#her dreams became nightmares

[missiemoosie]

I never really liked how, in either the book or the movie, we never really get to see Thranduil and Bard paying their respects to Thorin by laying the Arkenstone and Orcrist on his body. I always thought it was such a touching thing for them to do and a good symbol of the future alliance between the three races in the north.

For movie Thranduil, it would have been an even nicer thing to see, considering how cold a character he had been turned into, but given that it was Leggo-my-Eggo who gave Thorin the sword during BoFA, such a thing wasn't possible.

But, hey, that's what fanfic's for, right? So, of course, in Nightmares, I made sure to write out a scene where Thranduil and Bard get their moment to pay respects.

And, having written such a scene, I now present to you, a rare snippet of Moosie's writing that will probably go unseen due to the glitchy account:

Whispers started to fill the chamber and, as she looked towards the entrance, she saw Thranduil and Bard among the procession of mourners. Behind her, she could hear Dain and some members of the Company grumbling about the presence of the Elvenking and part of her wanted to turn around and shush them. Bilbo, however, beat her to it and the grumbling abruptly ended.

When the pair reached Thorin’s bier, they halted, both man and elf bowed their heads in solemn respect to the fallen leader. After a moment, Thranduil lifted his gaze and glanced across the way, looking at the various members of the Company. When his eyes fell on Baylee, who gave him a small nod of her head, he returned the gesture before speaking.

“A warrior as great as Thorin Oakenshield should not venture into the afterlife unarmed,” he said, his voice being amplified by the chamber’s acoustics. Suddenly, he drew forth a sword hidden beneath his cloak—Orcrist. Around him, dwarves and humans alike jumped back from him in shock; a few of the dwarves uttered annoyed curses in Khuzdul.

“Should orcs or goblins ever come near this mountain again, this blade—being crafted by the elven masters of old—will glow blue in warning,” Thranduil continued, stepping forward. With the greatest of care, he tucked the sword into the crook of Thorin’s arm. “I gift this sword to the dwarves of Erebor as a token of friendship and of peace between our peoples. Let our feud be ended.”

Then Bard stepped forward. “I do not come bearing a gift,” he said, reaching into his jacket. “Instead, I come with that which was taken from this place in hopes of rekindling the bond that was once shared by Dale and Erebor.” He brought out the Arkenstone, which earned plenty of astonished exclamations from the dwarves around him. “Let the Arkenstone now be returned to the Lonely Mountain—to where it belongs.”

The gem gleamed brilliantly in the torchlight and almost seemed to glow from within as the human placed it atop Thorin’s chest. The sight of it, however, made Baylee’s stomach churn. It was that jewel that had driven her beloved to the point of insanity and nearly doomed them all. If it were up to her, she would cast it into the deepest pit of the mountain and forbid anyone from seeking it out ever again.

#moosie's writing #her dreams became nightmares #writing snippet #thranduil #bard the bowman #my ocs hobbit baylee #fanfiction #the hobbit #tolkien #the hobbit fanfiction

[art-by-moosie]

Thorin and Baylee reuniting in their second lives, where they'll finally get their happy ending 😊 Did this to go up on AO3 in the epilogue of my fanfic, Her Dreams Became Nightmares.

Art tag: @ilovedainironfoot

#art #moosie's art #my ocs hobbit baylee #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #her dreams became nightmares #the hobbit fanart #thorin x oc #thorin x hobbit baylee #tolkien #tolkien fanart #tolkien oc #hobbit oc #traditional art #fanart #sketch #drawing #doodle #sketchbook #drawing practice #artists on tumblr #fanartists on tumblr

[aimseytv]

cannot stop thinking about c!aimsey grabbing c!guqqies lifeless body and holding it as tight as humanely possible, her knuckles turning a dark shade of blue from the pressure because every inch of aimseys body is screaming that there is a hope if she holds her dead lovers body tight enough, she will come back. despite bloom knowing this won’t happen, she does it anyway. she clutches onto guqqie, trying to clasp onto pieces of her clothing to hold her closer. she is whispering apologies, but the whispers quickly begin to get louder as the words aimsey sputters start to match the intensity of her own heart beat, to the point where aimsey is screaming and begging for guqqie to come back as it echos through the ghost town. tears begin to fall onto guqqies pale face, aimsey cupping it gently while still muttering incoherently about how this is all her fault, how this has changed everything

suddenly, it all goes quiet, no more talking, and the rain stops. all there is to be heard are sobs. aimsey realises that she isn’t coming back.

#i imagine caimsey still has nightmares about this #they were extremely traumatic at first #but they’ve became easier to manage #when the nightmares happen #she wakes up and makes her way to her kitchen #she brews a coffee and sits outside #it’s night time #she watches the stars and traces the constellations #she turns to her side as she sits on one of the two cabin chairs that are outside her cottage #she eyes the empty chair for a moment #bloom smiles #and she looks back up at the stars and closes her eyes #aimsey begins to dream of the pair #both of them alive #both of them happy #watching the sunrise #together

[mainfaggot]

i had a really terrifying sleep paralysis slash bad dream situation last night so 1) i, half asleep and freaked out out of my mind, went to my mom's bedroom asking for water while trying not to fall over 2) got water and also my mom did a bunch of duas for me LMFAO 🤕😔 3) woke up 45 mins after my alarm and was 15 mins late to class

#i never go to my parents when i have nightmares or sleep paralysis #like i stopped doing that once i turned 14? 15? #because it became so fucking frequent and bc i started distancing myself from them near the end of middle school and especially #at the beginning of hs #anyway theres a lot. of. um . parental figure troubles history that i have .... theres a lot of lore #all that to say. i guess i have subconsciously come to trust my mom in the last half year or so bc instead of #half sleepwalking downstairs to the kitchen i just went to her room across thr hall #it wss super uncomfortable once i realised what i had done tho #like i was 1/2 reeling from yhe effects of a really trippy dream in a dream in a dream in a dream (nightmare ver.) #and i was 1/2 like “omg my mothrr is holding me and praying for my well being and she used to do this for me all the time until i was like #11 or whatever and this feels wrong im not supposed to hsve this this isnt right i dont deserve this i want to crawl out of my skin“ etc etc #anyway! #lol #z.post

[cypaira-the-skeleton]

Trick or Freak!

I know Halloween has passed, but it's still spooky week for me so enjoy this story I whipped up!

Fair warning, I really did my best to interpret one specific character that I started to like, and I must say I enjoyed writing his role as well.

Anywho, enjoy!

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T'was the night of Halloween. The streets were filled with Spooky decorations, Carved out Pumpkins, and almost an army of dressed up children going Trick or Treating with each passing house. Some where dressed as classical monsters, while others got creative; even a couple of not so scary characters roamed around. This year's spooky season was also being celebrated by a certain "Living possessed doll" with red ruby eyes, who goes by the name of Raven; Which decided to dress up as Annabelle. She roamed House by house excitedly exclaiming 'Trick or Treat!', receiving many kinds of sweets into her plastic shaped Skull bucket. Of course she wasn't alone, but was accompanied by her fathers.

Victor had dressed up as Michael Myers. Unfortunately, he spent a month or so searching for a mask that could fit him, but all of them where too small so instead of a mask he resorted to painting his face white; at least he was fortunate enough to find the jumpsuit he needed, albeit a bit sour for the lack of mask. As for Roger he decided to dress up as Freddy Krueger. Luckily for him he knew someone that possessed the iconic glove and borrowed it, his hat was taken from his own personal collection, and he coincidentally already owned a red and green striped sweater. Surprisingly enough they both got the attention for their costumes and some adults and teenagers even requested photos with them. Victor was quick to decline, but Roger took pleasure in posing in Krueger's creepy poses and malicious grins.

While walking to the next available household Raven has heard of an abandoned house, not too far from the neighborhood they're in, from a group of grown up kids. They described it as being maybe Fifthy years old, slowly falling apart, and presumably... something or someone is living in it. Upon hearing such details, Raven was pretty much eager to go visit this creepy old house. It is Halloween after all, it's the perfect occasion for the perfect month! There was only one small problem; neither of her fathers would probably allow her to go visit it. Why? Many of the reasons she presumed would be: A) It's Dangerous, B) It's probably a waste of time, C) Ghosts aren't real, and D) She doesn't need any sleepless nights over some "spooky house". She can ask, but what's the point if she knows the answer?

Now usually she never disobeys but an exception has to be made sometimes, even if it means that by the end of the night she'd probably have all the candy she collected revoked. By some strike of luck a couple of adults stopped to talk with Roger and Victor. Generally she'd be forced to wait for them to be done chatting, but instead she took the opportunity to slowly walk away, and bolt her way to the direction of the house. She just ran, not looking back once, knowing that at some point they'll notice her absence. It felt tempting to just turn back and not to worry her parents, but exploring a possibly haunted house was more intriguing! Raven kept running for maybe a minute or two, until she arrived at a dimly lit neighborhood. Not much houses were around, which made the street she's in more creepy, until at the end of the road she saw the infamous abandoned house.

