#This one I keep having to loot containers
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Dear ZoS,
Can you please make the drop rate for antiquities go up after the initial discovery? I have been in Moonlit Cove for four days. I have had nothing for sustenance except for what little supplies I have found in barrels and sacks. The only water sources are either saltwater or skooma.When I close my eyes, I dream of deranged pirates and Moon-kissed jellies. I miss my family and friends. I long for the feel of the sun on my face. Please. I just want my lead and to go home.
Sincerely,
The Vestige.
P.s don't give me that nonsense about the drop rate depending on the quality of the lead. I have like, 16 of those Echoes of Aldmeris paintings and ten music boxes.
I'm at the point where I would just break down and spend the 75k on it, but I can't because I haven't discovered the lead three times.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
#feykrorovaan#elder scrolls#tes#elder scrolls online#eso#ESO antiquities#tesblr#I just want another moon pool. :(#At least with the dragon slaying ones that's fun#This one I keep having to loot containers#I've picked this place clean like 25 times#Do you know how many containers are in Moonlit cove?#neither do I but it's a lot
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Magpie Stash
Pairing: Astarion/ g/n unnamed Tav
Tags: fluff, trauma
Length: 1k words
Summary: While looting, Astarion comes across items he wants to own.
A/N: Another headcanon which I may have shared with some of the talented fan fiction writers out there before. So, if that’s the case, don’t come for me! But holy Hells this got much longer than I planed! I guess this is s drabble now? Or a whole ass fanfic? You tell me 😂
Thank you wonderful @nyx-knox for the beta reading! It was *chef‘s kiss* ✨
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Astarion has not owned anything in 200 years.
The only things he could call his were his wits and the clothes on his back - and both he cared for and mended meticulously.
But suddenly he’s part of a ragtag group of strangers, and he finds himself looting a temple not far from where they crashed with a damn Nautiloid after being abducted and infected by mindflayer parasites. And frankly, he’s not entirely sure what part he finds most surprising.
Finding food, weapons and healing potions is a priority. For the others. Not so much him. Honestly. Why should he bother looking for food he won’t even eat? He doesn’t know these weirdos.
But he humors them and even aids his positively helpless companions by picking locks. And as he opens the lid of a gilded chest, something catches his eye.
Beneath old parchment and a rotten carrot he finds …. pretty things? There’s a particularly sparkly ring. A skilfully bound book with gilded letters on the cover. A fine silk scarf hemmed with the most delicate fell-stitches …
He has no idea if those items are of any value. They certainly are useless for the group. But … they are beautiful. And he wants, no he needs to own them. So without giving it too much thought, he takes them.
He has no intention of selling *HIS* items to the vendor they meet at the Tiefling Camp. Hells, he doesn’t even have the intention of showing them to his companions.
He wants these pretty things for himself, he wants to keep them safe. The spawn siblings used to steal from one another all the time, so he’s used to being protective over his meagre possessions. Can’t shake 200 years of hypervigilance that easily.
::::::::
Over the next days and weeks of travel, Astarion fills up a little purple leather pouch with whatever catches his eye. Going through the diverse collection of beautiful bits and bobs for a few moments before meditating becomes a secret source of calm for Astarion. A soothing ritual, especially after the more straining days.
Which is what he’s doing now. He sits on his bedroll cross-legged, inspecting the things. His things. His little private treasure trove. That he owns.
A bejeweled comb, random gold coins, a tiny picture frame containing an even tinier painting …
The only piece of his treasure that gave him more of a bittersweet feeling had been a silver hand-mirror he had found in the goblin infested village. To be honest, he was not too mad when he accidentally smashed it in frustration the other night after talking to Tav.
Tav. Their unofficial leader. They never seem to have a problem sharing the things they find. They share their food with the group, their scrolls, and they even gave Astarion that freakish but intriguing tome they had found in that cellar. Far too generous, if you ask him.
As Astarion packs up his collection he hears coughing outside. Again. It’s been going on all night.
He peeks out. Tav is on second watch. The night is cold, and they just added another log to the fire. Still, the cool wind is picking up and Tav pulls their cloak close around their neck - which unfortunately does not prevent the coughing.
For a moment, Astarion considers just ignoring them, letting them hack up a lung. But to his dismay, he … cares? He finds he doesn’t want Tav to be cold or sick. But it’s just because he just doesn’t want their coughing to get annoying. That’s all. Obviously.
So he leaves his tent and saunters up to their leader, who greets him with a sleepy but friendly smile.
Astarion holds out his hand to Tav, holding a long piece of white fabric. He’s offering them his beautiful silk scarf with the immaculate fell-stitched hem that he had inspected a lot over the past weeks.
„You’re coughing too much, darling. It’s keeping me up and I do need my beauty sleep.” he says with mock indignation and his trademark smirk.
„Thank you.“ Tav says as they take the scarf from his hand and wraps it around that oh so delicious neck of theirs.
After an awkward moment of silence Astarion offers a final „Well. Good night, my dear.“ with a courteous bow and walks back to his tent.
He can’t help but wonder at the strange feeling in his chest. Tav can and will never know just what big of a deal this small gesture was for the pale Elf.
For the first time in 200 years Astarion gave away something that was his simply because he wanted to. He wanted them to have it. Because they needed it more than him. And not only that. He does not even expect anything in return. How in the Hells did that happen?
He’s sure it’s nothing.
:::::::
A few years from then, Astarion finds himself in the cellar beneath Tav’s and his home. He’s looking for something, and he’s sure it has to be here somewhere.
“Aha!” From the trunk before him he pulls a skilfully bound book - even though the gilded letters on the cover have worn off with time.
He opens the book - and huffs in relief. And nervousness. It’s still right where he left it between the pages all those years ago.
Hidden inside the old book lies a particularly sparkly ring.
He smiles. A lot has changed since that day they looted that temple and he found his first little treasures. Back then Astarion couldn’t fathom sharing his magpie stash - or anything, for that matter - with anyone. And now? Now he shares a home with the person he loves. And he plans on sharing so much more with them.
What better way of showing that than by proposing with the first thing he ever called his? Because now there’s only one thing, or rather person, he wants for himself. The one person he wants to share everything with.
He looks at the particularly sparkly ring.
Yes. This should do nicely.
So, and on a completely unrelated note: When does a headcanon become a full on fanfic lol?
#astarion x tav#astarion headcanons#this is about astarion#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#astarion fanfiction#ohoh herdarkestnightelegance wrote something
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SPOILS OF A PIRATE !
contains : sub!pirate!leona, gn!reader, kind of rough, fingering (anal), eating out his ass, handjob, bit of tail play, bit too much swearing but theyre pirates
leona and you have a little rendezvous after a successful raid
love note — a belated halloween fic because i lost track of time
You shoved Leona against the mountains of gold in the hold, using one hand to tug him towards you by the collar, and the other tossing some of the new loot you’d collected that day. He was huffing, tail undoubtedly uncomfortable pressed against the gold, but something told you that he couldn’t care less about it at the moment. His brows were furrowed, his erection obvious as he growled against your lips.
Biting and pulling at his lip with your teeth, you practically ripped his pants open with the newfound strength and energy from the adrenaline of another successful raid. When your hand cupped his cock, Leona had to pull away, a gaspy moan forced out of the pirate’s throat.
“Like that?” You smirked, making him snarl defensively as you rolled your eyes.
“Talking to your captain like that?” He bit back, though his aggression was short lived as you traced your thumb over the head of his dick. He leaned back further against the stash of your gold at that, hands trying to find purchase in the falling coins and trinkets. You chose to simply ignore what he said, getting on your knees before him wordlessly. He managed a smirk, looking down at you from his position. “That’s more like it.” He almost purred, mistaking your actions as a sign of submission before you freed his cock, stroking it over your face lewdly.
His words were almost stuck in his throat, eyes hungry as his cock couldn’t help but drip out more precum at the way you looked at him in return. Despite his being an apex predator, he felt like he was the prey with the intense look in your eyes. You licked up his cock, all the way from the base before taking his head in your mouth immediately. You were impatient, wanting to see the usually composed, powerful man cum immediately.
Leona crumbled in your hold, lashes sweeping over his cheekbones as you hollowed your cheeks as much as you could. You were making progress, slowly taking more and more of him down your throat. You looked up at him, palms digging into the mountain of gold as he leaned his head back with a guttural sound. He was heavenly, sweat creating an attractive gleam on the cleavage his unbuttoned shirt allowed you to see. You gave in to your urges, maneuvering his legs so that they were on your shoulder, perfect for him to clamp his muscular thighs around your head as you sucked the living hell out of him. You were practically picking him up, pressing him against the now warm metal as your hands left marks on his hips.
He tried to keep from cumming, but the warmth and tightness of your mouth was almost overwhelming to the pirate. His mouth fell open in pleasured groans, albeit soft, and you could tell that he was purposely trying to hold them back. Dissatisfied, you pulled off his cock, making him let out a whine. He was close, you’re sure.
“Oi. Why did y- Shit,” he’d almost whimpered when your tongue pressed against his hole, circling it with intent. You could feel it fluttering and you gave him what he craved, pushing past the tight ring of muscle and making his thighs twitch. You were hasty, borrowing some of the slick on his wet cock to lubricate your fingers, already pushing one in and forcing him to get used to the stretch. That drew a needy moan from him as he grinded down against the finger, his dick now twitching freely, craving your attention.
You continued licking as you put another finger in, bending the two and worming the digits in an attempt to find his prostate. You knew when you hit it, hearing Leona let out the first shaky moan of the evening. You continued your assault on his prostate after that, pulling your tongue out and giving him no time to whine and complain about it. He was fucking his ass down on your fingers as best as he could, the sound of the clinking of gold almost passed as white noise as you took in the beautiful voices he made for you. You could tell that he’d needed it bad, but you’d also gotten the urge to make him beg for it.
“Wanna cum, baby?” You asked, and he nodded feverishly, combined with a slurred “fuck yes”. You smiled, a smile he would’ve known meant bad news if he could do more than squirm and twitch. You took your fingers out of him for just one moment, hoisting him off the gold and flipping him around, pressing his face against it instead. Quickly, you shoved your fingers back in, making the man twitch and preen with pleasure.
“Be a doll, ask for it nicely.” That almost seemed to make him snap out of his trance, though you were certain you caught a glimpse of his cock jump. He was silent ahead from the sounds falling from his lips, and you could tell he was weighing it out in his head. You weren’t up for waiting, however, and noticed his swishing, twitching tail. You leaned down, giving it a tentative lick and hearing a full blown moan get ripped out of him. Leona was slumping against the pile even more now, ass perked up as your fingers worked relentlessly. “C’mon, ‘Ona. It’s not that fucking hard, is it?” You sneered, warm breath on his tail as you bit down on it, causing the man to finally cave in.
“Please! Please, fuck me. Harder.” He practically spat out, hands frantically grasping at the coins as you could tell he was about to tip.
For the grand finale, you reached around, stroking his dick at the same pace as your fingers. Leona’s voice turned higher, a downright slutty noise filling the hold of the ship as he arched his back too prettily for his own good, undecided whether to fuck himself back or thrust into your warm, slick palm. “Fuck!” He managed to grit out, and you knew that his eyes were near rolling back into his head about now. His tail caught your attention once again, and you couldn’t help but bite on the unexpectedly firm flesh.
That sent him over the edge, and you could confidently say that he’d been the prettiest, most eye catching thing in the room at the moment; the fearsome captain was practically bent over the loot, cum spilling in thick spurts as his legs clamped together, shaking as shockwaves of pleasure buzzed in his veins. He was practically glowing, ears fallen back against his head and the little skin you could see shining with sweat.
You continued to work him through it, now slightly gentler with the man until he was calm again. There was a moment of silence before he turned around, leaning back against the coins with a sigh.
“Cheeky bastard,” he complained, though from hid disheveled state you knew that he’d liked it. You gave a chuckle before gripping his wrists, pinning them to the sides of his head.
“I’m not done, captain.”
#; — sealed w a kiss. ares#sub twst#sub leona#twst#leona#twst smut#leona smut#twisted wonderland#leona kingscholar
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Daily update post:
The biggest news out of Israel today is of course that late last night, the government approved a deal with Hamas to release some of the hostages. Here are the details as reported on the news:
50 hostages will be released in 4 groups over the course of 4 days, during which there would be no fighting. Hamas said they will be women and kids, Israel will only be told who's being released the day before. Not all kids are being released. Israel in exchange will release 150 people convicted for terrorist activity. Hamas says it will use these 4 days to try and locate 20 more hostages to be released. Hamas says that some of the hostages are in the hands of smaller terrorist organizations, and some are also being held by civilian families. Just a reminder that some civilians from Gaza followed the terrorists into Israel once the border fence was torn down. Most probably just to loot the houses attacked by terrorists, but at least some partook in the killing of Israeli civilians. Here is a vid of one such man, riding a bicycle stolen from a murdered Israeli, bragging about having killed 3 family members...
For every additional hostage Hamas finds and releases beyond the 50 agreed upon, it will get 3 more convicted terrorists released. For every 10, it will get one more day without fighting, for a total possible break of 6 days. In addition, Israel will not be flying over Gaza, not airplanes and not drones, for 6 hours daily.
It's reported that the stop in fighting will start tomorrow (Thursday) at 10 in the morning. Based on past experience, you can expect Hamas to fire rockets at Israel even past 10, just to show it got the "last word" and Israel will have to contain this, in order to keep the whole deal from falling apart.
The ambivalence about the deal that I tried to express in yesterday's daily post is what I'm hearing almost across the board. People want the hostages who will be freed, they're afraid for the fate of those who won't be, and they're scared of how Hamas might use this break in the fighting.
I think the most infuriating thing Israelis have come across is people describing the deal as "hostage exchange." Multiple Israelis have posted to make the same point: the hostages kidnapped from Israel were all innocent. The prisoners that will be released were all convicted for violent activity. They did not murder, but they tried to.
I saw an interview with one Israeli mother who had survived an attempted murder by a terrorist. She discovered that the woman who committed that crime is one of the prisoners who might be released. The thing is, they used to live in the same neighborhood. The mother asked, "Why should my kid have to see every day the woman who tried to kill me?" Almagor, an Israeli organization for victims of terrorism, has petitioned the Israeli supreme court against the deal. It's not likely to work, as the supreme court has indicated in the past it has no jurisdiction over political decisions, only legal ones.
And of course there's the fear that more Israeli soldiers might pay the price for the fact that Hamas will use the break in the fighting to re-arm and learn from its failures so far. That's the better scenario. There's also the possibility that Hamas would do what they did on "The Black Friday" in 2014. On Aug 1, a ceasefire with Hamas was supposed to start at 8 in the morning. At 9:05 Hamas terrorists used a terror tunnel to attack Israeli soldiers, murder them and kidnap the body of one of them, Hadar Goldin. Nine years later, the body has not yet been returned.
Today is not a day of relief in Israel.
The UK has announced it would allocate 7 million pounds to fighting antisemitism, which is welcome news. Switzerland said it will pass legislation that would prohibit Hamas activity through it.
A uniquely Israeli moment that happened yesterday... Jewish first sergeant Mordechai Shenvald, who was seriously injured in Gaza, playing with his Arab physician, Doctor Darwashe, a song by famous Arab singer Um Kultum, called Inti Umri:
Israel has torn down today a Jewish settlement established illegally in the disputed territories. You'll always hear about when Israel takes down Arab houses built illegally, but I bet most people here havne't heard about it when Jewish Israeli civilians get the exact same treatment for this exact same offense.
This is part of the testimony of a father to a girl with special needs, whose family has survived the Oct 7 massacre:
instagram
This is 25 years old Shani Gabai.
She was considered missing since the Oct 7 massacre. Today, her body was identified among the other victims of the music festival.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#israel#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#israel under fire#israelunderattack#terrorism#anti terrorism#antisemitism#hamas#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish#Instagram
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Hii!!! Can i uhh be really weird and request a joe/baron smut of getting freaky with him while he is dressed in drag? Im salivating after seeing him in drag, my brain malfunctioned 🫠
absolutely… I’ve been having thoughts too
baron x f!reader
cw: 18+ minors dni, marmalade spoilers, smut, cross dressing, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex
he’s still the pink babydoll dress when he walks through the door, hot pink balaclava in his fingers. wig still on and you gaze up at him from the floor, where you were waiting very impatiently. flicking through magazine after magazine as a distraction, mind worried and racing. panicked that this time would be the one where baron gets caught. but there he is, fishnets and boots on. he drops the balaclava and unzips the duffel bag, dumping out the stacks and stacks of cash on the floor.
