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.
“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.
Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.
“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.
“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.
“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.
“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.
“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.
#THIS MADE ME CRY I NEVER CRY AT MY OWN FICS#THIS ONE WAS HELLA SAD#SORRY POPPLINS#BUT HAD TO GIVE YOU AN HEARTACHE#HARRY SAD WRITINGS#HARRY ANGST#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#cute harry#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry styles fanfiction#harry angst#hsh#fluff#dom harry
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A weather-beaten Journal
The world gone to shit, it has Fallen.
A virus have knocked out most of the humanity and in a bid to survive had to fall into “serfdom".
The monsters starts to live out on Farms, and our favorite have one such farm.
The virus that knocked out humanity have the potential to turn monsters Feral, making them more like beasts than Monsters.
One day a servant finds a red and black journal, stained with yellow spots and smelling vaguely of mustard.
Since she was done with her tasks for today she decided to find a secluded corner and started to read.
Dec 16th, 6 years after the Fall
** **
My bro got the virus. He have been trying to hide it, trying his best to control himself, but today he lashed out and killed five servants when they got on his nerves. He growled and snarled like a beast, using his fang to tear out the throat of two of them before tearing the other three apart._
It is soulrending to see him act like this. He has already chosen a spot for himself in the barn, making himself a proper den before he loses his mind to his feral side. (There are smudges on a few words, as if tears had fallen while the person were writing it.)
…We are eating lasagna tonight, and it is the tastiest lasagna I have ever eaten. It seems like my bro have suddenly become the perfect chef. Not even Black, the critical fucker were praising the food a lot. Puzzle even said that he could never make a lasagna as good as that.
Skull devoured one and a half himself and pouted like a wounded puppy when he didn’t get any more.
My bro was so proud.
**Dec 20, 6 atf **
He tried to attack Blue today. Went right for his soul. Stretch almost killed him, and I had to beat the fucker until he learned that no one touches my lil’ bro. Blue just brushed it off like the damn tank he is, saying that it was his fault for getting too close to his room.
We had a meeting afterwards. Vanilla said that bro had to stay in the barn from now on. I almost beat the bastard, but I can’t deny it any longer. Edge has turned completely Feral.
(There are a few more blotches of faded tears on the edge of the page.)
** Dec 22, 6 atf **
The snow falling is nostalgic, although it is white instead of gray like it was Underground. Edge has settled in the pen, only letting me, Papyrus or Puzzle close. Papyrus is a literal ray of sunshine that he somehow tolerates, and he seem almost afraid of Puzzle, even though he is the kindest of them all.
He seems to remember who we are, but it is if he is more instinct than monster now. No wonder we call it the Feral Virus. Humans often die when they get it, but if they survive they turn immune.
** Dec 23, 6 atf **
Those fucking slaves. Throwing shit and manure on my bro? They have a fucking death wish.
I now know why my bro always been so nervous around Puzzle. Watching that smiling tall freak cut the throats of those humans like they were cattle shows how different he actually is from Papyrus.
I almost forget how both he and Skull survived a hell that was far worse than me and my bro lived through.
We gave the last slave that acted up, the leader to Edge. It was… liberating watching him play with him like a cat does with a mouse. I made all the servants watch, to show them what happens when they think that our kindness is a sign of weakness.
**Dec 24, 6 atf **
Merry fucking Gyftmas.
** Feb 12, 7 atf **
Black got himself a Pet. A cute little thing with attitude like no other. He seem to enjoy the distraction, and her need for cleanliness around her seem to get his approval.
Heh, he almost tried to kill me when I started to flirt with her. Fine fine, I get it, she is yours you caffeinated, uppity bitch.
** July 2nd, 7 atf **
Skull is turning Feral. It was hard noticing due to his wound and how quiet he tends to be, but he has become more and more territorial recently, and he even tried to bite Rus when he shortcutted too close to him.
Vanilla and I started looking for a cure the moment Edge started to show symptoms, but we had no headway so far.
**July 4th, 7 atf **
… I saw Puzzle cry in the kitchen last night when I went to look for some mustard. Black was there, trying his best to comfort him.
…I understand how he feels. When I visit my bro it feels like he doesn’t truly recognize me anymore. It hurts my soul.
July 15th, 7 atf
Skull moved into the barn. He took the largest one, as far away from Edge as possible, in order to not start any fights.