The other kids were right, it really does look fifty years old and falling apart! It only begs one question: Is there really someone or something living inside? Although eager to find out, she couldn't help but shiver in fear of what could be in there. Raven was thought that Monsters and Ghouls are mostly fiction, and the real threats she's aware of are dangerous adults; but to think that some other wordly creature is actually roaming the place makes it a worthwhile experience. After gaining some courage, she roamed around the building finding for an entrance, since the rest of the house is boarded up. Thankfully she managed to find a hole on the side and crawled in.

Upon standing up from the dusty floor she was instantly met by a pitch black room. Good thing her fathers convinced her to bring a small flash light incase of an emergency. Reaching into the half filled bucket of sweets she found the flash light and turned it on, revealing a creepy, white sheet, cobweb coverd furniture of what seemed to be a living room. "Oh great, cobwebs! The last thing I want is a creepy spider crawling over to me" she sarcastically exclaimed to herself in displease of the discovery. The exploration was on. Slowly and carefully she walked around the room, discovering all sorts of forgotten items like creepy dolls and statuettes, and torn out books. The next room she stumbled upon seemed to be a kitchen. Similar as the previous one, run down and coverd in dust and webs; luckily no knives were around, but she did see a few innocent rodents!

The floor creaked with each step she took, debris floating in the air, and the sounds of rats scattering around made the experience even more ominous. A child her age would have already ran out in fear, but being used to living in the streets and forced to search for run down places for shelter, this experience wasn't as bad. Once the lower floor was scouted for good, her eyes trailed to a staircase. Pointing the flashlight upwards, a sudden chill went up her spine. Usually that's a sign of danger to her, but she blamed it on fear. The steps groaned loudly while making her way upstairs, despite that shes very light. As soon as she got off the last step, a shadow suddenly ran past to a room. Raven yelped in surprise, holding her only source of light with both hands, "Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice quiverd in fear. At this point she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand straight, and goosebumps quickly formed as well. Something felt off.

Gaining more courage, the little girl cautiously walked to the direction of were the shadow went. She peaked inside before slowly walking in. It appears to be an old bedroom, devoid of a bed, wallpaper and nightstand, the dim light of the moon soft glowing through a somehow intact dirty window. Maybe it was just her imagination, she wondered; that's until she heard rattling coming from a closet. Her body jolted in shock, freezing as she stared at the enclosed compartment. She practically had to force herself to even move from her spot and to very carefully approach one of the closed doors. Her hand trembled as she went to grasp the handle. Just as she was about to turn it, the doors flung open, and out emerged a horrifying being roaring at her. That instantly sent Raven to the floor screaming in fear and backing away. All of a sudden, she heard laughing. A dark sinister, and sadistic laugh. She scrambled for the flashlight she dropped and pointed it at the being, revealing it's appearance.

Infront of her stood a...man? He looked human but, apart from his almost ginger coloured, long and greasy hair and humanoid shape, he looked almost like a living creepy doll. The forearms, lower legs and around his lower jaw seemed to be skinless, revealing it's fabric looking Dermis. Screws seemed to be attached to his joints, toes and fingers seemed to resemble more like claws, holes almost littered his whole body, his teeth baren with laughter were long, thin, and sharp, but what was more odd was the fact that he seemed to have two black buttons for eyes. His clothes looked tattered; light blue shorts and a faded green shirt with what seems to be a hole in his thorso.

The creepy man's laughs started to lessen as he straightened himself back, releasing a deep satisfied sigh as he composed himself, "Ahhh~ I haven't laughed this hard in such a long time!" His voice sounded deep like a man in his early thirties and a bit raspy. Raven couldn't help but just... stare. The living "doll", after turning his attention back to her, approached the little girl with a toothy grin, "And what do we have here~?" He asked with a dark, intruiged tone. It was quite a surprise for him to see a child enter this old decrepit building without turning her heels back out. He had to admit, she had the guts to even follow him. Without warning the small girl sprung back to her feet, inspecting his presence with wide eyes, "Oh...My....God.....That's so cool!"

".....Eh?" The creepy man confusedly exclaimed at the sudden enthusiasm of the red eyed girl, "That is the coolest costume I've ever seen! How did you make it? It's so creepy!" Raven said as she circled around the creepy living doll, impressed at his appearance, "Wait- what!?" Now he was truly confused; costume? Did she really think he was wearing some scary disguise? "You're not....scared of me?" He asked. Once addressed with the question, Raven replied, "I mean, you did scare me quite a lot! But I obviously know you're just wearing a costume! Who are you supposed to be though? Is it someone from the movie 'Coraline'?" The man quickly replied back, "Okay okay okay! I have no idea what you're talking about! But for your information, I, am Robert! The god of Chaos!...and you are?"

" 'Robert god of Chaos'? Never heard of that! Oh, I'm Raven! I'm dressed up as-!"

"Yea yea yea I don't really care what you're dressed as" Robert rudely interrupted, "Sooo...You think I'm...fake?" He asked as he slowly came face to face with her. Truthfully, Raven couldn't understand why he asked that, "I know you're real as in... Living! But I know monsters don't exist! I'm well aware you're an adult trying to scare me! My parents always tell me that whatever I read or see on TV isn't always real. So no, I'm not scared of you!" Raven finished off confidently.

Interesting, Robert thought; this little girl is either bold...or really stupid. The toughts in his head were quickly silenced as Raven kept awing at his appearance, "How do you manage to see through the buttons? It must be difficult! And those teeth! Wow...how did you manage to make them look so realistic?"

Let's be honest, Robert stationed himself in this rotting building just so he could maybe aquire the perfect victim, especially since it's Halloween people would think it's a costume, thus gaining confidence and trust until he attacks. So far, all of the above has actually worked! But a child? The most supposed gullible and cowardly being? He expected some silly ghost hunters or a bunch of teenagers talking to their cameras. Instead he's met with a weird looking girl with the courage of a lion, and possibly the naivety of an idiot. Although, he could use her huge interest in his appearance as an advantage. She might not be enough, but he's up for a quick snack, "I impress you that much, huh?", the creepy man aksed, to which Raven quickly agreed. "How flattering!~ You see, it sure wasn't easy to...make this up" The god of Chaos played along, "and hearing you compliment my efforts makes me truly happy!".

He crouched down to her level, getting as close as possible to her, "Say, how about a hug as a sign of my gratitude?" He offerd with a not so convincing innocent smile. At this point on, Raven's instincts started to kick in pretty hard. His behaviour had changed from sadistic, to rude, to suddenly really kind. She also noticed how close he was getting to her. His arms positioned in a supposed 'hug', but his claw like hands seemed to be in a snatching position. She didn't know this man, and she should probably find an excuse as quick as possible, "Uhh... Sorry but... I'm not really a fan of hugs". Robert could feel she's starting to avoid him, so he pushed on, "Why not? You seem like the kind to love hugs~ Just a quick one, I promise" His voice was getting more sinister than ever as he kept playing innocent, "I'll even let you take a feel at my 'costume'! Especially my teeth....~" he finished his sentence as he idly licked his fangs with his slender long tounge.

Red flags blared in her head as her fight or flight instincts starting to kick in as well. Cautiously, she started to back away, "L-look, Mister Robert, I'm not really supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be with my parents so...I think it's better if I leave". She did manage to walk away from him, but the god was faster as he blocked her path, "Leaving so soon? You've just came here! Why don't you stay over for a quick bite?". She had to leave, fast! "I'm being serious, sir! I have to go back out before my parents become more worried sick!" In the blink of an eye she was suddenly pushed to a wall right beneath the window, with Robert having a good hold of her, "Alright little kid I guess that's enough games now.." he dropped his facade as he glared down at her, "Do you know how long I've been in here waiting for some schmuck to walk right into my trap? Long enough that I was tempted to eat the rats roaming around!"

"I-I'm sorry t-to hear that but could- coud you please let me go? You're really scaring me now..." although confused at his statement, she couldn't help but fear for her wellbeing. "Ohhh~ Now you're scared? I thought you where impressed by my appearance! Did you change your mind?" And once again, he's back to his condescending behaviour.

What does this man want from her? Her mind wondered. Having to unwillingly stare at his face she now noticed the huge stitched scar around his neck and more stitches around his lower jaw, almost seeming as if he was stitched together from separate parts. A part of her desperately wanted to believe that they're fake...but they looked so real. At this point, Raven was doubting if she was even facing a human.

Being already screwed up, she decided to tempt luck one last time, and clawed at the stitches on his throat; at least in hopes of escaping. Two audible pops were heard as her fingernails grabbed onto the couple of thick strands keeping his head on his shoulders. Robert automatically recoiled as he held onto his throat and hissed in pain, "Arrgh! That hurt you little shit!". Now she's definitely done it. Why the hell did she do that?? While keeping her pressed against the wall with his left hand, Robert used his right hand to practically "sew back" the loose stitches. Thankfully no blood was spraying about, but that definitely confirmed that what she's facing, was never human. She watched as he gruesomely poked his claws into his skin and tied back the loose strands. The skin looking overly stretched, almost threating to rip apart, "You're..... you're a real monster..." Her voice barely heard while her little frame shook with immense fear.