“baby!” you squeal, the crisp bills completely camouflaging the area rug you’d been lounged on.
baron smiles, all innocent but you know better, before he dives down into the money. back flat on the floor, waving his arms and legs in the loot. scoops some of it up with his hands and tosses it up, making it rain down on the pair of ya.
it’s strange, the way he looks when he’s dressed as her. the way it makes you feel. how pretty he looks. heavy makeup clouding his sharp and wide features. you crawl over and hook a leg over his waist, grinning down at him as you straddle his hips. baron giggles, all sweet and full of adrenaline. still has the rush. you smooth your hands up his chest, over the bra under the dress and mesh long sleeve. you lean down and smush your lips against his, spreading and sharing lipstick. getting it all over with the feverish way you make out with your boyfriend.
you don’t ask him how much is here, it’s not your concern really. not your money, could be shared but you’re too scared to join him and really, you think baron doesn’t want you to. he’s protecting you this way. and maybe you don’t share the loot but baron takes care of you, keeps you comfortable and fed. and honestly, you don’t care about the money. just as long as you get to have him.
pulling back from the kiss and peering down at a dreamy baron in drag is the best sight in the world. he’s a boyishly handsome man but with the make up and hair, he makes the prettiest woman you ever seen.
there’s not much to say, baron’s usually riled up after a job and you get just as excited seeing him in the get up. you kiss him some more, tasting his waxy lipstick as you knit your hands into the fried, pink ends of his wig. you grind down against him, feeling his cock hardening in the fishnets which the thought of seeing has your head spinning. his hands find your hips and he grips them tightly, spewing whiny little moans into your mouth as your kiss gets sloppier. hard to keep everything contained when he looks like this, you act a little feral. rubbing your aching core down on his barely constrained erection. you break the kiss, giggling excitedly as he blinks up at you, red smeared all over his chin and nose from the kiss. he looks perfect, moves his hand up and pulls the wig from his head, tossing it aside and runs his fingers through his shoulder length brown locks, same color as his eyes. looks even prettier.
you inch down his body, pushing the ruffles of his dress up just enough to hook your fingers in his fishnets and tug them down his thighs. his cocks strained behind a pair of your panties, lacy pink ones and your breath catches in your throat. never used to how aroused it makes you. the fact that he wears your underwear when he’s fucking robbing banks. leaning down, you mouth at his shaft, wetting the lace. a moan heaves from your chest as his length twitches beneath the fabric and the hem of his dress falls over your head. baron makes a frustrated sound, hands grabbing the pink ruffles and pulling the dress up above his hips. he props himself up on his elbows so he can watch you, hands holding the dress up.
dragging your tongue up the curve of his cock under the panties, you hold your eyes on his. baron’s eyebrows furrow, teeth digging into his red stained lips as he watches you. god, he’s so pretty. you can’t help yourself as you tell him so, babbling out your thoughts as they come to you.
“god, baron, look so pretty right now,” you scratch at his thighs watching the way his eyes roll back.
“you look pretty, doll,” he mumbles out in return, voice already wrecked and you haven’t even done anything, not really.
you pull off the lace panties he stole from you, his cock springing free and bouncing before you wrap your fingers around the base of him. the tip is just as pink as the rest of his clothes, leaking steadily and making the flushed skin shiny. you lick up the side of his shaft, following the pulsing vein and he moans out pathetically. he’s always pretty vocal but his voice is higher when he’s wearing this, like he’s still in character or something. you and baron haven’t ever talked about why he cross dresses to rob banks. or why he even does it really, you know he supplies an old folks home with pills but you didn’t go into the details ever. you think baron likes it better that you don’t ask questions. likes that you blindly follow him, helping in the small ways you can.
swallowing his tip, you can’t help but hum around him. hot and heavy on your tongue and his face gets contorted all pretty, but you take your time with him. because baron’s gorgeous with his makeup but he’s even prettier when it gets ruined and smeared all over his face. so you tease, suckle on his tip and squeeze the base and drag your tongue against the shaft. do it like until tears make his mascara run and he begs for more.
“p-please, doll—“ he gasps, “can’t take it no more…”
“had enough?” you pout, lips pressed to his swollen head as you slowly stroke his length.
“need more— needa cum,” he pleads, looking so desperate and sweet.
“you want my pussy, baby?”
baron’s pupils widen, nodding at you enthusiastically with his gorgeous puppy dog eyes. you can’t deny him. so you get your underwear down your legs and hold your skirt up as you hover over his thighs. inching closer, line his eager cock with your drenched hole and sink down in one quick motion. the pair of you gasp in unison, eyes fluttering shut as you get used to the stretch. it’s a beautiful stretch but it always takes a second to adjust. then, as your eyes open, your arousal takes over. bouncing on him like a mad woman, hands grabbing his face as you connect your lips in yet another messy, heated kiss. all tongue and teeth, animalistic to match the way you ride him. baron’s hands find your asscheeks, squeezing and kneading as he aides in your thrusts. his hips jerking up to meet yours. the room stinks, like sex and money, a heady scent that fills your senses.
baron’s moans get louder, his body tensing all over, his tell. he’s close, so you egg him on, mumbling encouragements into his mouth, “cum for me, baby, wan’ you to fill me up.”
he whimpers, grips your hips and holds them still as he thrusts up into you roughly. it’s sudden and overwhelming but it makes you cum, hard. shocked, you wail, eyes clenching shut as you grab into his hair and pull, writhing against him.
“uh-uh-uh, fuckfuckfuck— I..” Baron babbles out, then his hips still and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you flush against him as he empties inside you, coating your walls. you hum happily, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. give him a second to come down before kissing him softly.
“love ya,” you whisper, feeling as baron squeezes you tighter.
“love ya more,” he whispers back, smiling softly as he gazes up at you.
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I'm a TTRPG designer, and also a big fan of the video game Terraria. I'm stuck on fun ways to handle material gathering and crafting. Send me some inspiration! Thanks!
THEME: Gathering and Crafting
Hello friend! Putting this one together was very fun. I hope you enjoy it!
Stoneburner, by Fari RPGs.
Stoneburner is a sci-fantasy solo-friendly demon-hunting community-building tabletop role-playing game.Inspired by the new school revolution movement, players take on the role of a group of dwarves who must assume control of a demon haunted mine, along with its accompanying settlement, which they inherited after the death of their distant relative.The game focuses on the dwarves' journey as they navigate the challenges of their new responsibilities, rebuild a new thriving community, and clear the mine of its fire spitting monsters.
A techno-fantasy game of exploration and survival. You’ll be delving into a mine to extract resources and attempting to maintain and protect your community not just from magical beasts, but also greedy and plotting rivals. The system is built on Breathless, which is pretty rules-lite on the face but has a lot of possibility to expand, borrowing quite a bit from the NSR but giving the GM specific cues where they have a license to complicate the story. You’ll find a lot of familiar pieces here, with character classes, special abilities, and loot tables. Stoneburner isn’t fully ready to be published quite yet, but in the meantime you can check out the free preview!
Hostile (Rules and Setting), by Zozer Games.
Welcome to the gritty, retro-future universe of HOSTILE. Based on the Cepheus Engine, these rules add in realistic combat rules as well as setting-specific rules from some of the eighteen HOSTILE supplements. When combined with its companion book, the HOSTILE Setting, you will have a complete, stand-alone, retro-future sci-fi game. HOSTILE is a gritty, near future roleplaying setting that is inspired by movies like Outland, Bladerunner and Alien. It is a universe of mining installations, harsh moons, industrial facilities, hostile planets and brutal, utilitarian spacecraft.
When I looked up info about this game, HOSTILE was described as not an ALIEN RPG, but rather an RPG that you could plug Alien into. It’s a space horror setting, but what kind of space horror is up to you. The Rulebook has rules on trade, salvaging, and other pieces of resource management, while the setting book contains construction rules for your own mega-ton spaceship. There’s also plenty of colonies, survival rules, campaign advice and encounter tables. If this is interesting to you, I’d recommend checking out the Double Shift Bundle, which offers both the Rulebook and the Setting Book for 20% off.
Forbidden Lands, by Free League Publishing.
Forbidden Lands is a new take on classic fantasy roleplaying. In this open-world survival roleplaying game, you’re not heroes sent on missions dictated by others - instead, you are raiders and rogues bent on making your own mark on a cursed world. You will discover lost tombs, fight terrible monsters, wander the wild lands and, if you live long enough, build your own stronghold to defend.
As raiders and rogues, in Forbidden Lands you will need to scavenge to survive. Built on Free League’s Year Zero Engine, this game uses an abstract resource called consumables which your characters will have to find regularly, because food goes bad and you can only carry so many things. The game focuses on the dangers of the road, although not all dangers are terrifying - you’re not fighting orcs all the time - sometimes you’re just battling mosquitoes and cold weather. There’s also rules about building, maintaining, and defending a stronghold, which sounds kind of similar to building and defending your house in Terraria. There’s a lot to keep track of in Forbidden Lands, and as long as you don’t mind playing characters with a somewhat loose moral compass, this game might be for you!
A Fistful of Darkness, by monkeyEcho.
A Fistful of Darkness is a Weird West Fantasy hack of Blades in the Dark with heavy emphasis on the fantasy part. It’s not intended to be an accurate history lesson or a simulation of past times. It is designed to be a cinematic game which lets you play all those Weird West tropes towards the end of the world.
Imagine a world with the magic and mystery of the frontier: wide open plains of the Old Wild West in all its beauty and madness, where violence and sacrifice dominate every single day. Now add the Hellstone rush, underground mayhem in mines and brand new sciences & machines. Don’t forget immigration, injustice, vigilante justice, outlaws, gunslingers, slick talkers and setting suns. This all in the face of an impending doom: Demons and the four riders bringing the end of the world as you know it. How do you make it to the top of this powder keg, which side will you take in the impending
war and how much will your soul suffer? Let’s play to find out!
Forged in the Dark games abstract your resources a bit, but the Hellstone of A Fistful of Darkness is so important to the setting that you’ll find yourselves doing whatever you can to get your hands on it. It’s a crafting material, it’s currency, and it’s the bringer of mutations and curses, what with it being a demonic material and all. Because you’ll be running a group playbook alongside your own characters, you’ll be working together to improve your tools, allies, abilities and home base, especially if you choose the Scavengers Posse. If you like action and suspense as much as you like inventory and communal goals, then this game is for you.
LOOT, by Gila RPGs.
Do you love loot? Then you're in the right place.
Go on quests, find loot, do it all over again. Your character is entirely defined by the loot they wear and carry. Loot is generated and passed out at the end of each quest with a dynamic loot pool system.
This is an application of the LUMEN system that eschews dice. Players have a number of uses for each of their approaches, which can be spent to overcome obstacles. Complications arise when you have to cobble together a solution using a different approach, or when you avoid marking an approach at all. This is a game still in a free playtest, so the designer is happy to hear feedback if you decide to give it a whirl!
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Dark Days - Yoimiya x Male!Reader
A/N: Angst is back on the menu! Seriously though, this might be one of the angstiest things to ever appear on the blog.
CW: Modern AU, reader death, swearing, war-time violence. I'll leave it at that, but do know that it's heavy stuff, even if non-graphic in nature.
You place your feet one after the other. The gypsum and sand crunches under your feet as you make your way to the gray, damaged concrete wall of some unrecognizable building. If it was a shop, the storefront must have broken, just as every bit of glass inside, currently in the form of crystal shards littering the street.
Slowly making your way to the edge of the wall, you take a deep breath. You stick your head out slowly from behind the corner. The view in front of you would be very frightening just a few months ago, but now it has been woven into your daily life. The street was filled with rubble - smaller or larger chunks of stone and concrete, ripped out of various buildings but the explosions of rockets were scattered everywhere. A small tree, once standing proudly in a walkway flower pot, has been uprooted and thrown several meters away. The burnt car to your left, stripped of wheels and even the interior seats, completed the image of misery.
Your eyes dart across the windows and roofs surrounding the small, plaza-like area. Much to your relief, they don't spot as much as a patch of green uniform anywhere in sight. You turn around and speak out in a restrained voice.
“I don't see anything. I think we can go.”
Yoimiya nods and gets out from behind the ruin wall. She steps hastily over the rebar and concrete of the structure, the wind having already painted her delicate face with ash and plaster. Her hair is messy, tied in a makeshift ponytail that barely contained her dirty mane. The bags under her eyes speak of the many sleepless nights she had endured, of the hours spent in the basement and of the stress. The same stress that has soured her resting smile into nothing but a blank line of cracked lips.
She takes her spot behind you. You pat her shoulder, making sure she stays where she is supposed to. Another deep breath. You move out from behind your cover and begin nervously jogging to the destroyed interior of the shop. You can hear her footsteps behind you.
Your eyes glance nervously at the paneless windows of the buildings staring down at you. It's alright, you tell yourself. Nobody would be watching this random street. There hasn't been a single firefight here since two days ago, nor did you see a single team of soldiers - friendly or otherwise - moving across. And if there would be someone, they would certainly hold their fire. You're not armed, you're not wearing camo, you're clearly civilians.
Somehow this doesn't give you any comfort. You glance back at Yoimiya, who is hopping across the street, carefully glancing around. She's keeping her distance, just as you instructed her to, and this eases your mind. She's with you. She's going nowhere where you aren't. She is safely behind you, and if someone starts shooting, you'll be the one to take the hits.
It's your obligation to protect her.
You quickly step over the shop's missing display, pushing apart the cheaply made, wooden stands that once housed clothes and handbags. They have been either secured by the owner or just looted by the soldiers, maybe even the people passing by. You smirk to yourself. If the electronics's shop wasn't burnt by napalm, you might have snatched yourself a nice console. Well, you'll be lucky to even survive this ordeal.
The interior is just as you pictured it - empty, with broken furniture scattered around. The store is empty, obviously, but you notice a set of tiled stairs leading to the second floor. After a quick look to make sure Yoimiya is following you, you start ascending the steps.
A dull stream of light is cast on concrete through a small window overlooking the entryway. You glance at it. The glass is gone, as customary for the city of today. You turn your eyes back towards your destination and freeze.
Silence falls in the room as you remain motionless. Before you is a body, clad in anachronistic, green camo. Both the colors of the clothes and the stain of dark, dried blood underneath contrast with the ever present dust and monotony of the ruins. His rifle is still in his hand, but there aren't any shells around. He lies face down, but his neck is visible just enough for the paleness of his skin to indicate he hasn't died recently.
“What's going on?” Yoimiya whispers, alarmed. “What do you see?”
You shake your head sideways. “Nothing. There's a body… It's one of ours.” A brief look at his arm confirms this - the Inazuman flag patch is attached to the velcro area of his uniform.
His backpack is gone, but his combat straps are still there, holding up pockets likely filled with first aid supplies or snacks. Maybe his canteen is still intact, you hope.
“I’ll check the body. Stay on the lookout, Yoi.” You turn around and place a hand on her shoulder. Your eyes do their best to cover your nervousness. “Can you do that for me?”
She nods. “Okay. Just… Just please be careful. Please.”
You wink at her pleading eyes, making a small smirk find its way to her face. “I promise.”
You turn back to the second floor. Just a few steps and you'll be in front of the window the man was shot from. Judging by how old the body looks, it doesn't seem like the enemy is around anymore. You muster up the courage and continue your ascent, moving almost prone to keep yourself low. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears with each traveled meter, still going as you get down on one knee and lean over the body. The body doesn't reek of decay, at least not yet.
The nature of what you're about to do sickens you.
You pull your sleeves over your hands. There was no time to think of morality now, especially that your supplies were running low. There wasn't a chance to evacuate either now that fighting has gone into full swing in the city.
Wasting no time, you get to investigating his equipment. You quickly locate a particularly stuffed pocket, opening it and, to your delight, finding a bright red pack with a white cross inside. Moments later his canteen is uncovered, filled to the brim with fresh water. What's even better - amongst his documents in the inner pockets of his vest you find a small, stainless steel flask.
You open it and wipe the dust and speckles of blood with your sleeve, hopes growing. You put the metal to your lips and take a small swing. Alcohol burns your tongue oh so pleasantly. It has been a fair few days since you had even this simple pleasure. Anything to break the monotony of water and old juice was very welcome.
You smile. Such a little thing, and just how much happiness it can bring!
Overcome with excitement, you straighten out.
Before you can turn around and tell Yoimiya about your discovery, let alone blink, your world goes dark.
A gunshot rings out and before Yoimiya’s very eyes you fall to the ground.
“Y/N!”
She dashes forward but her shoe catches on some rubble. Yoimiya faceplants into the floor just in time to avoid another bullet, this one directed her way. She recovers and starts crawling towards you. Her hands latch onto your ankle and with all the strength pulls your body towards her. The crimson that drags behind you is sickening.
As soon as you're out of the sniper's line of sight, she throws herself at you with desperation in her every movement. She cups your cheeks, already stained red with the blood pouring from your mouth.
“No no no no, baby, please, please you'll be alright okay?” She rips your blood soaked shirt open, revealing a large wound near the middle of your chest. “Please, please just talk to me!”
She throws down her backpack and pulls out the small medkit. With shaking, red fingers she breaks it open and rummages for the gauze. She grabs a fistful of it and turns back to you. Yoimiya forces the bindings into the wound, hoping to stop the blood from pouring out. More and more of it is pushed deep into your wound, but it does nothing to help. Tears gather in her eyes, but her will powers through. She can still save you. She still can. You'll be okay.
“Talk to me, please!”
She looks into your eyes and finds them wide open. Unblinking. Frozen.
Lifeless.
Her movements grow weak as the realization falls upon her.
“No… No…”
She wraps her arms around your lukewarm body and sobs softly.
Suddenly, the closer door on the left of the corridor bursts open, two enemy soldiers coming through with their rifles raised. They aim at her.
“Hands up!” They shout, but she doesn’t obey. She just looks up at them, tears streaming down her face.
The soldiers glance at your body in her arms. The men lower their weapons.
She stiffens as they approach her. One of them crouches down to meet her eye-to-eye. His face is obscured by a balaclava, leaving only a small window above his nose to see through. The smell hits her right away, the stench of alcohol and a long-unwashed body.
