#STORM OF BLOOD ; gabriel.

[setevulpo]

i was thinking about the archangels and how fucked up being possessed by one of them would be and this was created. headcanons on what each (non-bloodline) vessel would go through while possessed! bon appétit

-

michael

their vessel runs hot, grace a constant thrum under the skin that imitates a heartbeat well enough for those unaware not to notice. the blue glow that takes over their eyes upon the slightest provocation calms only when their enemies are on the ground, enochian seared into what’s left of their skin once the light dies down.

the heat that follows them shapes the air into wings too big for the space they’re in, even in the most expansive fields earth has. they have to watch out when stepping on grass, or stretching their wings too far into the trees, or fire will follow them too.

eventually it starts to burn, whatever body they’re in. the grace running through its veins turns closer to lava with each passing day, flares deep inside its chest and expands down to its hands when their anger rises. bruises showing up in blues no matter how old they are, burns in its skin hot to the touch.

a smell of fire and smoke follows them when they leave the vessel, and they set ablaze anything in their path on the way to a new body. the largest fires are caused by their rage, charred eyes and hearts left behind on their path.

-

lucifer

there's something freezing under their skin, somehow encompassing entire rooms and digging into the skin of everyone around them. the air around them is cold enough to kill, frostbite reaching others before turning their own vessel's hands red with it. its lips are bitten red and raw because the taste of blood is almost intoxicating.

garbled enochian slips through in a constant downpour, because they are an angel and won't taint their tongue with a human language despite the way it burns their vessel's mouth. the easiest way to find them is following the trail of frozen footsteps and the scent of rust so strong it can be tasted.

the hypothermia that sets after some time is what leads them to find a new body, when the one they are wearing becomes too sluggish and their grace starts slipping through the dry cracks in its skin. all that's left is a cold body with its eyes frozen shut.

the earth bleeds on their path, water freezes red by being in their proximity, plants burn and die from the frost. their grace whips through the air and leaves bloody slashes in the skin of anyone who dares get in their way, the wounds never closing completely.

-

raphael

their electricity can be felt under the skin of their vessel, sometimes shocking those who try landing their hands on it. their presence makes people’s hair stand on end, their voice resonates through the room in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. the fissures that appear on its skin from one day to the next are eerily similar to lightning.

the eyes of their vessel gain an unnatural brightness, something fiery that is just wrong when compared to the decaying state of the rest its body. their words flow in a way that’s almost hypnotic, calming until the next strike of their blade.

an ill-suited vessel can’t hold them for long. the tremors starting in its hands show that, as do the bouts of dizziness that hit them every so often. by the time their vessel starts losing its sight they have a new victim picked, their electricity having already eroded the brain of the previous.

it seems as if thunderstorms follow their grace, both rain and lightning falling close but never hitting them. wildfires start in their wake, raindrops never quite reaching their destination, and the injured miraculously recovering in hours.

-

gabriel

there’s a wind hiding under their skin, usually unnoticeable to the common eye. they’re light on their feet, eyes travelling through every corner of the room they’re in, the air around them somehow feeling heavy with the power they chase. at times it blows stronger, the whole of them looking longer, bigger than their vessel, but it doesn’t last long anymore.

their vessel’s skin grows dry with time, tearing open with each snap of their fingers, grace pouring from its hands and giving life to lilies wherever it falls. all of their vessels’ hands are burnt by the time they leave, skin too fragile to handle their grace.

erosion is what kills their bodies, the debris that always seems to fly back towards them easily chipping away at flesh and bone. what’s left of the body after they take their leave isn’t enough to keep it alive, not with the dust coating its lungs.

tornadoes follow the path of their grace, leaving destruction and chaos between their vessels. they are angry, and they are frustrated, and the mayhem they create is the singular way they can be heard. the debris lifted by their rage is flung as far as their grace can reach.

-

#spn archangels #supernatural #spn #alright time for the rant in tags #michael's whole thing was inspired by this really cool phenomenon called blue lava... it's actually fire in its majority though #lucifer got the blood falls from antarctica based on their little comment in swan song about actually being cold #raphael's is the dry thunderstorm cause they (the storms) are really cool and i feel they (raphael) should get to actually destroy some >> #<< stuff with their lightning #gabriel's inspiration was the dust devil (which i spent a good ten minutes laughing about) but also tornadoes in general #i lost inspiration with them a bit but i think gabe would probably be the most human of the four?? so he would be a little more normal #also i think each would have preferences of who to possess... #michael picks people who are dying or fighters when they're possessing out of the bloodline #they looked at adam and saw a little pet... both died and was a fighter... also looked directly at their form... pet vessel #lucifer likes messing around with people who fell in some way... or are disgraced #they hop onto powerful people from time to time if it's necessary... also spent a bunch of time hopping at random #raphael possesses unhealthy people.. and then leaves them in a worse state <3 but at least they can't feel it (in raphael's mind) #probably got attached to donnie cause his body was taking longer to succumb... then balthazar salted him #gabriel only had one vessel... good for them #anyway gabriel would go for travelers or anyone who spent time moving around #they need their witness protection #anyway rant over i wrote all of this while delirious from a migraine #have fun folks

[nauranor]

*:･ﾟ✧ is that that gabriel dragola , who is originally from valachia , and living in valachia ? it’s nice to see the prince of transvania / dragon rider out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously vain , whilst also managing to be quite passionate . the thirty three year old was born human, and hails from the kingdom of transvania.

———   GENERAL

NAME  : gabriel aymeric dragola TITLE : prince of transvania AGE :  thirty three SPECIES : human / dragonrider GENDER : cis man  PRONOUNS : he/him SEXUAL ORIENTATION : homosexual BIRTHPLACE : valachia RESIDENCE  : valachia

———   RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER : king lucien dragola MOTHER : queen selene dragola † SIBLINGS : princess mina dragola ( twin ) & princess fayre dragola ALLIES : jonah zale ( personal guard ), dante valdinia ( acquaintance ) ENEMIES : none, yet

———   PERSONALITY

LABEL : the paladin TAROT : the star ALIGNMENT : chaotic good POSITIVE (+) : outgoing — bright — loving — passionate — loyal NEGATIVE (-) : vain — insecure — explosive — defensive — guarded

from the moment he was born, gabriel had ideals pushed upon him that he was expected to uphold. born to a line of leaders, to a line of men and women that had the gracious pride of being the first dragon riders; it was a lot to deal with as a child, especially as from a young age he had a father that was determined to pit twin against twin. you shouldn't be doing that, begged their mother, they're just children-- besides, gabriel is a sensitive sort. he remembers the distant converations that he wasn't supposed to be listening in to, hugging his knees to his chest as the king barked about how he's a dragola! sensitive shouldn't be anywhere near him! besides, some healthy competition is good for their development!

it was no secret that gabe took more after his mother than their father, not just in looks, but in the way his heart rested on his sleeve. he had an interest in watching his mother get ready in the morning by the help of her handmaidens, loved the finery that she would wear to the galas and balls that were held in the palace and had a keen eye for aesthetics. more softness that his father didn't much care for. as he grew closer and closer to his mother, he drifted further and further from his father-- perhaps it was something to do with the fact that gabriel felt as though whenever his gaze rested upon him, nothing but coldness ran up his spine. even now, he has little to no reservations about the fact that king lucien cares not for his son, but still-- he plays the part of the smiling prince, ever gracious by his side.

with the arrival of their younger sister, he lost the one parent that he felt truly cared for him, loved him. what warmth was left in the castle in terms of parental affection died the day she did, noticing how his father turned even crueler with each passing day. it made sense, sure. losing someone that you had sworn to spend your life with was hard, and gabriel knew that, but how he chose to express that anguish upon his children? he couldn't abide by. he was sensitive, sure, but over time he had to learn to grow a backbone, to bite back when he was challenged by those around him.

i don't want to become a rider! gabriel barked on their eighteenth birthday, standing up to the cruel bastard that was the king. and it was true-- dragons were magnificent beasts, it was true, but gabriel was nothing compared to mina when it came to not only the capabilities that a rider needed to succeed, but what he knew this actually was; another competition to see who was truly fit for the throne. you don't have a choice, boy! he had snapped back at him, making the prince's blood boil under his skin. those that didn't succeed became nothing more than forgotten dreams, and if he was being honest? he was sure that was what was to become of him. it wasn't the first time that a notable name had been humbled within the walls of the academy, and he was sure that 'gabriel dragola' was going to be nothing more than something for the history books, marring their family name. how wrong he was with that assumption.

he learned not only how to defend himself better than any training he had within royal grounds, but he learned companionship in the form of kay'reen banlyr, an optimistic boy from cardnoia. they were stationed in the same wing and hit it off instantly. to kay, he didn't see the prince-- he saw gabe, and that's something that he had never truly had before. kay'reen was someone who brought gabriel out of his shell when it came to combat, when it came to finding his footing in terms of actually being able to ride. and he would be lying he he didn't say that gabe looked upon him like he hung the moon. he wasn't of noble birth, no, but what he lacked in nobility he more than made up in heart.

live for the moment, not for the future; words he had come to live by in the walls of the academy that he had taken when it came to graduate upon the back of azem, the white drake. he placed kay'reen within a wing, one that he knew he could easily sneak off to see upon the wings of his own drake. but people didn't seem to care for the rider with the prince's favour. word was sent to him of the other's death, kay's dragon shrieking as its rider fell at the hands of jealous men. that was six years ago, and gabriel hasn't spoken the name of his lost love since-- it still hurts to think about, but he uses it as a teaching moment: people can, and will, go out of their way to wound you, it's how others perceive how their slights have wounded you that matters. although he ached inside, although he sobbed tirelessly in his room for weeks, no one saw. on the outside, he remained the perfect prince who mayhap looked a tad more tired than usual.

with the opening of the borders, he's optimistic as ever that this will be good for their nations. it has to be, right? he longs to learn as much as he can, especially of fae and their magicks whilst having a somewhat morbid curiosity when it comes to vampires. there's whispers amongst the castle, that the king isn't long for this world and in all honesty, gabriel couldn't care less should he live or die-- he's long past trying to vie for his approval. all he knows is that he does not want to wear the crown should he fall.

———   QUICK FACTS

known as the people's prince, since there's been plenty of times where he's snuck out of the castle to lend a hand where he can around the city feeding the poor.

LOVES to dabble into makeup, especially imported stock from the fae kingdom as he's a big fan of making his eyes pop.

cares a bit too much about how people see him and truly just wants to be loved, but isn't about to say that i mean c'mon he needs to be made of harder stuff.

his dragon is called azem, they're a white dragon known for their speed and he acts as a messenger between postings when working with the army.

his weapon of choice is a bow and arrow.

#nights.intro #STORM OF BLOOD ; gabriel.

[nightgoodomens]

Imagine Crowley taking the Duke of Hell job because he finds out that Metatron manipulated Aziraphale’s memories to hate Crowley and to want another war.

Crowley’s only way to get him back and try to fix him is to take the top job on the other side, so he can have enough demons to storm Heaven.

He even has Beelzebub and Gabriel on his side. Crowley does show to be a fantastic Duke and demons do actually follow him.

They manage to start a fight in Heaven, Crowley doesn’t actually want it to end up in a bloodbath, so he rushes out to catch Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, with his eyes purple, in all white, zero charm and happiness on his face. He looks at Crowley with so much hate it makes him stop for a moment.

But he prepared for this. The demons make enough of a chaos, like he asked them to, to make everyone busy and not focus on him and Aziraphale. Crowley dodges nearly every single hit from Aziraphale’s sword, and he finally manages to grab his wrist, shoving his arm down so the sword hits the floor.

In the same second he puts his claws on top of his head and takes the spell off him. Aziraphale blinks and his eyes are blue again. He looks shocked at Crowley but there is a relief on his face and adoration, not hate anymore.

“What…” He drops his sword as if it burned him. “Did I…” He looks terrified at the wound on Crowley’s cheek.

“It’s nothing. We need to go.” Crowley grasps him by the shoulders. “Now.”

Aziraphale doesn’t know what’s going on, but the fact that he doesn’t is enough to tell him that he needs to leave.

But Crowley is suddenly shoved forward and Aziraphale hears as he suddenly chokes on air painfully. He looks at him and his face is white and eyes scared. They both look down and the sword that was on the floor moments ago is now piercing through his back and coming out of his chest.

Aziraphale can see over Crowley’s shoulder that Metatron is staring at them, hand still raised.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale catches him when his knees buckle underneath him. “Crowley!”

“Go!” Crowley chokes out but Aziraphale is cradling him in his arms, not listening to a word.

“No…” Aziraphale panics as he can see the light disappearing from his eyes quickly. He puts his hand on his chest trying to use a miracle to get rid of the sword and heal the wound.

Metatron is coming closer.

“Let the demon go!” His voice is strong and it makes Aziraphale’s head hurt. As if someone is drilling in his brain again.

“No.” He keeps his hand on Crowley’s chest, his brain on fire. “I will save you.” He whispers to Crowley who’s pleading him with his eyes and Aziraphale knows it’s not for his life. It’s for Aziraphale’s.

Run, he’s trying to say, but the blood pours from his mouth.

“LET THE DEMON GO!”

“NO!” Aziraphale sneers so loudly and his voice doesn’t sound like his. “GO TO HELL!” He wonders if his horrified heart makes his voice sound so unearthly.

Crowley needs to live. He’s NOT letting him go!

Metatron stops shocked and for a moment Aziraphale wonders if this is how it’s done. A simple go to hell from a Supreme Archangel to make a fellow angel fall. Then he realises Metatron is looking terrified… at Crowley.

Crowley, with his sharp black claws, with his hand, slim and covered in blood, pointed towards Metatron.

“You’ve heard what he said.” Crowley’s voice doesn’t sound like his either, Aziraphale decides.

It’s devil’s voice.

A long hiss fills the air.

“You can’t make me fall.” Metatron says confidently. “God is on my side.”

Crowley laughs and more blood pours from his mouth and Aziraphale notices his eyes are red. He still holds him tightly. He only sees Crowley.

“God has forsaken you, Metatron.”

Aziraphale recognises Satan’s voice.

Even when it’s coming out of Crowley’s mouth.

Metatron looks horrified and then his wings burn and he screams.

He falls, in front of them, his wings on fire and they hear him until he’s too far down to see.

Aziraphale sees the red disappearing from Crowley’s eyes and he loses consciousness, body left lifeless in his arms.

“Crowley…!”

He’s never, in his whole life, begged for anything more. Time stops when he pulls the sword out of his back with his hand, lies Crowley on the floor, kneels over him and places both his hands on his chest.

He begs God to bring him back. Puts all his power, everything he knows to bring him back. Begs and begs and begs; and nothing happens.

He can feel the anger building in him and his cheeks are wet from his tears as he looks at Crowley who’s suddenly small and pale and so… gone.

So he prays to Satan too.

Bring him back.

He is your child, God.

He is your Prince, Satan.

Give. Him. Back!

And to his shock, suddenly there is white and black smoke coming out of his hands. He knows it’s Heaven and Hell.

It’s both God and Satan.

It surrounds Crowley’s chest and he sees the bleeding stopping.

And Crowley suddenly breathes again.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cries out and brings him back in his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He is crying while rocking them lightly back and forth. “You’re going to be okay.”

Aziraphale does not care about anything, but Crowley’s steady breathing in his arms.

He doesn’t see the shocked faces of demons and angels.

And he doesn’t know that somewhere, far, far away, God and Satan cheer to each other, wine in both glasses, satisfaction clear on their faces.

#yes this will be a full fic #good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow

[desperatemeasures-if]

✶ DEMO (TBA) ✶

It's always the picture-perfect days that end the shittiest...

You had finally been having a good day after a horrible week-- nice weather, good company, and you got your manager off your ass-- but you should have known that was only the calm before the storm. A storm that completely rips apart not only your life but that of your family-- not the ones related by blood, you had given up on them long ago, but the people that had taken you in and given you a home. The Vipers, the most reputable gang in the Northside of Riverwood, and the only family you had left.