"Well not a 'Monster' per say...." He replied with a smug grin, "But I'll definitely be the last thing you'll see~" A deep dark chuckle emerged as drool started to drip from the corners of his mouth and almost drenching Raven, "Please.... don't hurt me", her soft voice begged. "Ohh don't worry I'm not gonna hurt you..." He paused, "I'm going to eat you!". That was even worse. She looked around for any means of escape, but she was cornered. "You might be skin and bones..." He pointed out as he trailed his thumb over her collar bone and the base of her neck, " and you're probably not gonna be filling enough..." Robert kept pondering as he slightly tapped his finger like claws over his stomach, "But! You should satisfy me enough until the next idiot that comes through this place. Now before I dig into you I need to remove whatever crap is on your face. I want to taste flesh, not pigments and chemicals" he mentioned at her make up as he tore a piece of Ravens costume revealing red shoes and a pair of jeans underneath the gown, and started to roughly remove the colours off her face.

She groaned in discomfort as he wiped off her blush, lipstick and eyeliner with a very harsh manner. Once done he creepily smiled as he threw the fabric aside, keeping a good hold to the back of her head and her shoulder while drooling with anticipation "There we go. All ready~". All that Raven could do now, was stare. Her body was too frozen to react, her voice was restricted, and life started to flash before her eyes as tears slowly trailed down her cheeks, probably going to serve more as additional taste to her flesh, "You don't need to cry, little Raven, I'll make sure they'll at least be able to find your bones; unless I "accidentally" eat those too" claimed the twisted god in a narcissistic tone. That was it for the girl, her life was over. She wondered if she said ' I love you ' to her parents that morning, if she had a chance to give them a hug as well, letting them know she's glad to have them in her life. The row of yellow stained teeth parted ways as a cavernous maroon maw was revealed. Spit flowing as it drenched her even more, the slick sound of the slithering tounge was just sickening to hear, and she swore she could spot more teeth on the back of his troath. It got closer...and closer...her head almost engulfed...the tounge trailing around her face....waiting for the bite to happen....

"RAVEN WHERE ARE YOU?!"

A familiar voice suddenly pierced the eery quietness of the neighborhood, halting the living creepy mannequin mid way from his task. Hope suddenly rushed through Raven's soul, recognising the voice of one of her beloved fathers. It was Victor, and it sounded like it came right outside the house! Robert growled as he retreated from the girls skull, hissing out a curse, "Ohhh for Fuck Sake!". The little girl didn't hesitate to call for help, "Da-!", but was quickly silenced as the man's hand wrapped around her mouth, "You shut your trap!". To avoid being seen he peeked out the window as he kept a hold of Raven.

Once the absence of Raven was noticed, both fathers instantly got into panic mode. Was she abducted? Did she get lost? Did she stray away with another group of children? The options were endless, and waisted no time looking for their daughter. Minutes into the search Roger started to have an odd feeling of were Raven could be. It might have been a distance, but he could feel that 'someone' was lingering in the human world, and she was headed to 'their' direction; which now brings us to the moment Raven was temporarily spared as soon as Victor called out for her, "Are you definitely sure she's here? It's not like I'm doubting due to your blindness but..." The giant man expressed his worries to his equally worried partner, "No offense taken...I just Know she's here, and she's very close", Roger claimed with a concerned expression. While Victor took the opportunity to search on the other side of the street, Roger just stood there... evaluating his surroundings.

"What the fuck is 'he' doing here?" Robert silently aksed to himself. He looked at the blind man that he somehow seemed to know, and the blind man, stared back. Once his blue eyes met with Robert's button ones a sharp chilling feeling crawled up his spine. The sinister smile had long faded away, and was replaced to a worrying look. He instantly turned his attention to the little girl as he uncovered her mouth and tugged onto the collar of the dress, demanding some answers, "How the hell do they know you?" Although confused and still scared, she replied, "They're...M-my dads...". Her answer seemed to have stunned him, "Even the blind man?? How's that possible??". It's really odd how all of a sudden he seems to be scared, "Roger ....he...he adopted me".

"..... Fuck this!" Suddenly Robert stood up, forcing Raven onto her feet, "I am NOT in the mood to fight, or get into a quarrel, or even be punched around!" He grabbed Raven from her arm and forced her to walk downstairs, making sure he doesn't dislocated a shoulder or else there'll be consequences. Once arrived at her point of entrance, he let go, "You're right. You are absolutely not supposed to be here! So you should get the fuck out, Never come back, and if we meet again, YOU. DONT. KNOW. ME!". So many questions flodded Raven's head, but wasted no time to crawl back out from the hole and sprint to her fathers, "Ddaaaaadddd!" She yelled as she hurled herself onto Roger, almost knocking him over while simultaneously knocking the air out of him as her little frame wrapped tightly around his thorso. Victor quickly noticed as well and made his way to them, "Raven we've been looking for you all over the town!" He exclaimed with relief as he approached.

Even if she was busy crying, she looked to them both with tears just running down here face, sobbing loudly as she spoke "I'm s-sorrryyyyy *hic* I shouldn't have do-done thiissss!!". Personally, Victor wanted to hug her, at least to show he's glad she's back. As for Roger, he hasn't really said or did anything, he just let Raven cry, waiting for her to calm down. Once the cries lessened, and the girl finally decided let go; leaving Roger's sweater drenched in tears, she aksed, "Are you...*sniff*..mad at me?". Victor wasn't sure what to answer despite it being a resounding 'Yes', but Roger spoke up first, "I'm not mad.... I am beyond Livid!" His once gentle voice soon turned brash and loud, "Just what on earth did ya think ye where doin' walking off from us like that?! Do ya even realise how irresponsible of you that was?? Of all places you wanted ta be it had to be here! What if you where taken hostage or worse killed?? And what if that house decided ta crumble over? Ya would ave' been stuck under the rubble! I just can't believe you would have the guts to get yerself in danger like that! I don't care if you're just a kid, yer old enough to know what's wrong from right! And THIS was NOT Right!!".

Both Victor and Raven were left speechless. How was it possible for a man like him to be This mad? Roger huffed with exhaust for how much he yelled, and Raven was hesitating if to cry again at his sudden outburts or avoid getting him more...livid, "I said I'm sorry..." She replied with an obvious guilty tone as she avoided his eyes, " 'Sorry' won't save ya from getting in trouble, Missy!" He sternly replied with crossed arms. At this point Victor felt to intervene as he lowered himself to Roger's level and whispered, "Look Roger, I know we're both upset at her for disappearing on us, but don't you think you're being a bit too harsh right now? I mean, she came to us crying! We don't even know what happened to her!". Although he's got a point, Roger made it clear that to love, you sometimes have to be cruel, "Just because she came ta us crying doesn't excuse the fact she risked her own life. You shouldn't let tears make you too soft in situations like this". He was the one with more experience in raising a child after all, and Victor, despite having the role of a father as well, still had more to learn.

"Once we're home, you're in for Loonng lecture of why you should never walk away from us". Raven just knew this would happen; maybe not as much but still! She knows it's her fault that she risked her own safety just because curiosity took the best of her. She was almost eaten alive, and all because she thought it was a costume! Disguise or not, she should have left the moment she spotted Robert's shadow running by. "First things first..." Roger chimed in as he reached out to Raven, pulling her into an affectionate tight hug. The red eyed girl was puzzled at first, that's until her father continued with a softer tone of voice, "Don't you ever do that to us ever again. Do you understand?" He almost sounded like he was about to cry. Yes, he acted a bit harsh, but it doesn't mean he didn't love her! As crazy as it may sound, if Victor was worried, Roger was twice as much! He feared to never hear her voice again, he was scared that she'll never come back. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if they didn't show up in time! He's been with her the longest, did everything to give her a future and life she truly deserved...all his attempts would have went to waste, and his wish to be a father would be short lived.

Raven slowly hugged back, and shyly asked, "You still love me though.... right?" The blind man redirect her gaze to him as he gently pressed his forehead to hers, "Ohh you can't Even imagine how much I love you. And just because I'm upset doesn't make me hate you or love you less". It felt relieving to hear him confirm it, but she just couldn't forgive herself to worry him like that, "I truly am sorry...I mean it" she repeated. He knows she is, but further discipline will come later. He gave her a long kiss to her forehead as he shortly stood up a moment later, "Let us go home now. It's getting late". That was Victors cue to pick up Raven and give her a big hug as well as carrying her back home. While Victor walked off, Roger gave one last glare at the window, were Robert was looking through with now raised arms as if saying 'I swear I'll never attempt to hurt her again'. With his hand, Roger pointed two fingers at his blind eyes, to then pointing them to the god of Chaos, simply warning, 'I'm keeping my watch on you', and went to join the rest of his family.

Once gone, Robert rested against the wall as he finally let out a sigh of relief, "shhiittt what a night! Guess I will be forced to eat rats after all" he claimed with a grudge. He barely took four steps as he kicked something plasticy and spilled it's contents over. Looking down he realised it was the girls bucket of sweets she came in with! He kneeled down as he picked up a bar of wafer covered chocolate. He barbarically tore off the top wrapper with his teeth, and proceeded to take a bite. He slowly chewed as his taste buds received quite the new flavour that wasn't raw meat. He sat down, and proceeded to take another bite, "Eh, much better than the rodents" He shrugged to himself. Although he never got to have a new prey that night, he at least wasn't going to spend it hungry.

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Ngl it was a blast writing this story 😁, and I also did insert references to Roger being The Impossible God and obviously being aware of Robert, I just wanted to make it interesting.