“Fufu~ Would you look at that? Our sentry told us he saw the enemy, but we didn't expect to go up against such a pretty thing.”
Yoimiya swallows a sob and pulls your body closer to hers. Her eyes narrow through the tears. The other soldier audibly hangs up his rifle and walks behind her. She doesn't bother to look.
“We've been a little cold here you know? A girl to warm us up at night would be quite nice, especially such a young hottie as yourself.” He chuckles to himself. “That won't be a problem now that you're free, right-”
She lashes out with her hand, activating her vision and scorching his face with Pyro. He screams and falls back. Right away, Yoimiya feels a powerful blow on the back of her head. Her eyes fill with black spots as she's grabbed by her hair and violently yanked up. She screams and tries to fight back, but soon feels the business-end of a pistol pressed against her back.
The wounded soldier rises up, covering his burnt face with his other hands. He growls. “You fucking bitch.”
Yoimiya’s chin is grabbed by the man, hard. She whines in pain as her whole head is forced to face the man. The fire revealed his face. He is no older than herself.
“I wanted to be nice to you, we could have had a nice night, but you fucking spoiled it. We'll fuck you dead, like a street whore.”
Yoimiya spits in his face. Her head throws back as she receives a powerful strike across her cheek. She can feel a tooth has broken loose. She is hoisted up and despite her best efforts, her resistance is fruitless. They drag her towards the room they came out of. Her hands grasp the door frame, but a punch easily breaks her grip.
Yoimiya sobs.
Before the door closes, the last thing she can see is your lifeless eyes.
Thank you for reading.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x male reader#genshin impact x male reader#genshin impact angst#genshin angst#angst#genshin impact whump#genshin whump#whump#genshin impact yoimiya#yoimiya#nagonahara yoimiya#yoimiya x reader#yoimiya x male reader#yoimiya x you#yoimiya x y/n#yoimiya angst#yoimiya whump
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ONE SHOT 01. vil x idia
title: konami romance
contains: fluff, playing video games
summary: idia's playing his favorite mmorpg. vil decides he wants to try too.
note: very clearly came up with a little... parody? of ffxiv here. but, please know i know nothing about that game so i took creative liberties!
i hope you like it! this will be uploaded to ao3 as well.
Despite his ever busy schedule, Vil always made sure to dedicate at least one day nearly entirely to Idia every week. A sort of arrangement that Vil was quite surprised to hear Idia have some reservations about. The "loner otaku" didn't want to be so alone after all. Having someone else to care for, for what must've felt like the first time in so long, Idia had found himself really wanting to just... be around Vil.
It was incredibly sweet, Vil had to admit. And he did feel bad about having to squeeze time between the school week to see him, resulting in maybe two? Three hours a few days a week? It's something they're still both working on.
So, it's quite a surprise when Vil finds himself just... sitting on Idia's bed. Alone. He's flipping idly through a magazine filled with anime and manga news, all in a language he can't understand, keeping himself mildly busy as Idia begged to just play a little bit of Last Fantasies XIV. He had gone on about some sort of event going on... "raids" was a word used a few times, "limited edition armor"...?
He wasn't really sure. But what he was sure of was that he was unequivocally bored. Vil contemplated demanding Idia turn the game off, but... he knew he couldn't do it. Looking at his flame haired boyfriend, there was just so much sadness in his life... in the way he moved... Vil found it increasingly difficult to snuff out his happiness.
Fine. He's gone soft, but only for Idia. Something he does his best to hide when he's around others. But, in the privacy of Idia's room, Vil doesn't feel the need to put up a front.
At the end of the day, he just wanted to keep that genuine smile going for as long as he could. That's what he gets, he supposed, for playing the hero.
Eh, this wasn't a bad "consequence". If it even was one.
Closing the magazine, he turns until he's resting on his knees in the other's direction.
"Idia." Vil called out, but his dear boyfriend had his headphones on. With a sigh, he calls out again. "Idia!"
"H-Huh?!" Idia pulls one side of his headphone away from his ear, eyes wide as he looks over at Vil.
"You know, it's incredibly rude to have your boyfriend over and then proceed to ignore him!" Vil starts. And this seems to make Idia cower just a bit in his seat, an apologetic look on his face.
"Ah, S-Sorry..." He pulls his headphones down to hang around his neck. "It's just this event is loaded with quality loot! I mean, my character is already pretty OP but it never hurts to add more stats, hehehe."
Idia sits up straighter, excitement leaking through his voice. "Usually, I hate playing with newbies, but this time I'm joining every open party I find! And if they're too slow to find the chests in time, that's on them! I'm teaching them a valuable lesson about the MMORPG world!"
All of that flew right over Vil's head, but he finds himself smiling somewhat anyways. He could tell that Idia wasn't being the nicest player around, but he wasn't going to chastise him for that. It was just a game, after all. And, anyways, shouldn't one do everything they can to better themselves?
Vil looks at the holographic screen, seeing Idia's character obediently standing there. He can also see people whizzing by to and fro, chat bubbles on the edge of the screen and the clearing they all seemed to be in.
"I'd like to try." Vil says, looking back at Idia. But he was surprised with what he was met with. "What's with that face?!"
"That face" was Idia staring at Vil, controller gripped tightly as Idia's eyes widen. His mouth was agape... Vil wasn't sure if he was breathing...?
"You..." Idia sounded almost breathless. "...You want to try out the game with me?"
"Yes...?"
There's more silence between them as Idia clearly takes time to process this. "...Seriously?"
Vil doesn't even have the ability to feel annoyed, Idia's reaction was quite humorous. A bit of a laugh leaves him as he moves to stand up, making his way to Idia. "Yes, Idia! Seriously!"
And that seemed to do the trick! Idia starts shuffling in his seat, finally fixing his god awful hunched posture as he reached a hand to his headphones to turn off the Bluetooth function. And just like that, Vil can hear the audio of the game fill up the room. He continues to watch as Idia finally seems to settle. Surprisingly, blue tips turn a soft pink as Idia clearly seems to be mulling something over.
Timidly, and after a swallow, a hand motions to the spot between his legs. "You um... you can sit here. The chair's pretty roomy so..." The sentence trails off.
Vil smiles, bending over to give Idia a quick kiss on the cheek. This makes the pink tips that much more brighter. Good, that's what he wanted.
Carefully, Vil takes the spot Idia offered and settles back into his boyfriend. He wasn't the type to admit it, but, he likes being held. And Idia seemed to like doing the holding. Vil takes a moment to admire the way the blues and pinks of Idia's hair seem to engulf him as well. It was gorgeous, Vil never shied away from reminding Idia of that. Fingers reach for a strand, twirling it momentarily, before he felt Idia's nose brush up against the side of his face.
"Mm, I can get used to this." Vil speaks. He feels Idia nod. Idia brings the controller over and in front of Vil, motioning for Vil to take a hold of it. When he does, Idia places his hands over his.
"So, this is Last Fantasies XIV. TLDR: you wake up in Lindow, one of the three villages that take up the continent of Erostey. The last thing you remember is fighting a hooded figure. Currently, we still don't know who these hooded figures are. The developers update the game about every few months and with each update we get more and more of the story." Idia starts, before using his thumb to make Vil move the character over to a large sign post.
"For the time being, you need money and XP. So you join the Explorers Guild and start to do things like Quests, Raids and Tasks. Quests pertain to things that effect the story of the game, Raids are basically for grinding and Tasks help you gain coin. This sign post is basically how you trigger them."
Vil nods, eyebrows furrowing a bit. "Okay..." He says. "So... I'm assuming these hooded figures are the bad guys?"
"Yeah. At least, that's what the forums think." Idia uses his fingers to move Vil around again, taking him towards the village square. "They attack you and your party randomly during Raids. Noobs go down pretty quickly because of them. But I can handle a whole group of them all by myself." Idia's unique, conceited laugh bubbles out again.
Prior to getting with Idia, If you had told Vil that one day he would find someone bragging about their little virtual character in a game attractive, he wouldn't have believed you. But things are different now. He adored when Idia oozed confidence. And it helped that his snarky comments weren't directed at him half as much as they used to be.
"Oh! Uh, sorry, you... do you want to create your own character? We'll have to make you a new account—"
"Wait." Vil started, looking over his shoulder at Idia the best he could. "You made this character?"
"Um, yes...? You usually do for MMORPGs." A small breath of a laugh. "How could I expect a normie like you to know that..."
Vil lets that one slide. For now, at least. Idia knew for every "normie" he threw at Vil, Vil adds another "face mask night" in the proverbial jar.
"Can I see them more up close?"
He suddenly feels Idia tense up behind him. "Uh..." Another nervous noise. Which... actually isn't something that's too out of the ordinary for Idia. But, the context of the situation did raise a bit of questions in Vil. "Don't you want to just get in to playing? My character is pretty strong, so it should be easy for you."
"Okay? But, I want to get a look first." Vil turns his head back towards the screen, stepping the character more into the open. "I haven't played many video games, but creating a character has always been my favorite part. I want to see what you did."
Now, if he remembered correctly, he believed... yes the right analog stick moves the camera around! And now to zoom in all he needed to do was tip it forward and... oh!
What stood in front of him was a beautiful elven-like man. Blonde shoulder length hair framed a sharp face, features carefully placed and entirely modelesque. Piercing violet eyes looked back at him, the color much more vibrant against the soft purple eye shadow and sharp liner. Lips were delicately painted with a dark lipstick, his neutral face alone could strike down anyone.
Vil blinked as he realized he was looking at... himself?!
His lips were already starting to quirk up. "Idia... is this supposed to be..."
He didn't even have to finish his sentence as pink suddenly engulfed him. Idia's hands retract to cover his face, a groan escaping him. "Y-You weren't supposed to see that...!"
The smile finally graces Vil's face before a light laugh escapes. "Are you embarrassed? There's hardly any reason to be." He turns, sitting sideways on his lap to get a look at him. "This is very flattering. And... Seven, really really endearing."
Slender fingers separate as topaz colored eyes are seen between them. "Y-You're just saying that! It's... it's totally creepy!"
"Oh, come now! What did I say about putting words in my mouth?" He leans over, kissing the back of Idia's hand. He's met with Idia's surprised gaze. "I meant what I said. I am sincerely flattered."
Idia slowly lowers his hands, the pout still on his face as his cheeks and hair remained a soft pink. Like this, Vil takes the opportunity to lean over to give him a proper kiss. Quick but sweet.
"How did you do it?" Vil asks.
This somehow seems to fluster Idia all over again, who reaches over to pull his hood over his head. Thankfully, not enough to hide his face completely.
"...U-Using the... the selfies you sent me." He says, voice shaky and small. "It took me about an hour. I um, have a folder of your selfies on the cloud, so I was basically looking through them all..."
Vil's eyes light up. "You have a folder of my selfies?" That's... ugh, can Idia get any more... cute?! He made him feel like a silly little middle school boy, warm fluttery insides and happy heart skips.
He's already reaching over for Idia's secondary holographic screen, having gotten comfortable with understanding how to maneuver it. Of course, only at a basic level. The right level to know how to look through files.
"V-Vil!? Hey! W-What are you doing?" Idia's already attempting to take control of the screen himself.
"I'm looking for this folder, of course! Now, do you have it saved under my name? Or have you decided to use a pet name for it instead?" Vil asks, letting out a small laugh when Idia finally manages to swat the screen away from Vil.
"T-That isn't—Didn't you want to try my game?!" Idia's tone is nearly desperate, but Vil can see a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Let's focus on that!"
Well... Vil supposed he had to accept defeat, didn't he? For now, at least. "Okay, fine, fine." He shuffles until they're back to their previous position. This time, Vil takes one of Idia's hands and attempts to guide it over so Idia could be holding him. Thankfully, Idia got the message loud and clear, as he wraps both arms around Vil's middle.
He drops his forehead onto Vil's shoulder, letting out a slow breath. Vil could see his hair steadily going back to normal.
"You're going to be the death of me one day...!" Idia says.
"But what a lovely way to go, isn't it?"
He could hear the smile in Idia's tone as he says, "if the Seven decide to be in my favor for once."
Vil hums before holding the control better in his hand, thumb on the right analog stick as he attempts to put the camera where it was before. "Okay. What do I do now?"
#twst#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#vilidia#idiavil#vildia#so many different names trying to cover my bases!#my writing
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zombie au with ike ft. luxiem - In Pursuit to and from the Sun
(i think this submission got lost in the sauce and i can't find it but at least i still have this screenshot)
lmao sorry i went off the grid for a sec. life happens, you know, applied for some vsf programs, went on a classified operative excursion away from my post and got a new writing software. i actually wrote the last of this on a helicopter returning from the mission so that’s why i didn’t proofread beforehand sorryyyyy. but more importantly I TOUCHED GRASS. guys. i touched so much grass. i touched so much grass i could replant a garden. call me a topiary, i touched that much grass. is this what it’s like to work at a dispensary? bc i touched so much grass
a few disclaimers: this fic is ike centric but contains general luxiem angst as a treat and may be read in a platonic or romantic tone, whichever you prefer. it's also another 10.7k words long so if you want to read but don’t have the time, use a like/rb as a bookmark. most importantly: heed the tags for this one, i kind of went off the deep end here
tags: platonic relationship, hurt no comfort, angst, zombie au, no happy ending, gender neutral reader
⚠️ major character death, suicidal thoughts, gore, infection, arson, and apocalypse-typical violence
continued au notes and commentary here (spoilers)
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Ever since the initial zombie outbreak, you’ve been running around the country with your best friend Ike and the circle of close friends you both share. You’ve made peace with the fact that it will always be hard. You and your band hop around from town to wilds, with no real objective other than to survive. Every location has something to glean, after all. It’s just that the zombies are always on your tail, and there’s only so much looting to do before the chorus of dead can tear you and your family apart.
It’s deluded to pretend you’re the invulnerable main characters, though. You and your friends are in a townhouse currently being ambushed by a strain of zombies. You swear they’ve gotten more intelligent since your last encounter. A dense herd of bloodthirsty undead is one thing, but a dense herd of bloodthirsty undead that have a chance of understanding positioning is another. Closing doors is barely a second of relief now.
You were lucky to be in a room with Vox when you got ambushed. He lived his post-apocalyptic life with a rebar rod in his hand, wrested from a collapsed concrete building early in during the initial outbreak. He claimed to be a trained swordsman once, and even though the rebar was more of a club than a sword, you admit you would’ve been worse than dead if you didn’t have him by your side. You’re sure he’d be screwed without you, too. Now that the world’s gone to the dogs, you stay prepared with a pair of climbing picks that can clobber in zombie brains just as well as scale walls. Vox shoved zombies out of the way while your picks cleared a path to escape from the house out through the window, Vox in tow.
You and Vox reunite with Ike and Shu outside. The former keeps various kitchen knives hidden under his no-longer white mantle, and defends Shu from stragglers while he digs into his backpack. You notice his weapon, an iron fire poker, by his feet along with a bottle. He rips sheets off of an old Millwall brick to stuff inside the bottle.
“Blowing the place up,” Shu says, in case you didn’t make the connection already. His breath is ragged. “Where’s Luca and Mysta?”
Like a stage cue, you hear the rocket of gunfire the second he says it. Your hope is crushed. Noise attracts zombies, and Luca was the only one with a shotgun. If he pulled the trigger, the situation was even more dire than you thought.
Shu grits his teeth and repeats himself, intensity barely restrained. “Where is Luca and Mysta.”
“I’m going back in,” Vox declares.
Ike drives a knife into the head of a fallen body. Destroying the brain confirmed they wouldn’t regenerate, and he minimizes the risk as precise as a surgeon. He made short work of the zombies that hadn’t overrun the house yet, but you could see them flood the interior. “Don’t be stupid, Vox, that’s suicide.”
“You heard the gun!”
“And I said that’s suicide!”
“Not if someone goes back in!”
“How are you going to find them without getting yourself killed?” Vox opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Ike took advantage of it. “That’s what I thought. Luca’s our muscle and Mysta’s a clever guy, you’ve seen him outsmart the zombies so many times before!”
“They know basic organization, Ike!”
“All the more reason not to go back in! Have some faith in your friends!”
Vox grants him an unholy leer through his haunting yellow eyes. “How dare you lecture me about faith when I’m trying to save their lives.”
His glare was lost. Ike focuses on confirming the dead stay dead. His back is turned from the swordsman as he chops a skull in two with a butcher’s cleaver. “Because no matter what, they’re going to get out, and they want you out just as much as they’re fighting.”
But Ike’s words were just as lost to Vox; you barely saw the trail of his blood-splattered haori before he ran back to the townhouse, rebar in hand and fury on display.
Shu shoves the remains of the Millwall brick into the cupholder of his pack, a battering ram for another day. He produces a box of matches instead. “It’s best to take them all out at once.”
You speak up. “But Vox just-”
“I know.” Shu’s lips purse. “And I’m not going to throw them. Not until I know they’re all safe.”
You watch as Vox speared through a living corpse, then threw its remains on the ground. The zombies are centered inside the house, but the windows are all covered. The door stays open as he passes through the threshold, but you can’t see a trace of him left.
Ike stabs through a brain close to you and Shu. You see him heft himself up, and the traces of a permanent dead remain on the ground. The head is split open with precision, and the brain blooms out from the skull. It leaks pink nerves and black rot among the blood, like a disgusting flower.