The boss is dead... We have no leads.

A single message had completely turned your life on its head. The man that had singlehandedly saved you from yourself, from ending up face down in a gutter, was dead. You don't hesitate in volunteering to help hunt down his killer-- not if it meant protecting your family and avenging his death. Even if it means calling on your biggest rivals for help or getting assisted by an over-eager detective.

Desperate times called for desperate measures...

Desperate Measures is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, intense interrogations, blood, questionable behavior, and more.

✶ Features ✶ Character Intros (WIP) ✶

Customize your MC: appearance, parts of your personality, segments of your background, hobbies, vices, and more! Do you have what it takes to avenge the death of your mentor? Do you have a nickname that's specific to the Vipers?

While you're investigating make sure you maintain contact with your gang, and don't forget that you have a job. Even if it is just at a shitty cafe.

Romance is definitely something that is offered and will bring insightful moments to characters that may otherwise remain an enigma to you. Or, of course, you can strike up a friendship with them!

Find a killer and either take justice into your own hands, allow someone else to do it, or follow the law!

✶ The ROs ✶

Heather Grant ✶ She/Her ✶ 29 ✶

The Heiress of Riverwood Royalty, the Grant Family, and one of the only people that could offer assistance with the investigation-- with her limitless amount of resources and the fact that the Grant Family seemed to own all of Riverwood. The only problem? She absolutely hates the Vipers. Will you be able to come to some sort of middle ground?

Special Aspects: Enemies-to-Lovers, but will you be able even to blame her for her hatred in the end?

Damien Frost ✶ He/Him ✶ 29 ✶

A recently promoted detective within the RPD. A man that's been assigned the case, either out of pity or malevolence, you aren't quite sure, but Detective Frost isn't one to give up, even when all the odds seem to be stacked against him. In fact, he seems to have a penchant to appear wherever you are, and he doesn't seem to mind at all that he's working alongside criminals. He simply wants to get the crime solved. Is it only because he wishes to prove himself? Or is it something more?

Special Aspects: Law Enforcement Officer with a Gangster... Need I say more?

Stephen/Stephanie Matthews ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 27 ✶

Stephen/Stephanie, or simply Stevie, is someone you know you can count on no matter what. They'd as easily offer you their last beer as they would knife someone in the gut to protect you. Your best friend since you joined the Vipers, being the one that had trained you after your initiation, it's no surprise that they join you on the hunt for the killer.

Special Aspects: Best Friends to Lovers

Gabriel/Gabriella DeLuca ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The other half of your motley crew within the Vipers. Gabby is known for a multitude of things within the Northside, being a jack of all trades when it comes to their skills, but their true trademark is the sea of broken hearts they've left in their wake. With a disarming smile and devil-may-care attitude, it isn't hard to understand how someone could be pulled into their axis. It's just escaping it unscathed that's the challenge.

Special Aspects: Have the option to be friends with benefits, or simply friends, and see how that could influence the possible romance to come.

Leon/Lena Prince ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The one person you wouldn't wish to run into within Riverwood-- having completely destroyed your relationship with them; possibly breaking their heart in the process. You haven't heard much about them since you left the Southside, but learning about them taking over the rival gang of the Vipers? Your week just couldn't get any better, could it?

Special Aspects: Exes-to-Rivals-to-Friends-to-Lovers (once more). Will you be able to build back the trust you lost?

#desperate measures #interactive fiction #interactive game #choice script #cog game #hosted game #dashingdon #if wip #no demo

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter seventy two

close to home | chapter seventy two

plot: winter passes and the reader hits her ninth month of pregnancy

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,736 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, childbirth A/N: thank you for reading lovelies. Any guesses on baby Dixon's name?

The blizzard kept you and twenty other people inside Aaron’s house for two nights. You made Judith and RJ pile into one sleeping bag, and then you slept beside them both nights—which the baby spent kicking you. You took it as a sign that she didn’t care for the cold weather either. 

You woke up the second morning to the sun shining through the windows and the digital clock on. You nearly wept at the sight of it, and the first thing you did was go out the front door. 

There was at least three feet of snow. But the sun was shining bright, and it was a bit warmer. And other members of the community were out, and already at work. 

The people you were with joined in soon, and streets were being shoveled while the kids were out to play. You, Rosita, and Gabriel walked along the community for any damage from the storm, but thankfully there wasn’t any. 

It was nearing lunch when you got word that the Kingdom escort party was close. So you gathered up Judith and RJ and walked with them to wait at the gate. 

Finally, they pulled open, and you couldn’t stop running toward Daryl when you saw him. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and his shawl was speckled in snow. 

“I missed you,” You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was so worried about you.” 

“Nothin’ we couldn’ handle, baby girl.” Daryl said, kissing your forehead. “How was everythin’ here? Baby okay?”

“She’s good,” You said before kissing him. When you stepped back, he set his hands on your belly. 

“Kickin’ up a storm.” He said with a smile. 

You glanced behind him as you saw Carol approaching. You hadn’t seen her in months, not since the fair and everything after. Despite how broken she looked, she smiled when she saw you. 

“Daryl said you were getting big. I just didn’t expect this,” She said as she gave you a hug. 

You closed your eyes at her familiarness for a moment. “I didn’t expect you. I’m so happy to see you here.” You saw Lydia hesitating behind you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “How was the trip?”

“I’ll tell ya ‘bout it later,” Daryl wrapped an arm around you, and you looked back at Michonne, who nodded. You were sure you’d hear from her as well. 

***

Carol took the room across from RJ’s, and you gave Lydia your old one. She seemed distraught and nervous and wouldn’t look you in the eye. You weren’t sure what to say to the girl either, so you told her where to find you and that she was welcome to anything in the house. Then you let her be. 

Michonne was with the kids in the living room when you walked downstairs, and you could hear Daryl in the kitchen. The fireplace was going, and you smiled at the warmth. 

“I am so glad I’m off babysitting duty,” You carefully sat down on the chair and then wrapped your hands around your stomach. “Those little brats kept me busy the whole time you were away.” 

Both Judith and RJ told Michonne relentlessly that they were very well-behaved while she was gone, and you smiled as you watched Michonne tease them. Your heart aches in a beautiful way. 

You heard a freak in the floorboard and looked up at Lydia, who was standing on the steps. 

“You can come down. It’s warm by the fire.” You told her. She hesitated again but came down and sat in the other chair. 

After that, Daryl walked into the room and sat down on the arm of the chair you were in, handing you a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. Your stomach grumbled just at the sight of it, and you quickly took a bite. 

“How bad was the Kingdom?” You asked through your food. 

“Bad,” Michonne propped her feet up on the coffee table. “Fire burnt through a lot of the buildings. But the people are good. They’ll be happy in Hilltop. And Hilltop could use the extra help.” 

You nodded slowly. It broke your heart you’d never see it again. If you’d known the last time you were there would be the last time, you would’ve stayed a bit longer. 

“Any letters from Maggie?” You asked. 

“Nothing.”

You shook your head. You sent a few letters in the beginning, ones she responded to. But you stopped when she stopped responding, and anger toward your cousin was a flame that didn’t settle. No matter how many years had passed. 

“I didn’t think so.” You finished the last bit of your sandwich as Judith and Michonne talked. You tugged on Daryl’s arm, and he looked back at you, running his hand on the back of your head. “I’m still hungry.” 

He snorted. “‘aight darlin’, I’ll make ya more.” 

***

Dog was whining for your attention as you stared out the window. It must be close to midnight, and the community was asleep. The full moon reflected off the snow, and you could see everything. It was a beautiful winter wonderland, and you sighed with content at the sight of it. 

You could see the footprints from the children playing earlier and the mostly shoveled streets. It looked so lived in. So safe. 

Dog nudged the underside of your belly, and you smiled as you petted his ears. After another moment passed, you turned to the bed and sat down. You were waiting for Daryl, who needed to get something before you could sleep. After a week without him next to you, you were more than ready to pass out in his arms. 

“Finally,” You muttered when the door opened and your husband entered. “What’s that?”

“It was supposed to be a birthday present, but I wasn’ able to get to Hilltop to get it,” Daryl said.

“My birthday was months ago,” You smiled at the cloth-wrapped item in his hands. “And you didn’t let me get you anything. That’s not very fair.”

“Ya did give me somethin’ if I remember correctly.” Daryl sat next to you, and you blushed as you remembered the morning of his birthday earlier this year. How you had woken him up. 

“That doesn’t count.”

Daryl ignored you and put the gift in your lap. You eyed him suspiciously before you unwrapped it. “Oh my God,” You mumbled under your breath as you pulled out the bow. 

It was heavy in your hand, and the metal glistened from the lamp. The grip handle was a sleek dark wood, while the upper and lower limbs were metal. They ended in sharp, serrated tips. Weapons built into a weapon. 

“This is beautiful…” You said, carefully spinning it in your hands. Still lying on the cloth was a black leather arrow quiver with thin pockets that held blades. You recognized the arrows immediately. They were made by Daryl. “How did you… who made this?”

“I owe Alden and Earl a few favors,” Daryl said, cheeks a bit red. “I know ya lost ya old one, and I know for a fact nothin’ is gonna keep ya behind these walls forever. Wanted ya to have somethin’ that’ll help ya get back home.”

You looked back down at the bow and shook your head. “You are a wonder, Dixon. You know that?”

“Ain’ nothin’, really.” 

You leaned over to him to shut him up with a quick but tender kiss. “It’s everything.”

The bed dipped as you stood up and tested the bow's weight. You were definitely going to need to train with it. The wooden one you were used to was much lighter, and you would need to get used to the blades at the ends of it. You’d have to have Michonne help you wield it like her katana. You brought the bow up and pulled the string, testing its strength. 

“Ya look real good with it.”

You laughed and lowered the weapon. “You think I look good with anything.”

“Or nothin’.”

You laughed again and carefully set the bow on the dresser. “I love it. I really, really love it.” You crawled over the bed to sit down on his lap. “I’m gonna have to figure out what to get you now since you got me something so amazing.”

Daryl shook his head and set a hand on your belly. “Ya givin’ me more than enough.”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “You say that now, but when there’s a screaming baby here in three months, and we haven’t slept in days, you might feel differently.” You lightly joked and leaned your forehead against his mouth. You closed your eyes as he pressed a few kisses against your skin and then leaned back to look at him. 

“I can’t believe how far we’ve come,” You said. “The prison feels so far away. A whole other life. I wish I could go back, just for a day. I miss them. So much.”

Daryl pushed your hair behind your ear. “I know, baby girl, me too.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d end up here.” You smiled sadly. 

“Ya happy ya didn’ kill me then?”

That made you laugh away the sadness that had crept into your heart, and you set your hands on either side of Daryl’s face. “Nah. I shoulda taken the shot.” 

Daryl gave you a look before tickling your sides, and your body jerked away from him. “Stop, stop! She’s on my bladder. You’re gonna make me pee.” You laughed loudly. 

“Kinky.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrists to keep him from further assaulting you. “You’re so funny, old man.” You set your hand against his cheek, fingers running over the bumps and facial hair. “You’ve changed so much since we first met.”

“So have ya,”

“Yeah, but you really have. You’ve become a man I admire so much. You’re beautiful, Daryl. Truly.”

He kissed the palm of your hand. “I think ya sleep deprived.”

You smiled and kissed his nose again before lying next to him. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

***

By month nine of your pregnancy, you were on overdrive. Daryl couldn’t keep up with your emotions. One moment, you were crying; the other, you were yelling at him because he wore his boots inside the bedroom, and then you were crying again and telling him you were sorry. And then you asked why he wasn’t sorry, and it started all over again. 

Every emotion made his head spin.

And that didn’t include how you made your problems, Daryl problems. If you were uncomfortable, it was his fault. If you were too hot, it was his fault. Everything was his fault because he got you pregnant and wasn’t carrying around a baby. And that was when the hormones kicked in and you begged him not to be mad at you, and it circled around again. 

He just kept telling himself one more month. One more month, and then the baby would be here, and you’d be normal again. At least, that was what he hoped. 

Still, he wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t care if he had to wake up at four in the morning to help you out of bed so you could use the bathroom, or if you needed water or food, or if your feet hurt and your ankles were swollen. He didn’t care about any of it. Because it was you, and he loved you. And he wanted to be there for you in every single way. 

What he didn’t care for was the nesting. You’d made him and Aaron rearrange the baby’s room six times. You folded and refolded cloth diapers and clothes donated by everyone in the community. And when Rosita was over, forget about it. The two of you were dangerous together. Nothing stays the same if you and Rosita share an opinion about where a damn baby book should go. 

Michonne reassured Daryl every day that this was normal. That you were processing the emotions, and your body was getting ready to deliver. So he held on to that. Even if the eighth time you asked him to move the crib made him want to pull out all his hair. 

She’s carrying my baby, she’s carrying my baby. He repeated it like a mantra to get him through the days. 

And then it was your estimated due date. And he hung around all day with you, doing any and everything you asked for, no matter how big or small it was. But then the day passed, and then the next, and a few more. 

He was getting nervous despite the morning ultrasounds that told him that the baby was fine and that she was taking her time. Just like her damn mother, Daryl had thought. He knew he was getting impatient. But each day made him more and more worried. 

“That’s it. Your pacing is driving me crazy.” You said one morning, a week past your due date. “Go hang out with Aaron for a few hours. I need some peace and quiet.” 

“Ya a week late,” Daryl said with a bit of anger in his voice. “‘M gettin’ worried. What if ya need a c-section?”

“Then Siddiq and Dante will handle it. Please, honey, I just need to be alone for a little while.”

Daryl rubbed his chin and sighed. “Okay, okay.” He walked over to you and kissed your forehead. 

“I love you. Just relax and have some fun, okay? I’m just gonna take a nap.” 

“Ya need anythin’ before I go?”

“No, no. Get out. Before I skin you. alive” 

Daryl shook his head with a slight smile and finally left you to have some peace and quiet. And he needed a break from worrying about you every second, too. So he walked to Aaron’s house, appreciating the mild late March weather. 

When Aaron opened the door, he laughed. “She kick you out again?”

***

Daryl was finally relaxed when he heard Dog barking down the street. Both he and Aaron were immediately on their feet and flying out the door. Dog was on the porch, barking and running back and forth, and Daryl took the steps two at a time. 

“My water broke,” He heard your voice as he rounded the corner, where a very pregnant Rosita was trying to help you off the chair. “The chair is fucking ruined.” 

Rosita looked up with a thankful look on her face as Daryl approached, helping you stand. “Ya okay?”

“She’s coming,” You said, wincing as you tried to take a step. 

Aaron came around to your other side and helped you. “We gotta get to the infirmary.”

You groaned in pain, and Daryl felt your weight shift. “Oh my God, she’s coming.”

Daryl and Aaron shared a look before helping you out of the house. Dog was barking like crazy, and in the distance, he could see Michonne running down the street toward you guys. 

“Is it time?” She rushed out when she caught up. 

“Yeah, it’s time,” You nearly screamed. 

Getting to the infirmary took more time than Daryl wanted, but soon, Siddiq and Dante rushed out the doors and yelled where to put you. 

“This is her second labor, and her water broke,” He heard Siddiq say quietly to Dante. “The baby is going to come quickly. Are you ready for this?” He asked the newcomer. 

Daryl felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Daryl, get over here now!” Rosita yelled. 

Her voice snapped him into action, and he walked over to you on the bed. “Hey pretty girl, ya doin’ okay?”

You shook your head and reached for his hand. “The contractions are fast. They came out of nowhere. Oh my--.” You yelled in pain, squeezing his hand hard. 

“Siddiq, get over here now!” Rosita yelled. Daryl watched as she moved quickly, pulling off your sweatpants and putting a blanket over your bare legs. He felt like he couldn’t keep up. Everything around him was happening so quickly, and he felt frozen. 

Daryl wasn’t sure how word spread so quickly that you were in labor because soon, your family started showing up. First, it was Eugene, then Gabriel, and Carol. Judith brought RJ, and he barely had time to think about how the word reached the school. The room got crowded within minutes, all while Daryl had no voice. 