Lill Robert, Roger Willington, and Victor Bellman, all belong to @horrorartist23

#artists on tumblr #cypaira the skeleton #little nightmares human au #victor bellman #roger willington #lill robert #raven oc #oc raven #oc child #child oc #halloween story #horrorartist23 #I've finally achieved my dream of having raven interact with lill robert #i am fully aware he's one creepy son a bitch that will not hesitate to tear into you... #...but when it comes to raven... he's gonna have to suck it up cause he'll never get the chance to hurt her #he's free to mangle anyone else though #I'll admit that Lill Robert became my favourite oc... he's creepy but damn i love him #the impossible god #the impossible god roger #god of Chaos #robert god of Chaos

[thedreadvampy]

I think I may be a very boring person bc everyone I know has really off the wall monstery nightmares and listen. ALL my bad dreams are about anxiety from real world fears. I can IMAGINE a scary monster but I'm not sure I've ever DREAMED one.

My bad dream last night was about confronting two girls outside the supermarket for shouting insults at me and my partner and ending up getting chased with a knife then having to grab a cactus to get inside then bring late for something then getting filmed in a public place by Andrew Tate making tiktoks about the degeneracy of modern women. it was very anxious and painful and in the dream Sam was mad with me for getting us chased and hurt and late.

(but it's ok bc I said "aren't you meant to be in a Romanian prison" and smashed all 3 of Andrew Tate's phones very satisfyingly with no repercussions, and after that Sam cheered up and we had a lovely evening inventing a hipster cafe)

but the thing is this is all my Bad Dreams, like, not the ones with the most fucked up stuff happening but the ones that upset me the most and make me wake up all upscuttled. it's all stuff like I Am In A Car I Cannot Drive and I'm Late For Important Things and I Am On A Long Distance Mode Of Public Transport And I Am Trying To Physically Murder My Sibling and I Am In An Awkward Social Situation.

this has always been the flavour of most of my Distressing Dreams and I worry that this is final proof that I'm cripplingly Sensible.

#my most recent Wake Up In Misery dream before this one was an extended sequence where i was at a party #that my ex was also unexpectedly at #and i was having serious trauma responses but also didn't want to be rude and when i tried to quietly excuse myself #the person having the party made a huge thing about it and about me being super unfair to the ex and how he's a really good guy #distressing? yes. interesting? no. THAT'S JUST A THING THAT HAPPENS SOMETIMES. #like BRAIN. LEARN ABOUT METAPHORS. #dreams are meant to be METAPHORS for the anxieties you have not just STRAIGHT UP THE THING YOU'RE ANXIOUS ABOUT #i do have a special second kind of nightmare which is a lot weirder and is called Something Is Outside #I've only had 2.5 versions of this dream i remember vividly though #and one was the scariest fucking thing in my life but it was also. INCREDIBLY NORMAL? #i was sleeping on my friends sofa both in real and in the dream and in my dream i woke up and the was a girl in a red t-shirt outside #and i KNEW she wanted to get in. and in the dream i remembered having seen her earlier in the day outside my friend's mum's window #and she was just a normal person but for some reason i was absolutely TERRIFIED of her seeing me or coming inside #woke myself up so freaked out i couldn't sleep all night #and then there was the one where i was in a house that became underwater and a giant kitten with searchlight eyes was outside. #that one WAS very weird but unusually so #red said

[e-6000]

Had my first real nightmare in years last night

#littletalks.txt #it was more early this morning than last night #for context I have a lot of dreams that would likely be considered nightmares by most people that I don't consider nightmares bc they don't #upset me or unnerve me in any real way #I woke up at like five ish this morning. I puttered around for a bit and then decided to go back to sleep. I had sort of fallen into a light #sleep and began to dream. there was no plot it was very brief. I was getting into my car (standing in the open door) and there was this #little girl in the driveway on the other side of the car. she was laughing and in the context of the dream I think she was a friend's kid #(she doesn't exist irl) so I'm standing there talking with her parent and listening to this kid laugh when I begin to hear identical #laughter from beside me. I am filled with dread‚ I can't bring myself to look over at the source and the only thought in my mind is of teeth #it was at this point that I became just lucid enough to realize that I was dreaming though not lucid enough to snap myself out of it #so I guess I started squeezing my hand open and shut over and over to try to wake myself up. that's what I woke up doing anyway #my heart was going about a mile a minute #went back to sleep after that

[katyspersonal]

I love the dreams in which the chorus of Hail the Nightmare sings for me... It is a different song every time, but they are always so beautiful, so... genuine? Invoking emotions I can't even identify. They are entrancing and elevating. Singing of Choir (that I presume is in Ebrietas lyrics) just feels so cold and hollow in comparison, it doesn't have fire in it.

Really would love to see (or rather, hear, haha) another dream like that.

#personal #dreams #i miss that one mutual who was also excited to discuss such things and believed micolash was- #-a legit dream demon that settled in collective unconsciousness #hope they are okay. they said they were to take a long break from internet. #tonights dream was a torture though #in tonights dream ive met a friend ive lost like 5 years ago again #and was telling her how much i missed her and how much i feared id never hear her- #-talk about a [personal thing between us] again #so we were just talking like that... only for me to wake up and realize shes not here #and will never be #i just want to listen to another one of mensis songs #it is... bizarre really. these songs sound REAL. i swear they use proper latin somehow. #like if my brain just became a radio receiver #but they have 'fire' unlike choir singing. and in my dreams they lack downing sinister vibe of- #-Hail the Nightmare. they instead sound much more uplifting and dignified #like if those madmen still had more to look for than just dying and shedding away their humanity #Hail the Nightmare is madmen chorus (derogatory) but in my dreams its madmen chorus (affectionate)

[bruiisedpetals]

(``) @wcrriorhearts . dynamic tags

#(``) wcrriorhearts . our youthful dreams became adult nightmares ; aeron ft. rhaenyra #(``) wcrriorhearts . i'll love her for them both ; aeron ft. elaena #wcrriorhearts #(``) wcrriorhearts . in my heart ... always ; aeron ft. aemma #(``) dynamic tags

[murdrdocs]

REARRANGE YOUR WORLD. luke castellan

description. as the daughter of the god of dreams still honing her powers, you sometimes found yourself sucked into the dreams of others. tonight, like most nights, you find yourself in the dream of luke castellan. however, his dream seems to be more pleasant than it usually is

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, she/her pronouns for r, consensual voyeurism (luke watches), dub con voyeurism (r watches luke watching…), subby!Luke, dom!reader (dream scape reader), real r and luke r just friends, cliffhanger don't be shocked; title from this must be my dream by the 1975

pt 2

wc. 1.3k+

a/n: the description and warnings makes it sound confusing but its not i swear.

Your dreamscape begins to morph. 

You’re barely allowed to mourn the disappearance of the world you love so much, soft grass that acts as a cushion beneath your lax body, the distant smell of salt water and the soft sound of cascading waves just a little ways away. Nobody else in the world is there with you, yet you don’t feel lonely one bit. 

And then, it’s ripped from under you and you find yourself in a bedroom instead. 

It’s large, warm as if there was previously a source of heat but you don’t find one. You exist solely among furniture, a grandiose bedroom suite, a four poster bed in the center, the shape of what looks to be a couch in the corner. But nothing else is as clear as the bed. 

You take a step closer, preparing for the piece of furniture to be the focus of the dream. 

There’s just a few moments before the subject appears where things start to change. The changes aren’t noticeable, and if you hadn’t been forced to exist in dreams for a while now you wouldn’t have recognized them. The way the air became more humid and a little stuffier. The smell of the air becomes more pungent with a light musk that reeks of human sweat. And then you can feel a presence even before it’s there. 

That’s when they appear. 

One figure sits at the edge of the bed on their haunches. From what you can tell, they’re masculine presenting, the expanse of their back toned and tanned, dotted with a few sparse moles. They’re wearing nothing but dark boxer briefs. 

The other figure sits towards the top of the bed. They’re lounging more so, wearing nothing but feminine undergarments. It takes you a while to notice who it is, and you spend the time analyzing their position. Leaned back on their elbows casually, legs bent and connected at the knee. They hold the position and air of a goddess, but it’s not until the dream clears you that you notice they aren’t a goddess. They’re a demigod. 

They’re you. 

Wearing a confident smile (bordering on a smirk) as well as she’s wearing that underwear set. 

Your eyebrows furrow, you take a step closer, trying to figure out who is having a dream about you. 

You step to the side of the bed and focus on the masculine figure. When your eyes land on Luke Castellan, things start to click into place. 

Usually, Luke’s dreams are nightmares. Many times have you been pulled from the serenity of your dreamscape into the tortuous lands that Luke’s mind produced. You’ve fought off monsters from the deepest pits of the underworld along Luke’s side, only to wake up in the morning bearing the mental scars and smiling in Luke’s face as if you were unaware of your presence within his mind. 

Your shoulders briefly start to tense as you prepare yourself for such. You wait, and wait. Anticipating the ground to open and swallow the scene. Or for a lightning bolt to strike down your surroundings. Or for something to come from somewhere to morph this brief serenity. 

But the nightmare never comes. 

Which leaves you to watch and see what will come. For better or for worse. 

A few moments go by and then Dream You is speaking. 

“Are you going to watch me, Lukey?” 