Smart of him, because my bro is territorial to a fault.
In other news, my bro has allowed Blue into the pen, and seems to enjoy his company from time to time.
Blue has decided to become the one to care for those that turn Feral, like the fucking goody two shoes he is.
Of course Stretch did not like this, and for the first time I saw them fight, loudly. Stretch hasn’t left the sheep pen in two days since the fight.
Rus and Puzzle delivers food to him, but when they come back they look like he had been mean as fuck to them.
Maybe I should tell Skull that Stretch has been cursing out Puzzle. He hasn’t turned completely Feral yet, and it would be good for the research… and put that lanky fucker down a few pegs….
Fucking Vanilla laughed at the idea, but said it would not be good if Stretch died. I don’t want to take care of the sheep, they freak me out, and Sans is always stuck in his lab, so he can live.
Aug 14th, 7 atf
…I think I am turning Feral.
There is a urge in my mind, like a fire of… something in my mind.
I told Vanilla, and he seemed to age in front of my eyes. He asked me to fight it as long as possible, and write down all the symptoms that I get.
I have already started a separate journal, writing down everything that happens to me.
I hope that it will help in some way at least.
I am going to treat this like a extra long vacation, if anything I will be finally sleeping as much as I want.
Although if Blue tries to do those exercises he does with Edge I will fucking blast him to pieces.
sep 3rd, 7 atf
…I have to move to the barn.
I am nearing my heat, and I almost went after Black’s Pet.
I held myself back before I did anything, with the help of Puzzle distracting me with his talk about food.
The girl is a sweet one, giving Black the peace he needed from that Hell Underground we both have lived through.
I may be a asshole, but I would never hurt his beloved little Pet willingly. Not even I would go so far.
Luckily she sees me like the perverted, teasing other master, and I will make sure that is how she will remember the non feral me.
If you ever read this girlie, know that what I do as a Feral is not the real me. I would never hurt family by my own will.
sep 9th, 7 atf
This will be my last entry in this journal.
I have chosen my pen and renovated it to my liking.
I took the one between my bro and Skull, because I have to be close to my bro, and I don’t mind Skull.
There is splotches of tears on this page.)I will never admit it, but I am scared of losing myself. What if that vanilla bastard never finds a cure? What if he gives up? What if I hurt anyone? What if I dust myself, or my own brother?
I hope when I return from my “vacation”, it won’t be too far in the future. One of the few perks being a Boss monster, not aging until we die.
Red out, going on vacation.
#Exerpt from my RP#The Ranch#I have sucky naming Sense#Dot Writes Short Snippets#The Journals#Undertale#Sans#Red#underfell sans#Underfell Papyrus#How do I even post on this hellsite
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As the World Caves In
Warning: talk of blood and awhole ton of angst!
I’m not even a little sorry...
The castle was bombarded with hunters like never before. It seemed every corner you turned there was a band of the fuckers waiting for you with their weapons aimed to kill. You had been hit a few times already by a few stray crossbow bolts, and Alcina a few more times than that, but thankfully no bullets pierced your body. When they ran out of ammo they took whatever they could off the walls and either chucked it at you or charged at you, ornate weapon in hand.
There is no winning this time. There are far too many of them this time both inside and outside the castle. Brave ones stormed the castle armed only with primitive hunting weapons and ignorance. The smart ones stayed behind and waited outside to make their move.
Your only hope now was escaping into the forest, but you had no idea how you would manage that. They had the castle pretty much surrounded. Even if you somehow make it outside the castle you would only be bombarded again. Maybe even separated. That was worse than dying at the hands of an ignorant swine, in your mind. The thought of dying alone was the only thing that truly scared you. Death itself was still a scary thought process to have, but everyone will go through it eventually. Of course, it doesn't help that death seems to be knocking on your doorstep, looking for ways to get in, but going through it alone? Words can't do the raw fear justice.
You and Alcina managed to evade most of them on your way to the Upper West Wing. The lower levels of the castle were no longer safe. When the first wave of hunters hit they brought lighter fluid and torched just about anything they could get their hands on. Some were unfortunate enough to accidentally light themselves on fire in the process. It started with the curtains so you couldn't escape through the windows, then the rest of the furniture went up in flames as well. Each room the hunters passed through suffered the same fate. It was a real tragedy; all that fabric going to waste. You couldn't see three feet in front of you because of all the smoke. Even when Alcina had to carry you she tried lifting you above it, but there was hardly any difference. The girls will be making their way up to your destination if they weren't already there.