“Okay, okay,” Siddiq yelled. “There are too many people in this room. (Y/N), you gotta tell me who you want in here.”

“I want Daryl to deliver the baby.” 

Your words snapped him into reality, and he realized where he was and why. 

“What?” Daryl asked you. “I don’... I can’...”

“Listen to me, Daryl Dixon,” You yelled, fisting his shirt in your hand. “You did this to me, you son of a bitch, now you’re gonna deliver our daughter. Siddiq will be there with you, but I want you down there. Now. And I don’t wanna hear any of your shit.”

Daryl breathed out in panic and walked over to Siddiq, who instructed him to wash his hands. While doing so, he heard you ask Rosita and Michonne to stay, and Dante had everyone else wait outside the room. 

“Alright, this baby is coming quickly. From the morning ultrasound, everything should be fine for a clean birth. We’ll check and see how dilated she is and if she can push.” Siddiq explained to Daryl. He had the archer sit down in a chair as he helped you prop up your legs and fold the blanket back. 

“Why is she bleedin’?” Daryl asked. 

“It’s normal. I’ve been reading everything I can about childbirth.” Siddiq said. 

Daryl looked up at you. You had Rosita and Michonne’s hands, and they encouraged you. His stomach dropped at the look of pain on your face, the sweat that had your hair damp. His hands started shaking, and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Okay, it’s almost time to start pushing. Jesus, she’s coming fast.”

***

“It hurts,” You cried, staring up at Michonne. 

“I know, I know.” Your friend soothed you. “It’s going to hurt. It will hurt so bad, but you’re doing so well. You’re doing so good, honey.”

You sobbed as another contraction hit you. It wasn’t just like period cramps anymore. These were full-body contractions that had you sweating and shaking. 

“Is it time?” Rosita yelled over your cries. 

“Almost.”

“I can’t do this,” You cried. “I can’t do this, it’s been two hours.”

“You can and you will,” Rosita said, turning back to you. “Don’t you whimp out on me now, bitch.” 

You nodded and glanced at Daryl, who listened to everything Siddiq said. His face was probably paler than yours, and you could see the anxiety coming out of his ears like steam. Your eyes met, and he looked at you momentarily before placing his hand over his heart. 

You sobbed, your head hitting the pillow as another contraction hit. “I have to push. I have to push.”

“Not yet (Y/N), you’re going to tire yourself out,” Siddiq said. “She’s about nine centimeters. You’re almost there.”

“Oh, just kill me now,” You cried.

Michonne and Rosita gripped your hands tightly as you shifted, trying to get more comfortable. You weren’t sure how many more contractions passed until you heard Siddiq yell out, “I can see her head. Okay, (Y/N), you need to start pushing. Daryl, you’re going to need to…” His words were lost on you.

You grimaced, squeezed Rosita and Michonne’s hand, and took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this.”

“Come on, babe,” Rosita said. 

The sound of your screams bounced off the walls as you pushed as hard as you could. Everything was on fire, and your legs were numb. But you pushed and fought the pain harder than you ever did with anything else. Each swipe of a blade, bullet, and stab wound was nothing compared to this. It was nothing compared to how hard you fought right now. 

“Keep the head up, just like that, I got the shoulders.”

Rosita cursed under her breath when you squeezed her hand especially hard. 

“Daryl, as soon as the shoulders are out you’re gonna pull the baby gently, okay? Alright and… pull.”

You screamed in pain, and your vision blurred. But then you heard the sound of a baby crying, and something inside you stirred. 

“My baby,” You said weakly. “Let me hold her, give me my baby…” You could hear how weak your voice was. 

“Hold on, baby girl,” Daryl said, cradling the baby. 

“Here dad, you get to clip the cord.” Dante said, handing your husband a pair of surgery scissors. 

Your heart melted as you watched Daryl do so, and then he walked over with the crying baby. Your cheeks were soaked, and your body was in a pain you’d never experienced before without an epidural. 

But when your husband passed you your crying baby, and you held her in your arms, everything was perfect. 

“My baby…” You breathed out, holding her against your skin. You didn’t care your blood was all over her or that she was covered in gunk from the womb. She was here. Safe. Alive. 

Daryl knelt beside you, and you looked at him, smiling through your tears. “We did it.” You cried. 

“I’m so proud of ya,” Daryl choked out, his eyes bouncing back and forth. 

You looked back at your baby and her red face. She was screaming her head off so loud you thought you’d go deaf. But it was music to your ears. She was alive. 

“She’s perfect,” You said to Daryl. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder. 

You gently kissed the baby’s head as Daryl’s hand covered yours under the baby’s back. 

“(Y/N), we gotta get the afterbirth delivered sooner than later. Dante’s gonna take her and get her cleaned up, okay?” 

You looked at the man and then at Daryl. “Go with her,” You said. You gently passed the baby to your husband and got ready to finish the delivery. 

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

[muzzleroars]

What if (in the broken down V1 future) Gabe storms heaven, with the goal to reclaim his own lost light, knowing that he can never be rejoined with it (he is too demon now and the council are dead), but that there is the faintest hope that he could instead use it to ascend v1 in a fashion, using a part of himself that was unfairly taken but could now be given by his own volition.

Plus the Idea of a 'rising' V1 would be really cool (Gabe is such a good influence on it).

Maybe a rising V1 would burn just hot enough to melt gabe's frozen tears?

(see this!)

anon i'm absolutely enamored with the how romantic this is...to go back to heaven to reclaim his lost soul but not for himself, to give it freely as the only way he might save v1. to fully take back everything that was his and perhaps free himself of the lingering torment that he never should have received by finally having true ownership of himself - that light is not god's, not the council's, not heaven's, but his...to be a fallen angel, to be a demon to those in heaven, yet to commit the most selfless act of giving away everything he thought he once was. it plays on the unicorn motif and mirrors the blood he has given so often, to resurrect with his life force and have it reborn as a symbol of his love. and it makes me think, as gabriel has long since become more demonic in form, v1 can gain a bit of angelic grace through his lost light...ohhhh im a baby.....

#i got so soft over this!!!! #giving v1 the breath of life.... #defying all of god's laws to give it immortality if he can #they are not normal about each other and im so glad!!! #thank you anon....love little angel v1 (still gremlin) #cake answers #doodle tag #v1 #rise and fall au

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,746 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: strong language, violence, gore, blood and injury, angsttttt A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 9 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: The group continues through the subway tunnel and runs into trouble with the dead. Coming out on the other side, they set off to resupply and regroup.

Previous Chapter - Part 8

As if the creaking and groaning in the pipes wasn’t bad enough, then you came to the corpses. None of you had seen the massive walker rise up behind Gage and Negan was the first one to spring into action. He managed to pin it up against the wall, but it struggled against him, nearly overpowering him as everyone stood watching. It looked as if Negan wouldn’t be able to hold it. “Ah, shit,” you swore aloud and darted over and stabbed it in the side of the head with your blade with a grunt of effort. It stilled immediately and slid down against the wall at your feet. Negan stumbled back, out of breath. “Jesus...” he murmured, glancing at the slime and skin that had slipped off the enormous rotter with disgust. You didn’t say anything in return and the two of you looked back at the rest of the group. All eyes were on you and Negan. You hung back and kept your mouth shut as the arguing started and rose to a near fatal conclusion.

Things didn’t get any better… It wasn’t long after, when you’d all nearly finished your work on clearing the tunnel, that Alden realized Gage and Roy were gone, along with most of the supplies you’d all set aside.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “This is what all our fucking arguing got us. That’s most of our rations, our batteries for the flashlights. And we’re blocked here anyway,” you said, gesturing to the train car. Negan was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Daryl punching him across the face to shut him up seemed to have made an impression, even if it was mostly to avoid Maggie’s rage overboiling and activating her itchy trigger finger.

There was more discussion about what to do next when Daryl suddenly shushed everyone and held up a hand. Growls, a distinctive sound despite the echo off the arched stone walls. The beams of your flashlights illuminated an approaching herd. Too many to count. Perhaps they’d wandered in to instinctively seek shelter from the storm, some part of their diseased brains compelling them to go underground. Perhaps it was random movement or pure coincidence. Whatever it was, you all snapped into action.

You stood alongside Daryl and the others as you readied your bow. Gabriel and Alden frantically tried to pry open the subway car door, but it was jammed shut. Arrows flew and weapons swung and knives plunged, but there were just too many. By the time Daryl gave the call to fall back you were already splattered with walker blood nearly head to tow.

“Up on top! Go! Go!” Daryl yelled. He ushered you toward the car and gave you a frantic look. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

“You better be,” you said, stretching and reaching for the first handhold you could find. You’d just been hauled to safety with the help of the others when you heard Dog barking and Daryl frantically shouting after him.

“Dog, no! Dog!” Daryl started toward the side where there was a narrow space in the rubble that Dog had apparently run through. You heard him yell to Maggie. “Meet me at the other end!”

“Daryl, wait! No—Daryl, wait!” Maggie’s frantic voice answered. You knew right then what you had to do, and you swung yourself over the back of the subway car and dropped to your feet again, perhaps a bit clumsily. Negan and Maggie looked at you in surprise. Maggie looked fearful.

“See you on the other side,” you shouted over the approaching growls. “You better go! Go! Climb!” you yelled over your shoulder. You darted after Daryl and soon caught up to him just inside the tight tunnel.

“Y/N?” he looked behind himself at your huddled form over the broken concrete. “No—go back! Stay with the others and—ain’t no way to know where this is goin’ or what’s on the other end!”

“I told you—I’m not separating from you if I can help it! Now hurry up. We need to get to Dog,” you said with finality.

Daryl gulped and turned back around, squeezing himself through the debris. You followed closely behind, glancing over your shoulder as if you expected the horde to follow you in. Finally, Dog’s barking was closer and you came upon an opening in the concrete that had clearly been made in the shape of a door. Daryl stepped out and turned around to take you hand and help you. His fingers squeezed around yours gently and he gave you a worried look. “I shoulda listened to ya. I mean fuck Negan, but I shoulda listened to ya. ‘M sorry,” he said, regret thick and heavy on his tongue.

“It’s okay. We’ll be fine. As long as we’re together, right?”

He nodded solemnly and then turned to look at your surroundings. You were in the remains of an underground camp in an old decommissioned tunnel. Dog was panting at Daryl’s side. It was eerie and silent and the air seemed heavy and dank. Daryl lifted the beam of his flashlight and shone it over graffitied words and a sprawling mural depicting a conflict of the classes. You noticed him swallow thickly and saw that his eyes were slightly glassy. You grabbed his hand again and laced your fingers with his and he looked down at it.

Your eyes wandered over the wall again and the detritus of people who were no longer here. “Do you think this is from before or… or after?” you asked him softly.

The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Both,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s see if there’s anythin’ worth takin’ now that most of our supplies are gone.” You nodded and the two of you started to move on slowly, scanning the heaps of moldering sleeping bags and clothes for anything useful. Daryl picked up a small plastic bag. He pulled out a 100-dollar bill and you read it in the glow of his light. Next, his fingers found a Polaroid photo of two smiling kids, a brother and a sister.

Your heart ached and your stomach felt hollow, as if it suddenly contained a chasm of space that was pushign up on your lungs. Daryl’s free hand drifted toward the left breast of his vest beneath his poncho and landed over the Polaroid of the two of you, stitched in safely there. His hand squeezed yours again and then he rolled the plastic bag closed and stuck it into his pack. There was another moment of silence and then he glanced over at you. “Back there. When ya helped Negan—”

You sighed and nodded. “I know. I—Look, I know what he did. He took a father away from his wife and child. He tortured you and who knows how many other people in one way or another… He’s got blood on his hands that will never completely wash off. But in moments like that—” you searched for the right words, hesitating. “I—I can’t just stand by and not help someone who is supposedly on our side now. Even if it is Negan.”

Daryl nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay. Yer—yer a better person than I am,” he drawled, ducking his eyes. His hair fell into his face. “Ya always have been.”

“That’s not true.”

Just then, before you could say anything further, Dog took off in response to unexpected echoing yells and raced to a large drain culvert and jumped inside, paying no attention to Daryl’s shouts.

“Fuck!” Daryl growled, peering inside. His flashlight hardly seemed to penetrate the gloom. He shot an anxious look back at you and then closed his eyes for a long moment when you only nodded stoically. When he opened them again, he climbed in and you slipped inside after him.

The dark was disorienting and the tunnel walls seemed to shrink in around you as you crawled and hunched your way through. The growls and moaning of walkers echoed in the network of metal and stone, bouncing off walls and ricocheting in ways that made it impossible to tell which direction they were coming from. Your knees were scraped and aching from the cobbled stone and metal. Your hands were cold from the moisture pooling in the low, stagnant spots. You could only imagine what the two of you would look like when you emerged at the other end… if you emerged.

Right when you thought you were almost out, there was a sudden growl from an offshoot of the culvert beside you. You looked back just in time to see a gnarled hand shoot out and grip your boot. Some noise of surprise must have escaped you because Daryl was yelling your name. “Y/N! No!”

Your hand fumbled with your sheath and landed on the handle of your knife. You struggled to maneuver in the tight space but after what seemed both entirely too long and lightning speed, you freed yourself from the walker’s grip and lunged with your blade, finding your mark in the skull.

“Are you okay?” Daryl asked desperately, laying on his back, half sitting to look at you. You nodded, gasping in hurried breaths.

There was no time to recover as heavy iron behind him clanged where the exit had just been. More walkers had bumped into the grate, slamming it closed, and they now reached their bony arms through, grappling at the air. “Stay here!” he said gruffly.

“Daryl—!” but he had already pushed himself into the grate, hurling the walkers back as it opened and sending him tumbling down to the floor. You army crawled as fast as you could to the edge of the culvert, gripping his crossbow where he’d left it. But he quickly righted himself and put down the two dead with a few swings of his mace. He glanced up and down the tunnel he’d emerged into before rushing back to take his crossbow onto his shoulder again and to help you out onto your feet. “Are ya good?” he asked you again, studying your face. He couldn’t see any sign of injury. You were both damp from the heavy moisture in the air. Your hair was sticking to your cheeks and your neck. Your eyes were a little wide. He would have clasped your face if his hands weren’t absolutely filthy.

You nodded. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Fine,” he drawled, turning to look into the blackness ahead. Dog’s bark was echoing in the distance. “I dunno what the hell has gotten into him…”

“Let’s go find out,” you said, starting forward again. Daryl walked beside you, clearing on edge. His eyes scanned behind and in front alternately, and then he put out an arm to stop you. His eyes narrowed as he looked ahead toward a dark stain on the ground. He adjusted his grip on his crossbow and stepped protectively ahead of you, shining his light toward the pool that glistened ominously.

You followed just behind him and finally were able to see that it was fresh blood, and not blood from a walker… It was a deep, violent red. Your stomach twisted. “Daryl…”

Suddenly a figure materialized in the dark, staggering toward you. Daryl nearly let a bolt fly, but then he registered that it was Roy right as your breath left your lungs in a puff. He collapsed. The blood was his. Behind him trailed walkers, and in a flash, Dog streaked out of nowhere and took one down, fighting with it ferociously until Daryl could get a shot and it went still.

You pulled out your knife again and rushed one of the others, plunging the blade into its head. Beside you, Daryl dropped his bow and pulled his twin knives from their sheaths in a purposeful movement and he dropped the remaining walker with almost ease.

“Roy!” you said, spinning and hurrying to where he had collapsed. He was covered in blood. “Shit… Shit!” You fumbled with your pack, digging into the front pocket for the med kit. Daryl knelt down beside you and the two of you exchanged a grave look.

Roy let out a wry laugh and coughed up blood onto the concrete. “I can see from your faces that this’ll probably be the last mistake I ever make. Here,” he pulled out his gun and a hand grenade and held them out to Daryl. “Don’t waste any supplies on me. Just—tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.”