Your eyebrows raise at the nickname. It’s not one you haven’t called him before, but you usually say it in an egotistical tease, used mostly during intense moments like capture the flag or during training. 

Never with that tone of voice. 

Dream You speaks like a temptress. Her voice is smooth, teasing, and seductive. You don’t even know if your real life voice is capable of sounding like that. 

Luke nods, curly hair bouncing with the movement. 

“Yes.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “If you’ll let me.” 

Her grin grows and it’s not unlike the appearance of the cheshire cat. 

“Of course I’ll let you, Luke. I’m not cruel.” 

Dream You spreads her legs and the wet patch in the center of her panties is so vivid and emphasized. It’s only something that could exist within a dreamscape, a place where everything was emphasized. Desired or not. 

With the way Luke’s breath hitches, you’re sure the sight of Dream You’s arousal is heavily desired by him. 

His fingers twitch at his sides as if he wants to touch you. You notice Dream You’s eyes glancing down to his digits, but if she notices his eagerness she doesn’t say anything. 

She situates herself up against the headboard and uses her now freed hands to touch her body. One hand goes to her chest and the other goes between her legs. She closes her eyes, and begins to touch over her slit. 

“What do you say?” She asks Luke, her eyes still closed as she gets lost in the movements. 

Luke’s reply is nearly instant. 

“Thank you.” 

Dream You sighs, she hums dismissively, and then she hooks her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and slides them off of her legs. 

For some reason, your first instinct is to turn away. It’s only now that you’ve realized that Luke Castellan is having a wet dream about you, and you then realize that this is an intrusion. You shouldn’t be here and you should instead be working on finding your way out. 

There is no reason for you to stay. Surely, Luke won’t be in any danger in this dream. There'll be no variables for you to manipulate or no reason to wake Luke up before he goes too far under. 

But then again … it’s your body. You look at it every single day and that shouldn’t have to change solely because you’re viewing it through someone else’s perspective.  Intrigue preys on you, urging you to get closer and closer until you can feel the heat wafting off of their bodies. 

You take a step closer. 

Since Luke has never seen you naked (from what you know at least), there are a few things that are off. Before you can stop yourself, you’ve blinked and your dream body is as realistic as the one in reality. 

She swipes her fingers through her slit, dragging them up to her clit to rub a few circles, then she goes back down to slip her fingers into her entrance, two at a time. 

Her moan is instantly pornographic. She throws her head back, arches her back, spreads her legs even more as her fingers start to pump in and out of her cunt. The noises are loud and lewd and vivid. They should make you cringe, and if you weren’t starting to be affected by Luke’s dream then maybe you would have. 

Instead, you notice Luke beginning to palm the very prominent shape in his briefs and you can feel yourself falling under a spell of sorts. Everything becomes dreamier. You’re losing your self control. You’re having to fight the urge to kneel on that bed with Luke. 

You don’t know if you expected Luke to ask Dream You for permission to touch himself (the relationship between these two is almost as intriguing as their movements), but he doesn’t. He reaches into his briefs and pulls his cock out. 

You get a glimpse of his head—red and leaking and admittedly enticing—before your moral compass knocks back into place. 

You take one step back, and then another. There really is no reason for you to be in here. Luke is fine, he’s probably having the time of his life, and you no longer have to play the role of the worried friend. You can leave him to his dreamscape, and return to yours where you’ll either try to remember as many details as possible or try to forget it all. 

Either way, you shouldn’t be in here. 

You turn around and a door appears. 

Your foot lands in front of you, and you’re about to make your way to the exit until Luke speaks. 

“Stay.”

#lukesworld! #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo #luke castellan x reader

[missiemoosie]

Chapters: 40/41 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s), Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Bilbo Baggins/Bofur Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins, Bofur (Tolkien), Original Hobbit Character(s), Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Adventure, Humor, Slow Burn, Friendship, Family Feels, Canonical Character Death, Heartbreak, Bilbo's a worrywort of a dad and rightly so, Took blood is a pain in the ass, Fili gets more 'screen' time than Kili, Thorin is a Softie, Original Character(s), Lost Love, Overprotective Bilbo, not all adventures are fun adventures, Book verse and movie verse, Accidental Boffins Summary:

Bilbo had raised his daughter to be a proper, respectable Baggins: Polite, friendly, a good cook...But, like her father, she had Took blood running through her veins that left her quietly wishing for some sort of excitement to happen in her life. When Thorin and his Company arrive at Bag End, she gets her wish and signs a contract, becoming the fifteenth member of the Company. But she soon learns that not all adventures are fun and games like the fairytales Bilbo read her as a child--some are dangerous, frightening, and heartbreaking.

#the hobbit #fanfiction #her dreams became nightmares #thorin oakenshield #my ocs hobbit baylee #thorin x oc #bofur x bilbo #tolkien #the hobbit fanfiction

[art-by-moosie]

And the rework of the old piece is finished!

After writing Thorin's death scene in Her Dreams Became Nightmares, it gave me the motivation to rework the Durin Funeral piece I did three years ago, since a lot had changed in regards to little Baylee there. First was the fact that she was too big compared to the others--she's only 3ft, 7in. Secondly, when I did the original picture, I hadn't planned on her actually being married to Thorin.

Well, now she's his widowed queen, so she had to look the part.

Anyway. I hope ya'll like this reworked Durin Funeral~



Art tag: @grunid

Third time trying to upload this. let's hope it works x_x

#moosie's art #my ocs hobbit baylee #the hobbit #the hobbit fanart #the hobbit fandom #tolkien #tolkien fanart #tolkien fandom #her dreams became nightmares #fanfic illustration #art #digital art #digital painting #durin sons #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #please reblog #medibang paint #ipad pro #fandom art #original character #fancharacter #fan oc

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: so i lied about this being the last chapter, there's one more, i know im sorry....... also shout out to my friends, who were unbelievably helpful with the smut part because oh, there's smut here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (yuuuh yuuuuuuh), Alcohol, like....a tiny bit of Humiliation.

Summary: The month-long courting comes to an end with a bang! As your engagement party commences, wine flows and darker feelings rise to the surface

Pt. 1, Pt.2 Pt.4 (finale)

In the darkness of the night, he still comes to you in your dreams, knife in hand, body taunt and ready to strike. Every single morning, you awake with a gasp, as visions of your tormentor plague you. In some, he slits your throat, reveling in the way red cascades down your nightgown. Other times, it's a quick and brutal stabbing, your insides twisting as you wake. 

But then, there are those rare nights where you rise from your bed, sweat clinging to your skin, as you fight with the pressure in your stomach, try to rid yourself of the images, before making yourself presentable for breakfast. 

Those dreams, nightmares, are the worst. 

White, elegant fingers, grabbing, pulling, pinching every surface of your exposed skin. Defined arms around you, squeezing your pliant body in an embrace that is as tender and romantic, as a snake suffocating its victim. Deceivingly soft lips, mapping a trail down your front, pulling back to reveal teeth, which make that same trail visible, hurting.

In those dreams, he paints you with black. Taints you, until you're molded into his perverse image, until there's no telling where he ends, and you begin. He makes you into a sculpture, in a way that an artist cuts away pieces of clay, slowly robbing you of all agency, until there's only what he wants to see. And you let him, with a trembling smile on your lips, hands twisted into the stained sheets of your bed. 

Ignoring him has become an art form as well.

Since your faithful tangle at the training barracks, you did everything in your power, to never appear in the same room as him, or at least, never alone. You became a shadow in your own home, a whisper of the person you used to be. Shame is a powerful thing, and you wore it like a wedding veil over your face. Paul would always help you, silently. Never asking outright what had happened between you and the Harkonnen, but somehow always knowing. Your brother, your salvation, breaks your heart everytime he grabs your hand, and leads you away from the predator in the room.

The date of your engagement party has been set a week into the future. The nervous bustling of the court only heightening your already wracked thoughts, as the inevitability of your situation begins to haul you to the ground. 

Your Mother took most of the preparations on her back, directing the servants, the kitchen, the musicians. She picked out a dress for you, some flowing abomination, which hung in your closet, reminding you every morning, that you will have to wear it with a smile. You hoped, there will be wine at the feast, hope that it will be sweet enough to dull your insides. 

As the date of the feast comes closer and closer, you begin to spend more time outside. 

The air is crisp and smells of seawater, and you can't help but inhale fully, every time. You want it seared into your brain, so whenever you're taken away from your home, you can run back to this memory, to the feel of grass under your fingers. 

- You'll catch a cold, if you keep sitting here.

Paul's voice brings you back from your dark thoughts, and you look up, from your spot in the grass. He stands a couple paces back, hands folded behind his back in a manner, that is reminding you of your Father more and more every day. 

- Do you want to join me? - you ask, your lips quirking up into a small smile - Or would you prefer to stand there like a pillar of salt?

Your brother shakes his head, before coming closer and plopping down next to you, his skinny legs stretched out in front of him. The both of you sit in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze ruffling your hair, the smell of ocean and the waves crashing into the cliffs. There are seagulls flying over your heads, and you feel the moisture from the grass seep into your clothing. 

A wistful sigh escapes you, before you can stop it, and you let yourself fall, laying flat on the hill. 