Luckily you managed to beat most of them upstairs, and the early birds were easy-to-kill targets. You could have decided to leave right then and there had you wanted to; it was the best opportunity of the night. But what kind of mothers would you be if you abandoned your daughters?
You found all three girls exactly where you hoped you would; holed up in Alcina's private study. They ran to embrace you both as soon as you passed through the doorway. Looking them all over you could see Bela was in the worst shape, but that wasn't surprising. More than likely a few of her wounds were from taking hits for her younger sisters. Just from hugging you, she left your side soaked in blood. Not that you could tell the difference between yours and hers. Dead or alive blood is still red. You noticed that someone had come alarmingly close to driving a stake through her heart.
Daniela was a pretty close second. Unlike her older sisters, Daniela was not a murderer. A torturer, absolutely, but ending a life was not as high up on the list of things Daniela likes as everyone thought. If they bothered to get to know the redhead they would know that. Once you did get to know her, the real her, you would see that Daniela is actually rather sensitive. She just has to trust you in order to show it.
Cassandra had faired the best out of the Dimitrescu siblings. Again, you weren't completely surprised. Cassandra got a kick out of killing. You were pretty sure she got off on ending a life. That wasn't to say she was left uninjured. Her cloak was missing and her clothes were riddled withbbullet holes and machete slices. It would have been hard to tell which was which with all the blood loss.
Alcina leaned against the locked door and sighed.
Daniela dragged you to sit on the couch as another coughing fit overcame you. The sweet redhead held your hand tight as you hacked up a bit of blood and spat it on the rug.
"What do we do now?" Cassandra asked.
No one answered. No one needed to answer. You were all sharing the same fears running through your head like a hivemind.
"I didn't wake up this morning thinking this would be our last night together," you say while rubbing circles on Daniela's hand with your thumb.
Tears gather in Alcina's eyes. "We can still escape through the basement."
You grimace at the thought. "You guys might be able to make it there, and it is a straight shot from there, but that's only if you make it as far as the basement entrance. Not to mention you have to have enough time to seal it behind you. Even if you're lucky enough to get there and shut the entrance behind you, there are still hunters galore waiting for you outside. Look, I can't go with you down there. Inhaling any more smoke will kill me long before hunters have the chance." You give Daniela's hand a squeeze once you notice the tears trailing down her cheeks. "It's the end of the line for me, Al. Take the girls and give it your best shot. I'll be waiting on the other side if all else fails."
Cassandra storms up to you, furiously wiping tears from her eyes and bares her fangs at you. She always did it to come off as threatening, but you know she's just scared. You accepted your fate already; death is inevitable even to the "immortal." The end simply just doesn't come to those special few with supernatural abilities. That's not how life works. There is nothing to cry over; this is not a new revelation for you.
"I won't make it either," Bela says in almost a whisper. "I'm too weak to transform into my swarm even if we make it to the basement safely. I don't stand a chance. I'd rather stay here with y/n."
Cassandra reaches for your free hand. "Me too."
Daniela agrees as well but doesn't have the words to say it. Otherwise, she'll cry, and Daniela would rather succumb to vampire hunters than cry openly in front of her entire family.
Alcina sighs and makes her way over to the free spot on the couch. "I never said we were abandoning anyone. I was just making a suggestion."
You look around at your family sat around you almost unbelieving. "You all would rather die with me instead of taking your chance at survival?"
Alcina's arm stretched behind the back of the couch to take your hand from Cassandra. "I'd rather live my last moments with you than survive until we meet again."
Your daughters nodded in agreement. "Live like a family die like a family."
The sentiment touched your soul. And like hell you were going to try to convince them otherwise.
The smoke came long before the hunters found you. You and Alcina collected your three beautiful daughters in between the two of you and held them close. Bela leaned against her mother's chest for support while Cassandra rested her head on Bela's shoulder, holding her and Daniela's hands on either side of her. Daniela was leaning totally against you wither her face buried in your neck as tears flowed freely. You tried calming her with hushed kisses to her temple and nuzzling her back. You never stopped holding her hand. One of Alcina's arms wrapped around her eldest daughter, rubbing up and down her arm while the other was still stretched along the back of the couch holding your hand through more coughing fits. Together you held your family, waiting for fate to come knocking at your door.