He passes by you, dead set on his goal. “You’re not going, Reader.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“And don’t expect to.” Ike’s words are emotionless, but not cold. As much as he pushes away Vox, you know he cares for everyone in your group like brothers. He’s the least risky out of all six of you- after all, he’s tearing apart zombie brains without a complaint while you catch your breath and Shu stands watch.
You draw your climbing picks and follow him to the field of dead. “Let me help you.”
You feel useless just standing there, after all.
Though the task of confirmation is much calmer than fighting for your life, it’s still unenviable, and you have to admire how Ike distances himself seemingly so easily from it. You try not to look at their faces, but that’s just as impossible. After all, the brain is right between the eyes. That’s the worst part.
You made the mistake of looking into zombie eyes twice in your life.
The first was your first fight of the apocalypse; a zombie had you deadlocked in an aisle of an outdoors store, and only when it was within biting range did you drum up the courage to grab the first thing you saw- two fluorescent orange climbing picks, never used- and drive them into the writhing heart. You bolted then, too focused on escape than freezing, and those climbing picks proved themselves to be your best survival tool in combat and exploration.
The second was the first time you confirmed the dead, and those eyes, that face- skin and bone but youthful, blue bleeding through the iris like a cracked yolk, remains of eyeliner and mascara along her deteriorated features- she was a person, so young, so beautiful when she was alive, like she knew she had decades to go- sometimes you swear she’s the face you see at night when you remember how human and how simply unlucky this world is now. It’s simply unlucky, and being unlucky is simply brutal.
(You held back your tears when you bashed her brain in. Later that night you pulled your best friend Ike aside, and cried in mourning of a woman whose name you never learned. He didn’t complain then, either, and you only sobbed harder when you realized as much as he comforted you, he could never muster up the vulnerability to grieve himself.)
You club a pick into the forehead of the fresh, putrid dead. The other pries it open, and a third swipe pulverizes with finality.
It’s messy. When you drive your weapons into the skull there’s a crack of metal against bone, and a thin gush of blood that spurts out to your arms. Especially large openings reveal nodules of black rot spotted through the brain. If you focus, you can see the moist, moldy texture seep through the wrinkles of the brain, and if you were any less jaded it’d be enough to make you turn your head and hurl.
But the deed is done in only three stabs, and you cling onto that fact. The more mechanical the task is, the easier it is to drive yourself to just get it done. Club, pry, pulverize. Club, pry, pulverize.
You pass by one of Ike’s carvings as you move onto another body. His work is premeditated from habit; he usually does this deed while everyone else recuperates. A standard chef’s knife is his weapon of choice when he faces against zombies, but he keeps a cleaver sheathed to his side when he has the time to get precise. One good slash goes through bone. Bone sweeps through the brain, and the work is done, and he carries on to the next, messy on his mantle but clean in the cut.
There are only a few more bodies left untouched on the yard where you hear heavy steps on the grass and Shu’s voice cry out. “Luca!”
You and Ike snap up. Luca’s blond hair is matted to his face with blood and rot as Vox runs beside him. They look like they ran through a blender of decayed flesh, and considering the herd of dead inside the house, perhaps that isn’t so strange of a metaphor. Even as Luca sprints, he turns to pump shotgun lead to the predators when they get closer, and each corpse’s fall is punctuated by hot gunfire.
Shu calls out his name again frantically. The men return, and so do you and Ike, five missing one. “Luca, where’s Mysta?”
“It’s bloody,” Luca simply says. His breath is short, and he wipes at the mess of gore and hair on his forehead. All it accomplishes is smearing black and red together along his face and in a blotch along his arm.
“But where is he, I need to know!”
“And it’s so much.” He trails off. He stares into the side of the townhouse and beyond the distance. Strapped to his back is his go-to weapon, a baseball bat littered with nails, each with residue dripping off the spikes from freshly killed zombies. “There’s a lot. Oh, I’m feeling kind of- kind of cold.”
“He’s in shock,” Ike says. He takes Luca’s hand in his, but Luca doesn’t even react. “Oh, Luca. What happened?”
“Kind of a lot?”
“Where’s Mysta?”
“He…” Luca’s eyes dart to the center of the townhouse. “He’s stuck, because of me, isn’t he?”
“Alright, lay off the man.” Vox intervenes. “We’re done asking questions. Shu. Your matches. Light it up.”
“What?!” Shu screams at Vox. You’ve heard him yell, but never once have you heard him scream. Especially not with Vox sounding so detached. “No, are you crazy? Mysta is in there!”
“Light it up, Shu-“
“I said, no! No! No way, not a- not a fucking chance!”
“Shu, listen to me!” Vox thunders. “I’m sorry, but Mysta is gone.”
Shu stands his ground. His features are tense, and his ultraviolet eyes burn holes through the earth. “Not a fucking chance.”
“Mysta is gone,” Vox insists, and you hear his bassy voice break even lower. “I saw it myself.”
“He is not.”
“It was too overrun, it’s miraculous Luca even got out.”
“Mysta,” Luca says, and closes his eyes. Ike holds him upright and rubs his arm, as comforting as he possibly can in the worst situation, as much as possible when his own face is just as distraught as everyone else.
“And I wish with everything that I have that I could’ve gotten him out,” Vox continues, more of his own justification than anyone else. “And I wish I was just a little faster, and that they were a little further away, and, God, that he wasn’t trapped, but he was, and I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t close enough…”
Shu is murmuring his own protests to himself at this point, and feeling the pit in your stomach yourself, you reach to hold his hand. He jerks away like you’re made of lava. You feel ill. “You’re lying to me.”
“And he got bit, and he knew that meant death. And he ran, ran upstairs, to draw them away from us, and there were more, and he knew, he knew, he knew he was dead but we weren’t.”
Luca lets his head fall on Ike’s chest. Ike becomes his crutch, and holds him. “Mysta.”
“His distraction saved Luca’s life. And mine if I was slow.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He was a hero,” Vox says.
“Stop.” Shu’s eyes shut. He looks like stone about to break, paralyzed in denial as the proper grief is setting in. His hands dive and clasp around yours. He’s trembling. You squeeze back. “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”
“He was a hero, and our brother, and the sun. Please don’t devalue his sacrifice like that.”
“Oh my god.” Ike interrupts, and his face is paler than the dead. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Luca, don’t look.”
With one hand, he buries Luca’s head into the fabric of his mantle, and with the other, he points to the tallest point of the townhouse.
You crane your neck up and squint. The townhouse has one window peeking out from the room along one small wall. When you recognize the shapes through the window your legs nearly give out. Startling, saturated, unadulterated horror grips you. You see his hat.
“He’s still alive,” you whisper. “Or he rose. But he’s still surrounded.”
With revived desperation Vox grasps Shu by the shoulders. “Don’t devalue his sacrifice, Shu, you know better than anyone he never wanted to fall victim to that curse. Let him and the rest of the zombies pass on properly, like a hero should. Light the match, please. Please.”
You absorb the chaos as if you weren’t there. You’re detached. Nothing feels real, not even as Ike strokes Luca’s hair, distressed and staring at the window, while Luca is just as distanced as you are. Vox’s heroic resolve shattered as he recounted Mysta’s last moments, and Shu, the smart one out of your group, can’t even function anymore. You knew everyone considered themselves each other’s family, but Shu and Mysta were especially close, and it tears you apart to watch Shu finally grasp the terror of the townhouse ambush.
Shu lets go of your hands to cover his face. Through the gaps between bloodstained gloves, you can see the sparkle of tears. He’s crying. “This isn’t possible.”
“Do the right thing,” you say. “Do what he would’ve wanted.”
Shu stands so still. He looks up to the sky, as if it could all go back just by an hour. The clouds just kept rolling.
He picks up a bottle and lights a match.
“This can’t be happening.” A teardrop nearly flicks out the match, but he gathers his strength, and places it by the newspaper wick. The paper flares alive in caution orange.
Shu breathes in. You see his face is scrunched up from crying even as he tries to aim, and it’s like he’s aged years in a matter of minutes. His face has never truly been clean of dirt or gore in weeks, just like the rest of you, but even under the orange fire his eyes go dull. There’s weight under his eyelids, and his mouth is forced into a tight, shaky frown as he exhales.
“I’m so sorry.” Even when it was a zombie Shu always apologized before killing. He treats it as a blessing of what they once were. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry it had to be this way.”
Shu throws the molotov.
You lose track of Mysta’s silhouette as the townhouse goes up in flames.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
The death of Mysta Rias was the death of the sun, and the world has been even drearier than the desolate land would have you think.
Everyone lives on edge frostily. It’s barely been a month since he passed, but the wound hesitates to close.
Ike is maybe the best adapted to your band of six now as five, but even then you can tell he’s not the same. He’s a champion of reservation. Every sweep of his knives into dead flesh are purposeful, every word spoken is calculated.
You think back on that night you cried in Ike’s arms the first time you confirmed the dead. You still haven’t seen him cry. Strange, since he was the type to get emotional at sappy movies and video games before the first outbreak. You’re worried, but he insists he can keep it together. To be fair, he’s doing an excellent job at not having a conniption, but the way that he acts so much more emotionally distant isn’t exactly inspiring confidence either.
But Vox, for all he puffs himself up about making sure no man gets left behind and all that heroic junk, hesitates far more than his honed swordsmanship would have you think now that Mysta’s gone. It hasn’t gotten in the way of surviving yet, but you have to wonder when it will. He’s gotten indecisive and requires time to think- great for planning, not so much for a live-or-die fight.
Luca’s the one that surprises you. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him happy when your band of friends started roaming the country together, but he was good natured, and was the first to pick himself up from a bad scrape. He had a sly, sideways curve to his lips whenever he laughed, but it’s been so long since you’ve heard it that you’re starting to forget the way his skin curves into smile lines.
He doesn’t smile at all, really. As optimistic Luca was, it was no secret Mysta was the other half of the laughter in your group, and now that Mysta was gone the morale was as well. Luca keeps up his positive attitude as much as he can but it’s rare, and it’s quiet when you see it.
You notice whenever someone lights the campfire, he’s never around to watch it, and no one makes him do it. You don’t think anyone’s ever talked about it out loud, nor has he ever let himself show it. But when he turns around to feel the warmth, Vox is always to his front, blocking off the bright blazes, and sits by him while he cooks game. You have a theory Vox hasn’t given up his hero complex yet, but for as tense as he gets by the fire Luca hasn’t had a breakdown yet either. Unless things change, you won’t bring it up. Your group has never experienced a loss quite like this in the zombie apocalypse, and all things considered, for as awful as the morale it could be much, much worse.
Speaking of much worse, Shu…
He was a wreck when Mysta passed away, and that’s putting it lightly. When you ran from the remains of the burning townhouse and into a forest, your footfalls were punctuated by Shu’s shortened breaths, and he held back hiccups as you left Mysta behind. By the time Vox figured you were safe from the horde and Ike’s feet gave out from exhaustion, Shu’s eyes were shut tight in disbelief.
You barely uttered a word to him before he fell back into sobs, and when you offered a hand he threw himself to you. It was disorienting. You always considered Shu the face of serenity and restraint even in your lives before the apocalypse, and after the outbreak he was always the one that could find the best path to follow for the greater good of all six of you. But now there were only five, and the grief was fresh.
But Shu howled. He clawed himself against your chest in inconsolable wails, and his face was contorted, sore and raw red in splotches of unmuted primality, nearly unrecognizable. There was an animal in your arms. Agonized.
“It’s not possible,” he heaved. His articulation was lost in his eruption. “It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!”
You didn’t have any words to say, and clearly Shu didn’t either. He howled again as his bestial hands clutched around your arm. Nails dug through his gloves and into your skin, and if he clutched you any tighter he’d tear the flesh off the bone straight, a creature of despair. Screaming and howling, and soon enough he was choking on his own spit and the block of mourning in his throat, some ugly peals of tears and snot, and the remains of rot on his hands and blood against the hollows of his ghastly cheek; the ash left in his lungs and the smoke that lingered in his hair, and the flames that licked through his fingers and inside the bottle and outside the glass; the blazes that ate through the wood of the house, the very same hue as his brother’s favorite shirts, his hat, flickering a cycle of brightness and color and roiling heat until he knew the fire had swallowed up what remained of Mysta.
Shu had no choice but to scream. When his throat took away that privilege he mustered up what he could of his vocal chords and churned. All his mouth went dry but he still smacked his tongue against his gums and huffed out seethings and surges of thin breath through gritted teeth, more akin to wheezing than anything else he’d howled but the pure distress gone untouched.
He eventually exhaled himself into an uneasy sleep, but even in sleep his face was still struck with suffering. Rest was more like a pause to a realized horror than it was a reprieve. You and Ike cleaned him up and laid him sideways on the ground for the night- after all, it had been an awful day, and as the moon rose in the sky you know you wouldn’t be getting anywhere after the horrible events, much less with an unconscious Shu.
Luca spent the rest of his day detached from his own experience, even after the shock wore off. When Shu’s composure broke, Vox had attended to Luca, and they quietly wept together while Shu bawled. By the time Shu began to rest, Luca looked into the ground, water bottle in hand.
Vox approached you while Ike started a fire and prepared some rations for the rest of the group. “He’s not taking things awfully, but I’m concerned for him,” he said. “Luca, I mean.”
“I know you mean Luca,” you responded. You couldn’t hide your own exhaustion from the day either.
“As much as I hate to say it, Shu freaking out was to be expected. He and- and Mysta- those two- they were so close. And Luca, too. I thought he would freak out like Shu, but hell, Reader, I cried more than him. I know I get emotional and he’s better at keeping it down than me, but…”
Vox’s eyelids fluttered as he looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were red. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. It’s not like him.”
“Well, living without-” Your exhaustion dragged down your sentence before you could finish it. You thought you were well-adjusted to the death, but your voice caught before you could utter his name. You cleared your throat. “Living like this. There’s going to be a lot of weird changes, and everyone mourns differently.”
“I suppose you’re right.” But Vox didn’t look too pleased to hear that. “We need to protect him.”
“He does plenty of protecting himself. And we look out for each other regardless.”
“Then we should look out for him especially.”
“Of course. I don’t want him to get overexerted.”
“And let’s tap out of any interaction if we can, including looting. Last thing we need is to get into another big fight with the zombies, or worse yet, other survivors.”
“Avoiding fights has always been our M.O.” A chilled breeze ran through the forest. Vox fiddled with his haori. You stared right through him. “Sorry if this comes across as weird. But do you really think laying low is a good idea?”
“It’s dangerous to let anything interfere with us.”
“We’re in the zombie apocalypse, Vox, everything is dangerous. It’s not like I can just wave a wand and poof, we’re immune from the plague. Besides, we’re just two out of s- out of five. We’ll figure it out when it’s not so late, and Luca and Shu are in working condition.” You squinted. “Hey. Enough about them for a second. Has anyone ever asked you if you’re okay, Vox?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Is now. How are you holding up?”
“What, do you want me to lie to your face? No one’s doing well.” He averted his eyes, and you knew he was averting the question. “I could ask you the same thing. Shu was intense.”
“Tired,” you said. “Just plain tired. I don’t even think I have the energy to properly grieve.” And just like the man standing before you, you averted your eyes as well. “I don’t think I want to either. I don’t know. I miss him a lot, but I don’t have the time to miss him. Not when the apocalypse is literally unfolding in front of us and there’s people taking the brunt of the loss way harder than I am. I wish I could give him the remembrance he deserves.”
Vox nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything in response, and the silence made you feel like you aged hundreds of years in his presence.
“You’re very observant, Reader,” he finally said. “And you spend a lot of time making your own conclusions before you act. That’s smart. But knowing too much prevents you from action, full stop.”
Campfire smoke curls around the chilly air and by Vox’s face. His head was still angled up to look at the sky, and the orange glow against his sharp features weathered him into a dreary oil painting. There was a gash between his cheek and ear where a tree branch hooked him while he evaded a zombie’s grapple, and the light illuminated the soft pink flesh exposed under the cut of skin. The corner of the gash met his thoughtful frown. “Every moment of life teaches you something. I’m wondering when it’ll be too much and we simply can’t go on the way we used to.”
“Might be soon.”
“Today definitely sped it along.”
The fire crackled. You and Vox sat there unmoving, too focused on the blaze and how controlled it was compared to the townhouse.
Even as the tinder burns, your thoughts were still so awry now that the group got smaller. Vox had a point about Luca. You needed to keep an eye out on him in case he’s putting on a brave front. Even then, you didn’t like how Vox deflected your concern, but prodding him would only make it worse, especially when the loss was so fresh.
Your thoughts drifted to Ike, and how you haven’t managed to share a word with him at all since the townhouse burning. He hasn’t cried, you recall, not a single time since the first outbreak. You admired his composure but now that Vox admitted his own fears for the others (and neglected to tell you the ones about himself), you can’t help the unease that settled into your stomach. What were his thoughts like? Everything went off the rails whenever you tried to collect yourself, but if Ike was able to keep it all under wraps, then his mind must be a storm.
Speak of the devil. Ike hands Luca a small can of beans, but the blond stayed by his lonesome. Your best friend took the empty seat beside you, and gives you and Vox your dinner.
You thanked him, and after savoring what little you had of your portion, you asked how he’s doing.
“Just gotta get through another day,” Ike responded.