Paul looks down at you, undescribable sadness swimming in his eyes, and an instinct of sister awakes in you, a need to comfort, despite being a wreck yourself. So, you offer him a smile, a tired one, but a smile nonetheless. 

- Do you think we could take the horses for a ride today? - your brother asks with naive hope, his eyes turning to the sea.

- Mother won't allow me to go, she wants me to spend my pondering the proper behavior during the feast - try as you might, you can't hide the bitterness in your voice - Besides, I could fall off and hurt the merchandising. 

Paul's hand finds yours, and he squeezes your fingers tightly. It's hard not to break, in moments like these. When you're forced to remember, you'll most likely never see your family again. 

- If I could do something, anything... - you recognize that feverish note in your brother's voice, it's devoid of reason, impulsive, too much like you.

- But you can't, so you won't.

A frustrated sound escapes his mouth, and he turns back to the sea. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, eyelashes falling heavily on your cheeks. He looks like a Duke, you conclude, and that thought feels strangely comforting. No matter where you'll be shipped off, no matter what life has in store for you in the future, somehow, you know your brother will persevere. 

- Do you remember that time Gurney made us train on the beach? - you ask, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over you, as the clouds float in the sky above you - Cause of the... The balance. We had to try to balance in the sand.

Paul twists his head towards you, surprised at the turn of the conversation, before cracking a smile. 

- Yes, he slipped on the rocks, nearly broke his backbone - he starts to wave his hands around in a wonderful reenactment of your mentor's fall, before collapsing next to you in the grass.

Your laughter mingles with the sounds of the sea, as the both of you, the future of House Atriedes, share memories, scenes from the life you've lived together. The good and the bad. The horse races through plains and hills of Caladan, the many, many food fights. It's hard to tell, how much time you spend together, laying in the grass, but when you finally fall into silence, the air has become considerably more chilly. A sign, it's time to return to reality, to your duties. 

- You should've been me, and I you - Paul whispers suddenly, and you close your eyes in a pained expression. 

Perhaps it's true. Perhaps Lady Jessica made a mistake, and gave a Daughter where she should've given a Son. Now, it's no longer important. Your roles have been set in place, all you could do, is fulfill them. Somewhere back, in the direction of the Palace you can hear a voice calling your names. A reminder, that the world outside this grassy sanctuary exists, and can't wait any longer. 

You move to stand, Paul gathering himself up closely behind. Your clothes stick to your body, and you're shivering from the cold, but if you could spend just one more moment exactly like that, you would've taken that chance without question. 

An arm snakes around your elbow, and you lean onto your brother's shoulder, as you start to walk back, steps swaying like a pair of drunkards. Then, Paul tugs you closer, you can feel him tense suddenly, as he leans with a sullen expression on his pale face.

- I hate the way he looks at you - he confesses, waves upon waves of righteous Atriedes fury crashing in his voice.

You don't know how to respond to that, so you stay silent, giving his arm a reassuring tug.

That was the last conversation you've had with your brother.

*** While the House Atriedes is characterized by a rather mellow temper, there was one thing they took extremely seriously. And those, unfortunately for you, were engagement rituals. 

So, that's why you sit posed like a porcelain doll in a deep chair, next to your soon-to-be husband, at the foot of a long table, surrounded by music, and dancing, and food. There are ribbons hung from the high ceilings, and flickering lights float around them like little fireflies. You watch, as they dance above you, the ridiculous headdress placed on your hair digs into your skul. Color surrounds you, your own dress flowing like a waterfall, elegant, yet delicate. The pools of fabric gather around your legs, a chiffon monstrosity, that you know, is supposed to make you beautiful. 

And perhaps you would've felt beautiful, if this was any other occasion. A birthday feast, perhaps. Dare you say, and engagement party with someone you actually loved. 

Speaking of which, your betrothed sits beside you, sticking out like a sore thumb. He looks utterly bored, eyes following the celebrating masses, hand playing with a steak knife. Not enough blood for his tastes, you suppose. He's dressed in traditional Harkonnen attire, which you think, doesn't really look that much different from all the other outfits you've seen him in. Black, sleek, efficient. You must be a curious pair, a mass of colorful materials and a black-stone pillar. 

The wine, thankfully, is sweet. It warms your face, and turns your insides into a pleasant mush. You should've eaten more, but then again, it was a celebration of your imprisonment, and if you wanted to get drunk, you would. And you did get drunk. Quickly. 

The dress moves with you, as you slowly slide down the chair, one leg resting up on the seat. A frightfully unbecoming sight, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Another, clumsy drink from your cup, and you sigh deeply, blinking a couple of times to rid yourself of sudden dizziness. 

Your betrothed gives you a look, whether it's of warning or amusement, you're not sure. And you don't care. Your nose scrunches in the general direction of his smooth head, and you take another sip, just to spite him.

- Shut up - you grumble, a slurr entering your words.

- I haven't said a word - he counters, and this time you can see him smile.

- You're thinking, it's annoying.

Feyd Rautha has an unpleasant laugh. 

Sharp and low, and very rough around the edges. It's like listening to an old spaceship try to take off, and you're sure you don't want to hear him laugh ever again. That's it, your goal in this, frankly, fucked up marriage, will be to never make your husband laugh. Although, it's best not to think about it so loudly, he might be a hidden mind reader, and would most likely laugh in your face every day, just to torture you. 

God. You were going to regret every sip come tomorrow morning.

- You're wrapped like a present - Feyd Rautha leans down with a smirk playing on his full lips, and you have to crane your neck to look him straight in the face - Shall I unwrap you here, while your family watches?

Despite the light tone, you shiver under his gaze. Something in the way his body seems relaxed yet tense at the same time tells you, this shameless man would do it in a heartbeat, if you as much as inclined your head. 

- Gross - you groan, hand untangling itself from the amassing of chiffon to push back at his face.

It's the first time, you've touched him out of your own volition, and even in your drunken daze, you note the sudden glint in his eyes. Fingers grab at your wrist, keeping you in place, as he leans further into your touch, turning his head slightly. Wine mixes with sudden embarrassment, as his lips brush against the meat of your palm. Then, black teeth shine and your heart jumps to your throat, as he bites down on your skin, hard enough to make you jump. Tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your thumb, before giving your fingertip a tiny nibble.

You tear your hand away from him, pressing it into your chest with an appalled expression. There are indents just below your thumb in the shape of his teeth, and the confounding feelings you've been trying to stoke for almost a month now, come crashing down upon you.

He looks satisfied with himself, returning back to his seat, and his steak knife. The utensil reflects the flowing lights, and despite yourself you swallow thickly, turning back to your cup, which is quickly becoming empty.

God, it was getting incessantly hot in this cursed dining hall. 

Whether it was the wine, or the sudden wave of knee-bending arousal washing through you, you couldn't tell. (It was both, you were fully aware it was both) And you're uncomfortable, terribly so. You fidget in your seat, almost painfully aware of the heat, which has now spread further down. The fabric of the dress slides against your body, skin becoming far too sensitive, too hungry for touch. You try to relieve some of your torment, legs squeezing and rubbing together. Treacherous tongues of self-awareness rear its ugly heads, and you look up, and...

Of course he noticed. 

Feyd Rautha places his chin in his hand, and he observes you with a knowing look, which turns dark and terrifying as soon as your eyes meet.

- Careful, lest the court starts talking - he warns you, his voice somehow becoming deeper than before, and you take a shuddering breath.

Dagnerous, this is dangerous.

 You're seated far away from your family, from any consolation, and even if they were close enough to intervene, the masses of dancing people, the sound of their laughter... Your heart stops, a snake curling itself around your insides. Truly, if that beast of a man wanted to, he could make do of his threat from earlier, and take you where you sit. Haunted by that thought, both terrifying and arousing, you down the rest of your wine. 

It doesn't taste as good anymore. Hell, it threatens to come back up, until you force it to sit in your stomach. 

Duncan, you need to find Duncan, or you'll do something incredibly stupid. You'll do something incredibly stupid either way, but at least the regret will be less biting. So, pulling yourself up on trembling arms, you shuffle out of your chair, your betrothed's heated gaze following you on your way through the hall. 

People don't even look at you, too enraptured with free food and drinks, and the music, which flows loudly through the air. Good, in any other case, the Duke's Daughter, stumbling drunk through corridors, would certainly lift some eyebrows. Your feet carry you towards the training barracks, a familiar route you've followed many times. Indulging in sex with your Father's most trusted advisor was not the healthiest form of regulating emotions, but you needed something, and God knows, you'd rather die than get it from anyone else. From Him especially.

The choice is made for you, however, as a strong hand wraps itself around your arm, just above your elbow, yanking you backwards, behind a stone column. The world spins in front of your eyes, and for a second you worry the company of wine warming your insides is about to abandon you along with breakfast. 

- Do you truly thought, you could sneak away from me?

Finally, your eyes focus on Fey Rautha's face, almost demonic in the low light of the corridor. Shadows play on his expression, falling heavily over his eyes, and you try to wrench yourself from his grasp.

- What I do is none of your business - you slurr out, wringing your arm every which way, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh - Let go of me.