You didn't have to wait long, but for the first time in Romanian history, when those hunters came barging in the room, they didn't see a bunch of monsters at home amongst the burning flames. They saw a family, just like the ones they have, enjoying their last few moments on Earth in peace.
#lady dimitrescu x reader#lady dimitrescu#tall vampire lady#lady Alcina#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#resident evil village#resident evil 8
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This is a fic rec of One Direction fic writers who both appreciate positive, long comments and enjoy replying back to these comments! This was made in honor of an enthusiastic friend who had a few bad experiences commenting in our fandom and receiving less than kind replies. Instead of just fuming about it, I decided to do something about it. I knew that most writers would absolutely love to receive comments like the ones she leaves, so I made a post asking for writers who fit this to recommend their fics to us. And wow did you all come through for us!
Below the cut are 54 writers, each with one of their fics to recommend to us! But please be sure to check out all their other fics as well! I’ll put the fics in order of wordcount and I’ll list pairing, rating, and wordcount along with the summaries.
(Please note that there are really lovely writers out there who also very much appreciate each and every one of their comments, but are too overwhelmed or anxious to reply. I am not at all saying that writers who don’t reply are unappreciative!)
Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice [Louis/Harry, E, 162k]
“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”
-----
Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.
When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.
Hold You Now by @solvetheminourdreams [Louis/Harry, M, 131k]
The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.
Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.
forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same [Louis/Harry, M, 125k]
Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.
He wants-
He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-
His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.
“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.
A statue that Louis has just kissed.
don’t want to fight you by @lt2soon / starryharry [Louis/Harry, M, 124k]
Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good.
Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point.
Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.
Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo [Louis/Harry, E, 114k]
Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.
Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.
Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.
Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?
promise your whispers are mine by @lightwoodsmagic / lightswoodmagic [Louis/Harry, E, 94k]
"Where did I say it’s been easy for you, or,” he paused, staring at Harry’s lowered head and willing him to look up, “where have you ever gotten the idea that it’s been easy for me either?”
When a few beats had passed and Louis was sure the conversation was done, Harry looked up, straight into Louis’ eyes like he was trying to physically pin him in place. “Our situations are completely different and you know it, please stop trying to - .”
“Then let me help you fix it, Harry,” Louis interrupted, desperate to reach out and cover his hand with one of his own. “Let me help, please.”
Harry’s the head chef at Azoff’s Catering, and he loves his job; the opportunity has always been more than he could dream of and he’s proud of the food he creates.
Until he meets Louis, an event coordinator rising through the ranks with his own company, and who reminds him of the dreams he once had for his own career.
While their easy friendship initially thrives in an industry known for chaos and betrayal, they soon discover they both have their secrets, and maybe it’s too late for either of them to try to find happiness outside of their work.
Especially when they realise that their happiness might rely on each other.
Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by @local-troubled-writer / local_troubled _writer [Louis/Harry, M, 90k]
In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.
--
“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.
“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.
“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.
“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”
--
or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.
Consequences by @allwaswell16 [Louis/Harry, E, 78k]
Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.
An amnesia au
The Sound The Leaves Make In The Heat Of The August Sun by @sleepwalk-living / anderscones [Louis/Harry, T, 76k]
Louis is an elf who lives in the Kingdom’s forest, as far away from the pompous Castle Court as he can get while staying within city limits. He’s a thief out of necessity and is happy enough to steal from the rich when they’re not looking. He notices something mysteriously dangerous happening in his forest one morning and begs for an investigation from the Court, who of course tells him he’s seeing things.
Intro a shamed knight, a runaway prince, a blacksmith, and a mage with fae blood who figure something is better than nothing. The King is all too happy to make criminals out of them and run them thinner than they already are just to prove a point to his son. With the combined powers of Captain Pla- One Direction, they figure it out.
adjudication by @bottomlinsons [Louis/Harry, T, 75k]
Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.
But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.
The Ground Below is Above My Feet by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche [Louis/Harry, E, 63k]
“-ouis, are you awake?”
“M’ff,” Louis manages. Slowly he remembers where he is. Who he is. His nerve endings take stock of his body, the soft sheets twisted around his legs and the warm rush of breath on his face. Harry.
“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses, calloused fingers delicately brushing through Louis’ fringe. “Could barely tell if you were breathing.”