Then he tipped the last of his beans into his mouth and stared at the fire, just as you did after talking with Vox. He was unreadable as ever, but the only thing you could glean from him with confidence is that he had just as much on his mind as you thought. Maybe even more.
You wished he would just tell you.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
But grass grows over graves, and even if Mysta didn’t have a proper send off, time waits for no one.
Once Shu woke up, his face was a mess of bleariness and exhaustion. Something in his bright eyes froze over during the night. Amethyst faded to plastic.
“We’ll keep moving,” he declared, and his voice chilled you to the core. He called out the order as a leader, not a friend, without the care or delicacy he always granted to your group. His emotion died with Mysta.
(And you saw Vox ready himself to refute, but once he met those purple eyes filled with something unearthly, he shank under Shu’s presence.)
Days pass. All of them are spent on the road. The group spends as little time resting as possible just to get a few extra miles out to your next destination.
Shu and Luca say it’s to get away, but they end the sentence differently. Shu says to get away from the zombies. Luca doesn’t finish his thought at all.
It’s no surprise that Vox opposes it. The more distance between the group and the townhouse, the more he speaks his mind.
But Shu is determined to go further, just as much as Vox is convinced everyone needs to lay low.
And in all the time you’ve known these men, you’ve never seen any of them fight against one another quite like this. Vox always concedes, but not before Shu spits venom and he flings it right back. Their words are always about the plan, their future, where the group is going and why don’t they wait out the zombies instead of these hourly skirmishes on the road; but everyone can tell there’s more lying in subtext than the literal argument. You’ve seen the way Vox grits his teeth and musters up his courage whenever he’s about to tell Shu off, and you know that disgusted glare Shu gives Vox whenever he brings up hiding from the zombies.
Ike usually ends up being the one to break up their fights. One dismal evening while he lectured them both about teamwork and other platitudes, you and Luca sat next to each other. He’s a big guy, but he’s lost a lot of weight from rationing, and his expression looks like an abandoned dog more often than not these days.
He talks quietly, but plainly. “Shu hates me, doesn’t he?”
“What?” The bluntness startles you. “Luca, listen to yourself. He could never.”
“He could.”
“He wouldn’t,” you insist. “He’s gone through a lot, and he’s not taking it well, but I know it’s always because he wants to protect you. All of us.”
“So is Vox. But he just shuts him down without a thought. You ever wonder why, Reader?”
“To get away from the zombies,” you recite. That’s always his reasoning. Staying put in one place just means more time for zombies to gather at the scent of the living.
“So would finding a secure shelter, like how Vox says.” Luca sits with his knees close to his chest, and watches from a distance at the quelled fight. Vox says something, and you can see Shu’s face contort even though you can’t hear what he says. “But he doesn’t even listen to him. He doesn’t even listen to you, Reader, when you try to break it up.” He holds his legs closer to himself. “I don’t know if he’s ever listened to me. Or anyone.”
“He would if you told him you feel like that. He’d understand.”
“Would he really?” You nearly answer that before you realize the question is rhetorical. “You’ve got eyes, Reader. Be attentive like how I know you always are and look at how he looks at us. Me and Vox.”
You try to follow Luca’s request but Ike is speaking, and Shu’s eyes close.
He elaborates. “It’s not a nice look.”
“He’s stressed.”
“Then why doesn’t he ever look at you like that? Or even better, why does he listen to Ike only, and how come it never seems to stick?”
“He’s going through a lot.”
“We all are.”
Across the camp, you watch Ike run a hand through his hair. Shu is still talking, and Vox sighs.
“I think he blames us.”
You grab Luca’s arm. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s obvious anyways.”
“Because that’s our friend.”
“He hasn’t acted like one for a long time.”
“Because he’s lost so much.”
“We were all friends,” Luca snaps. “We lost just as much. Hell! I was in the house! We were together! And then we got separated, and unlike someone Vox actually tried to help him out until- and I should’ve- we saw him get bit, and I couldn’t- I just, I-”
Luca shuts himself up. Your hand falls from his arm to his palm and squeezes. No life returns your gesture.
You sit in the stagnant silence.
“I’m sorry.” Luca lowers his head. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Get it off your chest, Luca. I won’t hurt you.”
“No, I don’t think I should.” He unwraps his legs, and stands up from the ground beside you. “I’m not going to say it and be an awful friend, even if he’s acting like one.”
Before you could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Luca already turned his back, and you sat alone from the argument as he walked away from everything.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Despite all their bickering, Shu and Vox lead the group through travel. It’s more likely that the bickering is the exact reason why. The fire iron and rebar push aside the greenery, until Vox stops with his rebar casting the brush aside. “Fucking finally.”
You catch up and look across the hill. Buildings. This used to be a small rest town in a clearing between the hills before the outbreak, but now the bright signs are dimmed out and dirtied. Not a soul lurks in the abandoned town, including the dead.
“We’re not stopping,” Shu says.
“Piss off, Shu. I’m tired.”
“You’re never going to be well-rested.”
“Then how does safe sound?”
“Not possible no matter where you go.”
“But safer than on the road-”
“Guys,” Ike interrupts. “Quit acting like toddlers.”
Vox pouts and Shu squints. None of the three want to get the next word in.
So you speak up instead. “We’re running out of supplies. If we don’t find any more food soon, then we won’t even be able to continue on the road.”
“Reader has a point,” Ike agrees.
Shu’s expression sours. “Fine. We’ll look around, but make it quick. Camping out here is a great way to get robbed.”
“Then we’ll move together and keep watch for one another,” Vox declares, and he smiles. “Welcome to the correct side, Reader, Ike. It’s good to have you on board.”
Ike rolls his eyes. “Don’t drag me into your petty fights.” You fight the urge to quip he’s already in the mess as the mediator.
But the group traverses the hills and enters the remains of the town. The ground is littered with garbage strewn about in the haste for its citizens to flee town- or for the ill-fated, become the corpses dragging along the cement.
The zombies here shamble along independent from one another. That’s the best you could ask for. The only consistent thing about zombie behavior is their danger when in swarms. Alone, they’re nothing but fetid flesh barely clinging onto the skeleton, ready to fall into a hundred pieces at one strike, but when accompanied by others? Fodder makes up for each others’ weaknesses, and no matter how competent or skilled you are, one human is nothing to a crowd of zombies on the warpath.
The zombies of this town haven’t synced up with one another, and you’d like to keep it that way. While on the road, you’ve had plenty of skirmishes with small groups of zombies, but the last time your band faced off against a proper herd, you lost one.
A single zombie clambers to the front of your group. You hear metal against fabric as Ike pulls out his cleaver from its sheath, ready to do the deed, but before he can advance Shu already has his fire poker in his hands and the business end driven through the eyes of the zombie. He twists, assuring the brain is too punctured to allow the body to rise again, and the poker is back at rest. He barely even apologizes to the body as everyone trudges on.
Behind his back, Ike resheathes his weapon. He squints through his glasses, and you can read the confusion between his green eyes. Ike doesn’t meet your glance, but his expression is welcome, as unfortunate as it is. At least you’re not the only one that noticed how out of character Shu has been lately. You’re getting a sinking feeling about him.
However, the moment passes as soon as it appeared, and you and the rest of your friends rove onwards until you come across a set of stairs erring into the earth, surrounded by a dirtied glass entrance.
“Who would’ve thought?” You wonder aloud. “I never would’ve guessed this little town had a subway system.”
Vox raises his hand along the cool glass. “This could be good. The entrance is camouflage pretty well considering the damage of this town, and there might be some preserved food in vending machines. All we need to do is break ‘em.”
“And if there isn’t any food, it’s still a big area,” Ike adds. “Plenty of space and a roof over our heads.”
Luca looks down the staircase. It’s dark, but not unnavigable. The edges of the sidewalk are lined with yellow paint stripes, and features small lights along the walls from a backup generator, most likely. “It’s a good hiding place,” he says.
Luckily for everyone, Shu can already tell he’s defeated, and doesn’t put up much of a fight before you all descend down the stairs.
Not even ten minutes later Luca found a vending machine and smashed it apart with his spiked bat. Vox unwrapped a pack of Oreos with a smug smile.
The subway was no longer in operation and the trains themselves were abandoned, but you found a sign with a map of the station. The subway connected the major areas of the town together, and could be used as secret passages through the ruins.
And most interesting, there were even less zombies underground than under the sun.
“I wonder if the stairs confused them?” Luca says to himself. “Surely a few of them figured it out, since we killed some since we entered the subway, but it might be too complex for herds to come through. Or the architecture itself is confusing.”
You weren’t about to question it. This was one of the most peaceful environments you’ve entered since the outbreak, and there was no way you would ignore the moment to catch your breath, even if you can still cut through the tension with a knife.
You enter first watch with the drifting bond between everyone on your mind, and when Ike relieves you for his watch, you fall asleep in record time.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
An arm jostles you awake. “Reader. Wake up, zombies.”
You curse, albeit a little groggily, but in a flash you’re on your feet. You thumb under your sleeping pad and grab your climbing picks. “I thought we were safe?”
“Not at all.” Your eyesight adjusts after you start walking, but you can already recognize the voice as Ike. Out of the corner of your eye you can spot Shu trying to shake Luca awake, and Vox gathering everyone’s things together. “They’re flooding in fast. Herds of them. Like they’re all on the same wavelength.”
“Like the townhouse.”
It dawns on you and you say it without thinking. Ike’s shoulders freeze over. “Don’t say that. Not so loudly.”
“Fine. What do you need me to do?”
“Get your things together. They’re not here yet, but they will be soon, around the corner we came.”
Vox approaches halfway through zipping a backpack together. “We should take the next right corridor. I remember that leads to a different exit.”
“You sure it’s not the same one the zombies are coming in through?” You ask.
“Positive.”
“We need to stay ahead of the herd,” Shu said, Luca in tow. “No fighting unless absolutely necessary. If we get started now we should be able to get away without overexerting ourselves. Ready?”
No words need to be exchanged. You leave the clearing just as you found it.
A collected groan follows behind you, and a chill runs down your spine. You’ve never heard so many zombies, and never so man all in harmony. The moans arrange together in the cavernous halls, bouncing off the cement and down the station.
The urgency rises once the cries grow closer. Vox breaks out in a run, then Luca, and Shu behind him.
“Right,” Vox calls, and dives at the turn. A zombie greets him. He drives his rebar into its head and flings it away without a second thought like a lancer.
The zombie smashes against a sight with arrows to different stations. Ike swerves out of the way. “Fork ahead, where now?”
“Right? I mean-” He goes one way to view a sign, then sprints the other. “Straight! Straight!”
The dead sing. You can’t think to look back but the smell of rot is suffocating.
Your foot falls under the concrete ground in time with your family, and in time with the stumbling zombies approaching faster than you’ve ever felt before.
Luca halts in his tracks, and you thump against his back. Your mouth parts to speak but your eyes fall upon the exit.
Or rather, the lack of exit.
Boulders of broken concrete hide the stairwell from daylight.
Hot breath strangles you, and you turn with your picks in hand. Swathes of the dead are fixated on your group.
Ike runs straight-on to the choir. You scream out as one reaches for him before he turns at the last fork in the road.
You cut your scream off halfway when you follow him without a second thought.
A hand covered in dirt and mold grasps against the sleeve of your jacket. You swivel and sink your pick into the limb, and the wrist pops off under your blade. The hand goes limp and falls from the fabric.
You hear footsteps behind you, and when Luca speaks up you’re full of relief even if only for a moment. “What now?”
“Just run,” You say back, more of a guess than an order.
Shu drifts in front of you. “Where are we?”
“Give me a moment, I’m trying to think!”
“We don’t have time, Vox!”
“I know, Shu, shut up!”
“Going left!” Ike shouts, and you all move without question.
But you realize only after the zombies cut away the turn that the station turns more decrepit on this side. The tunnels are lined with debris and the floor crumbles away along the painted stripes.
And before you can find a new route, you see a puff of dust from the ceiling.
“The roof!” You shout. You’re gasping to breathe now, and your words stumble upon the exhale.
Shu’s eyes roll up to the flickering light, and you both see the elongated crack above your heads. It’s been in decay for years. How unlucky. How simply, brutally, lethally unlucky.
“Hurry!” He pleads. He’s at the front of the pack, followed by Vox and Luca alongside each other. Ike trails behind you.
The crack in the roof follows your every footstep even as ancient instinct kicks in. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and pushes you forward, accompanied by bits of debris tangling in your hair. The flooring turns from concrete to tile, and with the dirtied mosaic comes a glimmer of hope. Surely you must be going the right way.
The zombies’ cries are loud, but the squeak of your shoe against the tiles is louder. There must be something beyond.
But the ceiling splintering out is the loudest of all.
It all happens at once:
The way that Shu turns at the sound and can’t even get one of his own out before he sees your face-
The powdered cement turning to hail in the blink of an eye-
Your war cry through gritted teeth as you launch off, the fastest you’ve ever run before-
A knife unsheathed in in warmth and frigidity in your midst-
Luca, hated, blamed, petrified.
Your brain catches up through the curtain of scrap. It’s all because of Luca. Even at his most vulnerable, you’ve never thought of him as weak. Nonetheless, his eyes are dead purple crusted against his ghost-white face, and his lips force open while a vein along his neck strains to scream out your name, but he lets out just one small, throaty heave. A miserable noise.
It silences you.
You know it, and he does too. A chunk of ceiling drops mere inches from your last step. Vox approaches, calls out your name before he’s even comprehended the truth before him. You see the dark in his pale eyes tighten into a thin reptilian pupil and he reaches out in desperation.
The last of the ceiling shatters. A broken crag hammers into his palm instead. All you hear is Shu finally get out the scream before the remains of the underground roof shuts you out from your family.
The dead rises in volume. The glimmer of hope evaporates.
You force yourself against the barricade, but your weight is no match for the pile of rubble, and you watch the zombies shamble forward with your back against the wall. The only person you have left brushes plaster away from his eyes with one arm and brandishes a knife in the other.
Ike Eveland looks like hell alive.
It would almost be hilarious if you weren’t facing a subterranean grave. His face is dirtied with mud and rubble, and the legs of his trousers are matted in blood, rot, and dirt, but even then, this is still your best friend. The years you’ve spent alongside him blend together. His once-delicate hands now bear countless scars from travel and fights, but the contours of his face are recognizable even through the dust that mars his skin.
This is an unwinnable situation. You’re locked in checkmate, but Ike stands next to you.
You speak. “No more exits, right?”
Ike swipes at his face again, and the sleeve of his mantle comes back grayer than before. “I think we both know how this ends, Reader.”
“Yeah. I do.”
You both watch the leading zombie shuffle one foot forward, and each of its followers mimic the motion.
You notice Ike’s hand against his face out of the corner of your eye. Then how his shoulders jerk up for a moment, before setting themselves in place, stony and rigid.
His words break your heart. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Me neither.”
“I wish I could refuse all this- all this-”
He sniffs.
You move without thinking, and your mind is set. You wrap your arms around Ike.
He doesn’t even raise his hands. He just leans against your shoulder lifelessly, and lets the tears fall.
You rub his back as he hiccups into your shirt. How long has he been keeping this locked up? You ache for him and all his repression as his body goes limp against yours, the only thing keeping him standing.
“It’ll be okay.” That’s only a lie you can hope is the truth. “After all this. We’ll be okay. Shu and Vox and Luca, too. It’s a straight shot now that all the zombies are on us.”
“I’m going to miss you. All of you.”
“We’re together.”
“I’m sorry this is how it ends.”
“We still have options.”
He scoffs, even as his voice cracks through his quiet crying. “We’re trapped, Reader. There’s no way out.”
“We can still go out on our terms,” you say. You place your hand over his, the one that holds the knife. “Once we’re gone, the zombies are going to search for the other three.”
You squeeze one last time, and break away from the hug. You look upon the wave of dead flesh and rot, and draw your weapons. “I don’t want them to fight any more than they have to.”
“That’s hopeless.”
“It’s all I can do.”
“How are you so calm about this?”
“I’m not sure myself,” you admit. “It’s just that right now, I know I’m in a losing battle, and I accept that. But I don’t accept just laying down and dying like that.”
Your climbing picks cross together as you ready your eerily still mind. The blades scrape against each other. Metal sings. “And I just want to handle things calmly. After all this time, I learned that from you.”
“I don’t know how you can just remember things like that when we’re about to die.”
“I suppose I only die on my own terms. Hey.”
Ike stumbles to his feet. His knife is pointed to the ground. With a tranquility that evaded you all throughout the apocalypse, you steady his posture and guide the blade up to the dead beyond.
Your hand rises up his arm as his eyes close, and he silently murmurs to himself. You rub his shoulder. “You good?”
Ike exhales. His body lowers as he does, and with the breath comes a relaxed posture. This is the most at peace he’s been since the outbreak strangled the past world.
His eyelashes rise. Stormy green seas focus upon the staggering zombies.
“No.” Ike’s lip trembles. But he’s set on the zombies ahead, and a bolt of lightning crosses through his eyes. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good man.”
“There’s about five of them leading the pack in that corner. We can pick them off and get some more breathing room.”
“Understood, Mr. Tactical.”
“Don’t call me that.” Under the exhaustion and the fear and the grittiness that comes with crying, you hear some of that classic, joking exasperation. You snicker to yourself, but the bittersweet smile remains.
“Mr. Eveland, then.” Your sight hones in on one zombie to your right. Its jaw slides apart as it follows the scent of the fresh living. “It’s been an honor, Ike.”