You shut your eyes and hung your head. Kids. The man had kids... he was scared and he made a mistake. “Hey. I’m not giving up on you. Come on. Let me patch you up as best I can,” you said.

“Where’s the ammo bag?” Daryl pressed Roy.

“I lost it. And I lost Gage… Please—just—make it quick.” He coughed thickly again.

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “Nah. Ya hang here ‘til we figure this shit out, alright? We’ll come back for ya. Just hang on.”

“We have to get back to the others,” you said, already shouldering your bag again when Daryl was back beside you, greeting Dog happily and scolding him at the same time. “Daryl, he said there are walkers everywhere. What if they’re trapped back there on the subway car still?”

“Yeah… c’mon…”

You were barely there in time. The rest of your group was trapped. On one end, a barricaded door, and on the other a herd of walkers. There were walkers ahead of you too, between you and the barricade, but less than were bearing down on your friends on the other side. You, Daryl, and Dog crept up from behind. You fingered your bowstring, itching to start, an arrow nocked. Daryl loosened his knives and then raised the pistol. You gave him a slow nod to tell him you were ready, and he aimed and pulled the trigger. An arrow whizzed past him and buried itself deeply into the head of the next walker, still covered in the spray of the one whose head had just exploded with Daryl’s bullet. You moved forward swiftly, like a force to be reckoned with, like the storm above, clearing the path to the others. When Daryl ran out of bullets, his knives sang.

He tugged the seat blocking the door out of the way and between him and Negan, they managed to force it open. Your found family poured through. As a final parting, Daryl shoved the hand grenade into the mouth of an advancing walker and kicked it back into the next car, slamming the compartment door closed again. He dove down over you where you were huddled behind a seat, shielding you with his body, as it exploded and vaporized the herd in the next car into nothing more than a sickening spray of gore.

You all slowly rose, glancing around, relieved that you’d managed the narrow escape. Maggie gave you both grateful looks and let out a long exhale. “Thank you. You make a pretty good team,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Wouldn’t mind keepin’ you two around,” Alden joked. Everyone’s hearts lifted, just a little.

Luckily, there were no more surprises during the rest of your underground trip, and you emerged from the station to find that the storm had broken and the sky was clear. An infinite number of stars shown overhead. You found yourself staring, drawing in deep lungfuls of life-giving cool, after-rain air. Daryl was watching you staring. He could see the stars reflected in your eyes—or wait—no. Maybe that was just you shining. Even covered in filth and splattered with walker blood, nothing seemed to dim you.

His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out the 100-dollar bill again, looking at the dark writing and thinking of those two smiling kids in that picture, them huddled around the radio—waiting and hoping. He wondered if they’d made it out, if they’d ever found anywhere safe again. You sank down next to him, close enough that your shoulder and leg were against his. Dog came and sat between your knees and you bent to scratch his chest and kiss the top of his head. Daryl tucked the bill inside his glove and you studied his expression. It was thoughtful and sad. You wished you were alone so you could kiss him right then… Instead, you reached over and rested your hand briefly on the bare skin of his forearm. Your pointer finger swept back and forth, and Daryl glanced over at you again and felt some flickering of warmth start between his lungs again.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were nearly to the hidden supply depot to restock and rest up, when up ahead, something horrific, still encased in deep shadow, loomed. Your inhale was a sharp hiss of breath through your teeth and your hand went reflexively to the handle of your knife. “Daryl…”

A few more steps and it was clear to everyone. Corpses. Rows of corpses, strung up and hanging by their feet. There was one row on each side of the road, lining it like poplar trees on some kind of perverse boulevard. You further loosened your knife in its sheath. “It’s them,” you said. Your voice was steely but Daryl thought he could hear a slight shake in it. “This is them.”

Daryl swung his crossbow off his shoulder and readied it in his hands, squinting ahead into the dark.

Your hand landed on his arm. It felt surprisingly cold and heavy—unlike your usual touch. Or was his perception of you being tainted by the horror show he was staring at? When you spoke again, your voice was more urgent. “We need to get to—” Cover. You’d been about to say “cover.” Too late.

Chaos. Nightmarish, abrupt chaos. Roy dropped to the ground dead with an arrow in his face. Cole’s hand was sliced clean off with a sharp knife that also embedded in his leg. Your group scattered for the trees like frightened rabbits in front of a fox.

“Y/N?!” Daryl whirled, searching for you, but you seemed to have vanished. Yells punctuated the darkness. A draft of air passed his head and he ducked, aware that a knife had flown right past him. He crouched and squinted into the darkness, his heart pounding—was it pounding? Or had it stopped altogether? “Y/N!” he yelled, unable to hear his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears. And just like that—he realized he was seemingly alone, with only Dog nearby. The silence was close, pressing closer, and ominous.

“Okay… okay…” he tried to slow down his racing mind and focus. Where were you? You’d been right beside him when Roy was hit—and then—fuck! It was all too chaotic! He was disoriented in the trees, in the darkness. He felt it all over again—the way your hand and then your fingertips had slipped away… or were pulled? Were you pulled away from him? He shook his head as if that would do fuck all to clear his thinking up. “Focus. Fuckin’ focus,” he muttered to himself, rising from where he was crouching and scanning the ground nearby, hardly daring to step away from the tree he’d been sheltering behind. But he needed to find a trace of you; a track, a scuffmark, a piece of gear, even one of your arrows, or—

He felt a painful jolt rip through him as his eyes landed on a dark splotch in the dirt. He stopped cold. All warmth seemed to leave his veins. He gripped his crossbow with white knuckles. He moved closer and stared at it, bending down on one knee. There was Roy, dead on the ground. Here—he touched a scrape in the dirt—he’d been here… and you. You were just beside him, on the side where that stain glared back at him, looking almost deep purple in the dark and the dust.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare call out for you again, even though every fiber of his being was revolting against his silence. You couldn’t have gone far yet. It’d been only seconds—right? It wasn’t even minutes yet… You had to be nearby still, especially if you were injured. But if he called out, gave away his position—no. He couldn’t get to you, couldn’t help you if he was dead. He stayed silent and it was killing him. It was like Atlanta all over again. You’d been together. And then you were suddenly, cruelly rended apart. He felt your touch slip from him and he willed it not to be the last time he felt your hand on his arm, your skin on his.

Maybe it wasn’t yours. Maybe it wasn’t your blood. Maybe you’d gotten one of them with your knife. He whistled for Dog and pointed to the blood spot. “C’mon. C’mon, boy. We gotta find her. Track. C’mon!”

A sudden rustling in some brush nearby and Daryl rocketed to his feet. A dark clad figure disappeared into the deeper shadow of the woods. “Dog!” He whistled again and signaled for Dog to follow, and they took off at a desperate speed. If you were nearby and injured, he wasn’t going to let this asshole be the one to find you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You pressed your back hard into the bark of the tree behind you. The bite of the ridges and edges barely distracted from the pain as you pressed the sterile gauze into the wound on your side with two fingers. You tasted blood in your mouth from biting down on your cheek in an attempt to stifle any noise that might escape you. Blinding white hot pain and then a deeper streak of ruby red exploded behind your eyes.

Daryl. Where was Daryl? You could still practically feel his arm beneath your hand. Roy had dropped, you’d scattered. He’d been right beside you… and then suddenly The Reapers were on you. You’d felt the icy cold slash of a knife in your side and then it was burning with heat. You’d thrown yourself farther into the trees, moving from the deepest shadow to the deepest shadow.

Behind you, a stick cracked in the deathly quiet and you stopped breathing. Your eyes flew wide open again. Your heart pounded. Your lungs were tight. You turned, angling your ear toward the sound. Someone was walking toward you. It sounded a little jolting, as if they were limping. You hastily pressed a gauze pad down over the packed wound in your side and tugged your shirt down again. It clung to your skin, soaked and sticky with blood. You gulped and gripped the handle of your knife tightly, holding it up near your chest, ready to use it, pressing yourself back against the tree.

The soft steps approached and then hesitated off to your left and you shut your eyes for a brief moment before deciding you’d better be the one to strike first. You gritted your teeth against the pain and leapt to your feet, throwing yourself around the tree trunk at the figure, your blade raised.

But it struck metal and ricocheted off. You nearly doubled over from the excruciating sensations rippling through you from your side. Then, you were shocked when the figure was supporting you, gripping your forearms. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Shit, if it weren’t for my handiness with a goddamn crowbar, you would have just skewered me,” he exclaimed, helping you straighten up.

“Negan,” you said through your gritted teeth, clutching a hand to your side again.

“Yeah, unfortunately it’s just me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes went to the dark stains down the side of your clothes. You noticed his furrowed brow.

“It’s nothing,” you said, doing your best to stand up tall and straight again.

“Yeah, well, that nothing happens to look suspiciously like a pretty fucking serious injury,” he countered. “Or you slipped and fell in somebody’s bucket o’ blood. I wouldn't put anything past these freaks...”

You glared at him. “It’s not life-threatening, is what I meant.”

“Oh, so you don’t need blood. Okay. Got it,” he said sarcastically. “That’s a new one for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut against another jolt of that white hot and violent red pain bursting behind your eyes. “I meant—look, conveniently I was shot once in almost the exact same place, okay? I’ll be fine. There are no major vessels there and no vital organs,” you snapped back.

“Interesting,” Negan nodded. “I’m sure that’s a story I want to hear but now probably isn’t the time.” He gripped your upper arm again as you wavered a little on your feet. “Also, it should be noted that I consider all my organs to be rather fucking vital. Just so we’re clear on that.” You were too distracted by another wave of pain to scoff anything back. “Come on. We’ve gotta get the fucking hell out of here before these psychos find us.”

It was then that you noticed the binding around his leg. You’d be willing to bet no one had gotten away completely unscathed… if they’d gotten away at all. “Wait. The others—did you see what happened to them?” you asked.

His eyebrows lifted. “Roy’s definitely dead. I can tell you that much. That karma sure kicks in fast, doesn’t it? Come on.”

“Wait! No—did you see—did—”

Negan suddenly sighed and his shoulders seemed to sag at the desperate look on your face. He shook his head. “I didn’t see Daryl,” he said, his tone sincere. “But if I’ve learned anything about him over the years—it’s that he, out of everyone, will be A-fuckin’ okay.”

You swallowed at a sudden constriction in your throat. “Fuck,” you muttered, pressing your hand down again over your side. “You’re right. We have to get the fuck out of here, and fast. Can you do fast?” you asked him.

He cocked his head at you. “Can you?”

“I said I’ll be fine. Now, where the fuck do we go?”

“Anywhere but here,” Negan said. He started off away into the trees, a limp in his walk, and you followed after him, slightly hunched, still checking over your shoulder with a knife in one hand.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was nearly light out by the time you came on a dilapidated old house. But there was a solid door and most of the windows were boarded up and Negan didn’t like the gray tinge to your complexion or the cold sweat beading up on your face or neck. His leg also felt as if he was walking around with a giant splinter in the muscle. “I think this is as good as it gets. We better take a rest in here for a while and regroup. We’ve put a good amount of distance between us and that Halloween town.”

You shot him a look, and although you were exhausted and pale, it was still sharp. “Halloween town?” you repeated.

“Yeah, the hanging human piñatas, psychos in masks…” he said, limping up to the door and tapping on it with his crowbar. He paused listening for growls but it was silent, so he wedged the iron edge of the crowbar into the seam and pried. The wood sprung open with a crack.

“Could you not make fucking jokes? We have no idea how many of our people even made it,” you spat at him. You dragged yourself past him and into the house.

“I didn’t say it was a joke,” he countered, stepping in after you and pulling the door shut.

You sunk down against the wall, sliding down against your back, your eyes closed. “Jesus, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you muttered, your eyes closing.

Negan laughed. “No, not really.” He paused, taking in your slumped posture against the wall and the rusty staining on your hand that was pressed over your side. He turned and shut the door again and barricaded it with a heavy old oak desk. Your eyes opened again at the scraping sound and he glanced over at you once he’d finished. He twirled his crowbar in his hands and you could tell he had something on his mind.

You grabbed your pack and started digging in the main pocket again for your canteen. “What?” you prompted him.

“I didn’t really get a chance to thank you for the help in the tunnel—with that fucking behemoth of a walker. Wasn’t about to try and say thanks with the peanut gallery standing around,” he said. "SO, uhh—" he rubbed a hand over his short hair. "Thanks."

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, don’t mention it…” You unscrewed the cap of your water and took a long drink. You nodded at him. “Your leg. How bad is it? I’ve got a few supplies if you need to patch it up.”

His hand strayed over the scrap of fabric binding the wound. “It’s okay. I mean, it hurts like hell but—how did you put it? Non-life threatening. What about you?”

You replaced your canteen and rested your head back against the wall. “I’ll have to stitch it. But it’s fine.”

“I can help you with that. I’ve done a few—”

“Hell no,” you interrupted him. “I’ll do it myself.”

He let out a dry laugh. “What, worried that Daryl will find out I’ve had my hands on you?” You scowled up at him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He flashed you a smile but your face stayed stoic. “Ah, come on. I’m kidding. That’s the farthest thing from my mind right now. …well maybe not the farthest but—”

“Negan, shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ…” You rubbed a hand over the clamminess on your forehead.

He laughed again and nodded. “Sorry. It’s a bit of a nervous habit if I’m being completely honest.” He sank down on a stiff-backed wooden chair in the corner, his leg stretched out and his hazel eyes fixed on you across the room. “I know I’m not your idea of a perfect traveling companion, but I’m on your team here. And to get ourselves out of this shitstorm we’re going to have to work together.”

You sighed again and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

He seemed satisfied with that response and stood up, crossing the space to you and bending down. “Now, about those med supplies…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

That Reaper hadn’t found you, hadn’t gotten to you. But neither had Daryl. And now Dog was in the wind. Daryl had gutted up and found Dog’s trail. His hope was that Dog would lead him to you… or at least someone. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that spot of blood back by the road. He wondered where you were hurt, how badly… What if you were—No. No, that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t going to happen now. Not like this, after fucking finding you again after all these years, after you’d relit the spark in him that had all but gone out. You were going to be fine, and he’d find you. He’d find Dog, and then he’d find you.

In the distance; Dog barking. Daryl took off toward the sound.

But Dog wasn’t alone. One of them. A Reaper.

“Let him go,” Daryl said. His voice was gruff but also soft and tired. There was still danger underneath it however. The Reaper didn’t move. Dog sat calmly beside the figure. Daryl withdrew one of his knives. “I said let him go.”

The figured raised a hand and pulled off their mask and a fabric covering beneath. Daryl felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. His racing heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and stayed there, heavy like a river rock.

Leah. The Reaper was Leah.

Next thing he knew, he was at the end of the barrel of her shotgun again. And then it wasn’t just her. He was surrounded.

A burlap bag thrown over his head. Water poured over his face. And Leah… like a shell. Seemingly unmoved. Unfeeling. Indifferent. Cold. Her words rang in his head. “These people are my family. I came home.”

He was disoriented with the racing of his mind. How could she participate in this fucked up horror show? What the fuck kind of person was she really? Maybe he'd never known her at all... Clearly he hadn't. And yet he needed to convince her he wasn’t a threat, that he didn’t know fuck all about “those people on the road.” He needed to convince her that he still cared about her the way he had. On some level, he did still care about her... maybe that was stupid. It probably was. But this? These people? Killing anyone they saw for no fucking reason? Stringing up dead people on the roadside? This was insanity. This was almost inhuman.

And all the while, you flashed in his mind's eye. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

When they dragged him to a chain link cell, more like a cage, he saw the shape of you in the sheets beside him in his mind’s eye. When they pulled him out to question him endlessly, he heard your voice saying his name, heard your laugh. As he sat alone on the cold cement floor, he could imagine the feel of you under his hands, the shape of you, the taste of your lips, the smell of your skin and scent of your hair. As the water drowned him, pressing the burlap over his nose and mouth, he saw the sun shining off your hair as you grabbed DJ into a hug. DJ. Now he saw DJ too. His son.