Louis' heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the lump of ugly truth. Blinks until Harry’s bright eyes come into focus across the pillow.
He holds back the obvious joke.
Plant New Seeds in the Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers [Harry/Louis, E, 58k]
After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.
Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.
But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.
Live a Thousand Lifetimes by @laynefaire / Layne Faire [Zayn/Liam, E, 57k]
It’s 2025.
After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.
With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.
just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight [Harry/Louis, E, 57k]
Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.
He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.
“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”
He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.
Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.
-
Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.
I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) by @afangirlfantasy [Louis/Harry, M, 56k]
Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.
Or...an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.
That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright [Louis/Harry, T, 50k]
Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.
It feels different.
A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.
Baby, Won’t You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis / PeachBootyLou [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]
Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.
Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.
dirty laundry looks good on you by @tomlinvelvetfics / tomlinvelvet [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]
When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).
OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.
Passing By by @larryyouknow / Larry_you_know [Louis/Harry, E, 48k]
Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.
Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.
i kiss you (across hundreds of separating years) by @milkcurls / loveroflou [Louis/Harry, M, 44k]
He reminds Louis of the day he met him, the first day of Harry’s first year and Louis’ second, when he stood on wobbly legs beside Zayn, his cheeks flushed and hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind his ear. He’s all dainty and soft – he’s pretty, Louis can admit that.
He’s also a rich frat boy who fucks every omega that will throw themselves at him – and they all do – so instead of pretending to be a precious little doll Louis thinks he should spend more time learning how to be a decent human being.
or, the stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home
don’t want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit / padfootyoudog [Louis/Harry, E, 43k]
“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.
“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”
“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”
prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.
A Thousand More by @travelingwinchester / Ot5aresoulmates [Louis/Harry, NR, 42k]
Harry wakes up one morning during the separation of April 2015 missing Louis fiercely. He wonders if they had never been on the X-Factor would they have met. Cue the weirdest "dream" he's ever had in which lessons about the course of true love are learned.
fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry [Louis/Harry, T, 41k]
Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.
It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.
When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.
Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.
He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?
I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works / runaway _train [Harry/Louis, E, 40k]
“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.
“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"
“Harry.”
“What?"
“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.
Louis is so fucked.
Or
The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.
Without you it’s a season I ain’t needing by @whatevertearsyou / perfectdagger [Louis/Harry, M, 38k]
Spring was everything in '17, now I'm just cold
Summer fell to fall after all November froze
Without you it's a season I ain't needing, I want to go come back home
The reds and all the greens don't mean a thing when you're gone
Winter means nothing to me now without you.
A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.
take my hand, wreck my plans by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove [Harry/Louis, T, 38k,]
Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.
“Mr. H,” he whispers.
The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”
“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”
“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”
“Dance?”
Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”
Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”
Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.
I Wish, I Found Love by @slytherinzouis / friendofhayley [Louis/Harry, E, 37k]
A fandom retelling of the Maiden Without Hands.
Solace is a land of religious hypocrisy, demons, and two ostracized families. When prophets from every denomination foretell a boy of unknown origin who might change the tide of the magical world, is any place safe for him?
Harry and Louis grew up together, two pariahs among their peers. Will their love be able to overcome distance, prophecies, and the trials of finding out who you truly become under pressure?
You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by @lululawrence [Harry/Louis, NR, 36k]
Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.
There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.
Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.
Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.
Your Wonder Under Summer Skies by @emilee1421 / Emilee_1421 [Louis/Harry, NR, 34+, wip]
Needing an escape after a particularly hectic year, Louis decides to join Harry in Italy where Harry is working on his next Gucci campaign. While in Italy the two decide to join an old friend at her county home to enjoy a much deserved break from their usually busy lives. Louis and Harry begin to see their friend in a different light and all three are forced to confront the possibility that their friendship may actually be something much deeper.
Work of Magic by @justalarryblog / Bekita [Louis/Harry, NR, 34k]
"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.
"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.
"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.
But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.
Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.
Swear I’ve Known You Since Forever by @louinlavender / abaddxns [Louis/Harry, T, 33k]
Harry then pats around his trouser pockets only to remember that Gemma has his phone in her bag so he can’t even call her, and he’s far too intimidated to ask a stranger if he can borrow theirs. She has his wallet, too, so all he has on his person are the stick of gum in his back pocket and his muddy wellies and a too-long scarf he’s ready to ball up and throw the ground, because he’s only sixteen and he’s just a shopboy in a bakery and he’s about to cry twenty minutes into his first music festival that he had to beg to attend, all because he lost his big sister and her uni friends, who didn’t even want him to come in the first place, and—
“Oi, y’alright, mate?” a bright voice asks, just as his eyes start to water.