The Harkonnen presses himself closer to you, trapping your body between the stone and himself. His nose nearly crushes itself into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, taking a disturbing long whiff. You can feel his chest vibrate against your own, as he groans deep within his throat. It sobers you up in record speed, and you start to thrash in his hold. He subdues your outburst, as if he was made for it, before dragging his nose up, towards your hair. You snarl like a wild animal.

- Let me go. 

His body moves on its own accord, tearing itself away from you in an instant, legs tripping over themselves, to put distance between your bodies. He looks up at you, muscles tense and an expression of shock painted across his pale face. 

The ability to use the Voice was something you rarely took part in. Training sessions with your Mother went well, as expected of a woman, but you still had a lot of work ahead of you. You blink forcefully, steadying yourself against the wall behind you. Then, you notice the borderline murderous look on your soon-to-be husband's face.

- Witch - he spits out, baring his blackened teeth at you.

- I am the Daughter of Duke Atriedes - your voice carries a note of righteous pride, despite dread climbing up your spine - And you will treat me with respect, wedded or not.

He straightens himself with petrifying speed, and as he takes a step towards you, actions overtake reflection. Your hand winds back, and you bring a resounding slap across his sharp cheekbone. While your palm blooms with pain, he seems to barely react, closing the distance between the two of you after a tense beat. Before you have a chance to react again, his hands grab at your face, and his lips crash against yours in a punishing kiss.

Teeth clink together and the momentum of the kiss makes your head collide with the stone pillar behind you. He's fingers dig into your cheeks and your jaw, as he devours you completely, bringing down all your defences in one swoop. You kiss him back, almost immediately, opening your mouth to let him in, to meet his tongue halfway. It's almost grotesque, how much you hate and love this at the same time, the buzzing of the wine mixing with the sound of your racing heart, with the sound of his unabashed sounds of pleasure. 

Hands flail at your sides, as you grab all you can take, pulling him even closer by the thick fabric of his tunic. 

His hands however, know exactly what they want, and as he lets go of your face, they both sink down. Fingers hook into the neckline of your dress, and he tears it down, your entire body swaying with the force of his movement. Your breasts are freed for only just a moment, cold air hitting them in a way that would be uncomfortable, if they weren't immediately covered by your betrothed's large palm. He palms at your chest, as if he wants to crush it, and you bite back a whine, which threatens to spill from your abused lips. 

- Don't - he growls a warning, unoccupied hand tangling itself within your hair - Sing.

And you do. As his mouth descends upon your neglected breast, where he alternates between licks and bites that make your back fly off the wall. Once again you don't know what to do with your hands, finding them entirely useless in the Harkonnen's overpowering grasp. One, grabs at his shoulder, undecided on whether to push him off, or pull him in closer. The other one scratches four lines into his skull, as he sucks on the sensitive skin under your ribs. 

Finally, he detaches from you completely, standing straight and regarding you with a look so intensely ravenous, it shakes you to your core. Your exposed chest rises and falls in tandem with your heaving breaths, and you shiver, as cold air hits your skin. His gaze drinks in your dissheveled hair, the way your lips are puffy and red. A beautiful sight for his blackened eyes. 

- I know who you went looking for - he starts, stalking towards you once again - Can't have that, can I?

You debate feigning confusion, outrage at such accusation, which hasn't really been uttered yet. But, as Feyd Rautha stops just short of the bottom hem of your dress, you suddenly find yourself unable to speak. Instead, as a last ditched effort to rid yourself of him, your hand extends, a half-hazard attempt at liberation. He swats it away, as one would a mere fly, before sinking to his knees in front of you. 

- Lift up your dress, Viper - his voice is like thunder in your ears, and you bite your lips at the sight of his eyes, dark and surprisingly eager.

Hands move clumsily in an effort to gather all those translucent layers. You nearly trip over yourself, earning a rather nasty chuckle from below. As soon, as your legs are visible, he dives between the chiffon, his head dissapearing from sight. You can feel his lips, traveling up the expanse of your calf, giving a light bite under your knee. 

Anticipation siezes your gut, and you grab onto the wall, as if that would save you. His hands grab your leg, skin incredibly warm to the touch for someone who looks so cold, and then, with forceful tugs, he starts to manouver you. 

You let out an unbecoming squeak, as he yanks your leg over his shoulder. Strong hands keep you in place, and he reaches out around the upper part of your thigh to all but tear your undergarments off of your core. The force of this action makes you jump in place on your one available leg, just to hold your balance, and for a second you consider swatting at him. 

That thought leaves you almost immediately after it appears, as an onslaugh of kitten licks unleashes downward. A vague, head like shape moves under your dress, the chiffon floating from place to place like a hypnotizing river. The wine must've heightened your senses to an alarming degree, because as soon as Feyd Rautha begins his ministrations, you're a mess. 

It's honestly humiliating, the way you fight for any purchase on the wall behind you, as he begins to lick in earnes, parting your legs further with one hand, while the other wraps securely around your used leg. While there, he cops a feel of your behind, fingers biting into the soft flesh, and you lock your lower lip between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood on your tongue.

As if he's developed some new telepathic talents, his hand leaves your ass, in favor of winding up, and slapping it harshly. The action makes your jump in place once again, a sound stuck between outrage and glee fleeing your throat, before you have the chance to stop it. Right, "sing", you remind yourself, and immediately feel him change his tactics. 

Your bundle of nerves opens new possibilities of torment, and as his lips close around the bud, you can't help the whine, escaping through your lips. The music is loud, you remind yourself. They won't hear, no one will hear. His hand pushes your dangling leg further up your shoulder, and your back arches from the stone. You will be sore as all hell after this is done, but for now, it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters, except the way your betrothed eats you out, like a man who's been starved for decades.

- Oh shit - you curse, hands flailing uselessly - Oh fuck!

All of a sudden, everything stops, and your building peak subsides into a dissatisfactory simmer. Feyd Rautha's head emerges from under the fabric, a terrible, shit-eating grin on his wet lips.

- Such language? - he teases, tongue darting out to lap at your arousal - So unbecoming of a-...

- Fucking don't stop! - there's panic in your movements, as you grab the back of his head, and shove him right under your dress again.

The laughter should be unsettling for you, but he returns to his post with twice as much motivation, and however more strength, and before you know it, your orgasm sneaks upon you. A sudden tightness in your core is all the warning you get, before the coil snaps, and your entire body starts to spasm in pleasure. 

It's good. Incredibly so. You'd risk saying it's the most intense you've ever came, but never out loud, never to him. That shameful secret was between you and whatever God that was listening. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your breathing stopping for just a moment. 

And then you go deliciously limp, legs giving out completely. 

To his credit, the Harkonnen catches you before you hit the floor, the arm curling around your leg proving to be an unmeasurable support. His head emerges from under the dress once again, and he lets you slide down the wall, until you're seated. He sways on the balls of his feet, still towering you, even as he crouches. 

You swallow, throat slightly raw from all the noise you've done moments ago, and he follows the movements of your neck muscles with greedy eyes. Still greedy, after taking so much. Truly, he was a Harkonnen. And before you can stop yourself, a thought materializes in your brain, a treacherous little information, which would shake you to the core, if your muscles weren't currently made of taffy.

He blushes pink. Your betrothed blushes pink, from the exercise of making you cum on his tongue alone. God, what a precious sight.

He must've noticed the serene smile playing upon your lips, and his nature to ruin comes to light. His hand reaches back, and you freeze in your spot, as you recognize that damned golden steak knife. The blade shines in the dimly lit corridor, making your breathing faster, questions swimming behind your eyes. You don't really want to fight him in this state, but you fucking will, if he tries anything. 

- An engagement present, for you, Viper. - he rasps, licking his reddened lips in an obscene display, which doesn't repulse you quite as much as it should. 

- I have nothing to give in return - your voice is stern, and your betrothed flashes you an evil grin.

Then, he presents you the tip of the knife, golden utensil hanging between his slender fingers, and you look up at him, not understanding what is expected of you. Placing one knee on the floor, Feyd Rautha lowers himself to your eye level, for the hundredth of times surprising you with the sheer grace in his movements. 

- Kiss - he whispers, into the space between the both of you.

Your eyes fall to the knife, then, to him and you take a long, deep breath. Pride, your biggest flaw, takes a deadly hit, as the man twists the knife in his fingers, looking at you expectedly. You hate him, truly and deeply, and it must be showing on your face, because he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, as soon as your eyes meet. 

Swallowing your pride, you keep his gaze, leaning towards the blade. Your lips press delicately against the cool metal and the Harkonnen flashes you a nasty, self-satisfied smirk, before slipping the knife up his sleeve and standing up. 

- I'll see you back at the feast - he gives you a small bow, and you press your lips tightly together.

- Fuck you.

- After the wedding, my Viper.

And with that, he turns around.

 You're left there, on the floor, your dignity in shambles, the exertion catching up to you all at once, as if his presence alone was the only thing keeping you from feeling pain. A stupid thought, you chastize yourself, before slowly pulling yourself from the cold tiles. 

It takes you a couple of shameful minutes, trying to put yourself back together again. The ridiculous headdress, which has slipped all the way down from your hair, will probably never look the same, as when your Mother has styled it, but you can't find it in yourself to care. 

The music still plays, as you enter the hall, and thankfully, no one notices your arrival. No one but your betrothed, who raises his drinking cup in your direction, as if nothing had happened. His face is annoying, you conclude, and turn away, your aching legs taking you towards the center of the room, where people danced and sang in celebration of your engagement. What a lovely sight, what a lovely couple. Opposites attract, right?