When Leah came and talked softly to him in his cell, he forced himself to say things he didn’t mean, a nauseous churning in his stomach. His heart felt hollow as he tried to sound convincing. When the time was right, he gave her something. That’s when it started.

The fire came next.

Pope came after.

And Daryl was embedded deep, with only you and the rest of his family on his mind, even while he tried his goddamn best to make Leah believe that she was the only thing in this world he cared about besides Dog. It felt like willingly drinking poison.

A/N: I fucking loooove writing redeemed!Negan and was so stoked to have him and Y/N team up in this fic. He's just so damn fun to write, and something about the dynamic of him taking care of Daryl's love is achingly good and delicious. Hope you enjoyed so far! Can't wait to get you all the next update!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #the reapers #negan smith

[cringemesstickles]

Honey Sweet Laughter

(TickleTober Day 16: Unusual Spot)

Summary: Gabriel discovers a new tickle spot on his boyfriend

Pairing: Sabriel

Word Count: 709

A/N: Some Sabriel tickles because they’re adorable

Anyway, ticklish arms are so underrated, goodbye

———————————————————

One of the first things Gabriel learned about Sam Winchester was that he was incredibly ticklish. Obviously, this would come in handy for a trickster such as himself, and he uses it against his serious boyfriend every chance he gets.

As soon as he learned about Sam’s sensitivity, he quickly found all of his tickle spots.

Or so he thought…

On one lazy evening, the couple was huddled together on the bunkers sofa, enjoying some alone time on a day off.

Gabriel leaned in close and gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek, delighting in the warmth of his presence.

“I told you a rest day was a good idea.” Said the archangel, grabbing the taller man’s hand and giving it a kiss.

Sam giggled and leaned into the touch, melting at the sensation of warm lips on his soft skin.

“Alright, I’ll admit it… for once, you had a good idea.” He teased lightly, earning a theatrical gasp from Gabriel.

“All of my ideas are good ones and I am offended that you seem to think otherwise!”

Sam giggled again, amused by his lover’s theatrics.

To Gabriel, the sound was like a drug, addictive, always leaving him wanting more. It was a sound so sweet, it could give honey a run for it’s money.

Gabriel did always have a sweet tooth.

Overfilled with affection, the archangel brought Sam’s wrist to his lips and started littering the skin with quick, playful kisses, traveling upwards to the delicate skin of his inner elbow.

The sensation sent sparks through Sam’s arm, drawing out a surprised gasp, followed by a storm of titters.

“Gahahabe! T-That tickles!” The hunter lightly tugged at his arm, his stomach filling with butterflies.

Gabriel froze and looked up at his boyfriend’s smiling face, utterly delighted by the reaction.

“Oh? A new tickle spot, you say?” He kept a firm grip on Sam’s wrist and used his other to spider his fingers from the wrist to the crook of the elbow, prompting the muscles to twitch and shake.

Sam let his head fall back against the couch, letting out sounds that could only be described as angelic.

“Just when I thought I had found all your tickle spots~”

Sam’s laughter reached a new pitch when Gabriel started nuzzling the soft skin. He never knew such a light touch could be so ticklish, but as his boyfriend continued to nuzzle, the slight stubble brushing against the inside of his elbow, he couldn’t deny the overwhelming happiness that the sensation brought.

“Aww, does this tickle? Who knew you could be sooo sensitive in such a strange spot~” Cooed Gabriel, switching back to peppering chaste kisses all over his lover’s arm.

Sam couldn’t help but blush, the teasing getting under his ticklish skin and chasing his blood to the surface.

“You’re s-so embahaharrassing!”

Gabriel’s eyes had that flare to them, signaling that he was up to something.

“You think that tickles? How about this!”

Quick as a hare, he sucked in a breath and blew a sharp raspberry right on the sensitive skin, prompting Sam to jerk his arm and squeal.

“GABE, NOHOHOO!” Sam protested through peals of laughter, the blissful smile on his face betraying how he truly felt.

Gabriel could never put into words how he felt about the hunter before him. In his entire celestial life, he had never loved anything as much as he loved Sam.

Deciding he’d tortured his lover enough, the archangel released his arm and pulled away, eyes filled with love for the blushing mess in front of him.

He leaned in and pulled Sam into a warm, gentle kiss, relishing in the way Sam’s giggles felt against his lips.

When they parted, be it reluctantly, they looked at each other with all the love in the universe, content smiles adorning their faces.

“I love you… even when you embarrass the life out of me.”

Gabriel grinned and gave the hunter one last kiss on the nose, admiring the soft chuckle that escaped Sam’s lips.

“Love you too, my big brave hunter.”

They spent the rest of their night cuddling, letting themselves bask in the serenity of the moment.

And if more tickles took place, that’s a secret for just them to share.

#mess writes #tickletober2023 #tickletober #augtickletober2023 #tktober2023 #tktober #lee!sam #lee!sammy #ticklish!sam #ticklish!sammy #ler!gabriel #sabriel #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickling #spn tickling #spn tickles #spn tickle fic #tickle community #tword content #sfw tickling #tickles #tickle fic #sabriel tickle fic

[gabriel-xander]

I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 5

[Scaramouce x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

{Also on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 5: Played Like The Cheap Kazoo You Are

One thing you can appreciate about Scaramouche is his guts. That man has nerves of steel like you wouldn't believe. And in an act of mercy, you were allowed to look away during his massacre.

"Help me gather them up."

".................I don't want to-"

"-HUH!?"

"My Lord, with all due respect..." You grimace with judgement as he hauls the bloody boar over his shoulder with ease, "That's really fucking gross."

"Quit your bitching. I already did you the favor of not helping me kill these things," Scaramouche frowns, "I order you to help me carry these back to the camp."

You roll your eyes before grabbing the other dead boar by the legs, swinging it over your shoulder.

"It's a Goddamn miracle that I haven't beaten the shit out of you yet," The Harbinger comments while you whine about the blood.

You deadpan, "I must be blessed."

It was the next morning of staying with Isaac, Ivan, and Noah, the Treasure Hoarders that had been so kind to allow you and Scaramouche to stay with them.

Noah was a person of interest; he was one the Treasure Hoarder's that was responsible for your misfortune. He didn't seem to recognize you both as Fatui, hopefully it stays that way for a while longer. You two are hoping that bringing them food and furs would get them to trust you a little more.

You wince in pain and stop walking for a moment, breathing through your nose to calm your nerves. Your injury still hurts, you haven't gotten the opportunity to properly heal yourself yet.

"What's the matter with you?" Scaramouche turns around when he notices you stopped.

"Nothing, My Lord," You sigh, starting your walk once more, "Just wondering how we'll learn anything from Noah."

He frowns, "Any ideas?"

"I don't know, I thought... He showed, like... a fraction of interest in me, I thought I could use, like... my woman-ness on him?"

"...Your what??"

"My womanly charms! I don't know! Seduce him or whatever!"

"..." Scaramouche squints at you with disbelief, "You want to whore yourself out to get some intel?"

You scoff, "Well, when you say it like that-"

"-No, you're not doing that," Scaramouche protested, "Anyway, you can't do that even if you wanted to. I told him you were my girlfriend."

Oh, right.

You sigh, "And I thought I would be able to forget about it easily."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You shake your head, "Nothing, forget it. I don't really have any ideas, anyway."

You adjust your hold on the dead animal as you two walk in angry silence. Not a day goes by that you wish you were literally anywhere else but here. Hopefully Scaramouche had a plan, you honestly didn't know where to go from here.

"You might have to whore out." He says suddenly.

"Ah, so like a normal day then."

"......What?"

"I'm joking."

You were not.

"I liked it better when you didn't talk," The Balladeer huffs.

"Honestly, me too."

——

You and your superior had to stay another night with the Treasure Hoarders as the storm came back that evening. Luckily, you were all able to relocate to a small cave nearby before it got too bad. That also meant you did most of the heavy lifting as you're a strong, independent woman who don't need no man.

Scaramouche sat close by the fire to make sure it didn't die, and to try and eavesdrop on Isaac, Ivan, and Noah. You sat by the fire as well, but you were more focused on the letter you were writing to your best friend, Kazuki.

Which is fucking stupid, Nao!! It literally means Pants! The Tsaritsa is epic and all, don't get me wrong. But fucking Pantalone??? She couldn't give him a better title?? This has been bothering me forever and I need to say it if no one else will!!

With that said, yes. I DO want to wear a suit when we go see your sister in Sumeru soon. We should totally match, too. Maybe she'll think we're together and finally leave you alone about you being a lonely fuck.

Speaking of which, you know what Lord Scaramouche did?? The audacity of some bitches, I swear to the Gods-

"[Y/n]."

"Hm?" You lift your head, making eye contact with Scaramouche who was across from you, "Yes, Kuni?"

He scrunches his nose, "Kuni?"

You look around, finally noticing that it was just you and him. "Oh, damn. Where did they go?"

"Gods, you're such an airhead."

You smack your lips at his comment, "Did you need something, Kunikuzushi?"

He rolls his eyes, "They left so I can attend to your wound. Get over here so I can clean it."

You sigh, setting down your paper and pencil while making sure it won't suddenly fly into the fire. It would be too inconvenient to rewrite it all. You start removing your coat and shirt as you walk around the fire to sit by Scaramouche.

He works silently and efficiently. You've never seen this man bleed or bruise before, and his body is a little abnormally solid. You doubt he's ever taken an injury based on his seemingly perfect skin.

And yet... You've never once had a wound so gently attended to the way Scaramouche is doing now.

"What were you writing? A report?" He asks, confusing you as he hates small talk.

"Uh, a report on my feelings and emotions, yeah."

"You keep a diary?"

"Ew, no," You quickly reject the notion, "I'm writing to Kazuki. He works under Lord Ch-erm, Lord Tartaglia."

"You should keep your work life and personal life separate."

"You're the one who asked, sir."

"Whatever."

You had to bite your tongue as he cleaned your injury. The pain was bearable, but you were also a little bitch that likes to whine at any minor inconvenience. You hate the silence, and you wish you can at least hum to yourself, no matter if you're good at singing or not, but you know damn well that you already showed too much personality to this bitch ass man.

"Hey!!"

"The fuck?!"

You jerk around to glare at your boss with a flustered expression, "Can you not do that?!"

Scaramouche holds his hands up in confusion, "The hell are you talking about?!"

"You-When you just–" You mimic his previous action with your hands mid-air, moving your hands slowly in a similar silhouette of your own figure, "–The way you ran your hands up and down my sides! It-It was way too gentle!!"

By the look on his face, you can tell that even Scaramouche wasn't aware that he was doing it. He must've been lost in thought and did it subconsciously.

"I-I-"

"-Some people are ticklish, okay!!" You huff out in frustration, "Next time you do something like that, keep that in mind!"

"..."

"..."

You can practically see the cogs turn in his head. You raise an eyebrow.

That... is not what he thought you were upset about. Whether you were saving him from the embarrassment of being caught admiring how nice your skin is, or you genuinely thought he did it by accident, he didn't know.

And frankly? He didn't have the guts to find out the truth.

"Uh, okay. I'll–keep that in mind..."

You nod in satisfaction. You look down at your side, poking at the gauze taped over your wound.

"You're done, right? Thanks!"

You stand up and reach over to grab your shirt when the Universe decides it wants to mess with you just a little more. Isaac, Ivan, and Noah enter the tent laughing with each other, though they quiet down when they see you without your shirt and only your arm covering your titties.

You all stare at each other in silence, the three men becoming more red and flustered the longer they stare, and Scaramouche gains an unreadable expression. Your gaze flickers to him, trying to remind him that "hey, you're supposed to be my boyfriend, probably do something?"

Reading what you had in mind, finally the Balladeer catches on and stands up with a pissed off look.

"THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!?! GET OUT!!"

"SORRY!!!"

———— Two Months Later ————

You slam the empty shot glass down on the counter, your gaze mindlessly wandering off to nothing in particular as you try desperately to forget the things you've seen today.

Scaramouche is not known for his patience, and out of all the Harbingers, he's definitely the least likable. But there's something you didn't think you'd ever take for granted, and that was his strange consideration for your feelings when it comes to-

"Cheer up, [L/n]. It wasn't that bad."

You roll your eyes and motion for the bartender to come over. "Easy for you to say. Some of us have morals and values, especially when it comes to human lives."

The bartender pours you your fourth shot of the night, you're finally beginning to feel a little tipsy from drinking straight Fire Water. You knock it back like a champ and semi-slam the glass back down.

"Ouch, is that judgment I hear?"

You look at your temporary comrade with a deadpan look, "What do you think, Soto?"

He laughs at your words, not feeling perturbed at all.

Amatista Soto, a man born and raised in Natlan only to somehow get involved with the Fatui. You don't know his story, other than the fact he has a Pyro vision and is most likely a fucking sociopath. You don't doubt that the only reason he joined the Fatui was so that he could kill people under the protection of the Fatui and the Tsaritsa.

His skin is medium brown with a beauty mark under his right eye. His very wavy hair was always tied back in a low ponytail, but that didn't make it look neater. He always wore an Iris flower behind his right ear, too. You have to admit that it brought out his vibrant eyes, the color of amethyst. That's probably how he was named, too.

You hated that he was attractive with a tall, large build. Made you hate him even more because how are you going to be a hot motherfucker who's so evil-

Under orders of Pierro, Scaramouche was sent somewhere unknown. You tried asking the Balladeer of his soon-to-be whereabouts, but all he did was shake his head in response. In the meantime, he ordered you to assist any other Harbinger so that your skill isn't wasted while you wait for him to come back.

——

"And... when WILL you be back, sir?" You had asked the day he left, accidentally showing concern.

Scaramouche sighed and shook his head, "I don't know. But... My advice is: don't wait for me. I could be gone for a VERY long time."

"Oh... O-Okay," You nodded, "Good luck, sir. And be careful."

He smirked, "You almost sound like someone who cares. Don't let me catch you getting soft again, [L/n]."

"Hmph! In your dreams."

——

After dealing with Noah and the other Treasure Hoarders (a memory you desperately are trying to forget due to how it ended), you started working under various Harbingers (minus Childe since he was still in Liyue).

Well, every Harbinger other than Dottore, though. You don't understand Scaramouche's resentment to the second Harbinger, but you don't question his demands as he is your superior.

Currently, you are working under the Knave, or at least, you think you are? You haven't been given direct orders from her yet, and the most you have done for her so far is fucking paper work.

"I'm going back to the Zapolyarny Palace," You sigh, pushing yourself off the stool, "Then I'm going to pass the fuck out."

"Have a good night!" "Bah."

———— Two Months Later ————

You wait patiently by the door for La Signora to be finished talking with Pantalone about some fundings, Il Dottore was with them, too. You were about to head off to Fontaine with Arlecchino, but she tells you there's a sudden change of plans, and that she was handing you off to the Fair Lady.

You were so lucky that your mask was hiding your deadpan expression. You asked her why you were suddenly being handed off to the 8th Harbinger, but Arlecchino just dismisses you with "she needs a new assistant since her last one died in Mondstadt."

...

HOW REASSURING!!

You were zoning out, a skill you learned in the Fatui so that you can be oblivious to the Harbinger's business. Unless it involves you directly, you don't want to know what their personal goals are.

You start to gnaw at your bottom lip. You are curious about this "Traveler" you keep hearing about, though. Apparently, La Signora has had an encounter with this blond haired person and their flying fairy while snatching the Gnosis from poor Barbatos. Barbatos... Barbie toes... Barbs... Barbara...

"Are you deaf?"

"Huh?"

You blink rapidly and look at who's talking to you.

La Signora, Pantalone, and Il Dottore were just staring at you now. Pantalone and the Doctor looked amused at your obliviousness. La Signora? Not so much.

"Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought," You hold up the small stack of papers, "Here is the proper documentation on my temporary recruitment. I look forward to working with you, my Fair Lady."

"Hmph," The 8th Harbinger doesn't bother with the papers even though she requested them, "The Balladeer spoke highly of your abilities despite not having a Vision or a Delusion. So tell me, what exactly is it about you that is so praise worthy?"