Or: Harry attends his first music festival and promptly gets lost. Little does he know that the first friendly face he encounters is bound to change his life forever.
Part one of three of 'And The Sun Came Out'—a series detailing the growth of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years after meeting at Leeds Fest as teenagers.
i’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by @tomlinbuns / pixies [Louis/Harry, E, 26k]
Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.
Dear Diary (series) by @alwayslarry-vol28 / kikiberosski16 [Louis/Harry, E, 20k]
Life in quarantine is hard, especially if you're an arrogant son of a bitch and your husband is a stubborn little shit. Harry and Louis argue a lot, so much it affects their daily routines. Harry tries to write his feelings down in a diary, but will this cause more trouble for the couple?
The Golden Prince by @behappyhl [Harry/Louis, E, 19k]
When He arrives in London, he’s speechless.
It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet.
Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores.
The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place.
Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.
The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart by @louloubabys1992 / louloubaby92 [Louis/Harry, M, 17k]
Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with.
Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada.
Yeah...
Sweet Heart by @bluecolouredlou [Niall/Louis, G, 16k]
Designing clothes, not falling in love.
That was what Niall had in mind when he first met up with Louis. He couldn't be falling in love with the other omega. Not while work as one of the few omegas at the company was getting more stressful. Not when he was supposed to find an alpha and settle down.
just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface [Harry/Louis, M, 15k]
Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”
“Do you want to come up?”
The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.
“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”
“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.
“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”
Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.
wasting my time when it was always you by @hometothecanyonmoon / sunflower_lwt [Harry/Louis, T, 15k+, wip]
A "Married To The Maverick Millionaire" AU. Louis is the captain of Manchester United, Harry's the heir of the richest charity organization in the country as well as his best friend and they have to fake being married to save both of them from impending doom.
Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond [Louis/Harry, G, 14k]
“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”
Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.
“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.
“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.
OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.
The Prince and the Youtuber by @haztobegood [Louis/Harry, E, 12k]
The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.
One Way Road To Something Better by @femstyles [Harry/Louis, T, 12k]
Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what.
But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.
Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart
stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain [Harry/Louis, E, 12k]
Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.
my solitude ain’t the same no more by @dryourtearsaway / louisnights [Harry/Louis, M, 10k]
Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.
somewhere only we know by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes [Zayn/Louis, T, 9k]
Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking:
“Do we know each other?”
Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance.
“Might help if you told me your name”, he points out.
“Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”
And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away.
“Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.”
Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.
I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus / larry_hiatus [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]
Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)
making me sweat by honey_beeing [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]
A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.
Twist the Knife by @snowjosh / jishler [Harry/Louis, E, 6k]
Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.
Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.
the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever [Harry/Louis, G, 5k]
For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.
After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.
My True Love Gave to Me by @ponymom-stuff / ponymom [Louis/Harry, NR, 5k]
After puzzling over a Christmas gift for Louis, Harry comes to what he believes is the ultimate gift for his true love.
Fistiana by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld [Zayn/Louis, NR, 2k]
They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.
Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hlhome28 / ThoseFookin_Avacados [Louis/Harry, T, 2k]
strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
"Need help there, love?"
"Oh god, yes-" Harry turned around to look at the source of the voice and his heart dropped to his stomach as they caught each other's eyes.
Or on a very lonely valentines day, Harry's car breaks down in an unknown alleyway, where he bumps into a blue-eyed boy who takes him back seven years ago on the same day.
Safe Like Springtime by @beelou / cherrylarry [Louis/Harry, G, 1k]
On the way out of the park, Gabriel gasps suddenly and points across the grassy area. He starts running.
When Harry catches up to Gabe, - that boy runs fast - he's with a man and his dog and Gabe is petting the dog.
"Gabriel James. You know better than to run off like that! Did you ask to pet the dog?" Harry scolds.
"I'm sorry Uncle Harry. I saw a dog and I just wanted to see the fluffy dog! Look how fluffy!" Gabe exclaims.
Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the dog owner. The very attractive dog owner.