“Likewise, Reader, we’ll do what we can.”
“Let’s go.”
At your command, you both launch off, laser-focused on the individual dead.
Ike kicks a corpse down to knock it prone, then rakes his knife into the skull, and that’s all you can see before you throw yourself into the fray.
A one-on-one is simple. The zombie in front of you holds out a decrepit hand, perfect for your climbing pick to detach. It stumbles at the force and grants you an opening to clobber its brain in.
Rinse and repeat.
You dive between the steps of your latest kills to divert attention in time to slay another and stay moving. The trick is to use gravity to your advantage. They aren’t smart enough to stand their ground, and when they inevitably fold from the pressure of your picks, it’s like the zombies present themselves for you can finish the job.
The next target swipes at you. You jut one pick down upon the corpse and one more meets the brittle skull. This gives you enough time to duck under a lunge, sweep the leg, and aim to kill.
Something grabs your leg before you plunge the pick in. A body, dismembered from the waist up.
You yelp as yellow-black teeth rise, and frantically kick. The zombie holds on tight, but when you regain your senses, it doesn’t even see the blade incoming before the soft brain squashes in. Splatters of gore and bits of chunky nerve endings sprays against your frame while your sweat mixes in with the stench of rot and muddy mildew.
You step back to reposition. Ike’s clothing is covered in blackened blood, and you watch him plunge his knife into the chests of whatever unfortunate beast approaches next. He twists and yanks out, then goes in for a final blow between the eyes. He has a rhythm established despite the shades of rot against his mantle and shirt. It almost looks routine.
His next victim’s head rolls to the ground and breaks apart like porcelain. The brain is still in place, but the elongated gash through the nervous system confirms it would never rise again.
But one gets the jump on Ike while his back is turned, and he yells out as he thrashes. He swivels on his heel. The zombie maneuvers around even as his hands push back in a fierce gridlock. It snaps its broken jaws in Ike’s face as it snarls, and sinks its claws in. Gunk travels through its saliva.
“I got your back!” While Ike retreats, you trip the dead that crawls in front of you, and dash to his side. You drag your picks into the nape and back of the zombie’s head, and the creature goes limp just in time for Ike to shove it against the wall.
Ike catches his breath, brushes his hand against his arm, and meets your concerned look with a nod in silent gratitude. “They’re gaining on us,” he says. “You don’t need to kill all of them, disabling them is fine!”
“Got it!”
But even that is easier said than done. There are so many zombies in the herd, it looks like you haven’t even left a dent, and your space is getting limited. You hack through the edges of the herd and pray that your wild swipes cut through a limb or two.
“We’re losing turf!”
“Yeah, and I- gaah!”
Ike heaves. Your switch flips from ‘kill zombies’ to ‘check Ike’.
You follow his rasp to the corner of the room, where the ceiling crashed down. His back is pressed against the tiled wall, and he struggles to peel off his mantle.
You don’t even need to ask. His hand clutches his arm, and the chunk of flesh missing from it.
“Holy shit, Ike!” You can’t even mute yourself. Millions of warning bells go off in your head. The internals are coated in a dark membrane from where it meets the oxygen in the air, less red than it is purple, and his veins beside the mutilation rise in an ugly green.
You reach your hands out as you rip off a cut of fabric from your sleeve. “No. No, this can’t be happening-“
He slaps your hand away before you can begin to bandage the blood loss, and immediately crumples. “Don’t do that! It’s the virus!”
“There’s no way it spreads that fast-“
“It will. I don’t want you to have that.” Ike sucks in air through his teeth as he sinks to the floor.
“How did you even-“ you cut yourself off. “It was the zombie that jumped you, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I didn’t even notice the pain when it happened.” He curses in his native language. The green in his veins rise, and branches sprout from the veins under his graying skin, like tree bark. The rapid decay of the outbreak. “Oh, that’s not good.”
The din of the battle behind you is entirely forgotten as you focus on the uneven flesh, the imprint of the bite upon his mangled arm, how nearly every level of the wound has turned to the same rot of the zombies.
Ike’s breathing is labored. The center of his shirt is soaked with the rot of those he killed, and rises and falls shakily.
He smacks his lips, and you’re struck with the realization that talking is a strain. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
You crouch by his side and nod.
“The sheath, on my belt,” he says. “Can you unfasten it?”
You comply without question even through your blurring eyes. I can’t refuse a request from a dead man, you think, and then the weight of your thought slams you.
Ike’s unscathed hand rises from the wound, coated in slick purple gore, and brushes against the handles of his knives. The membrane pools together into beads along the handle. His fingers stop at the last slot in his sheath, and the tip of the cleaver is dyed in the beginnings of the rot.
You think you’re about to vomit your heart out.
“No.” Your voice wavers. “No. No, I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Ike comforts you, and you feel even more like trash. You should be the one comforting him instead. “I trust you.”
And that’s what gets the tears to spill out from your eyelashes. “But I can’t kill you.”
“You said it best earlier. Dying on your own terms, right?”
“But I can’t kill you.”
“I don't want to be one of them,” he admits. “Look around, Reader, we’re surrounded, and we both know there’s no way out. And being one of them, it’s unnatural. It’s just messed up. If I’m going to die, I want to know I’m at rest. None of this- whatever all this is.”
His head lolls to the side. “And I want to see Mysta again.”
The chorus of the dead accompanies Ike’s heavy breathing and your weeping. You are a helpless child.
“I’ll help you,” Ike adds. “I’ll tell you how I usually confirm the dead. You’re my best friend. I trust you.”
It sickens you.
You let out a puff of air as you draw your palm over your eyes. The gore across your face smears over with your tears.
You take the cleaver in your hands.
“Thank you.”
“You deserve better than this.”
“It’s the best we can do. I’m glad.”
“This is so fucked up.” You draw the cleaver with both hands, as if that would end the shaking. Even as you shut your eyes, you can’t get your resolve in place.
“The trick is to be fast,” Ike says, and it disgusts you at how easily he says it. It disgusts you even more when you know the decay is spreading as he speaks, all the way into his raspy voice. “It’s all in the wrist. That’s what keeps it precise instead of clumsy. It’s where all the force is. Don’t swing wide. Just center it where you want to hit. How are you doing?”
“Not good.” Your breathing deepens, a last-ditch effort to remain calm. “I’m scared.”
You force your eyes open. The world floods in white, then falls into the blurred grays of the subway station.
Ike is already so much worse for wear. The bite is entirely blackened, and the discolored skin stretches from his arm to his shoulder, creeping along what little you can see of his neck.
His eyelids are shut, gentle aside from the furrow in his brow.
“Me too.”
Even with his feigned nonchalance, there is so much sorrow laced between his words.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll be safer,” Ike says, and even he doesn’t seem so convinced by it. “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you too.”
“You’ll always be my best friend.”
You raise the cleaver.
“Please tell Mysta I’m thinking of him. We all are, always.”
“We’ll be watching.”
Ike’s head is lowered, but you still see his attempt at a smile.
You black out as you swing.
There is no memory left of his last moment. It’s all too much to bear.
You cover your face, because looking at him is simply- just- too- much. Blood mixes in with your eyelashes, and you taste metal on your lips.
You don’t even have the energy to scream, or cry, or do anything. You are a husk, and you do not hear Ike’s cleaver clatter to the floor. There is nothing.
Your body moves without your command. You step back, and even though you refuse to look, you know you’re backing away from Ike. Your heart hammers, and so do your limbs. It spreads in droves, this pressure of heartbreak, constricting you and squeezing you apart.
Daggers fall into your skin. You snap out of your stupor.
But once you identify the daggers as teeth, you wish you didn’t.
You tear your hands away from your face as a glob of rot (his rot, you realize, and you can’t even begin to wrap your head around that) flicks out in an arc. The hammering- it’s claws raking against your flesh and tearing you apart like meat.
While you accompanied Ike in his last moments, the outbreak stopped for no one, least of all you. You are no invulnerable main character. You blocked out the roaring chorus as he lay, but it continued outside of your little bubble, and with your back turned they absorbed the last of your free space for a perfect siege.
You veer your head away out of instinct when the teeth pull away, and takes a bite of muscle out with it. The pain is blinding hot- you finally regain your voice in time to screech, but it drowns out through the zombie moans.
A second set of jaws snaps you up. Already your head is spinning, and when you see the sinew from the corner of your vision you resist the urge to faint. If you take a look at the broken skin and extruding vine-veins again, you know you’re going to black out again, and never wake up.
You force your sight to anything else.
You make the mistake of looking into zombie eyes for the third time in your life.
But this time you don’t retain the memory, either. Because for as little time you have left, how could you live knowing that your best friend’s peaceful green eyes snapped open in terror in his final moment?
You choke out, and whether it’s from pain or grief or pure fear, you can’t even tell. Just that it all mixes together into a toxic blend, the poison of your undoing.
And to think, you had the gall to meet such a grisly end head-on minutes ago.
On the ground, next to his limp foot, the steel edge of Ike’s cleaver winks at you.
It’s all in the wrist, he told you, and your blood burns into dust. But Ike is gone, now, and for as horrified as his melted remains were, he was certainly watching your every move.
And the infection is unnatural, and climbs along your shoulder, and there is no agony in the world like this fate.
And you wanted to see Mysta again.
With the last of your strength you regain your legs, and kick off one zombie from your leg. It topples and gives you enough time to shake off another that has you grappled.
The weight shift combined with your blood loss makes you hit the ground hard, but you scrape at the floor nonetheless. You are so weak, and you struggle, so focused on the glint of the blade that you ignore your skin crack apart like mud in a drought.
You reach, bloodied and battered, and so close to rest.
The washed light shines off the cleaver. Its reflection teases you as a monster snatches your foot and send you back into the horde like a toy.
You emit your final scream, and that too dies as hundreds of hands hold you back. Your body and blood is swallowed by the herd of dead.
When you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the dark in your mind rearranges to replicate the cleaver. Then it flattens, and you see the haunted remains of Ike Eveland between it.
The only sound left is teeth meeting bone.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
#ike eveland x reader#ike eveland#ike eveland angst#luca kaneshiro#mysta rias#shu yamino#vox akuma#luxiem x reader#luxiem#nijisanji x reader#luxiem angst#4402 writes#bsprites#STEALTH PROTOMEN REFERENCE BABEY#this is a bit clumsy but i'm glad it was over 10k words i wonder if saying so much is just my style now#how much of a coinky dink is it that i was binging luca's twd streams and a bunch of southern gothic music when i was writing this#i'll post the full au notes i had operating tomorrow i think
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Polaroids: Part 2
Summary: Negan takes a liking to you after finding Daryls wallet containing nude polaroids.
Word count: 2551
Character(s): Negan
Reader: Female Reader
Warning(s): None / 🌕🌑
Support Me: Kofi
Part 1 | Part 3 |
A few weeks had passed since that day in your home and Negan had turned up three more times but every time you’d managed to avoid him like the plague. You always made sure to stay out of the way, even going as far as walking to the opposite end of Alexandria and hiding behind one of the houses or ‘suddenly’ needing to go on a run for some urgent things.
Rick and Daryl had noticed the shift in your behaviour and did anything they could to help you avoid Negan despite not knowing what really happened between the pair of you. Today was no exception, Negan was due and Daryl decided to take you out on a run for supplies so you didn’t have to see him.
You travelled further then you needed to but Daryl insisted on widening your search into uncharted territory just incase you happened to hit a gold mine of supplies that you could scavenge. Pulling outside a row of stores you climbed out of the car after scanning your surroundings for any walkers or people and grabbed your gun and knife from the footwell and your bag from the back seat.
“Looks like we still have a few hours of daylight left, might as well take our time before we need to go back.” Daryl said as he followed you to the front of the first store in the line.
Peeking through the window you could see that it was a clothes shop that had barely been looted. “I’m gonna head in here first, need some more clothes and might as well get what I can for the rest of the group. I know the world has ended but I’m sick of wearing the same clothes everyday.” You say and Daryl nods.
“I’ll check next door. Shout if you need me.” He says and walks to the Pharmacy next-door. Pushing the door open you step inside the store and hiss when the bell above the door rings, keeping still you wait for a few seconds until you decide that there is no threat and holster your weapon. Scanning the nearby racks you grab a few t-shirts and tank tops for yourself since the weather was beginning to get warmer and stuff them into your bag.
Moving through the store you filled your bag with clothes you needed until finally you reached the lingerie section. You grabbed a few new bras in your size that were most comfortable fit and then stepped to the underwear and checked through the different types. Picking up a pack of thongs you chuckled to yourself trying to remember the last time you ever actually wore a pair.
“You finished in here yet?” Daryl speaks making you jump.
“Yeah, just need to grab some clothes for the people back home and then I'm done in here.” You say shoving a few pairs of different underwear unto your bag and zipping it up. Grabbing a few bags from behind the counter you and Daryl hastily shoved some clothes of different sizes into the bags and loaded them into the boot of the car next to a bag that Daryl had filled with some medical supplies from the Pharmacy.
“We should search that grocery store, there should be a lot of food left if the rest of these stores have been untouched.” Approaching the store you both check around to make sure that you’re still alone before entering. You cover your nose and mouth as the smell of rotten food hits you. “Guess there won't be any fresh food.” You say and Daryl hums. “Don’t think anywhere has fresh food anymore, gotta grow it ourselves.” He adds.
The shelves are mostly full of foods, you can tell that some people were clearly panic buying when the first broadcast came through about the outbreak but there was still a lot of things remaining. When you finished filling your bag you sat on the edge of the counter, swinging your legs and picking at a tare in your jeans as you watch Daryl stuffing tins of food into a bag.
Standing up Daryl kicks the bag over to yours and moves to stand between your legs, instantly you wrap your arms around his neck as your lips meet and his hands rest on your waist. Pulling away from your lips Daryl sighs and rests his forehead against yours. “Me n’ Rick are worried about you. You’ve been different ever since Negan came to see you. What happened?.”
“Daryl.” You sigh. “He was the one who found your wallet, and like anyone would do he looked inside and found the polaroids. He didn’t know it was yours but recognised me so wanted to tell me that I was lucky it was him who found it and nobody else. Then he left.”
“You sure that’s all that happened?”
“Daryl please I-shit.” You cut yourself off when you notice a few stray walkers coming into the store. Daryl steps back and grabs his crossbow raising it ready to shoot but you stop him after noticing that it was a huge crowd instead of a few strays.
“Don’t waste your ammo, we need to get upstairs before they see us.” Grabbing Daryl's bag you throw it to him and grab your own as you both run to the back of the store and through the stairway door. Running up the stairs behind Daryl you managed to avoid tripping up as you burst through the door to what appeared to be an office.
Without saying a word you and Daryl worked in unison to barricade the door with the heaviest pieces of furniture that you could move as well as sliding the flimsy and useless chain across to keep it in place.
“We should be safe up here for a few hours until they move out of the store, then we can make a run for the car and get out of here.” You say gazing through a slit in the blinds at the crowd of walkers that were pacing around on the street outside. Daryl had his ear pressed to the barricaded door. “They didn’t see us, can’t hear em coming upstairs so we’re good.”
You step away from the window and look around the room to make sure that there was one door in and out. It was only a small office, there was a desk in the centre of the room that had now been shoved against the door with a chair and a filing cabinet, and a couch that you had been unable to move pushes against one of the walls.
Daryl walks to the couch and throws himself down on it and you join him sitting by his side. As the sun faded and the moon rose the sound of groaning walkers in the store below and on the street didn’t diminish. You both took it in shifts during the night keeping watch whilst the other slept but as you try tried to figure out an escape route Negan was pacing back and forth in his bedroom at the Sanctuary.
The leader of the saviours was livid. It had been weeks since he had seen you and every single time he went to Alexandria you were either nowhere to be found or out on a run with your fuck-buddy Daryl. Negan hadn’t been able to sleep properly since your last encounter and the lewd photos he had tucked away in the top drawer of his bedside table did nothing to ease the sickly feeling of not seeing you.
Countless times he’d stormed away from Alexandria just to return to his bed and angrily fist his cock whilst looking at the polaroids he’d taken of you and more than once he’d pretended that it was you he was balls deep in instead of his wives. You were the only thing on his mind 24/7, even fighting walkers had taken a back seat as a few times he’s been distracted and almost bit before one of his men stepped in.
Negan decided whilst in bed that night that he was going to see you tomorrow regardless of whether you wanted him to or not, and if you were on a run then he would simply wait until you got back. You were done avoiding him.
You woke, slumped against the wall as your forehead burnt from the sun that was shining through the window down at you, jumping up you look to the couch to see Daryl led on his side and snoring. Peeking through the curtain of the window you see that the street is empty and you can no longer hear the sounds of groaning from multiple walkers.
“Daryl come on.” You tap his shoulder and he jolts awake. “I can’t hear them anymore we need to leave.”
He nods and forces himself off the hard couch. You both work to move the furniture from in front of the door and grab your bags throwing them over your shoulders. Making a quick break through the store Daryl slips in a pile of blood and lands awkwardly on his arm making him swear in pain and draw a few walkers over “Leave the bags we can come back for them.” You shout grabbing him by his uninjured arm, Daryl stands and drops the bag from his throbbing shoulder and takes his knife out stabbing a nearing walker in the eye as you reach the car. You open the door for him and Daryl quickly climbs in and watches as you take down another walker and get into the drivers side.