"I was surprised as well to hear how high he puts you in regards. I never heard of a Harbinger having this much trust in anyone, even more so in a low ranking Fatui," Pantalone comments, "Then we hear from the Knave that you are quite competent, even in her standards?"

"It is hard not to be curious." Il Dottore adds.

"To be frank, I am just his secretary more than anything else. I take care of all his paperwork, I'm his messenger, I'm the commander of his Skirmishers, and I give orders to the lower ranks on his behalf." You shake your head, "Very seldomly would I go out on the front lines myself. I can probably count the amount of times I went into battle myself on both hands."

Which to the normal person, that is a lot. But for a Fatui? That's practically zero. And in all honesty, for anyone else, it'd be unacceptable.

Scaramouche is not known for his patience, and out of all the Harbingers, he's definitely the least likable. But there's something you didn't think you'd ever take for granted, and that was his strange consideration for your feelings when it comes to violence,

Never once had he actually forced you to hurt someone if you didn't want to, and he never made you kill anyone either. Anytime you had to hurt someone, it was self defense. And anytime you kill someone...

Well, you do your best to repress those memories.

Working for the other Harbinger's made you realize you took that silent consideration for granted. Since all these fuckers want from you is violence.

"I see. So it's safe to say you are what makes him look good from the shadows," Pantalone puts a hand to his chin.

"Not at all. Lord Scaramouche has done a lot more than I. Really, I only take care of the boring things." You redirect your attention to the woman, "If I may, my Fair Lady, can I know why you have requested my assistance so suddenly?"

"Simple really. I haven't gotten the chance to personally witness what makes you so great. It'd be a shame if you went off to Fontaine for who knows how long before I got the chance to use you."

Mmmm pues.

"I-I see. Well, I hope I can meet your expectations," You force a smile, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yes, pack your things," La Signora smirks slyly, "We're going to Liyue."

....

SHIIIT.

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #original character #genshin impact #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #short story #IWYDI Fanfiction #la signora #genshin signora #dottore #pantalone #only a brief mention tho #sadge #no beta we die like signora

[strandnreyes]

thanks for tagging me @welcometololaland @wandering-night19 @three-drink-amy !!

“Want to be on sock duty?” TK asks him with no pressure, but as something for him to do.

His eyes look a little glassy and his cheeks are rosy like he’s trying to keep his emotions at bay. He clears his throat. “Sure,” he says, slowly digging through the basket to pair their socks while TK folds the rest of the clothes.

When they’re done, TK leans over and kisses the top of his head. “Why don’t you go take a bath?” he offers. The storm has died down to just rain for the time being and though it would probably feel good on Carlos’ weary body, TK’s really just trying to give him an out.

Carlos looks five seconds away from crying and if he doesn’t want to do it in front of TK, that’s fine. As long as he does it. TK would prefer that Carlos would just let himself be held right here, but he’s not going to force it.

Carlos takes up his suggestions and the water runs behind the ajar bathroom door while TK puts their clean clothes away in the bedroom. When he’s done, he starts looking for a movie to watch when Carlos is back out here. He’s not sure if he’s aiming for something that Gabriel might’ve liked or something so far removed from that, but when he hears a heartbroken sob from the bathroom, he abandons it all together.

“Baby?” He knocks softly on the slightly open door, not wanting to take away his sense of privacy. “Can I please come in?”

Carlos’ responding ‘yes’ is quiet and TK is crouched next to the tub a second later. Carlos’ face is buried in his hands, but TK doesn’t have to see his eyes to know how much pain he’s in. He sniffles once and then coughs, like he’s trying to stop another sound from escaping him that’s as wounded as the first one was. He resists TK’s attempts to try to pull his arms back a little and TK doesn’t think twice before stepping into the tub next to him, clothes and all.

“TK?” Carlos calls out, sounding a little strangled.

“Shh,” TK quiets him, maneuvering him into his arms. “Shut up. Let me hold you.”

“Your jeans are wet,” he says weakly and TK shakes his head, kissing Carlos’ head and temple before pressing Carlos’ face into his neck.

tagging @thisbuildinghasfeelings @tailoredshirt @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @rosedavid @rmd-writes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @catanisspicy @heartstringsduet @hoko-onchi-writes @basilsunrise @bonheur-cafe @beautifulhigh @paperstorm @freneticfloetry @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript + anyone else!!

#911 lone star #tarlos #wip wednesday

[nauranor]

closed starter for ; @bludstaine ( mina )

it truly felt like one thing after another as of late. smiles and finery were worn as a courtesy to the nobility of all three kingdoms before a scream run out and people were either rushing out of the banquet, or being ushered away by armed guards. still; as much as their father pit them against one another, as much as gabriel most likely could infer that mina probably saw it easier over the years if he was out of the picture entirely, he cared deeply for his twin.

a few days had passed and the prince found himself waving off the watch that stood by her door, even firing one a glare that dared hold his hand up to try and stop him, knocking on the gilded wood to make his presence known. "get your riding leathers." he said, pushing it open as he flitted into the room with a soft smirk upon his face. "i know that you're most likely still in your head about the whole betrothal situation, and we all know that father isn't going to let you complain about it either. so, we're going somewhere nice and remote for you to scream your lungs out. oh-- hello, by the way."

#storm of blood ; gabriel. #interaction ; mina.

[stvlti]

linger like a sandwalk - a playlist for Dune Part Two

I'm back 💃 after 2 years of not posting new playlists for my fandoms 💃 this new Dune movie is living in my head rent free 😮‍💨 of course I had to make fanmix for this one to try and consolidate my thoughts.

Tracks ⏏️

Bloodline -- Gabriels  //  No Church in the Wild -- Jay-Z & Kanye West  //  Mary Magdalene -- FKA Twigs  //  Pink Matter  -- Frank Ocean  //  Smother -- Daughter  //  Say You'll Go -- Janelle Monáe  //  A Time of Quiet Between Storms (Dune Part Two OST) -- Hans Zimmer  //  Your Blood -- Nothing But Thieves  //  The River -- Kero Kero Bonito  //  Bad Religion -- Frank Ocean  //  Telekinesis -- Travis Scott ft. SZA & Future  //  Transform -- Daniel Caesar ft. Charlotte Day Wilson

Meta ⏏️

An explanation of the song choices & related thoughts on the film *

(*) I still have not read the book *lies down* As soon as life slows down I swear I will. The 2 Denis Villeneuve films combined already make for a rich narrative and storyworld however, and this playlist is very much based on that.

▶️ Bloodline -- Gabriels

It's the bloodline This thing came before you Bloodline

I wanted to open this playlist on something that gets right at (one of) the core themes of Villeneuve's Dune, and to me that is the idea of bloodlines, legacies and self-fulfilling prophecies.

Birth rights can be stole Truth is you were always alone Tears in your hands Seems you lost before you began Your ancestors' blood fed the soil and the sand

I think a point that many filmgoers miss - and is also a point I missed on my first viewing of Part Two - is that the Lisan Al Gaib prophecy and Paul's claim to it is wholly manufactured. Upon rewatch, several lines in the 2 films jumped out to me: 'On Arrakis, a path has been laid' (Mother Mohiam in Part One), and first Paul (during his first meal in Sietch Tabr) and then Lady Jessica's declaration that they must persuade the non-believers that he is the Lisan Al Gaib so as to ensure their continued survival among the Fremen. Irulan's later commentary, 'these are our religious patterns', cemented this fact for me. We are reminded that The Bene Gesserit has sent missionaries to the Fremen over decades and centuries, creating the religious circumstances for Paul to consolidate power among the natives. He has as much a claim to the title of the Mahdi / Lisan Al Gaib as any other outerworlder from the Houses of the Imperium - that is to say, he isn't really the Chosen One. 'Birth rights can be stole', and this is a birth right he stole.

Yet, he does undoubtedly hail from his mother's Bene Gesserit lineage and, through consuming the Water of Life, inherit the ancestral memories of both his masculine and feminine forebearers from both the royal bloodlines and the Fremen lineage of Reverend Mothers. (We see this during the montage after he takes the WoL, falling through a super cut of the faces of the Fremen Reverend Mothers who came before him before eventually finding a vision of Alia on the sand dunes.) His 'ancestors' blood fed the soil and the sand' on which he now stands as the (false) prophet that will lead his Fremen tribe to ruin...

It's the bloodline Don't let it destroy you Bloodline

... and in ascending to the title of the Mahdi, he will undoubtedly lose everything that made him Paul the individual in the first place. Greater prophecies, plans and conspiracies will eclipse his humanity. This is the real bloodline that drives him to war and genocide. 'Don't let it destroy you' - but maybe it's already too late.

▶️ No Church in the Wild -- Jay-Z & Kanye West

I mean, come on, this song choice is just too obvious isn't it?

Human beings in a mob What's a mob to a king? What's a king to a God? What's a God to a non-believer who don't believe in anything? Will he make it out alive? Alright, alright No church in the wild

'Mob' = the Fremen and their Fedaykin guerilla troops. 'King' = Rabban, and later Feyd-Rautha, and the Harkonnen regime. 'God' = Paul as Mahdi and Muad'dib, the desert terrorist. 'Non-believer' = Chani and her brethren among the Northern skeptics.

But the sonical landscape of this song also played a huge part in my inclusion of the song on this list. I'm a lover of words before all else, but something about Dune made me want to curate a sonically coherent playlist that accompanies the story in lyrics as much as it does in sound. The grueling, forward momentum of this song's iconic beat lends itself to the raids the Fedaykin warriors launched against the Harkonnen-controlled spice fields.

▶️ Mary Magdalene -- FKA Twigs

In my head I call this the quintessential Bene Gesserit song. Listen, and read the lyrics:

A woman's work A woman's prerogative

The song makes it clear from the very first lines that it's about the woman's birthright and sovereignty. Most of the Bene Gesserit ladies we see in this film have roots in the royal bloodlines themselves. In that, they have a claim to a particular prerogative. Yet they also actively govern the domain of procreation, descendancy, succession, and survival of royal bloodlines. That is the nature of 'a woman's work' in this storyworld.

A woman's touch, a sacred geometry I know where you start, where you end How to please, how to curse Yes, I learnt you needed me Yes, I'm here to open you Yes, I know that your heart is blue (So cold)

FKA Twigs' darkly seductive vocals paired with this particular verse really evokes that entire Lady Fenring/Feyd-Rautha sequence.

I fear before the fire True as Mary Magdalene Creature of desire Come just a little bit closer to me Step just a little bit closer to me

The seduction continues here, but there's power inherent in the 'creature of desire' Mary Magdalene represents. Her story and her iconography bears a heavy resemblance to the Bene Gesserit sisters and their relationships with the men of the Imperium and its court.

I can lift you higher I do it like Mary Magdalene I want you to say it Come just a little bit closer 'til we collide

A woman's hands So dark and provocative A nurturing breath that could stroke Your divine confidence

I really fuck with the Mary Magdalene allegory in this song, and the chorus nails the mythos and authority she commands in modern reimaginings of her figure in relation to Jesus' mythos. Yet there's something softer in the latter half of the chorus - the devotion she shows to her partner is on equal footing, less of manipulation and more of the muse she can be for him to realise his full potential. With the arrival of the second verse we truly see how important she is to a man's dominion. 'A nurturing breath that could stroke [His] divine confidence': that is the power of Lady's Jessica's love for and devotion to Leto Atreides.

A woman's war Unoccupied history True nature won't search to destroy If it doesn't make sense

Of course, it would be remiss of me not to point out that certain parts of the Bene Gesserit's characterisation functions as a manifestation and perpetuation of Frank Herbert's very of-its-time misogynistic, gender essentialist ideas of a woman's station and the (only) avenue through which she derives her power in the material world - her womb. (Miss me with that radical feminist bs.) But we also see, in the film, Princess Irulan's character: a female historian whom the film suggests would have been happier free from the trappings of the Bene Gesserit programme and her Imperial lineage. 'A woman's war; unoccupied history': Mary Magdalene is a prime example of how for most of history, women are often anonymous (as that Virginia Woolf saying goes), their histories are often erased and deemed as unimportant; Irulan's inner thoughts and history are also cast aside and given no voice in the Dune narrative, but in an ironic twist, she dedicates her life to documenting the history of others.

▶️  Pink Matter -- Frank Ocean

What do you think my brain is made for? Is it just a container for the mind? This great, grey matter Sensei replied, "What is your woman? Is she just a container for the child?" That soft, pink matter

This song provides more of a male - or at least, androgynous - perspective on the question of the Bene Gesserit breeding programme ('Is she just a container for the child?' / 'My God, she's giving me pleasure'). But it gets right at the core of the question of whether the women in this universe, and the avenue through which they gain power, is truly confined to being 'just a container for the child'. I also really liked the direct parallels Frank Ocean's lyrics draw between the womb (pink matter) and the mind (grey matter), as the other main source of power Jessica drives from is through her mind and the prescience becoming the Reverend Mother has afforded her.

▶️ Smother -- Daughter

In my head I call this Lady Jessica's song.

I want all that is not mine I want him, but we're not right In the darkness, I will meet my creators And they will all agree that I'm a suffocator

I think it's more intimate than either of the 2 songs that come before this one, and centres Jessica squarely in her role as a mother before her place as a Bene Gesserit sister. She knows she will meet her creators - the generations of mothers and Bene Gesserit sisters who came before her - and she knows they will disapprove of the path she has manipulated to suit her ends, first for Duke Leto (in bearing him a son) and then for her son's survival (in spreading propaganda of him as the Lisan Al Gaib among the Fremen tribes). Now I know that the films sort of reduce her to a one-dimensional villain in Part Two, but I've heard that she is a lot less gungho about their little homegrown personality cult of Paul as the Lisan Al Gaib / Mahdi in the book. In fact, his accelerated transformation into a religious figurehead and his willingness to exploit the Fremen for that, at the cost of his own humanity, seems to be an unintended outcome that she regrets. She has unwittingly become a 'suffocator', in that regard - a mother killing her own child's humanity in his metaphorical cradle as soon as she exposed him to tales of the prophecy.

Oh love I'm sorry if I smothered you I sometimes wish I'd stayed inside My mother

▶️  Say You'll Go -- Janelle Monáe

Say you'll go to Nirvana Will you leave Samsara? Or in the words of Dhammapada, "Who will lead? Who will follow?" Our love will sail in this ark The world could end outside our window Let's find forever And write our name in fire on each others' hearts

Something about Janelle's crooning vocals against the symphonic strings and melodies just makes this a timeless love song. I love including it in for my ships 🥺 and I think it rather fits PaulChani, the star-crossed lovers that they are. 'Let's find forever' is my 'I will love you as long as I breathe'.

But of course, the question of whether Paul will go south looms over their heads like the Sword of Damocles. 'Will you leave Samsara? ... Who will lead? Who will follow?'

▶️  A Time of Quiet Between Storms (Dune Part Two OST)

Among the Dune OST, this song holds a higher and special place in my heart because of the way it celebrates their first on-screen kiss, but is also used as a reprise of sorts at the end of the film as Chani walks out on Paul. It's a bittersweet track. And it's lived in my mind rent free much the same way that last shot of Chani, with her quivering lips and angry eyes, has.

This brings me to the name of the playlist: the PaulChani tragedy, and just, the film as a whole, has definitely lingered in my mind. It has dragged against my thoughts gently, but persistently like the rhythm of a sandwalk.

I also chose to place it in the middle of playlist to sever it into 2 parts, much the same way the film is severed into 2 parts: before Paul undergoes the Water of Life ritual, when he is still an idealistic boy who actively rejects the title of the Mahdi for fear of the wartorn future he's foreseen, and afterwards, when he claims the mantle of the Mahdi.