Or, the one where Harry takes his nephew to the park and runs into Louis and his Labradoodle Clifford.
best hangover cure by @loulovehome [Louis/Harry, E, 1k]
"A wank will miraculously cure your hangover, honey."
Stay Till The A.M. by @flexible-racoon / goneforbooks [Harry/Louis, G, 1k]
It's 23rd July and Louis reminisces.
#fic rec#1dsource#tracksintheam#trackinghome#larry fan fic#let me know if any of the links are messed up#i've checked and double checked but who knows when its tumblr lol
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I loved your last Rarry brotp fic! Can you please write one about Ron getting himself hurt during an Auror mission because he wanted to safe Harry? And Harry getting mad at him for saving him and getting himself in danger instead? I hope you understand what I mean 🤪 Thank you!
Hi there! Thanks so much for the request. I absolutely loved writing that drabble, and was overwhelmed by the pleasant response to it! Hope you enjoy this follow-up 😊💜
We Live - Rarry brotp drabble #1
CW: Talk of violence, injury, mild language
A True Partnership
In some ways, Harry believed that he and Ron had trained to become Aurors since they were 11 years old. Together, they were held accountable for any decisions made under extreme duress year after year at Hogwarts and beyond — quite frankly, they both, along with Hermione, should have been killed several times over by now.
For many years, Harry had an instinctual fight-or-flight response to the dire circumstances that presented themselves. He knew that every move he made affected his future, and the future of those around him in the wizarding world that he tried desperately to protect.
Fast forward to the fall of 1998 when Harry and Ron underwent basic training together. During that time, they learned advanced tactics they would utilize in order to suppress any enemies, and were taught magical jurisprudence, ensuring that they apprehended criminals on legally valid grounds. For two men who consistently broke school rule after school rule at Hogwarts, this particular aspect of training was harped upon more than others.
The Auror Academy was very stringent, and not for the faint of heart — Aurors needed a certain level of mental alertness and physical strength to engage in conflict. They had to have a willingness to act in high-stake situations. Split-second decisions would be made, with no certifiable way in those moments to determine whether or not those decisions would be the right ones. Training is meant to prepare Aurors for crises that may arise, but real missions out in the field often present the unexpected — what many don’t see coming.
That’s what partners were for. A true partnership was built upon the following principles: trust, commitment, and shared meaning.
Trust: Ensure that your partner unequivocally has your back in any situation, from a Dementor attack to preventing further mutiny, and will be there to cover up your blind spots.
There was no one in the world that Harry trusted more than Ron Weasley, so his best mate was the obvious choice to be his partner out in the field. It took Harry a long time after the defeat of Voldemort for him to grasp that he no longer needed to be so guarded. In the event that Harry ever let down his defenses, he had full confidence that Ron would be there ready to assist.
So, it shouldn’t have surprised Harry that there would come a time when he wouldn’t be quick enough, or stealthy enough, and Ron would be there to respond.
It all happened so fast. One minute they were joking about pranking each other with puking pastilles, and the next moment they were surrounded by Death Eaters.
“Harry, watch out!”
A split-second decision.
That single decision made by Ron to warn Harry of the danger distracted the ginger-haired man from his own, and a flash of red light shot straight through his abdomen. Harry watched in horror as Ron’s injured body crumpled to the ground.
“No!” Harry shouted, and the fight to stay alive was a blur from there. All he knew was that he had to survive the battle — he had to survive and get his best friend, his partner, to safety.
Commitment: The act of sharing a mutual appreciation. Both partners should be on board to protect each other for the long haul.
Several agonizing hours later, Harry found himself pacing the floors of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s.
A Healer finally came out to give an update on Ron. Although pretty bruised up, and drowsy from the pain potion, he was okay and conscious.
Beside him, Harry heard Hermione let out a strangled cry of relief.
They allowed two visitors in at a time, so Harry and Hermione rushed down the busy corridor and practically threw themselves through the door to get to Ron.
He was sitting up in his bed, a large, white bandage wrapped around his stomach, and his leg was propped up by a levitating sling. Ron's face, although initially contorted in pain, visibly brightened once he saw both of them.
Hermione wasted no time running into Ron's arms, who responded by giving her a weak pat on the back that was no doubt meant to be comforting. "Hi, love."
Hermione sniffled as she kissed his cheek and pulled away, stepping back to allow Harry a moment to greet his best friend.