Starting the engine you waste no time in pealing out of there and as you look through your rearview mirror you see a crowd of walkers leaving the stores and walking in your direction. The crowd fades as you change gear and speed up back down the long road to your compound.
“Thanks for helping me.” He nervously chews on one of his nails.
“I wouldn’t just leave you Daryl. I’m not a monster.”
Driving up to Alexandria the gates are opened for you and it takes a second or so before you see a familiar truck parked near the entrance. Under the midday sun you can see Negan leaning against the truck with his arms crossed as he speaks to Rick but soon his attention is pulled away as you and Daryl pull into the compound and park.
“You alright?” Daryl asks, noticing how you frowned when you saw Negan.
Nodding your head you reply. “Yeah I’m fine. How’s your arm?”
“Hurtin’, think I’ve got some spare painkillers.”He replies climbing out of the car, as Rick approaches the two of you his face drops slightly when he sees Daryl wincing and the pair of you sprayed with blood. “What happened?” He asks.
“Store we were at got overrun with walkers, we had to stay there until the crowd thinned down enough for us to make a run to the car.” Daryl responded. “Killed a couple on the way out but managed to bust my arm up real good.
You grabbed your bag from the back seat of the car and throw it over your shoulder. “We got some bags in the back full of clothes and medical supplies, only as much as we could fill up but we dropped the bags of food we had trying to get out.”
“We’ll sort that out later, I’m glad to have you both back in one piece.”
“Why’s he here?” You ask as Negan begins to approach.
“What, am I not allowed to drop in and see my favourite group?” He says with his token smirk. “Ya’ll intrigue me so I’ve come to watch how you work. My men could do with a few tips and I wanna help them with that.”
“Fantastic.” You mumble. Rick and Carl work to unload the boot of the car whilst Daryl returns to his home to deal with his arm and you turn to head to your house so you can unpack your bag.
Unfortunately for you the sound of another set of footsteps behind you put you on edge, turning round when you get to your front door your suspicions are confirmed when Negan walks up to the porch behind you. “You been avoiding me Princess?” He speaks but you still don’t acknowledge him . “Oh come on now don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy.”
“Sorry Y/N.” Rick interrupts as he joins you and Negan at your front door. “I know you’ve just got back but I wanna gonna go over the routes for the runs tomorrow, can you show me where you went yesterday.” Rick says shifting nervously as he avoids Negans glare.
“Sure, come in.” You walk through the door and hold it open so Rick and Negan can walk in, shutting it behind the leader of the Saviours you take your shoes off and walk to the living room.
Dropping your bag to the floor you remove the map from one of the side pockets and work on unfolding it on the coffee table as Rick and Negan take a seat on your couch in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Negan sitting in the same spot as last time, catching his eyes Negan winks at you as he places hit bat next to him.
Your map had been marked with multiple different coloured dots indications places searched and areas to stay away from. Tracing your finger from the green dot that marked Alexandria you followed the route that you took trying to remember any turns along the way until you reach an unmarked cluster of stores on the map.
Adding a red dot to the map you speak. “I think it’s around about here, I’ll recognise the route once I’m out on the road. The herd should have moved on by now so I'll be able to go back there in the morning and retrieve the bags we dropped and maybe pack a few more too if I get chance.”
“Y/N you barely got out and Daryl busted his arm.”
“We need the supplies Rick. It would be better for us to completely gut the place before anyone else finds it, the rest of you can go out as a group to a different location and I’ll go back to those stores since I know the layout. The less people that go the more bags I can fill and put in my car.”
“I’ll go with you.” Negan adds with a stern face making you and Rick look at him. “Can't be sending people out on their own, especially the valuable ones.”
“You alright with that Y/N?” Rick asks still unsure of Negan intentions but not wanting to upset him.
“Yeah, better having backup just incase it goes sour.”
Standing up from the couch Negan makes you jump as he claps his hands together. “Well alrighty then. I better go back and tell my men so they don’t come stormin’ this place. I’ll see you tomorrow morning doll.” He smiles and winks at you again. Rick escorts Negan out of your house and as you peer through your curtains you watch as he drives off.
Tagged: @toxic-ink
#mine#mywriting#negan#negan imagine#negan x reader#negan x female reader#female reader#reader insert#negan smut#smut#twd#twd imagine#the walking dead
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Hi! So we both know Revenant would never admit feelings, but he'd show it in his own way. What about a thing where it finally clicks in the readers mind and confronts him about it :3
Honestly I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you don't mind that I made it sort of unrequited, really depends on how you look at it though.
CONTAINS: Nothing nsfw, just some anger and yelling, and gun fights
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Being in the presence of Revenant was always terrifying. You could practically feel murderous intent dripping off of his every word as he talked. He only helped people when it was beneficial to him, only saving people so they could have his back later on. So, you assumed you must be very helpful to him, and it terrified you. He always picked you back up, handed you shields and syringes, and pointed out ammo you could take. All so you could save his skin later on, right? It wasn't for your sake, surely. He must have some plan for you. Somehow, he would use you to better himself. Why else would he do it?
"There's light ammo here, come get it before you run out." Revenant grumbled, pointing it out before staying in the area while you came to get it. How did he know you only had 9 bullets left? You had no clue. Either way you were grateful for the loot, and told him so.
"Thanks, who knew you could be thoughtful for once."
"You can't survive without bullets, and I need a full team to win." Of course his answer was bitchy, what did you expect? For the Revenant to be nice one time in his life? Dream on.
It was duos, half the teams were gone, and the ring wasn't in your favor. Closing in 10 seconds and across the whole fucking map? Yeah, not in your favor in the slightest. You quickly topped up your r-99 and tucked the rest of the bullets in your backpack.
"It's time to go unless you wanna wake up in the medbay with 3rd degree burns." You said into the mic in your ear, and the only response from your teammate was grumpy mumbling before you saw him start the dash to the ring. Rolling your eyes, you slung your gun across your back and followed. The jog to the ring was long, and it gave you time to think. Too much time to think.
As your mind was occupied with thoughts of Revenant and what he could possibly want with you, you didn't process the gunshots slowly getting louder. Seems like a couple squads were fighting, right at the border of the ring. Great. You would've ran straight into the line of fire if a hand didn't grab your backpack and pull you into a building.
"Stop zoning out, you're gonna get yourself killed." The familiar voice of a murderous simulcran said behind you. He had pulled you into a small house, sitting you down on a box against the wall. He put his hands on your shoulder, cold, drawing you back to the present.
"I wasn't zoning out, I meant to do that." You crossed your arms, turning to look out a window at one of the teams crouched behind a wall. Your heart raced, fully realizing that if Revenant hadn't grabbed you you would've been dead within seconds of them spotting you.
Why? Obviously he wanted to keep you alive, but you thought the satisfaction of seeing you shot to pieces and being able to nag you about it later would've overshadowed that. No time to think, there were more footsteps approaching the house. You pulled out your r-99, but your sight was blocked by a big metal body.
"Rev!" You whisper shouted. "You're blocking my view!"
"I'm protecting you, dumbass." He whispered over his shoulder, raising his own flatline and aiming at the door. You were stuck, if you stood you'd be pressing against Revenants metal back, if you stayed sitting you'd have no line of sight of the enemy. Ah fuck it, you stayed sitting, but held your gun at the ready anyways.
Well you ended up dying anyways. Bangalore and Newcastle ended up barging in and annihilating Revenant before dealing with your now exposed form. Stupid soldier siblings. You woke up in the medbay, muscles aching but otherwise no injuries. By the door of the room stood Revenant, leaning against a wall. Closing the curtain around your bed, you changed out of the paper thin gown they gave everyone and into your casual clothes.
"Waiting for someone?" You asked, opening the curtain and walking towards the door.
"Waiting for you." There he goes again, with his caring words. You bet they meant nothing to him, he didnt know how weird it sounded.
"I already know I fucked it up for us, there's no need to yell at me." You walked past him, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. He followed, not walking beside you like a normal person but behind you by a few steps.
"I'm not here to yell at you."
"Oh yeah, I forgot you've got a fucking screw loose or something. You're being really weird, you help me out, you block me from gunfire, you show up not to yell at me? You’re acting like you actually fucking care about me... wait."
And then it hit you. You'd said it as a joke, but it was seeming more and more like the truth. Surely not though. That was just the part of your brain that saw him as a human, right? He doesn't care. He doesn't care. He can't care. It's not what he does. He doesn't care.
Revenant was weirdly silent during your haze of confusion. You expected something like "don't flatter yourself, skingbag," but he said nothing. Like he was ashamed to admit you were right, but didn't want to deny it either. It just made you overthink even more. He doesn't care, surely. He can't care. He doesn't feel love. He can't be in love with you. But he was, his silence conveyed that.
"This is wrong. This isn't what's supposed to happen. You don't love me. Tell me you don't love me. Tell me now! TELL ME!" Your confrontation had turned to yelling as he continued to stay silent. Thank god the hallway was empty. "Rev," you sighed out his name as you calmed down. "Tell me you don't love me."
"I can't lie to you." His voice echoed in the hallway, and you just couldn't stand it any longer. You turned away from him and walked away to your room.
"Just stop loving me."
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Requests are always appreciated and really help me out with writing. So please request anything on your mind! Thank you for reading!
#apex legends#apex revenant#revenant#kaleb cross#writing#mentioned bangalore#mentioned newcastle#unrequited love#please request#i need ideas#:)
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Today's request is for @drgeektoyou who asked for 'Little Rituals'.
Prauf comes to a stop in the dark, smelly hallway. "Here we go, pal, here's your apartment. Last guy left it tidy, which is pretty unusual around these parts."
“What happened to the last guy?” Cal asks before he can stop himself. He really hopes no one was murdered here. Those kind of echoes are some of the worst.
“Accident with the ship cutter’s what I heard,” Prauf says. “Then again, maybe he paid off his indenture and got the hell out of here. You never can tell ‘round here unless you see it or hear it yourself!”
Laughing at his own joke, Prauf opens the door and flicks on the lights, revealing a dingy room beyond. It contains a bed, a tiny table with a stool, and one corner is dedicated to food prep. There's no refresher - Cal's got to share with everyone else on his floor... which isn't so different from the Brave. The space is half the size of his old quarters. It’s cold, there’s a faint smell of rust, and Prauf can't stand straight because the ceiling's so low, but it's home, and better than the rocks he'd slept under out in the wastes when his body gave in and refused to walk another step without rest. Probably better than the bunkhouse he’s been in for the past few months too.
"Like it?" Prauf asks.
No.
"Yes," Cal says.
"You remember what I told you?" Prauf asks.
Find a good place to stash for his credits and loot, fix everything that breaks as fast as possible, always hang clothes up to dry, and never forget to lock up. It’s the little rituals that make Bracca easier – according to Prauf. Cal looks up at his friend. "I remember."
“Good, good. Okay then, I’ll let you get settled in. Oh, and set an alarm so you don’t oversleep. Can’t be late the day after we get you set up in your own place. I’ll see you at the station in the morning. Have a good night, Cal.”
“Night, Prauf.”
Left to his own devices, Cal’s first job is to change the access codes to his apartment. After weeks in a bunkhouse where he’d watched plenty of people stealing from each other, he knows nothing in here will be secure until he alone knows the code and purges any secondary backups. It’s thanks to Hack he knows how to do it, except Hack is dead now because Cal deflected a blaster bolt right back at him while fleeing the Brave. Cal focuses on the digital puzzle ahead of him, unwinding the code and finding someone’s master override. He wipes that, wipes everything, and programs a new code. He also programmes it to autolock after three seconds in case he ever runs out and forgets to lock up. He’ll have to update the code monthly, another habit to get himself into if he wants to stay hidden. If someone did break in and find the lightsaber he’s got to hide in here, his life would be over in a heartbeat.
Access code changed, Cal pulls off his poncho and hangs it up to dry. He decides to keep his boots on for warmth. Then, he starts pulling the tiny apartment apart. The previous inhabitant left nothing behind. Nothing but echoes, anyway, and most of them are feelings of weariness or frustration that his indenture doesn’t seem to be shrinking. There are a couple other echoes from people who’d cleaned out the place after the last resident died, taking anything they could get their hands on. Cal decides to create several stashes. It’s safer that way, and if anyone breaks in, they’ll probably get distracted by finding credits or tools long before they go anywhere near his lightsaber. He’s so thorough, he even finds an undiscovered stash behind a power outlet. He can’t believe no one found it, and he finds himself fifty credits up. The previous inhabitant’s joy washes over him as his hand closes over the money. Offering the dead person a silent thanks, Cal leaves it there. It can be the start of an emergency escape fund, and it’s where his lightsaber can go. He’ll need to keep a bag packed just in case he ever needs to make a run for it.
Next, Cal makes a mental list of what’s broken in the apartment and what he’ll need to fix first. He can’t afford to run the heating, so he’ll have to find every cold spot and block it. Either that or he’ll need to requisition some extra clothes from the Guild.
Cal sits on the bed, his own exhaustion mingling with the echo of the last occupant. He doesn’t have any pillows or blankets, so he’ll have to use his poncho once its dry. He’ll go to the market and buy some essentials on his next scheduled downtime. He’ll have been paid by then too. He could break into his unexpected credit find, but no, he’s got to stick to his rules if he wants to stay hidden. It’s no good blowing the credits on blankets and pillows if a stormtrooper kicks his door in and tries to drag him away. He has to remember the three rules for survival.
Don’t stand out.
Accept the past.
Trust no one.
He’s not going to survive if he doesn’t follow those rules. He’s got to stay quiet, accept that whatever he was before is not who he is now, and no one, not even Prauf, can be trusted with the truth.
Trust only in the Force. Cal’s trying, he really is, but survival is his top priority, and it starts here in his new home. Stick to the rules, follow the routine, have an escape plan and maybe, maybe, he won’t die.
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And Now for an Omega Rant Because I Said So
Disclaimer: This post has spoilers for the first 2 episodes of The Bad Batch season 2.
I was just sitting here at work, when all of a sudden I was hit with the full weight of why Omega did the things she did in these episodes. When we find them on their way to Serenno, Hunter and Echo are talking about doing more to fight the Empire vs. going into hiding. Echo says that they are living the life they have because of Omega. Now, in context it makes sense. Hunter is saying he wants to go into hiding to protect her, but Echo makes the case that they chose to live a life that defies the Empire all because of Omega, and he wants to do something that truly matters because of it.
Now here's where it really got me: Omega hears what Echo said as, "We're on the run and living hand to mouth because of this kid. She's the whole reason why we're stuck on this dead-end path." And she internalizes that. She suddenly sees herself as a burden to the Batch because of what they went through saving her from Kamino.
Therefore, she does what I feel like a lot of us tend to do when we feel this way: she does her best to contribute, to add something tangible to the group in an effort to try and "make up" for what she thinks she owes them. She doesn't want to be the dead weight or an inconvenience, so she really tries her best to help them in any way she can.
But the thing is, she becomes laser-focused on the mission because of it. She hyperfixates on getting that war chest even when they're split up, on the run, and Tech's leg is fractured. The boys are just trying to escape Serenno with their lives; they don't care about leaving with any loot. But Omega still has that as her number one priority because she feels like she owes them that treasure. That's why she keeps bringing it up, and it's why she defies Tech and Echo to go back to the cargo container that is perched dangerously on the side of a mountain. At this point, her sense of self-preservation goes out the window, because in her mind, what's the point if she's useless and burdensome to the squad?
Of course, that all changes when she admits that she heard what Echo said to Hunter on the ship, yet Echo still tells her to let go. At that point, she realizes that Echo cares more about her safety than what she can do for the team. Everything comes back into perspective for her in that moment.
What got me emotional was this: how many times do we feel like we mean nothing if we can't add something material and tangible to people's lives? How many of us have been conditioned to believe that we're not good enough if we can't prove ourselves and measure up? When are we going to realize that we are enough just as we are, and we don't have to constantly prove that we're useful to people. Those who value us will celebrate who we are, regardless of what we can or can't do. Of course, that doesn't mean we should always be selfish and only care about ourselves, but we don't have to do things for people just to gain a sense of worth. I am all about helping others and being a blessing to them, but we must remember that that's not where we get our worth from. Who we are is enough, and I think Omega really embodies that lesson well in these episodes.
#star wars#the bad batch#tbb#clone force 99#the bad batch spoilers#bad batch spoilers#tbb spoilers#tbb season 2#tbb season 2 spoilers#tbb omega#tbb hunter#tbb echo#tbb tech#bad batch#the best girl#yes I cried at work when this realization sank in
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If I may ask... How about Xavier and Female reader first kiss with extra fluff on the side? Only if you're feeling it of course!!!
Thank you!
I´m sorry this took forever I was just very unhappy with everything that I wrote until now. (I also might really be in a Rowan mood rn) I hope you enjoy <3
The perfect moment for a kiss
pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader
synopsis: Xavier, your best friend, comes over during summer vacation, as he always does. During his stay, feelings that aren´t so platonic get revealed.
warnings: none
word count: 0.8k
“Alright, that was the last one.”, you turn to your friends.
With the suitcases in the trunk of your parent's car, there was only thing to do before driving off for the summer. Hugging each of them tightly as you said your goodbyes. It would be great to not have to think about school for the next month, but you would miss the little group for sure. Letting your arms linger on Xaviers shoulders for a second longer before pulling away.