▶️  Your Blood -- Nothing But Thieves

You know it's your blood that I bleed Tell me that there's some way that I'll get through the night I carry your moral disease I don't wanna be something I'm not to stay alive

You guys don't know how long I've wanted to put this song on a fanmix!! I've called this Joey Wilson/Jericho's song from the moment I heard it 😂 but I think the same themes can be found in Paul's story too, specifically his first scene right after recovering from the Water of Life ritual. 'We're Harkonnens.' And his realisation that that's how they'll survive: by becoming Harkonnens. It's the Baron's blood that he bleeds, and conflicted as he is about that, eventually he'll come to realise that he has to 'be something I'm not to stay alive'.

▶️  The River -- Kero Kero Bonito

Holy mother Receive our hearts in your arms And let our souls pass The day the rain returns again

These 4 lines are repeated throughout the song, almost like a prayer. It reminds me of the way Stilgar holds onto those same 4 words, 'As it was written', throughout the film as an affirmation of his religious convictions - the belief that the true Mahdi will bring paradise one day and with it, the rain.

When Earth is submerging And heaven is open The river will carry all of us to Where we belong ... Then a torrent crashes down Releasing the jungle swelling in the ground And as was foretold our time is out

▶️  Bad Religion -- Frank Ocean

If it brings me to my knees It's a bad religion This unrequited love To me, it's nothing but a one-man cult And cyanide in my styrofoam cup I can never make him love me Never make him love me

This song places us in Chani's pov. To her, Paul's meteoric rise of notoriety among the Fremen is 'nohting but a one-man cult'. She loved him as he was - an outsider who stayed humble and learnt her ways, and earned a place among her Fedaykin brethren. But as a power-tripping outerworlder claiming to be the Mahdi - she doesn't recognise him, and she 'can never make him love [her]' again, not as the man he has become.

▶️  Telekinesis -- Travis Scott ft. SZA & Future

I could've took the pain and I could've went out sad Streets stepped in and raised me, but I ain't have my daddy

So I'm gonna be honest: this is actually the track that started this entire project for me 🙈 But you see it, right? Travis Scott as Paul's voice, and SZA as Chani's...

I can see the future, it's lookin' like we level through the sky I can't wait to live in glory in eternal lastin' life

The fact that 'I can see the future' is the refrain of this song. In its original context I'm almost certain that Travis meant it less literally, and more in the realm of being able to guess the trajectory of his career as he continues to top the charts as a hip hop superstar. But it lends well to the context of Paul's religious myth-making as well. 'Eternal lasting life' and all that.

How can I sleep when you're out catchin' bodies? I still wanna be with you, trust me, I know that's insane ... We both ain't shit and it's workin' for me Workin' for me, yeah I can see the future, I can see the future

The thing that breaks my heart about the ending of the film is that you can see Chani still loves Paul, but not who he has become. I also like that the song flips the refrain around and has SZA sing it too. Except when she says, 'I can see the future', she says it self-deprecatingly. It's a future of more heartbreak and betrayal (by way of mutual infidelity) and ruin.

▶️  Transform -- Daniel Caesar ft. Charlotte Day Wilson

If a leopard never changes its spots How can I change what I've got? Transform, transform, transform, transform We don't punish the tiger for catching its prey So how am I the one to blame? If it's in my nature Transform, transform, transform, transform

One thing rewatching these films has made me realise is that Paul's 'sudden flip' to becoming a coloniser exploiting the Fremen's religion for his own gains in Imperial politics after drinking the Water of Life is actually less of a plot twist and more of an inevitability that has been advertised since Part One. Towards the end of the first film, he says to Liet Kynes that he intends to marry one of the Emperor's daughters and make a play for the throne. In Part Two, during his first meal at Sietch Tabr, he says to his mother that he must convince the non-believers that he is the Lisan Al Gaib. He may not have intended to bear the mantle of the Mahdi, perhaps he was foolishly, idealistically looking for a different path towards revenge and the throne, but he has never been above playing the game and utilising court politics to secure his 'victory', so to speak. He was born of royal blood and forged in those politics. It's in his nature.

It's never over until life ends Lay down beside me, do it again

These 2 lines reminds me again of that promise Paul and Chani exchanged: 'I will love you as long as I breathe'. (And if I remember correctly, Chani said something to the effect of 'I will be here for you as long as you stay who you are' as well.) I didn't want to end this playlist on a downer ending, hence this song choice.

If you've made it this far into my meta-commentary, thank you! Hope you've enjoyed this playlist ♡

#Spotify #Villeneuve's Dune #paulchani #Paul Atreides #chani kynes #fremen #lady jessica #yes these are the key characters my playlist represents...will type up meta another time #oh Spotify we're really in it now #remember the good days of 8tracks.com? they really let us post playlists as long as it had 8 songs on it....... #stvlti's mixes #stvlti makes stuff #margot fenring #lady fenring #fedaykin #stilgar #now adding other character tags with my new additions to the playlist #stvlti writes meta

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Alpha’s First Daughter

Summary: You had been on your own for years after escaping the Whisperers. Until you run into a hunter in the woods who's searching for his brother.

OR

The Walking Dead rewrite from Season 9 to Season 11 with you, Y/N, as Daryl Dixon's eventual love interest.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: language, blood, past child abuse

Chapter 18-

"The guard says the lock on the backdoor was picked." You heard Gabriel say as you stepped outside.

Your ribs ached with each step, but you ignored it when you spotted Gabriel and Aaron standing down the street.

"Whoever picked it must've let him out. Who was on watch last night?" Gabriel continued to say, looking over at the other man.

"Laura was." Aaron answered. "But she said she didn't do it. I believe her."

"If it wasn't her, who was it?"

"I did it." You called out, causing them both to look over at you. "I let Negan out."

You walked straight past them, not waiting for a response before you walked down the stairs and into the building where the cell was and locked yourself inside.

It only took a few minutes for Gabriel and Aaron to get Daryl because he was storming inside the room not long afterwards. He opened the cell door, looking at you as you sat on Negan's stretcher bed.

"C'mon, ya didn't do this."

"Yeah, I did." You said honestly.

"I kept watch last night, you didn't leave the house."

"You forget, I'm a hunter too. I can sneak around without being noticed. It doesn't matter anyway, they want me in here."

Daryl shook his head. "Doesn't matter what they want."

"You know for a long time, I blamed myself for what happened last year. I kept thinking, what if I never left the Whisperers all those years ago? Never left my sister alone with our mother? Lydia might still be alive if I did. And your people wouldn't be mixed up with Alpha."

"You're not to blame for her." Daryl said softly, but you knew that was a lie.

If you weren't here. None of this would have happened.

"My mother was right." You said, looking over at him. "She said you people put on these polite faces, but it's just a mask 'cause when things get bad... when you get scared... you pick a target, aim, and shoot. Me... Negan, anything but you."

"Negan's different. You didn't know him." Daryl replied, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to fight.

"The Negan I know stood up for me when he didn't have to."

"Y/N-"

"I tried fitting in. I wanted to be like you. But I'm not and I won't ever fit in here."

"Y/N, we're you're people."

"Lydia was my people." You said, tears rising in your eyes. "I'm not an Alexandrian, I'm not a Whisperer. I'm nothing."

"That ain't true."

"We both know it is." You replied as you looked away from him and laid down on the bed, staring up at the roof.

You heard Daryl sigh before he closed the cell door and walked out the room.

The day slowly turned into night as you laid on the bed and stared up at the window on the wall, looking at the stars in the sky.

Daryl returned the next day, but it was only to say that he was going off with Carol to 'go hunting' but you knew something was going on, but you were too tired to ask and were almost afraid of the answer.

He left Dog with you, needing someone to look after him, so you watched out the window of the cell as Daryl left through the gates with Carol. Leaving you in Alexandria while he went with Carol, again.

Dog whined from beside you as you sat down on the stretcher bed, patting the blanket beside you as Dog jumped on top. You gently patted his fur, as he rested his head on your thigh, whining softly again.

"I miss Ace too, buddy." You whispered, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. "She's in a better place though, right?"

Dog lifted his head, looking up at you as he stopped whining, like he understood you.

"Good boy." You smiled as you continued to pat him.

That night, Dog laid beside you as you slept, but you were both woken up by Daryl hurriedly rushing inside and opening the door.

"Get out. We need the cell." He ordered as you blinked your eyes open.

Dog barked, instantly jumping off the bed and running to his master as you sat up, rubbing your tired eyes as you looked at him in confusion. Before you ask what he needed the cell for, Carol came in the room, but she was pulling another man with her, with his arms tied behind his back and eyes blindfolded.

It only took a second before you realised that it wasn't just a random man, it was a Whisperer.

Cautiously, you got to your feet, grabbing your weapons belt and sword from the ground as you slowly walked out the cell, not taking your eyes off the Whisperer.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" You scoffed, glaring at Carol.

They went hunting? No. They went looking for the fucking Whisperers and thought taking one captive would be a great idea.

"Y/N-" Daryl started to say before you cut him off.

"No. Just no. I don't want to hear it."

With that, you stormed out the building. You heard Daryl shout your name, but you ignored him as you walked down the street before sitting down on the curb and burying your head in your hands.

Why would they bring a Whisperer here? Why would they bring a Whisperer inside their home, a home that had children inside? It didn't make sense.

"You know him?" Carol's voice suddenly questioned.

Your blood started to boil after just hearing her voice, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

"You're a fucking idiot." You said before you could stop yourself.

Well, so much for staying calm.

"He's one of the guys that watches the walkers." You added a few seconds later. He wasn't one of the main three, but you knew he was a guardian.

"So, he knows where your mother's horde is?"

"Probably. But you're not getting the location from him. Do what you want, ask, torture, bribe, it won't work. The ones that watch the horde are the most loyal. He's not going to betray the Alpha."

Carol opened her mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance before Gabriel marched towards her.

"You've put us all at risk." He shouted.

"We have to find that horde before it shows up at our gates." Carol tried to explain.

"So, you decide for all of us? Knowing what it could mean?" Gabriel questioned in disbelief.

"Don't matter anymore." Daryl suddenly said, joining the group of you as you stood up from the curb looking over at him as he continued. "We still gotta find 'em."

"So, you're in on this?" You asked as Daryl looked over at you and nodded. "What's happened to you? The Daryl I know would never risk the lives of his family with this ridiculous act. What if he escapes? Judith lives in the house next door, you gonna risk your brothers' kids' lives?"

"He ain't gonna escape." Daryl responded, folding his arms across his chest.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "If you really believe that, you guys are screwed."

Daryl looked away from you, avoiding your gaze as you chuckled again before walking off.

Carol found you a few hours later. You were on watch duty, standing up on the platform and keeping watch of the woods surrounding the community.

"The Whisperer died from his injuries. You were right, he didn't turn on Alpha." Carol said, climbing the ladder of the watch platform. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

You didn't reply to her, knowing if you opened your mouth something bad would come out. Instead, you kept your attention to the woods, keeping an eye out for any threats as Carol finally reached the top of the platform and stood beside you.

"I'm thinking about checking the traps, see if we caught anything. I want you to come with me." She said after a few minutes of silence.

"Why?" You asked, unable to hide the annoyance in your tone.

"Daryl loves you. Daryl is also my best friend, and he doesn't like this heat between you and I. He has enough to worry about, he shouldn't have to worry about his girlfriend and best friend fighting, don't you think?" She explained as you looked over at her, but didn't say anything. "Come check the traps with me, please? For Daryl's sake?"

You sighed, wanting to tell her to go away, but you knew how much it would mean to Daryl if you tried to make things right with Carol. So, you reluctantly nodded and before you knew it, the two of you were walking through the woods, checking the traps that Carol had apparently set up earlier.

Neither of you really spoke, which you were grateful for. By the time the sun had set, you only had two rabbits from the traps and thought it was time to go back to Alexandria. But Carol said there were only a few more traps that wouldn't take long to check. Which was why the two of you were still wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. It was risky at night, you both knew that, but clearly you both didn't give a shit either.

"Wait, Carol, we're getting too close to one of my mother's boarders." You warned, glancing through the trees at the creek in the distance that you knew was a boarder marker.

"It's fine. Trust me." She reassured.

Trust her? Yeah, that's not going to happen.

You didn't get the chance to say anything before you heard someone scream.

Carol was running towards the noise before you could even process it. You quickly pulled out your sword and chased after her through the dense woods. Ducking and weaving between the trees and bushes until you came out on an old road.

"Let him go! Let him go!" Carol shouted.

You spun around to find her with her bow aimed at something and you rushed over to her to find two people on the bridge over the creek, one with a knife to the others throat.

It took you longer than it should have to realise that the one holding the knife had a Whisperer mask on or that the man she had hostage was Aaron from Alexandria.

What the hell was going on?

Why was Aaron even out here at the boarder?

"No. No. No." The Whisperer suddenly said, letting go of Aaron.

You watched in confusion as the Whisperer took a few steps back, staring at you from behind her mask with wide eyes.

"No. No." The Whisperer continued to say, emotion thick in her voice as she shook her head before running away.

You watched as she ran off, back into the Whisperers territory before you looked between Carol and Aaron in confusion.

"Your mother told her people that she killed you." Carol explained as sudden realisation hit you.

This was all planned. Carol didn't want to try and make things better between the two of you for Daryl's sake, she wanted to bring you here so that Whisperer would see you. She lied to you and used you.

"You said you wanted my help to check the traps." You said in shock, looking over at Carol. "You fucking used me."

"Y/N, I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it. Not this time." You said, hating the fact that you could feel tears rising in your eyes. "You said you wanted to make things better between us for Daryl's sake, but that was a fucking lie! You lied and used me. You're just like Alpha!"

"Y/N." Aaron warned, shaking his head at you.

"Screw you guys, I'm out of here." You said, turning around about to walk away.

"It's too dangerous." Carol said, jogging after you as she grabbed your shoulder.

Without thinking, you spun around and slammed the handle of your sword against her face.

The force of the hit sent Carol to the ground instantly as Aaron quickly pulled out his knife and took a step towards you, but you raised your sword, shaking your head.

"Don't fucking follow me." You growled, glancing between the two of them before you turned around and stormed off.

You were vaguely aware of the fact that you were walking into the Whisperers territory, but it was away from them, so that was all you cared about.

You ran through the dense forest, weaving between trees and bushes, jumping over fallen logs and rocks as tears burned in the back of your eyes. The moon shone through the treetops above you, lighting your path as you finally came to a stop. Your lungs burning as you breathed heavily, forcing your tears at bay.

Why were you even crying? You always knew this wouldn't work out. From the day Jesus asked you to stay at Hilltop way back when, you knew this life wasn't for you. Yet, when Daryl had bought you back to Hilltop and Alexandria, you allowed yourself to get comfortable, you allowed yourself to let your guard down and for a small amount of time, you thought it could work.

You thought you could get your happily ever after, but that was all just false hope. You knew from the start that good things never lasted, but for a small blissful few months, you thought it might.

Call it wishful thinking or maybe it was just false hope, either way, it had all come crashing down and now you had no idea what to do.

-

In the end, you spent the night up in a tree, away from any walkers or even Whisperers that might happen to wander by while you slept.

It reminded you of the old days back at the beginning. Those first few years where it was just you against the whole world as you trekked the country trying to find your sister. At the time you didn't know how happy you were until you were looking back at it.

Yes, you were lonely, but you were a lone wolf back then. You were okay on your own, but now... you had gotten used to being around people... well, not people, you had gotten used to being around Daryl.

On your second day alone in the woods, you decided to track down the Whisperers and kill Alpha. You knew it was a suicide mission, you knew the risks of going after her alone, but you needed her dead.

Either out of skill or sheer luck, you actually managed to find Alpha, but she was hiding in abandon gas station with a very injured, Daryl Dixon.

The two of them had clearly fought, both of them coming off second best by the mass number of cuts and blood over their bodies.

Your mother was drifting in and out of consciousness, but you knew she wasn't going anywhere, so you rushed over to Daryl, dropping to your knees beside him.

It was hard to see in the dark, but you could tell his injuries were bad, even in the limited light. He had a nasty looking gash on his forehead, blood running down from the cut between his eyes. But it was the stab wound on his thigh that you were most worried about. It was still leaking blood and if the pool of crimson liquid underneath him meant anything, it was that it had been bleeding for a long time.