When Ron's eyes shifted towards Harry expectantly, he laughed, "I dodged a bludger there, didn't I?" His face fell as he spotted the furious expression on Harry's face.
"You," Harry glared at Ron, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. "I need to have a chat with you."
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry didn't give him the chance.
"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left armpit were you thinking out there?"
"You could have gotten yourself killed!" Hermione piggy-backed off Harry's interrogation, a flurry of words streaming out through her mouth. "I mean, really Ron, out of all of the noble things you had to do, you think that—"
"Oi, knock it off, Hermione!" With a frustrated growl, Ron snatched his wand from the side table and whooshed closed the drapes around his bed, hiding Hermione from view. He then muttered a silencing charm for added effect.
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Do you even realize what you’ve just done?” He didn’t want to be there to witness the aftermath of Ron’s decision to shut out Hermione.
"I've already got you yelling at me, I don't need my girlfriend screaming in my ear, too, thank you very much,” Ron grumbled, letting his head fall back onto his pillow with a heavy sigh.
Harry crossed his arms. "Well you wouldn't need us to chatter on as such if you hadn't very nearly kicked the bucket."
"Well, o'course not," Ron snapped. "I just saved your life, and all, but I'm the one who was in the wrong."
"I wouldn't have needed saving if you'd had just followed protocol and attacked those gits right away instead of worrying about me."
"One of those fuckers had a wand aimed at the back of your head, what was I supposed to do?" Ron fought back.
It was then that Harry realized Ron saw what he couldn't. His blind spot. A wave of guilt washed over him, and Harry knew he had no right to argue further.
Ron looked down at his lap, his voice quiet. "When are you going to get it through your head that you can't always do it all by yourself, mate?"
The impact of Ron's words made Harry take a step back. The harsh silence that followed indicated to Ron that he was free to continue,
“We are a team. Partners. I know you’re so bloody proud, Potter, but you can’t expect to make the right decision every time. I am here to back you up. Always.”
Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, overwhelmed by the love he felt for his best friend, his partner in crime, his brother.
Shared meaning: An understanding or appreciation for your partner, and what values they stand for.
Harry and Ron had managed their fair share of conflict over the years, finding the ability to compromise, solve problems, and take on the world together. They turned towards each other on a daily basis, whether it's to share a laugh over the strangest topics or provide emotional support.
Their relationship went beyond a simple partnership. They were family. A unit.
Harry choked out a laugh, "Okay, then. But it's my turn to be the hero next time, you hear?"
A wide grin split across Ron's face. "Not if I beat you to it."
The drapes whooshed open again, revealing a very put out Hermione. "You two aren't honestly fighting over who gets to risk their life next, are you?"
Harry and Ron share sheepish smiles, and a mutual understanding passes through them.
Friendship is forever, and they will never stop finding ways to prove that.
#rarry drabble#rarry brotp#rarry fanfic#ron and harry brotp#ron x harry#ron weasley#harry potter#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#brotp#friendship#auror harry#auror ron#post battle of hogwarts#cheesyficwriter
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The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3
A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse.
Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt
You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some.
Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.
But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives.
Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences.
This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.
"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."
"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."
"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"
"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."
"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.
"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"
"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."
"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."
Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."
You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."
"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."
"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."
"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"
"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.”
"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."
"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"
"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."
"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.
"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.
It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality.
You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window.
“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.”
The woman smiled back. “Evening.”
You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid.
“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask.
“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows.
“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen.
“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.”
“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?”
She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.”
You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste.
“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.”
You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?”
“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.”
She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat.
You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.
"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."
"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."
She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."
You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."
"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.
"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."
Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"
"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."
"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."
Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."
You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."
The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.
Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."
You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."
"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.
"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.
Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."
You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."
The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.
"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."
"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."
"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."
"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.
"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."
"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."
"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.
"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"
"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.”
The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh.
You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning.
You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.
“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas.
You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?”
“It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.”
You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?”
“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?”
“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.”
Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?”
“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave.
“Where are you going?” She walked after you.
“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?”
“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”
“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”
“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.”
You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”
“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled.
“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.”
“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip.
You groaned. “What?”
“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.”
“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said.
“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?”
You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers.
“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--”
You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile.
“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.”
“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.”
Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.”
#hannibal lecter#hannibal nbc#hannibal x reader#hannibal x you#freddie lounds#tw christianity#will graham
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