“I can´t wait for you to come over. This summer is gonna be so awesome.”, you grin widely at him.
“It will be for sure. Call me when you´re home?”, a half-smile played on his lips.
“You know I will.”
You pulled him close once more, kissing his cheek as you always did and waved to the others, who were getting ready to head back inside, before getting into the car. It was gonna be weird to spend the next weeks without him. Ever since you and Xavier had become best friends you would never go a day without each other. You were happy when he started to stay the holidays with you instead of alone and actually had something to look forward to every summer. Not that your parents didn´t care or were boring, by any means they did their best, but with Xavier it was just different. Especially this summer. There were a bunch of concerts and events happening and you managed to get tickets to almost every single one of them.
On the drive home you concentrated on your music and texting. Your parents didn´t live particularly close to nevermore and having to drive all the way because of your father's fright of flying didn´t make it any shorter.
Once you finally did reach home it felt like forever until you saw Xavier again. Your mothers constant teasing making it even worse, but the day you wrapped your arms around him in at the airport it felt like taking a deep breath after holding it for just a bit too long.
The first days the two of you spent doing nothing, but when the weekend approached you spend most of the day in the next city, for some window shopping and a movie the both of you had been meaning to watch.
Coming home late that afternoon you could barely feel your feet over the pain, but the energy from spending the day in the city was still buzzing through you.
“Hey, I´m gonna go shower quick. I´ll be back out in a minute.”
“Okay.”
In the meantime, you started to unpack your loot to keep yourself occupied. Hearing the shower turn off, you gave Xavier some more time before knocking on the door to put away the last things.
“Wow.”, the small containers clattered to the ground.
It wasn´t the lack of clothing on him that made you take a surprised step back, the two of you had become comfortable with that long ago, but rather how close he stood in the now open bathroom door. Though now that you were looking at him everything just pulled you in. The way his wet hair framed his face. How his toned upper body flexed as he leaned his arm against the doorframe. The piny fragrance that always surrounded him entering your nose. You didn´t even realise how close you got to him or how your eyes locked in an intense gaze.
"This would probably be the perfect moment for a kiss...", your eyes wander to his lips.
"And we probably shouldn't waste it.", his rough hands cup your cheeks as if you would vanish if he touched you too hard.
The two of you move closer and then there is no turning back anymore. Right as your lips meet in the softest of kisses, you´re pretty sure you can feel your knees buckle underneath you as butterflies soar up in your stomach. Too soon you separate again, shy smiles and deep blushes taking over your faces. Suddenly the floor had become more interesting than ever.
“I um... I guess this also is as good of a time as any to tell you that I might... love you.”, there is a deep silence after you finish your sentence.
It settles between you like the sinking feeling in your stomach. You go to sit down on your bed, picking at your fingers. Why wasn´t he saying anything? All of a sudden, a hand lays on top of yours, hindering you from continuing your actions. It takes all the nerves left, but you look up.
“I love you too.”, his voice is quiet. Like he is afraid to admit his feelings out loud.
“You do?”, you search for his eyes.
“I think I have for a while."
You release a breathy laugh. “So, if I asked you out to get drinks before the concert tomorrow as a date...”
“I´d say that that sounds like a great plan.”
He pulls you in once more to peck your lips, before you can´t hold back the wide grins anymore.
“Dinners ready!”, your mom pulls you out of the moment. Squeezing Xaviers hand softly you let him finish getting dressed before you join your parents in the dining room.
#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe x you#xavier thorpe oneshot#wednesday netflix#wednesday netflix one shot
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Author's Note- Just a random idea. But I guess I like how it played out in last.
Thank you and Enjoy your Reading
The Harry Potter Reunion
Tom Felton x Reader (Platonic)
GIF credits to @liliansilverstuff
Summary- (Y/N) were one of the many actresses who had worked in Harry Potter series. Playing Yelena Snape, daughter of Severus Snape, was a hard yet amazing work she had done. Meeting Tom Felton after 10 years was something she were looking forward to since she got the call for reunion.
The camera men and the lighting men ran around, keeping a check that everything is in order. (Y/N) sat on the green armchair as the makeup artists made sure she looked good and her hair was in place.
She nodded her thanks to them. She couldn't stop fiddling with her fingers, nervous about meeting her old friend and former costar, Tom Felton. They were extremely close during those 10 years of shooting and soon, they lost connection.
She was deep in thoughts until she felt a pair of hands around her shoulder as she was brought in a hug. A shocked (Y/N) turned her head to find Tom standing behind the armchair, grinning ear-to-ear as his arms wrapped around her shoulders.
"Tom!" (Y/N) squealed, standing up and hugging him properly. "(Y/N), it's been a long time since Deathly Hollows!" He replied back, smiling back at the lady who once played his character's love interest.
"It's true, Tom. Look at you," (Y/N) said, pulling away from the hug. "Loot at me? Look at yourself. You have grown up," Tom said, his face hurting from smiling so much. (Y/N) chuckled as her cheeks flushed.
The cameras recorded the two friends interaction. Everyone in the room smiling at them as they watched how they seemed to go along each other.
Soon enough, both of them sat in armchairs facing each other. (Y/N) looked around the sets of the Slytherin Common Room, so many memories were made there.
"Feeling nostalgic, (Y/N/N)?" Tom asked, looking at her. They didn't feel like they were shooting someone. It was like everything was so natural. "Yes. So many memories this set contains. It's like no time has passed," (Y/N) replied, returning her attention back to Tom and the camera.
Tom nodded, looking around as well. "Like time has not passed and we have grown up," Tom said, his own beautiful eyes turning nostalgic. "Grown up or grown old?" (Y/N) joked, laughing along Tom as he nodded.
"It's like it was yesterday that we met as like... 11 year old kids?" Tom tilted his head quizzically. "11 year old kids, goofing around with our wands," (Y/N) said, doing one of the many wand movements. "And now, here we are. All grown up."
"Some parents, some married," (Y/N) nodded, her mind wandering back to a few months ago when she and her partner for few years, Chris Evans, said their vows. "Actually, yes. How do you feel being married to Chris Evans?" Tom asked, smirking at her.
He always knew (Y/N) liked Captain America and to marry Chris himself, was probably a dream come true. "It's amazing, you know."
"So, how does it feel to come back?" (Y/N) asked, folding her hands in her lap and leaning forward a little. "It's awesome to be back, to meet all of you guys again. I am sure it is the same with you," Tom said, glancing at the camera.
"It is. I still remember the time when I used to hide food in my robes," (Y/N) said, chuckling at the memory of Chris Colombus scolding a 12 year old (Y/N) for sneaking food. Tom let out a heartily laugh. "I remember that. Chris had scolded you so much about that."
"Throughout the films, I loved how Draco and Yelena's relationship improved gradually. And how they developed as an individual as well, battling the evils and their demons as well," (Y/N) said as the topic of their characters came up.
"I remember when, while shooting for Half Blood Prince, I was told by our director, David Yates, that there was a kissing scene between us," Tom said. (Y/N) giggled behind her palm, nodding. "We spent the week kicking and screaming that we didn't want to do that."
Tom nodded, his eyes casted down as he remembered those days. "We were teenagers back then, all hormonal and everything," Tom added with a huge smile. "Yeah, and then I remember us having a conversation about it."
Those were the days, (Y/N) thought to herself. Tom nodded. "We had talked of what we were expecting and then guess what," Tom turned to look at camera with devilish smile directed towards her. "It was her first kiss," Tom said, making (Y/N)'s face turn red.
"I hate you so much," she whispered silently. Tom laughed as if she had made some joke. "We all know it's not true, (Y/N/N)," Tom said with a smile. "Fine, yes, I admit it. It was my first kiss," (Y/N) said with a sigh.
"We had like 15 takes of it, right?" Tom asked, his hands intertwining in his lap. "15 or 16, I can't say for certain," (Y/N) said, trying to remember the number of takes it took them to kiss properly. "Yeah well, it was around that number. And the whole cast was there."
"Everyone were like 'Hey! I heard you and Tom gonna kiss next week. We are going to be there.' When the day of shoot came, I was like 'God's! Is everyone going to be there?'" (Y/N) said with a sigh at the last, making Tom laugh again.
"Same, (Y/N). It almost became frustrating at last," Tom agreed, crossing his legs. "And when the day arrived, we were so nervous. And we would end up laughing always," (Y/N) said.
"I so much wish that Alan sir was with us," (Y/N) said, her eyes tearing up a bit. "You were close with him," Tom said, his voice soft. "Yes. My most of the scenes were with him. He had become a real father figure to me," (Y/N) admitted.
"At beginning, I was sort of scared of myself. I was like, 'You got to be cool and smart because he is Alan Rickman,'" (Y/N) said. "Yes, and I was making it such a big deal for myself that when I met him, I almost fainted," Tom added.
Both of them let out a laugh. Then, at last, it was again time to say goodbye for the time being.
"It's been while since we had not met each other and it was so good. I guess, we all became family during those 10 years and somehow, at some point of time, we helped each other through hard times," (Y/N) said, tears threatened to spill down her eyes.
"You are getting emotional, (Y/N/N)," Tom tried to joke, through everyone could see he was about to cry as well. "We have been a part of each other's life and I am proud of how everything played out and playing Yelena was awesome."
Tom stood up, extending his hand for (Y/N) to take. They hugged again tightly, promising to stay in contact.
#tom felton#tom felton x reader#draco malfoy#harry potter#draco malfoy x reader#harry potter reunion#severus snape#chris evans
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Make Your Escape
summary: joel miller's finally been caught by FEDRA after years of toying with the tyrants. he's gotta get back home to tommy, but finds an ally in you
pairing: joel miller x gn!reader
warnings: mentions of death, a past relationship, one punch thrown offscreen, blood, guns, mentions of violence
wordcount: 1593
a/n: my first full length joel miller fic?? enjoy!! i have a few ideas for a part two, so leave a comment if you want it.
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You heard whispers of the man in containment. He’d been causing FEDRA issues for ages, a “high priority pain in my ass,” so said by your commanding officer.
He’d been beating on officers, cutting the shift down until it got so bad that FEDRA requested soldiers from other outposts to cover. Boston was a big area, and any missing patrol could be detrimental to public safety.
You rolled your eyes at that part of the announcement.
The government didn’t care about “public safety”, they cared about public containment, having some sick control over the less fortunate in the forms of ration cards and limited supplies of medication.
God, you think, why couldn’t some fuckin’ plebe book him? You huff as you get your clipboard, walking down the hallway to the rat-infested room you soldiers called jail. There wasn’t any information on the paperwork, probably because the guy decided to kick and bite his way out of custody before officers- subdued him. You hate to think how riled up this guy is after FEDRA’s take on subduction and confinement, but you were the soldier with the least amount of seniority and the work was all but thrust upon you.
“Alright, this is how it’s gonna go, Mr…”
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” He’s hunched over on the shitty bed, his head hung low with his arms on his thighs.
“Well, I guess I’ll just leave you here, yeah? Send you to the gallows nameless?”
“Not like I have anyone.”
“Listen,” you huff, “you have no one and I’m brand fuckin’ new here, you wanna do me a favor and make this easy on me?” He chuckles darkly, his shoulders shaking up and down.
“Fuck you.”
“I could make this hurt. Could make it hurt real bad. Or I could let you off easy. Give you a snack and maybe let you wash your face so you could look at least a little presentable when your face is turning fuckin’ purple and you’re swaying in the air like a goddamn ragdoll. Up to you if you decide to work with me or not.” His face lifts a little at that.
“Why’d you decide to work at this shithole?”
“If I answer, will you give me your name?”
“Make it a good answer and I just might.”
“I didn't have a choice. My little QZ out west was hit hard by raiders, and I was trapped in a building surrounded by clickers. FEDRA decided to loot supplies and found me, and then gave me an ultimatum, either I stay and die or join.”
“And before?”
“Austin, Texas, was a bartender.”
“Knew you sounded familiar.” He finally lifts his head up, and you recognize his face, although now marred with scars, wrinkles, and tanned beyond your beliefs.
“Joel fuckin’ Miller. Should’ve known it was you causing all those problems. Sarah’s probably worried sick.”
“Sarah, haven’t heard her name since damn near Outbreak Day.” Immediately your stomach drops, and the burn of tears hits the back of your throat.
“Joel-”
“She was shot by the same assholes that work at FEDRA. They took her from me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yet you work here.”
“Wasn’t my first choice.”
“You gonna send me off now?”
“Where’s Tommy?” He sighs.
“You gonna keep askin’ me personal questions?”
“Yeah. Where is he?”
“I ain’t snitchin’ to a snitch.”
“I’m asking a friend.” His hand runs through his hair.
“You said you didn’t wanna be here.”
“I never said that, Joel.”
“Well you should’ve, fuckin’ insane for staying.”
“Are you just going to insult me?” He doesn’t answer, and you decide to wwalk out, not wanting to deal with his shit today. You slam the door a little harder than you intended, but it got the message across all the same.
Joel’s got his head hung low again. His hands are intertwied, white knuckle grip on each other to keep old memories and emotions from coming back up. There was no way you changed that much, right? That you’d willingly work with the damn enemy? He shook his head again. He has to remind himself that the ties to the world before don’t matter, that you don’t matter. If only he could convince you to leave. Tommy would be beyond ecstatic to have you in Jackson, and on some nostalgic level, he could rekindle whatever you two were working towards before Outbreak Day.
He shook his head. Times like these were when delusions wormed their way into your head, and he could not afford to be off his rocker when the time came to make his escape. It was unfair that you reminded him of simpler times. He could feel your skin in his hands, laying in the bed of his truck to watch the stars by the lake. He remembered the first time he kissed you, just a short and sweet thing, but Sarah interrogated him when he came home, a wild blush spreading across his cheeks when she mocked his moves.
He ran his hands through his hair, finally knowing what his move would be to get you out of here with him.
You come back a few hours later, or maybe a few days later. Joel doesn’t know because he hasn’t slept since he got captured, and there’s no windows in this box. He’s still sitting in the same position he was when you left him, so you drag a chair a few feet away from him and take a seat.
“How did you bribe FEDRA officers?”
“Ain’t it my constitutional right to plead the fifth?”
“There isn’t a constitution anymore, Joel. Just answer the question and maybe I don’t have to sentence you to death in public.”
“You don’t have to stay here.” He says, voice dropping in volume as he speaks.
“What do you mean?”
“Tommy, he’s… he’s got a town. Community, all to himself and some trusted folks. I got a place there.”
“Where?”
“You askin’ as a friend or a cop?” He looks you in the eyes, and it’s the same fucking look he gave you twenty-something years ago when he gave you his jacket just to walk you ten yards to your car after your shift at the bar.
“A friend, Joel, I’d never put Tommy in danger, you know that.”
-----
Your commander gave you a sick smile when he spotted blood on your knuckles as you came out of Joel’s cell.
“Gave him a good beating, did you?”
“‘Course.”
You’d gotten into his good graces by beating on an inmate, and now that you had, he’d turn a blind eye to some of your illicit activities, which included going to the “evidence” room and picking up all of Joel’s weapons, before taking them directly to him. He’s cradling his jaw when you walk in, a solid gash sitting on his face, blood gushing. You drop the bag on the floor and wince at the totality of the cut, tossing him a bandage to keep it from dripping everywhere.
“Guess you still have a mean right hook.” He says.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I got your stuff, so we can gear up and head out.” He looks up at you.
“This isn’t the day you were expecting, was it?” He asks, clicking a magazine into his pistol.
“Can’t say I was, Joel. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be, sweetheart.”
You clicked on the handcuffs around his wrists, loose enough that he could shake them off, but believable. You held them in place, positioned behind him just so that the gun in his waistband behind his back could not be seen. You dragged him down the hallway, and he was acting his ass off, cursing and yelling and trying to twist away from your grip. Luckily, no one paid you any mind, even when you snagged truck keys off the wall and shoved Joel into the passenger seat.
“Where are we heading to?” You ask.
“Jackson, there’s a whole town out there, like I said.” You start the truck, and finally, FEDRA soldiers look hard at your position, cocking their guns and gathering at your position.
“You’d better hold on,” you say, “gonna be a bit of a bumpy ride gettin’ outta here.” You gun it, and almost as quickly as the tires spin and grip the ground, shoving you back into the seat as you drive off do the bullets start hitting the armor on the truck. You ram the gate at the end of the driveway, and quickly evade the other FEDRA trucks just outside, on a mission to stop you.
“Goin’ off road?” Joel suggests, a panicked lilt in his voice.
“You read my mind.” It’s unpleasant, the way the truck rocks and dips in the tall grass, and you feel yourself getting a little sick at the continuous rocking movement, but soon enough you’ve outrun them, and their trucks retreat to the camp.
“You’re insane.” Joel shakes his head, smiling at you.
“Been a while since I did something risky with you, Miller.” He shoots a glance your way, and sees what seems to be a reminiscent grin on your face.
“Thinkin’ about something specific?” He asks.
“Just what Sarah used to tell me, you know she caught us kissing one time?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “she wouldn’t shut up about it, teased me for fuckin’ weeks.”
“Me either.” You two fall quiet.
“How long to Jackson? I don’t actually know where we are.” He asks after a few minutes.
“Few hours, five or six.” He hums.
“Guess we got some time to kill.”
#joel miller#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x gn!reader#joel miller x male!reader#joel miller x male reader#tlou#the last of us
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