"Damnit, Daryl." You whispered about to grab the rag from his pocket to wrap around the wound when suddenly the sound of walkers growling echoed through the gas station.

Fuck.

Quickly, you stood up, looking across the room just as a small herd burst through the front door. A few of the walkers looked down at Alpha on the floor, but she was still wearing her walker mask which seemed to be enough because they walked straight past her.

You glanced back down at Daryl's unconscious body before looking back at Alpha, conflicted with what to do before you drew your sword and started to take down the walkers.

One after the other, after the other. But, after the tenth walker, your injured ribs began to really scream at you to stop. Your body still recovering from getting beaten by those assholes, you knew you couldn't last much longer.

The walkers just kept coming though, no matter how many you killed, more just took their place. There was no way you could kill them all and you knew it.

You needed to get Daryl out of here, but you had to kill your mother.

You slashed your sword through the next walker, sparing a quick glance at your mother across the room, but you knew there was no way you could get through the walkers to kill her. Even if you did somehow get across the room, you'd be leaving Daryl unconscious and vulnerable on the floor, just waiting for the walkers to get him.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." You hissed, kicking the closest walker back as you had an internal argument with yourself.

You could kill her. You could end it right now.

But you had to get Daryl out of here.

You couldn't risk him getting attacked while you took out Alpha.

"God fucking damnit." You cursed, killing another walker as you looked over at Alpha.

This was the perfect time to kill her. She was just lying there, you could easily do it. If only you could get to her.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't notice the next walker from the herd had gotten so close until it suddenly grabbed your arm, trying to pull your flesh towards its mouth.

"Motherfucker." You yelped, yanking your arm away just in the nick of time.

You stumbled back, tripping over something on the floor that sent you falling to your ass, your head slamming into the side of a shelf on the way down with a bang.

Black dots started to cloud your vision, your head spinning and for the longest moment, you thought you were going to pass out, but that wasn't an option. If you passed out, you and Daryl were both dead.

You could feel blood starting to drip down the side of your face, the cut on your forehead from earlier now reopened. Siddiq was going to hate you.

The gas station was spinning a little as you forced yourself back to your feet before you pushed one of the shelves over, blocking the herds path. It wouldn't stop them for long, but it would slow them down, giving you just enough time to get Daryl out of here.

Hurriedly, you rushed back to Daryl, throwing your sword back in your sheath as you grabbed his shoulders, trying to shake him awake, but he was out cold. There was no waking him.

"You owe me so fucking much for this, Dixon." You muttered, grabbing his arms as you started to pull him out the gas station.

Daryl wasn't a huge guy, sure he was built, but you didn't think he would be that heavy... you were wrong.

You struggled as you dragged Daryl out the gas station, your body screaming at you in protest, but you kept pushing through. You closed the back door to the station hoping the walkers weren't smart enough to double back through the front door to chase after you as you pulled Daryl towards the woods.

Once you got a far enough away from the walker infested gas station, you leant Daryl up against a tree trunk and quickly got to work on the stab wound on his thigh.

Within minutes, you had a rag wrapped around his thigh to stop the bleeding before you collapsed onto the ground opposite him, leaning your back against another tree as you watched Daryl's chest rise and fall.

He was alive.

He was hurt, but he was alive. That was all you cared about.

-

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

- 

MASTERLIST pinned to profile 

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Norman Reedus #negan

[gabriels-wings-of-freedom]

The Nephilim

The Nephilim (Part 2)  

Gabriel has an important decision to make regarding your pregnancy.

It’s amazing how much a single person could change your life. You’ve known the boys since they started hunting and were taken in by their father after your parents were killed by a werewolf. You were like a little sister to them, by bond not blood.

Several years past to where we are now. 

You’ve met so many wonderful people and hunted so many monsters. You guys met Castiel, and he’s become a very close friend through the ride to fight Lucifer. Him, Crowley, Rowena, and soon Gabriel became parts of your lives for better or for worse.

And in your case, Gabriel could lead to either.

He was someone you loved dearly, and he felt the same way about you. It was a relationship that you guys kept under wraps for obvious reasons. The boys, even Castiel, would have an issue with an archangel being with a human woman. However, when you got pregnant, you had to tell the others.

“It’s a nephilim, Y/N! A child of an archangel! It’ll kill you!” Dean didn’t care one bit about your thoughts and feelings at the situation at all. All he knew was that you would die if you let this pregnancy continue, and your life was all he cared about. Sam stayed silent, but Dean forced Castiel to agree with him.

Because the overall fact is certain. If you have the baby, you will die.

“I’m not giving up my child. None of you can make me.” However, you were defiant on the issue of keeping the baby. Sam would speak up calmly and quietly, trying to be the voice of reason as you and Dean screamed at each other. Gabriel, the other factor in this equation, just kept his mouth shut.

“Talk some sense into her.” Was the last thing Dean said to Gabriel before storming off. However, the archangel never spoke with you on the matter because his mind was already made up.

He couldn’t lose you, even if it meant sacrificing something you held so dear.

Of course, this led to heated fights between the two of you as the months went by. Gabriel couldn’t even stand to look at you as your body began to grow and change. It was just a constant reminder of your soon to be demise. 

Sam and Castiel grew tired of all the bickering. While the two of them had their own thoughts on the situation, Sam has convinced Castiel that there must be some way to save both mother and child. The angel reluctantly agreed to help, being less than hopeful than the younger Winchester. The two didn’t tell you or the others about this plan because it involved one person that you all would never want to turn to.

Crowley.

The two asked the King of Hell to employ his mother in researching this. With a powerful witch on board, they might be able to figure something out. If not, I guess it’s either you or the baby, a decision that no one, especially Gabirel, wants to make.

Speaking of Gabriel, the archangel thought enough was enough.

He quietly came into your room one night, deciding to terminate this pregnancy himself. He’s more than powerful enough to do so. Gabriel knows that you might resent him for life, but at least you would have one. And this nephilim...his responsibility...would be hunted down by angels and demons alike if it was allowed to live. That’s no life.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But as he approached your sleeping form quietly and placed his hand gently (as not to wake you) on your seven-months pregnant belly, he sensed something. Something that made him freeze. 

Something that made him leave the room without finishing the job he so desperately wanted to do...

“Gabriel?” Sam went looking for him after having not seen him for hours. He found it odd that the archangel wasn’t about the bunker. Truthfully, Sam was worried about him. This type of situation is not ideal for anyone, human or angel. As he continued his search, he was eventually led to the bunker’s large garage, the last place on his list.

And low and behold, there was Gabriel. Leaning against the car with a faraway look in his eye.

“Gabriel, what are you doing here?” Sam asked with concern in his voice. He’s never seen the light-hearted man look so defeated before. The archangel himself folded his arms and his breathing was heavy, like he was on the verge of crying. 

“Sam...I thought that I wanted this baby gone...I even tried to get rid of it myself.” Gabriel confessed and Sam widened his eyes upon hearing this news. However, he sensed there was more to this, so he prompted him.

“But...what? She wouldn’t let you?” Sam asked in reference to you, but Gabriel just forced a laugh and shook his head. He was silent for a bit after explaining that you wouldn’t have even known because you were sleeping.

“Curse these powers sometimes...I could feel the baby’s emotions...sense it’s awareness about its surroundings...” Gabriel explained, and if the situation weren’t so seriousness, Sam almost geeked out. He found it fascinating that an angel could perceive all that from such a young life, but here they were.

“And...” Sam pushed him gently. But Gabriel just exploded at him.

"It doesn't know, Sam!...It doesn't know what it's gonna do to her..." Gabriel shouted at the younger Winchester before lowering his voice, sounding like he was on the verge of tears as he placed his hand over his mouth to stop his voice from choking up. His eyes were even glistening.

"It loves her...It loves me!...It knows I'm its dad...and it's looking at me for protection...It knows I’m here to protect it, yet my intentions were to destroy it...How could I kill it, knowing that? How?!" He pushed at Sam who merely gave him a sympathetic look while shrugging. 

Gabriel was already an emotional cosmic being, but when he sets his mind to something he does it. But when a tiny helpless being that he helped create is looking towards him with love and safety, not knowing that its birth would kill its mother and destroy its father, he just breaks down. Sam watched in pity, knowing he would be just as torn.

Gabriel thought he knew what the right thing to do was. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore and was torn between your life and the life of his child, who he both loved so dearly.

“Perhaps-” Sam started to talk but got cut off.

"Gabriel." Castiel's voice interrupted the conversation between Sam and the archangel. The lesser angel came into view from their place in the bunker's garage.

"Rowena found a way to save both Y/N and the baby." He said, and immediately Gabriel's mood did a one-eighty.

"Well, don't leave me hanging, bro! How do we do it?" The archangel pushed his giddiness, grabbing Castiel's shoulders and shaking him slightly. The look on the angel's face dropped, and his eyes flickered over to Sam.

"What? What is it?" Gabriel asked in a more serious tone, realizing the silent conversation between them. Castiel hesitated before sighing, meeting his older brother's face with a downtrodden look.

"We need your grace."

#supernatural #supernatural imagines #supernatural imagine #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #supernatural gabriel

[muzzleroars]

Dude i am so fucking insane about your art its genuinely the main reason i made a tumblr account. also. Do you think v1 will ever break down in gabriel’s lifetime? I keep considering the idea after reading this fic where gabriel came across him half-buried in the sands of greed

omggg thank you so much!!! it sincerely means a lot ;o;

in my idea of events with the fallen gabe au, gabriel would likely still be able to continue for a long, long time, though perhaps not indefinitely necessarily. no matter what, his lifespan is still long enough to see the breakdown of v1's parts, which can only be mitigated by blood for a time. the process starts to become less effective, its body not healing properly and beginning to give in to the passage of time besides - plus, its mind isn't protected from these things either, code becoming overgrown and the hardware itself so delicate that it would inevitably fail. everything on earth has an end point, flesh and machine bodies breaking down in the same way being made from elements just held together in natural processes and so eventually rent by them.

(some mentions of mental deterioration/death under the read more)

gabriel would do regular maintenance on it, but they would both see when it was becoming more and more frequent, how v1 is slowing down physically and mentally. the body can be repaired almost indefinitely, especially if gabriel delved into metalworking, plastics, robotics - becoming a one-man factory creating bespoke parts with v1's assistance is hardly out of the question for a fallen angel. the problem is truly its computer, which isn't so easily stabilized and replaced, especially when it comes to preserving v1's memories and personality. they could keep its body in perfect working order if they can custom create any piece it needs (especially again if we go with paradise lost's idea that hell is rich in a wealth of all earthly minerals), but increasingly catastrophic software failures are harder to deal with. they would plan for it of course, figuring out the solutions they can try ahead of time, but when the time comes...watching v1 flicker, seeing its movements falter with newly repaired parts, the absolute heartwrenching, ice-cold fear of it shutting down unexpectedly and not waking up for hours, days....how it forgets, how it can't store many new memories, gabriel feels the deep, aching horror an immortal must when they truly understand what they love cannot last. intellectually it was always there, but to see it unfold, to be there now...gabriel's eyes finally freeze over with tears, v1 has nowhere to go, no soul to find heaven or hell or be reborn the way he was. it will just go dark. gabriel will see it, its perfect body that they've made and remade over so many decades or centuries, that he put all his love into preserving, but with no will to move it.

and i just don't think he could take it.

PERSONALLY my favorite wild headcanon for this scenario is gabriel storming heaven or going to find wherever god left his dead body and using that blood to revive v1 (that blood stays fresh forever.... guess lol) i'm just too much of a baby to commit to character death, plus i just really love the idea of everyone being like "where did god go....nobody knows...." until gabriel loses his mind and breaks every single law of heaven and hell without any limits to bring back his itty bitty bot!!!!!

#alternatively gabriel could augment v1 with hell energy in some way #but i just like the solution being fully unhinged lol #WHAT the implications might be after that....who can say.... #and also.....the fic sounds VERY interesting so if you still have the link send it my way!!! #i can't do character death but i can read it to make myself sad lol #cake answers #gabriel #v1

[dailymichifer]

[Archive] fuckyeahlucifersupernatural's fics

fuckyeahlucifer (or carvedwhalebones) is a writer who disappeared from ao3 with their much beloved +89 SPN fics (a lot of Samifer fics and other Lucifer-ships fics) Many have been lost forever, but not all of them, thanks to the Internet Archive.

Here are all the SPN fics I could find:

[Michifer] The Way We Are 'Michael imagines that if he were to sink his teeth into the forbidden fruit, it’d taste just like his little brother.'

[Michifer] Spitting Blood "Sometimes the calm before the storm is all you can hold onto."

[Michifer] Little Brother Michael discovers his punishment within the Cage and he's ready to make it end.

[Michifer] Yuanfen E. They were the founding fathers of physical intimacy and so much more. (bondage, collars)

[Samifer, Nick/Sam] The Devil Wears White "Have you ever confused a dream with a life?" Sam Winchester's been sent to a mental institute, claiming there are demons and angels. In there he makes an unhealthy alliance with a patient, Nick, who wants to keep Sam all to himself.

[Samifer] Snow Sam would do anything to see Dean again. (Season 7, self mutilation)

[Samifer] One True Vessel The patients near the ward mumble and murmur in fear of the one who prowls through the ward. They whisper of a ‘Lucifer’ looking for his ‘one true vessel'... (Sam, Lucifer, Nick)

[Samifer] A Little Piece of Heaven The incident with Gadreel and Dean leaves him more than just broken. Sam moves out of the bunker in search of his little piece of heaven. (Post Gadree, Hurt/Comfort)

[Samifer] Thicker Than Blood M. Who is he to deny his king? (Sam 'boy king of Hell' Winchester)

[Samifer] The Last Truth M. 'He’s broken and Lucifer is still staring at him as if he’s a gift — something to be mounted on a pedestal.' (Sam, Lucifer, Hallucifer, Gadreel, Angst/Comfort, Major character death)

[Samifer] Blood & Creation E. "Lucifer is the only one treated as Sam’s equal, his release from The Cage signifying the reign of Hell and the Era of The Boy King."

[Samifer & Ducifer] Common Ground Despite the favorable odds, Lucifer doesn’t share his first kiss on Earth with Sam Winchester.

[Anna/Lucifer] Lady Lazarus M. The common ground between them is stained heavily in blood. (Serial Killers au)

[Gabriel/Lucifer] Ugly Kind of Love E. "I'll show you an 'ugly kind of love.'" And he did. (Tags; Hammer of the Gods, Major character death, noncon)

Enjoy!

Edit (2023-03-04) 6 more fics!

[Samifer] Speaking in Tongues Sam tries to speak Enochian to Lucifer.

[Samifer] Guardian Angel Guardian Angel (n): An angel believed to have special affection for a particular individual.

[Samifer] Dog Days (chapter 1) God comes to Lucifer with a deal: If Sam accepts Lucifer for who he is (warts and all), he will win his freedom and be with his one true vessel. The catch is that he won't be able to converse with Sam due to being changed into a runt of a puppy.

[Samifer] Home Lucifer helps Sam find a sense of home in his room.

[Samifer] Little Birds Ch1 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Sam finds out that when angels are at their weakest, they become little birds.

[Anna Milton/Lucifer] What Devils Do Lucifer has been keeping an eye on Anna Milton for a while now, and it's only a matter of time until the tables turn and he's on top. Literally.

edit (2023-08-12) GREAT NEWS

As you may know, some madmad archived the entirety of AO3 a few years ago.

I downloaded their metadata file (index) and typing the pseudo "fuckyeahsupernatural" gave me 181 results. All 181 of their fics (SPN, Legion, Dishonored) have been saved and the epubs are in zip files that can be found here:

I converted the index into a pdf: you can use it to find the location of each fic in the zip files. LINK -> EDIT better link HERE (spn fics only)

EDIT2: use this file to access the fics directly & download them

#fic #archive #michifer #samifer #ducifer #lubriel #anna spn #lucifer spn #michael spn #sam winchester #gabriel spn