Bitter, aching and humiliated, you throw yourself into the crowd, let it sway you from place to place, as you dance away this whole wretched week. The whole month-long courting rituals, which were just a bullshit attempt at torture. 

It's said, that when Death comes to take your soul, you're allowed one more dance before the eternal void. 

So you dance. 

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #tennis ball strikes again #i would also like to thank tiktok editing community for giving me material to daydream about #im seeing this movie again on thursday totally not because i want to write the most accurate smut in the next chapter

[bigwiglesbrain]

tell me about nathalie i like their name!!!

so nathalie is the adoptive mom of crys and cecilia. she cant have kids bc shes a trans woman and shes a milf and super overworked and super badass

she fights using a giant axe and has huge muscles but she dresses to hide it so ppl are always surprised that shes super strong. shes tired all the time but also spoils her kids whenever possible bc she loved them damnit. she gets a lot of money from her job so shes paying for crys's transition and whenever shes home she does one activity with them each and she taught them both life skills (cooking cleaning and sewing) because her parents didnt teach her. crys and cecilia help out around the house so that nathalie can have time to relax.

also she is estranged from her family not bc she is trans but because she didnt want to walk in her family footsteps. her siblings and parents treat her with a lot of contempt so she pours everything she can into her kids so that she can have a loving relationship. she is constantly fighting her family over things (such as her grandfather's house, which he left to her, where she lives) and is dealing with constant court cases.

tldr shes 42 years old and wants to retire. fuck her stupid baka life

#theres a LOT more to her but idk how to articulate it without hours of overthinking #basically shes the 'good mom' trope with a lot of bullshit underneath the surface #shes a fighter though #crys and cecilia - when they were younger; around 15 - campaigned to ask her work to give her a week off for free #and miraculously! her work did! it was the best week of her life and she cries thinking about it #she finds solidarity in those shitty emo songs from like. 2015. that r like 'life is a dream and im in a nightmare' bs #sai and duong are her employees and see her as the cool boss they became friends with somehow #she loves both of them but god damn it if they dont get their shit together and start dating shes going to wring both of their necks #oc tag #her family situation is like #nathalie: hey im a trans woman who goes by nathalie #her family: ok 👍 #nathalie: i dont want to follow in my parent's footsteps because theyre corrupt and in the medical field; which im not interested in #her family: YOU WHAT??????

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #fragilefable #ೃ༄ wren writes

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Wet Dream in your lap pt. 2 - Genshin Impact

Pairings: Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet x reader (separately)

Warnings: GN!reader, Male!reader (Freminet), dom!reader, sub characters, bottom!Freminet, somnophilia, clothed humping/grinding (Lyney, Lynette)

Genre/Format: Smut; Scenarios

Author's Note: As usual, characters are 20+. Can you tell that I'm obsessed with these three? I got a bit carried away with Freminet's part aha...

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

The two of you had spent all day exploring the aquatic region of Fontaine, traversing hills and diving underwater, fighting countless monsters along the way. It was nighttime now, and time for some much needed rest

You found a secluded spot in the woods, tucked away near a cliff and sheltered from any sudden rain. You built a small campfire and cooked dinner before chatting about your day, the pleasant conversation and full stomachs causing you both to grow drowsy. Your partner cozied up against you, eventually settling down in your lap, drifting off peacefully in your arms

Sometime later, they began to stir...

The small magician groaned in his sleep, digging his fingers into your arm. His breathing increased as he began rolling his hips, as if he was trying to grind against something. You were worried for a second, but when you whispered a Darling, are you alright? into his ear, Lyney moaned and bucked his hips

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Oh, you understood what was happening, and so badly wanted to tease him when he was all vulnerable like this. Lyney continued to writhe in your grasp, hips jerking when his unconscious mind realized your hand was in between his legs, rubbing his bulge and coaxing more sweet moans out of him

He panted as you teased him, rubbing him quickly then suddenly stopping, repeating the motions over and over. You cooed all sorts of filth to your little sweetheart, letting your hot breath fan against the shell of his ear and blow down his neck. Which only made him squirm and whine more

Lyney humped your hand vigorously, seemingly chasing after his orgasm in his sleep. You squeezed the small section of his thigh that peeked out from his attire, if you could, you'd mark the soft flesh. Leaving bruises and bite marks all over his pretty skin

His movements became erratic, signaling his incoming climax. The hand cupping his dick squeezed him a bit, your other hand moving up to his clothed chest and resting over his heart. His heartbeat was going crazy, you could feel the pounding rhythm inside of him, all thanks to your ministrations

“A-ah...y/n—!! Aaahh—!! ” Lyney's eyes snapped open as he cried out your name. Feeling a warm, wet sensation growing in his pants. He gripped at your hands on him, looking up and back at you confused. You only smiled at him, rubbing over his sensitive cock again, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He slowly figured out what had happened... embarrassed at being caught acting so desperate in his sleep...

-

She looks so cute like this, you thought to yourself. Curled up in your lap, her cheek pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around her sleeping form, and a calm expression on her face. Lynette looked so comfy right now, and you were nearly falling asleep yourself. That is, until she made a noise

A soft whine rumbled out of the young lady, followed by her shifting around. You watched her closely, wanting to make sure that she wasn't having a bad dream or suddenly uncomfortable in her current position. Lynette whined again, this time squeezing her thighs together, her eyes scrunching up as well

Oh. Ok... interesting. Sooo, probably not a nightmare. You were more convinced that she was actually having a wet dream... Testing your theory, you slid one hand down to her thigh, rubbing it gently. “Aah...” Lynette's soft moan beckoned you to continue, moving your hand upwards to brush against her clothed pussy. Her body jerked forward at the contact, gasping from your touch

“Ohhh– Mmm...” Little moans fell from her lips, fluffy ears twitching as you continued to rub between her legs. You applied a little pressure to where her clit should be, rubbing in little circles, and Lynette squeaked. Clutching your shirt in her hands as you worked her up. Resting your chin on her head and whispering soft praises to soothe her

She swallowed, beginning to pant the longer your hands played with her sensitive pussy, already soaking through her clothes without even cumming yet. Lynette's hips rolled against your hand, grinding the wet fabric onto your skin, searching for any kind of friction she could to bring her closer to the edge

Finally, relief would find her in the form of your hand speeding up. Rubbing her faster and applying more pressure so that she could actually cum. Her tail swished rapidly behind her, a sign that she was so close...if you just keep touching her like that...

“Nyaa—!! Ooohh...aaaahh~ ” Lynette squealed as she came, white hot pleasure searing through her body, cheeks flushed and nails digging into whatever part of you that she could reach in her hazy state. Her chest heaved with every breath, muscles starting to relax as her high subsided

-

It was a little surprising to see Freminet voluntarily cuddle up to you like this. He's always so shy and reserved, so you weren't expecting it...but you also weren't complaining either. As long as he was comfortable, that was all that mattered

You held him closely, enveloping his small frame in your warmth. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier, being lulled to sleep by the ambiance of the forest, beginning to drift away until your ears picked up on something... A tiny breath. Did it come from Freminet? It was probably nothing, just an exhale or something small like that

Again, another little breathy noise. Freminet was now squirming around in your arms, the noises that he had been making only increasing in volume and frequency. His hips now humped at the air, desperately chasing anything that would bring him pleasure. How precious, your soft-spoken angel moaning like a whore and humping at nothing in his sleep. How precious, indeed

Hooking one arm under his knees, you picked him up, moving over to your sleeping bag and gently laying him down with his head resting on the soft cloth. You pulled his shorts down, revealing his half hard cock and making him shiver from the cold, night air. Your eyes practically sparkled as you wrapped your fingers around his small length, rubbing him softly while moans continued to slip out

Precum slid down his length, covering your digits and making it easier to jerk him off. Freminet whined when your hand left him, tasting him on yourself, mixing his precum with your saliva so that you could stretch him open safely. Sliding into his hole and prepping him so that you could help him with this dream of his

When you felt like he was ready to take you, you lubed yourself up, lining your cock up with his hole next and pushing the tip in. “A-Aaah! Ngh–! ” Freminet cried out, stirring awake to find you already buried inside of him, slowly thrusting in and out

“Shh, baby you're ok.” You cupped his cheek and rubbed your thumb across his skin soothingly. “You were– Mmph fuck... H-having a wet dream. Just wanted to...help you out.” In between groans, you managed to explain what was happening. Freminet threw his head back as you continued fucking him, his freckled cheeks burning as blood rushed to the surface

“Pl-please...want to...” He mumbled, nuzzling his cheek into your palm. You picked up the pace, skin slapping against skin as you jerked him off once more

“Wanna cum, my love? ” Freminet squeezed his eyes shut, nodding shyly. You leaned down to kiss his other cheek before gripping his hips and pounding into him, lewd squelching noises filling the air from both your hand working his wet dick, and you fucking his wet hole

Wanton moans rang out as you painted Freminet's insides, thrusting your hips a few more times before resting, still inside of him. His dick shooting cum all over your fingers just a minute later, thrashing about before slumping against the ground. You made sure to praise him plenty as you both relaxed

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

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